Oblivion's Game

Oblivion’s Game is a crossover novel detailing the cataclysmic Dimension War between three different multiverse-scale powers in the Bionicle multiverse. The full story consists of three pieces assembled; Osade, Order, and Olmak. It is written by ToaGonel and FireDrag1091.

Recommended (although not required) reading prior to reading this novel included: The V Osade Series (primarily Catalog, Declaration, One Final Effort, and The Vow) and The Broken Order Saga (primarily Shadow of the Truth, Destiny’s Way, The Circle of Kragator, and The Next Stage). Also suggested, though not necessary, are An Exercise in Futility, the history of the Shadowmaster series (as in The Diary of the Devil, Twisted Shadows, and the final chapter of Saga of Shadows), the Dark Realities Trilogy, and a basic understanding of the history of various CBW warlords such as the Dark Lord, the Element Lord of Technology, Krataxus, and others.

Finally, this story is dedicated to the Custom BIONICLE Wiki as a whole and is published in celebration of its tenth anniversary (as it will be released over the wiki's tenth year). We hope you'll enjoy.

What Went Before
Let us regale the tale of the Timeless Siege,

''Long ago when the water ran clean, where the air was fresh and the stars shone bright... back to the time where culture ran vibrant, where there was talk of happiness and of joy, where our neighbours welcomed us with open arms as we did them... there was a thing called Peace.''

Peace was a kind testament of what we were before,

''It was the light that warmed our lands, which caused fruits to grow and which guided us from the sands to the mountain peaks. It was calmness and charity, as free as those who fly in the sky or those who sail across the ocean. It is what allowed us to sleep with our backs away from the wall, and without daggers in our grip.''

Peace however, is as fragile as glass,

''There stood our enemy in the far South. Lo, they were the antithesis of the Peace we learned to love and cherish. For they were War, they were the Lykos Kinsman. Hunters and Wolves who relied on their strength and prowess in War. Cunning strategists and deceitful manipulators who tore our lands from under our feet, set us out as refugees or as Martyrs.''

These were Warmongers,

''Warmongers who extinguished the light that warmed our worlds, to leave us in the bitter cold that killed our fruits and secluded us to shelters to plea and cry. They were violence and thieves, and cast the chains of oppression on us to make us slaves to their will, casting us in caves to never again see the light. They are the reason we sleep with our backs to the wall, with daggers in our grip.''

They should have destroyed us,

''Though the Warmongers stood strong, stood fierce and violent, they did not have the Will which we are imbued with. They did not have the dedication to what is Right and Truth as we did, as they turned their backs to false beliefs to support what Wrongs and Lies they threatened to spread. Though they pushed us back, we pushed back harder, until eventually they broke.''

For War can be broken too,

''But for as sinister as the Warmongers were, they had one last design. Though we triumphed to bring back our homes and lands, to enjoy the sun and the water, the heat and the light, the cunning Lykos plotted to take even this away from us. They Burned our homes with their Toxin, Poisoned our crops and Polluted our water. Cast dark smoke into the skies, to steal from us our light.''

This is the world we live in now,

Because of the jealousy, of an entire Race.

The V Osade Universe; Several Hundred Thousand Years Ago

Polemistis was dead.

After days of snow and rain, the cold and ruined landscape was greeted once more with the bright sun from the east. Rubble from broken streets and fallen towers scattered across the capital Yermo; remnants of the beautiful architecture that once graced the area. The burning fires that had consumed many parts of the capital had begun to die, limiting the black smoke they breathed into air. The effects of this battle had started to fade, as the clashing of blades and the firing of rifles seemed to fall much quieter than it had in the beginning.

Participants on either side of the conflict still fought in many areas around Yermo, but to those who heard of the Ultra Director's demise—they were taken by silence, whether Republic or Unity. Perhaps there were a few that fought on past the news, but what was the point if there was no more war to fight?

Honour? Nada.

The Supercapitol had long been claimed by the Unity, the tall symbol of the Republic's might and power turned into the blade of its end. The remnant forces have long been scattered from the area, whether fled by foot or executed as example. Walking up the wide pearl-white steps to the entrance of the Supercapitol, there rested several bodies on display. Honour Guards, Custodians, a few of the old Directors... and around their necks rested signs written in Lykos and Matoran.

''Failure. Manipulator. Conspirer.''

Traitor.

As the Commander approached the steps, he felt a wave of weapons being drawn and raised against him and his troops, but they made no similar movement. He stepped forward as his army stopped behind him, as he turned his head toward a series of differently shaped figures and beings. Whether Toa or Vortixx, Steltian or Matoran, none stood a head taller than the one who stood at the head of them.

A Lykos.

A Warmaster.

"I see you come with an army." The Warmaster spoke, "I thought I made it clear your army should be dead."

"I see," the Commander replied, "but should I be greeted with an army as well? This is our tradition."

"Our tradition is war. And war, has brought us this."

The Warmaster gestured toward the fragmented horizon, torn by broken knives and clouded with black clouds. The Commander simply lowered his head as this was said, before he looked back up: "But the war is over. And now, we come to make peace."

The air was quickly replaced by silence as this was said, as the Warmaster placed his arms behind his back and slowly descended the marble steps. He approached the Commander in a way that seemed to be nothing more than an attempt to intimidate him. Perhaps he felt the need to show this sort of bravery to the troops he led, or perhaps it was a genuine attempt to make the Commander shrink. What it was meant to be, the Lykos could not tell. As the Warmaster stopped, he stood only three yul's away from the Commander.

A silence.

"Peace?" The Warmaster scoffed, "Peace is not a tool of the Lykos."

"Must you mock me?" The Commander replied.

"I mock you not. I state simply what we were told to believe."

"We both know that voices can lie."

The Warmaster stopped, as he tilted his head to one side: "Where were you taught this?"

The Commander starred the Warmaster in the eyes: "I do not need to be taught what I feel. Thus is a subject where tyrants reign."

The Warmaster scoffed yet again, as the Lykos began to move again. He started to circle the Commander, analysing his features from his bronze armour to the torn fur cloak he wore. The sensation of the Warmaster's gaze was akin to that of a pin pricking under the armour. It seemed to dissect the Commander while alive and conscious, pulling from him the things he would otherwise keep secret. As the Warmaster approached the left shoulder of the Commander, he spoke yet again: "And who was this tyrant?"

"Our Ultra Director." The Commander replied. Saying such a thing felt the same as plunging daggers into himself. It betrayed the essence and the duty he had known for the years he has been alive. It betrayed the very thing he has be taught, and the very thing he has sworn to teach. The Commander could almost feel his army shrink as he said this, judging what he has said. Did they trust him any longer?

Did that matter?

"Your Ultra Director. I do not believe you have yet denied this ownership."

There was a mocking laugh that sounded from the Warmaster's army, seemingly feeding the Warmaster the praise he needed.

"He is long dead."

"Three days."

"Know you who has slain him?"

The Warmaster passed around the Commander's right shoulder, "I know not."

"But still, he is dead?"

"Aj." The Warmaster replied, as he stopped, "The course of this war has no direction, unless you or the other Scattered wish to take charge of this dying capital."

"I know not of the others, but for myself." The Commander replied, as he watched the Warmaster turn to face him once more, "I cast my blade to thee."

"Then stand you humbler than most."

The Commander perked up when he heard this, as he locked eyes once more with the Warmaster. The Warmaster then seemed to smile, before he looked back to the crowd of red-armoured Lykos as he called one in particular forward. The Lykos obeyed as she stepped forward, carrying a shape that the Commander had grown all too familiar with in its hands. It was almost terrifying to see the object, as it always rested powerfully on the one whom he respected and feared the most at one point.

It was the Ultra Director's helmet.

The representatives who were shaped as Matoran, Toa, Steltian and Vortixx watched on in confusion as the Lykos eventually came to a halt. To them it seemed to be a trophy, a relic meant to be kept as a symbol of their victory. They weren't sure why the Warmaster would call it forward, to be brought to the force that had stood in opposition to them for so long. The Commander however knew perfectly well the reason it would be called forward.

The Warmaster gestured the Lykos in his command to drop the Ultra Director's helmet, as she did so in a heartbeat. It landed with a mighty thud to the marble floor beneath their feet, as dust and soot were unsettled and blew away. The crowd of Unity and Republic soldiers stood quietly, watching idly as they waited for that decisive moment that seemed to be in the hands in the Commander.

"When the Red Flags of Soyedmevos last overthrew a tyranny, it was the Lykos Empire." The Warmaster spoke, "For peace to be declared to the scattered Empire forces, Soyedmevos required the Grand General to do but one thing before negotiations could settle. Remember what that was?"

The Commander lowered his head, as he removed his plasma blade from his utility belt. A few of the Red Flag Lykos stood at the ready, keeping their aim on the Commander as he activated his orange plasma blade. The Warmaster watched on, anticipating the Commander's moves, but stood his ground nonetheless. The orange plasma cackled, as the Commander raised the blade into the air.

And then thrust down.

In the blink of a visual receptor, the plasma blade broke and crackled through the base of the Ultra Director's helmet, the superheated projection burning away at the protosteel that provided its protection and the ornaments that decorated its incredible design. Standing for but a moment as the plasma finally broke the protective shell and burned through, the Commander stood with all his concentration on the helmet he was cutting. Eventually, the Commander withdrew his plasma blade and deactivated the weapon.

The Warmaster emitted a low laugh, "I fear, for whatever sanctity and promise you shall make next."

The Commander looked up once more to the Warmaster, as he placed his plasma blade on his utility belt once more. The Commander looked confused for but a moment, before the Warmaster spoke once more: "Come then, Commander Derimis. Prove to me and Unity, you are worth a vow."

Derimis looked ahead toward the Supercapitol, and watched as the Warmaster stepped forward to join the other species as he headed toward the entrance. The lone Commander looked down to the helmet of the Ultra Director that he broke, pitying in a way the broken shape of that he vowed to protect. After a moment, Derimis stepped forward, lifting his mighty foot over the helmet as he continued up the steps.

To the place, he would forge the next,

Vow.



"So many wars have prepared us for this."

Oblivion’s Game

A Crossover Novel by ToaGonel and FireDrag1091

Chapter One: Olmak
Pocket Universe of Vudrai Universe; Present Day

There exists, in the space between the universes, a pocket universe.

This small realm is highly unusual, for at first glance, this pocket universe is about as well developed as most civilized planets. This is because the universe it was once connected to, and indeed, associated with, is--and has been for the past several hundred years--on the verge of collapse. Those who feared the demise of their universe cultivated this pocket universe into a waystation and a means of escape should the larger universe collapse.

The pocket universe consists of one planetoid. Satellites and small maintenance shuttles fly around the planetoid atmosphere, but they are nothing so magnificent as that they fly surround. The planetoid itself is structured as an upside-down diamond. Gigantic in size and white in color, the artificial structure has no entrances or exits, for the only way in or out is through teleportation. And because little can exist in the space outside the crystal, the path taken is generally interdimensional travel.

Likewise, this pocket dimension is the only point of entry into the main universe. This place, known as Crossroads Station is the only portal in through the protective barrier guarding the universe. Only those who pass these tests are allowed into the larger world, the Vudrai Alternate Universe. The space station never rests, never sleeps, for never is the multiverse not threatened by some evil or another.

This is the Agency of the Olmak.

Chief of Operations, Cerevena opened her eyes and sat up on her bed. The room around her glistened and sparkled, for the very chamber itself was made of crystal. Opaque, of course. It would be rather uncomfortable if the walls were transparent.

She stood and picked up a glass tablet from her bedside table.

One thousand two hundred twelve new notifications.

She groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Twelve new notifications. That’s more like it.

Cerevena picked a small backpack off her table and walked out into the hall. Doubtless it would be just another day in the regulation of the base.

“What’s your name?”

“Rotaverk.”

Terp looked up at the interviewee. As a customs officer in Center Chamber, the Terp had seen his share of wannabee-agents. The slack nature of his jaw and his slumped posture made clear he was likely not an individual of the highest intelligence. This coupled with his bulkiness and his rather impressive height indicated this individual would likely serve best as a grunt.

“Hold on a second,” Terp mumbled as he ran a search on the name “Rotaverk” through the Agency’s database on his tablet. The Agency had data on every individual in the multiverse.

The search yielded no results, however. Was he lying about his name?

“There is no one in the multiverse who goes by the name, ‘Rota--’”

“It’s okay,” someone stepped out from behind Rotaverk. “He’s with me.”

Terp immediately recognized the newcomer as a Great Being, and a rather prestigious one at that. Angonces were statistically trustworthy 99.68% of the time, and even when they weren’t, one they were usually just bitter about the destruction of their Spherus Magna.

“No worries,” Terp said, making an entry into his tablet. “Move along.”

Head of Security and Taskforce Officer, Derkin was patrolling the screens in the Agency’s security office. Each screen monitored different areas of the station. The one he was presently passing gave a live feed of the immigrant procedure. Beings of all shapes and sizes passed through that particular corridor. None of them moved through without the monitoring of Derkin or one of his subordinates. If something appeared out of place, Derkin would, in turn, report it to Cerevena who herself answered to the barons that ran the Agency.

Interdimensional refugees, job applicants, anyone with information to sell--all of it. They passed through this hall.

Derkin’s eyes narrowed as he noticed some titan talking to a hooded Great Being. The Great Being was recognizable as an Angonce, but he couldn’t recognize the titan off-hand. He had all the indications of a grunt, but the Angonce was nodding obediently. After a few moments, Angonce turned and made his way for the Center Chamber, probably to leave the realm in general. Either the Angonce was unusually dumb or there was more to the tall being that it seemed.

Regardless, the tall being turned and made his way to the next station in the recruiting line.

The Glatorian yawned and glanced at another camera. Looked like some Toa and Glatorian dressed as pirates and cowboys respectively were causing some commotion with the security guards. He grinned when he saw one swing take out two of the officers. Before more personnel could arrive to stop him, he raised his hands and walked away. Derkin’s attention returned to the other hundreds of individuals making their way down the passage.

Yes, he thought, it was quite absurd.

For a secret base, we sure receive a lot of traffic.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Cerevena!”

She spun around at her name. She immediately recognized the individual as Bakreth, one of the Barons that headed the Agency. Cerevena and Bakreth moved from the center of the hall where dozens of agents milled about their business, through a door, to an empty, more private office room.

“Cerevena, you are overdue for your appointment before the Barons. As the head of this facility, it is crucial you report to us on a regular basis.”

Cerevena folded her arms.

“Perhaps I would come before you guys more often if you met more often. Your meetings have become few and far between, and don’t think I haven’t guessed what y’all have been doing in the meantime.”

“And what would that be?” The baron, Bakreth, demanded

“Permission to speak freely?”

Bakreth smiled slightly.

“For now.”

“I expect you’re counting your treasuries. Admiring your own wealth. Once you see fit to resume convening on a more regular basis, I will present my reports. But until you prioritize the running of this organization, I will not prioritize reporting on the running of this base, especially when it takes time from actually running it.”

His face wrinkled, signalling a barely-contained scowl.

“Telravarn and I are calling a hearing in three days. It has come to Telravarn’s attention that this base has allowed for the recruitment of numerous individuals over the past month--individuals with names not found in our registry.”

“How? The Agency’s registry has names of every being in the multiverse!”

Bakreth smiled thinly. “Herein lies our problem. Either our field agents aren’t doing their jobs properly, or this is an organized infiltration of our base. Regardless, we have a serious problem on our hands, and when the lots fall, we both know who will be blamed. Telravarn does not take these things lightly. None of us barons do.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Angonce hurried against the current of interdimensional refugees seeking asylum in the Vudrai Nui Alternate Universe. With any luck, he could return to the Spherus Magna of his universe and resume his work before anything went down. Of all the soldiers assigned to this operation, he was the most vulnerable. He wasn’t even a soldier. Angonce was a simple scientist in the service of the Empire and the great spirit at its head. He was only here to get Rotaverk inside.

The Great Being glanced back to ensure no one else was following or also going against the current, but as he turned back, he realized all too late he was about to slam into someone. Thrown off-balance, Angonce caught himself before he fell. As he recovered his wits, the newcomer directed him to the side.

“Broken Order?”

Angonce looked up and realized it was the head of this operation.

“Yes, lord Krax.”

Krax sighed in relief. “Is he in?”

“He’s in. How are you going to direct him to the right place?”

Krax frowned. “That’s on a need-to-know basis only, Angonce. You of all people--”

“Oh, I’m sorry, milord. I forget myself.”

“Go, report back to our Spherus Magna. Our emperor will reward you for your service.”

“Thank you, my liege,” Angonce bowed before heading off.

Krax turned and continued downstream. As he neared an intersection in the refugee passage, he glanced to his right to see an Agent watching him. The agent appeared to be one of those policing and directing newcomers, but this one appeared to be leaning against the wall, only half-heartedly monitoring Krax. When Krax nodded in his direction, he turned and disappeared.

The “agent”, a very important member of Krax’s plan, would find Rotaverk and escort him to the lowest level of the base. There he would find the Central Data Chamber, along with all the information he could possibly desire.

For a very long time, Krax and his team of undercover soldiers had been siphoning information off of the Agency’s incredible database and transmitting it over special frequencies to the Empire’s computers in the Broken Order Universe. The Agency had yet to notice… although that could end at any moment. The Emperor had ordered this delicate operation so he could have the files personally examined, lest the operation be compromised.

If anyone can do this, it’s Rotaverk.

His musings almost caused him to miss Cerevena as she walked by. Krax snapped to attention, in Agency style.

“Cerevena,” he declared.

“At ease,” she said, walking on, as if caught up in her own thoughts.

“Commander, have you seen anything unusual lately?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, captain. Why? Do you have anything to report?”

“No ma’am, it’s just… it’s weird. I thought I saw a Great Being heading in the wrong direction in the refugee passage. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone go in the wrong direction. But… maybe it’s nothing.”

Cerevena looked at him curiously. “I… don’t know what to say. Well, if something does happen, I’m sure you’ll know why,” she chuckled.

Krax grinned and laughed sheepishly, like someone who realized he was being overly precautious. As soon as Cerevena had turned and started in the opposite direction, he frowned. The seemingly spontaneous statement had been quite calculated. If Rotaverk got himself caught--as he likely would--then cameras would be checked and the Agency would realize Rotaverk had entered with an Angonce. Krax’s seeming attempt to bring attention to this would appear to prove his innocence, allowing him to operate all the longer.

And time will be key to victory in this war.

In the Central Data Chamber, the being called Rotaverk glanced both ways and picked the tablet off the pedestal. Hesitantly he touched it. the Great Beings in his universe had made something very similar initially to operate cannons, but it was still something of an emerging technology, at least as far as he knew. A system much like this existed in the capital of their universe, but was evidently somewhat different and still relatively primitive.

His mission was simple. For years, now, his organization had been calculating a way to download the formidable database that the Agency had compiled. Now they had a means in hand, and someone had to install the program in person. And while there were already agents on the inside, Rotaverk would rather compromise his own cover than exploit that of one of his undercover agents. This was why he was here in person.

As soon as he touched it, the screen flared to life. There was text on the screen, and Rotaverk was instantly reminded of normal carving tablets, or even the more recent (though now outdated) “Paper and Pen” system. Rotaverk brushed it much like he’d seen others in the Agency do on his trek here, and everything he saw slid up out of view. The emperor’s eyes narrowed as he read the text that came into view.

It was a list, he realized. Dozens of options for different topics relating to the operations of the Agency. Some of them were very interesting, so Rotaverk made a mental note to return to them. For now, he was focused on finding how much he would have to revisit.

But then something slid into view that he could not brush over, like he had even for “Agency Catalog ,” “Layout of the Fortress ,” “Catalog of Individuals,” “Catalog of Organizations,” “Catalog of Species,” “Catalog of Locations,” “Catalog of Events,” “Catalog of Objects,” and “Catalog of Powers,”

“Catalog of Enemies of the Multiverse .”

Rotaverk grinned slightly and pressed down on the option. The screen buffered for a second before the undercover emperor realized he had to stop pressing the option. He removed his finger and the list he’d been reading slid to the left as another list came into view.

It was a list of organizations. This list wasn’t as long as the last one had been, but Rotaverk scrolled through it quickly. He was looking for just one phrase. He reached the “K”s--a category of only one option:

The Kritor Empire

Universe #: 4,711 (aka: The Broken Order Universe)

Monitoring Agent: Krivosh

Organization: Dictatorship

Leader: Emperor Krevator

Status: Stagnant (Known to cycle through stagnant and growing phases)

Size: The Entire Universe

Threat: Medium-Critical

Play Last Report from Agent Krivosh?

Rotaverk blinked and clicked on the last sentence in the list. The list disappeared and was replaced by a creature in a Kanohi--he couldn’t identify the species as everything except her bust was hidden from the camera. But her voice and face indicated that the agent was female.

“Agent Krivosh broadcasting from Universe 4,711. Status update on the Kritor Empire. When I reported last, about a year ago, I rated the threat level at Priority; however, the empire has shown no progress since I reported last. With the exception of the emergency staff meeting of the Kritor High Command I detailed when I moved the Threat Status from Critical up to Priority, the Empire has made no forward movement. As a matter of fact, this is the Empire’s largest period of stagnancy in its history. Perhaps this is as far as the emperor conceived to conquer. There is a chance these people do not know of the realms beyond their universe or simply are not interested, but whatever the case may be, the empire hasn’t threatened anything yet.

“On the matter of Emperor Krevator, I decided I wanted a glimpse of him. Since I first visited this universe, I have not seen or heard this emperor or felt his presence. Even the one time I did see him can be excused as one of the High Commanders dressing in fancy robes and makeup--”

“The High Commanders look nothing like me!” Rotaverk muttered. “Well, maybe Krax…”

“--have not encountered him since. Nor had the rest of the universe felt his presence. As such, I decided a few days ago to take a risk and break into his personal chamber. There was no emperor, however. This adds another possibility to the situation of this empire. While it could be that the emperor never existed, I think there is a good chance that the emperor has died since the empire expanded to consume the universe. The denizens of this empire set about its business preparing for the next invasion, and it’s continued ever since, and though it’s awaited orders from the emperor to stop, they will never come. So it’s been stalling ever since.

“That said, it has prepared a tremendous arsenal capable of wiping out whole universes, even if it may never do so. As such, I’m moving the Kritor Empire down from ‘Priority’ to ‘Critical’. While I still advise large monitoring of these ‘Kritors’, it may not be as much of a threat as I last thought. I’ll investigate further.”

The playback ended. Rotaverk inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“Fools. I was not there a few days ago because I was already preparing my infiltration of your silly organization.”

Rotaverk started to leave the page when he noticed an “edit” button at the top. Grinning, he clicked it. He scrolled down to the “Threat” box and touched it. A scrolldown menu appeared with various intensities of danger. The current setting was “Medium-Critical”, but Krevator moved it back up to “Priority”. His grin broadened.

“I think that’s only fair.”

Rotaverk was going to investigate further, but he heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie.

“Ma’am? Yes ma’am. There’s been a security breach in the broadcasting center. Requesting backup.”

Rotaverk stood up and exited out the Kritor Empire file so no one could trace it back to them. He started to run for the exit, but then he thought better of it and looked again at the “Prospective Enemies of the Multiverse list. Directly beneath the Kritor file sat another Critical threat. Krevator opened the file, scanned the information, put the tablet back down, and ran out of the room.

At the top of the tablet, two words in bold glared out of the screen, silently observing the guards who had run into the room and examined the tablet.

Lykos Kinsman

Thirteen minutes later, the tall being called Rotaverk was shoved into a metal seat in the interrogation cell. Simple handcuffs were quickly applied, strapping him to his chair. Before him was the traditional table and opposing chair. Nothing else decorated the room. The walls must have been lined with LEDs, for they glowed so bright it almost hurt. The entirety of the room, in fact, was bright white.

The five security officers who’d apprehended him backed up toward the walls, away from the prisoner who sat in the center of the room. Once they were sure the prisoner was secure, the door to the cell swung open and two beings--one a blue Toa and the other seemingly a Great Being--walked into the room. The Toa, who wore a Kanohi Rode of Truth, took the opposing seat while the Great Beings stood behind her.

The Toa placed a tablet on the table and started talking. “No name, no record, no history. Your appearance does not match any we have on file from anywhere in the universe, nor does your voice print. I’m tempted to throw you in the brig and lose the key were it not for the fact you made me very mad when you broke into our records. I suppose we could call you by the name you masqueraded as here, but I want to know…” The Toa leaned forward. “Who are you?”

“I am… insulted.”

The Great Being shifted. “Answer the question.”

“I could check to see the file you spent the most time in,” the Toa added, “But I’d prefer to give you a chance.”

Rotaverk leaned back in his chair. “You actually have quite the extensive record on me. ‘Kritekk Mator.’ Means ‘Destiny’s Master’ in an ancient tongue where I come from.” He looked at the Great Being. “But then you probably knew that.”

“There is no one in the universe named Kritekk Mat--”

“Put that together and what do you have?” Rotaverk leaned forward. “Kritor!”

Now the Toa leaned back in her chair. “You are a Kritor.”

“No, you fool, I am the Kritor. I am the Kritor Emperor.”

“You’re Krevator.”

“Charmed.”

The Toa pulled up a file on the tablet and shifted through the files.

“Krevator. Emperor of the Kritor Empire. War criminal. Forty accounts of genocide, twenty-three of planet sieges, seventy-one of the execution of subordinates for violation of commands. You have ordered the destruction of four star systems, you have ordered the killing eleven stars and subsequent systems, you have ordered the pillaging of seventeen planet-wide cities, you have often relied on chemical or biological weaponry, you have allowed your citizens to consider yourself a god, and you have conquered the entire universe in your mad quest. All in all, you are a priority threat to the multiverse at large. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Krevator snorted. “You flatter me.”

“Look, Krevator.” The Great Being stepped forward. “You have committed irredeemable crimes. You are guilty of things normal beings look down on. You may think you’re a wise guy, but tell me what prevents me from executing your genocidal mask and wiping out any more incarnations of you from the rest of the multiverse?”

Krevator’s silly expression was replaced by one of cold contempt. “Genocide, as you put it, was only carried out when those I sought to conquer were irredeemable themselves and had no place, no use in the empire. We will integrate and unite everything. Whatever resistance that is put up will be futile.”

A hint of a smile flickered across the Toa’s face, but it straightened quickly. When she spoke, it was with a condescending voice, as one speaks to a self-delusional madman. “Tell me, emperor. Do you seek to integrate the Agency of the Olmak into your empire?”

The prisoner growled softly. “No. I mean to destroy the Agency. This is war between us, after all.”

“But sir, we’ve done nothing to provoke war. Quite the reverse in fact; we keep peace in the multiverse. You are the aggressor.”

Krevator leapt up, only to be stopped by his handcuffs. The Toa and the Great Being didn’t even flinch.

“No, you started it when you sent agents into my universe without asking.” he snapped. “Then you pretend to guard the freedom of the universe even as you prevent it from uniting.”

“What?” demanded Cerevena, taken aback.

The Toa glanced at her. “Ma’am, he thinks he’s--”

“You let us destroy each other in petty wars when everything and everyone could be united.” Krevator continued, unstoppable. “What, you got to the multiverse first so somehow you can dictate how it works? No. The multiverse is neither advancing nor falling back because every society that makes progress gets destroyed when its universe is destroyed, and every universe that comes into existence starts all over again. The only exception to this is the Agency of the Olmak. You get to horde your advancements, you selfish hypocrites. The multiverse makes no progress! The same people fulfill the same destinies time and time again because they know nothing else. How many times have the Toa Nuva awakened on the island of Mata Nui or awakened Mata Nui himself? How many times have the Order of Mata Nui fought the good fight to beat the Brotherhood of Makuta in the Destiny War? How many times has Mata Nui rammed the Teridax’s head into Bota Magna? There is neither progress forward nor backward, but if something can unite the universes, we can pool our advancements, learn from our mistakes, and my ancestral line will have the eternal heritage we crave. Nothing in my universe could stop me; nothing in the multiverse can stop me.”

Cerevena blinked. What was she thinking? How could she possibly make moral concessions with this lunatic? He didn’t even know what the Agency stood for! After exchanging glances with Toa Karra, Chief of Investigations, she started,

“I don’t thi--”

One of the guard who’d been staring at Krevator’s lower back widened his eyes and reached for his gun. “Cere--”

With ferocity of a hurricane, Krevator stood, overturned the table on the Toa, bounded over it, and reached for Cerevena’s sternum with a hand sporting a broken, bloody thumb.

“I am inexorable!”

The intruder had broken out of the room, located the nearest room with a Dimension Gate, and escaped presumably back to his own universe. Cerevena hadn’t seen any of this; she’d been stunned since the Kritor threw her against the wall.

It suddenly struck her that there was someone else who could be blamed for this catastrophe before the Barons. She stood up.

“Where’s the Head of Security?” she demanded. “Where’s Derkin?”

She sat back down, still shaken. He had nearly convinced her of his own cause.

The spell, in fact, had only been broken once he broke free.

So he’s an orator, she realized. He manipulates through words.

An empire that was probably capable of the full conquest of parallel realms. An emperor of a realm spanning a universe. An emperor who’d broken into the Agency without anyone noticing, likely allowed himself to be captured to meet the heads of the base, and broken out without a second thought.

And now he has declared war on us.

War. The Agency had never faced war on this scale before, much less against an opponent of possibly superior strength. Until now, the Agents had always successfully maneuvered colossal empires against each other, allowing them to do the dirty work, or influenced the successful overthrow of empires by rebellion groups. Now not only had an empire of equal strength declared war, but one that the Agency had never been able to document before.

Cerevena sank back down.

The Council will not be pleased.

Chapter Two: Order
Spherus Magna, The Broken Order Universe; Present Day

Legend teaches us that Spherus Magna was once a beautiful world, full of grace and beauty. The lands of the Great Ocean, Great Desert, Great Tundra, Great Volcano, and Great Forest all thrived as glistening jewels on a wondrous piece of jewelry. Agori and Glatorian alike basked in their freedom to make war, their freedom to make peace, their freedom to argue, their freedom to make up. They could go anywhere they wanted, their cultures competed and grew, and they each held very specific aspects of their cultures.

Perhaps once. But not today.

Red light from Solis Magna reached across the land as the sun floated inches above the horizon. In the city of New Bythrain, Glatoran and Agori of all races milled about their business. Although there were no slave-masters, no Kritor overlords looming over their work, no High Commanders supervising the actions of their leaders, everyone’s actions had been predetermined long before today. They did not appear to be slaves, but the free-will they lacked might beg to differ.

The city was well developed. There were dozens of towers and factories--in fact, the entire city appeared to consist of alternating skyscrapers and sideways skyscrapers. The ground, which had once been volcanic, had been covered in a layer of metal. Protosteel bricks, protosteel pavement, protosteel monuments. The homes within the suburbs consisted of eight different colors, based on the Tribes of the Glatorian or Agori inhabitants. All public buildings, however, particularly in the center of the city, were an indifferent grey. The only exception to this was a tall building, towering well above the others--a fortress with no doors or entrances, standing far above the other buildings. It had once been the Fortress of the Great Beings, but now the Great Beings shared the fortress with the lords of the Kritor Empire.

But this was far from the dominating structure. Breaking the relatively ordered skyline, a giant humanoid metal ship dominated over anything dwelling beneath, daring them to forget who their masters were.

The Great Spirit Robot.

The Red Star and Nui Ship were also directly above it, beyond the atmosphere of the planet. Circling like minions, awaiting orders from their overlord.

Coiling, snake-like cords were attached at key points on the robot’s hull. Some smoke-like substance started at the robot’s head building in size as it descended, and drifted its way down, gathering at the bottom, ending in a sort of lake. So large was the robot, so great was the quantity of smoke that this “lake” that creating a brooding fog over the village.

The only sounds emanating from the city were the sounds of construction.

General Quokus looked out from a factory to the Great Spirit Robot. Quokus was one of the High Commanders, anointed not long after Tobduk’s death, and he’d been sent down from Bythrain to run checks on the operations of the Spherus Magnans.

Watching them work, like watching just about any other species in the Kritor Empire, was hypnotically monotonous. This was quite deliberate on the part of the Emperor, especially in peacetime. Everyone in every race did the same exact thing day in and day out, until the Emperor himself should order them to stop. The Nation-States would continue doing the same exact thing until they or the universe around them should be destroyed. Everything was a never-ending cycle to increase the Empire’s war capacity.

In the case of Spherus Magna’s inhabitants, it was the construction of nanotech. Should the denizens of the Matoran Universe die, the Kritor Empire needed replacements to continue the work of their predecessors. The solution had been quite simple for the Emperor; his conquest of Spherus Magna had been driven by this as much as anything else.

Quokus turned around. Within the factory, the natives were manufacturing members of the “Dweller” species. The scene was quite revolting; he had never quite gotten over the jarring discovery of how nanotech such as himself was made, nor had he yet gotten used to the general appearance of fully biological beings. This was to say nothing of the revulsion at seeing such creatures grovel.

“Are you satisfied with what you see, my lord?” the manager repeated.

“I am.” Quokus glanced at one of his lieutenants. “This was the last factory on our list, correct?”

“Yes sir.”

Quokus inwardly sighed in relief. “Excellent. Inform the Emperor that I am satisfied with what I see. I will return to Bythrain once I have overseen the loading of the new nanotech units into the GSR.”

The lieutenant bowed. “Yes sir.” He scurried off.

Quokus sighed and started to look out the window again when he heard a chirping in the pocket of his belt. His eyes widened as he realized he’d sent a lieutenant running to do what the general could do in seconds. Old habits die hard.

He pulled a small round disc out of his pocket and placed it on the windowsill. On what was considered the underside of the disc was covered in buttons and the topside was a flat screen which could portray the image of the individual he was talking with; however, the button side was facing up. The little device registered this and projected an image of General Karion onto the window. Following Tobduk’s death, the Emperor had made Karion his new right hand.

“General Quokus. Have you completed the inspection yet?”

“I just finished mere seconds ago. Just remember, if my lieutenant appears telling you this, act surprised.”

A quizzical expression crossed Karion’s face, but he shook it off. “The Emperor has returned from his probing mission. He’s called for a joint session of the Iron Command and the Council of Species.”

“Is it finally time? Will the Kritors march to war for the first time in over a hundred thousand years?”

Although the Head High Commander’s face did not betray a smile, his eyes did. Regardless, Karion replied,

“Whatever it is, it has the Emperor excited. Report to Bythrain immediately. The meeting begins in forty-eight hours.”

Quokus reached for the off switch when Karion added,

“Oh, and Quokus... The Emperor has begun raising the Kridroids from their sleep.”

Bythrain, The Broken Order Universe; two days later

Krevator watched as the High Commanders and the heads of the various species marched into the lower throne room where he had called the meeting. The time had come. After so much waiting, the time had finally come.

The lower throne room was fashioned much like an arena. On his left side were positioned the Heads of State, the Heads of Species, and their various other staff. On his right were the Iron Command (with the exception of General Krax who led the undercover operations in the Agency’s headquarters). There were whispers of conversation, but everyone waited for him to speak.

Why wait any longer?

Krevator inhaled… and the room hushed.

“Four hundred and forty thousand years ago, Kragator first laid the groundwork for this majestic empire. It was small then, only encompassing a single island in the Great Spirit Robot. But Kragator’s understanding of what was soon to come was far larger than the multiverse itself.

“Kragator’s vision of the Kritors consumed the universe. When he met with Helryx in the Kritor/Makuta War, she asked him what he would do when the universe was his. He said this:

“‘''I will not rule [the Kritor Empire] in evil; I will rule it justly. I will unite it, make it more efficient together than it ever was apart. Under my rule, no settlement will grind lazily on; all will be made to work equally, to the benefit of the empire. All elements made equal; Light, Shadow, Fire, Earth, et cetera. All will be balanced, and the elements will form their greater whole. [...] Once I have solidified the perfect kingdom, once I am sure it will never crumble [...], I will once again make it ready for war [with] those beyond the Matoran Universe. Perhaps with those beyond this dimension. The campaigns will continue until either I am dead though my empire is not—or until I have united everything; the whole of reality. We are Kritors; We are Kritekk Mators; We are Destiny’s Masters. I will bend the virtues themselves to my will, and they will answer to me.''’”

Krevator paused to let it sink in.

“Everything--elements; emotions; species; races; every being sapient or not, belongs to me. Have I not fulfilled the promise of the Kritor Emperor? Unity is yours and Power is mine. Nothing can stop us. You know your places and I know mine; there is nothing that can stop us. The Kritor Emperor reigns supreme, and nothing is wasted in my universe, this universe that once had such broken order. Nothing is wasted, no information is lost. Scientific improvements made in one part of the universe can be spread faster than light to the others. History is documented on a regular basis and reproduced and taken to heart that we learn from our mistakes. All creatures, no matter their anatomy or physiology are taken care of in return for their undying, unerring devotion and contribution to the Kritor Empire and its master.

“The Kritor Empire is everything in this universe; long has it been this way. All citizens are blessed under my rule. Gone is disorder and chaos. No longer must we put up with impulsive conquerors or mad dogs. All citizens enjoy security and firm jobs in the Kritor Order. We have been this way for hundreds of thousands of years; let us continue forever.”

Cheers erupted at this statement, and Krevator waited patiently for it to die.

“I would like to spread these achievements. I would like to give unity and order to the rest of the universe in return for the legacy I and my predecessor crave. I would like to bring reality to the next evolution, where its denizens are no longer mindless animals or roaming beasts but civilized peoples who help each other, build each other’s universe up, and create order for all young universes coming into existence.

“But we are not the first power to step onto the multiversal stage. A group that calls itself the ‘Agency of the Olmak’ has proceeded to spread their own silly order in the universes. They keep citizens beasts and do not permit it to evolve. They let the weak thrive and cut the strong down. They are self-righteous and vile, they think they do what is good for reality even as it collapses, and they have laid their sights on us even as we lay our sights on them.

“The time is come. We have prepared for interuniversal war; now let us wage it. We cannot lose; we have a universe’s resources at our disposal. Do not fear the enemy, for the enemy already fears me. They have done their research; they know of the kingdoms I’ve cut down perhaps better than I do. For I’ve ended empires before they’ve begun. I’ve raised peasants to royalty and condemned the self-righteous to ashes. There is no Great Spirit in this universe, but even when there was, he too bowed before me. Soon the Agency will fall just as any other organization that dared to oppose the Kritor Empire, and I will squeeze out their life with the vengeance of thousands of lesser emperors who should have built lasting legacies but could not for the Agency’s self-righteous actions. My power is unparalleled, my legacy is soon to grow once again. Your unity is unparalleled, your duty is known, and your destiny will soon be shared with the rest of the multiverse.”

“In an effort to learn our ways and our weaknesses, the Agency has sent one of their own to investigate our inner workings. Perhaps it is time she know fear.”

Her senses flooded back as Agent Krivosh’s light-proof, sound-proof hood was removed. She was standing in a dimly lit hallway, and the cheers of a maddened people could be heard resounding from the glowing cracks of the door before her. She was surrounded by six Kritor soldiers. The one directly on her left held her hood. She twisted to get a better view, but her binds prevented her from doing so.

From beyond the doors, a proud voice boomed; “Bring the prisoner in.”

In a matter of moments, the Agent’s binds were removed. At least she would be allowed to maintain her dignity. Her Olmak-infused armor had been stripped upon her apprehension, otherwise she would have long since fled the dimension.

She felt prodding in her back from some sharp object--probably a spear--so she started forward. As she walked, the doors swung open.

The bright light beyond the doors blinded her for a few moments, even as almighty cheers rang in her ears. The cold draft of air hit her as she stepped through the frame. Dozens of creatures of all shapes and sizes hushed as she entered, followed quickly by the six soldiers. The doors swung shut and the soldiers filed out in a sort of line perpendicular to her. But she kept going, walking forward to the center of the arena. Lining the left side of the arena were the Heads of States and Heads of Species. Lining the right side were individuals Krivosh recognized as being Krevator’s Iron Command; although she’d seen them from far off and in passing, never had never been this close, and never had they seen her. Now they stared down upon her like handsome gargoyles or lordly vultures, awaiting the order to strike.

“Agent Krivosh of the Agency of the Olmak; Welcome to the court of Krevator.”

Krivosh turned suddenly, as she realized the voice was coming from behind her. Sitting in a magnificent throne positioned above the door she’d come out of, sat a powerful, chrome-plated monarch. His mask was polished and new, although it had seen hundreds of wars. In his right hand he held a thick broadsword and in his left he held a chalice. When he stood and approached the guardrail preventing individuals from falling into the pit where Krivosh stood.

The Emperor stood on a structure clearly designed to look like the mask he wore, a mask deeply rooted in Kritor lore as the great mask of the Empire’s first emperor, Emperor Kragator the Deviant. Operators of the pit’s mechanisms looked out from the Kanohi’s eyeholes. As she looked down the mask, she realized the doors to the arena she had stepped out of were the mask’s mouth and lower chin.

All around the pit, the Kritor banners were hung and prevented from flapping by iron rods. The High Commanders and other military officials who were now on her left folded their arms and talked amongst each other, eyeing her as some prisoner of war. On her right, the Heads of Species and Heads of State were far less composed and rather rambunctious. Some called for her immediate execution; others demanded entertainment. The Emperor eyed these with the vaguest hints of disgust on his face, but he looked kindly upon his Iron Command.

Once she was far enough in, the doors to the arena opened and the guards filed out. Emperor Krevator leaned over the guardrail and waited for them to file out before standing straight.

“Well, Krivosh, you doubted my existence. Are you satisfied? Is this close enough for you?”

Krivosh looked at the sides of the pit, both of which were hushed now.

“Do you still doubt my existence?”

Krivosh swallowed and nearly choked on her words, “I--I don...”

The breeze of various chuckles drifted across the audience.

“Excellent. Now, Krivosh, spy of the Agency of the Olmak, your time undercover has expired and you have been brought before the court of the empire. You stand convicted of interdimensional espionage, noncompliance with the Kritor Empire, helping your Agency obtain various artifacts from the emperor, spreading lies about Kritor values, and… my favorite,” Krevator laughed. “Disruption of emperor worship. How do you plead?”

Krivosh looked at the generals and governors, all of whom stared down upon her with varying levels of contempt.

“I have done those things…”

“Good,” the Emperor’s smile broadened, and he looked up. “Now… tell me something… To be frank, Krivosh, I’ve never had to deal with an other-worlder in my empire. In fact, this universe has never had serious interaction with other-worlders, save the time someone named Cootol fell in on accident. His arrival and seizure by the Kritors was like fire to a gunpowder arsenal; it sparked a war between the powerhouses of the time--the Brotherhood of Makuta and the Kritor Alliance--plus a group known as the Alignment, but I prefer not to talk of them. Lots of crazy stuff happened, Emperor Kragator was killed, and I had to go to a lot of trouble claiming an inheritance which should’ve been mine by then. Now, once again the Kritor Empire finds itself pitted against another great powerhouse of equal prestige, and I cannot help but worry at your arrival.

“The gears of fate are grinding once again; we will learn Destiny’s way once more…”

Krivosh cleared her throat.

“Perhaps you will get what you deserve.”

Krevator blinked and looked back at Krivosh, as if remembering she was there.

“I will leave my fate with Destiny, where it belongs. But as for yours… I honestly do not know what to do with you. If you were in my place, what would you do?”

The Agent said nothing, merely glaring up at the Emperor.

“My point exactly,” Krevator sighed. “I cannot return you. Killing you would go against my purpose, as my conflict lies with your superiors, not you. Try as I might, there is no good immediate solution. So, for the time being, I will throw you in the Kritor prison here on Bythrain while I think of a solution. You would do well not to resist; I should hate to see my mind made up on your future so easily.”

Krevator gave a signal and the guards filed back in.

“Take her away.”

Now back in the seat of his personal chamber, Krevator stared down at the data-screen before him. The raiding program was doing its work successfully. All information within the Agency’s expansive database was now being duplicated and transferred slowly and methodically into the Kritor clutches. With any luck, they wouldn’t notice, but even if they did, Krevator had strategically prioritized more important files first. Files such as “Prospective Enemies of the Multiverse ” or “Layout of the Fortress ”.

Just then, a small light chirped on his desk. The emperor hit the corresponding button and the door to Krevator’s chamber slid open. General Karion stepped in.

“Welcome, Karion.”

Karion bowed. “My lord, do I understand correctly that we are engaging the Agency right away in war?”

“You did indeed. Is your military ready?”

“It can be fully mobilized in a week.”

“Make it ready in four days. Spread the word to the other High Commanders. The Agency will not give us time before striking at us.”

“Do you have any particular orders for my military once it is ready?”

Krevator swiveled his chair around and gazed out into the Bythrain sea. The red light of the morning sun would send any sailor running for shelter, but it foreshadowed just the sort of weather Krevator worked best in.

“Not you, no. Hydraxon, Trinuma, Botar, and Hazat will lead invasions on nearby universes and repurpose them for the Kritor Empire. Krax will remain in his undercover capacity until I am ready for him to return. I’m saving Lorgon’s, Fortag’s, Quokus’, and your militaries for the head-on assault on the Agency. You and the other three must keep your armies based on your respective planets until I am ready to move them out.”

“What about General Zorus?”

“Because I only recently made him a High Commander, I will leave him in a defensive posture in this universe. He is capable--I would not have raised the total number of High Commanders to ten just for him if he weren’t--but I will not take any risks.”

“Understood, my lord.”

The door slid open and closed. Instinctively Krevator knew he was alone once again and even the hallways outside were almost empty. Kragator had once told him that he could vaguely sense the goings on within his fortress all from within his throne room. Krevator had himself developed this weird ability. There was no explanation for this except that the emperor had truly become one with the clockwork machine of an empire he had built.

It was an entire multiverse out there, Krevator reflected. An entire multiverse… and the Agency had gotten there first. He cursed that some empire should get to that level before the Kritors could. The Kritors were supposed to be the first to the multiverse, not those imposters.

Still, perhaps it was for the best. Kragator had always taught that the best way to prove your sheer power is to beat an opponent equal to or seemingly greater than oneself in power. There was no doubt the Agency had far more influence, far more righteous individuals willing to work along with it for what they considered “the greater good”. The Kritor Empire had no allies, and while Krevator was confident the military arsenal could more than compensate for this, he couldn’t help a feeling of loneliness in that entire multiverse out there.

It was a noble change the Kritors brought, Krevator thought. No other universe would welcome it--they would most certainly fight it--but this was the only way to bring the whole multiverse into a new plain of existence. While the ideals he’d espoused to the Agents of the Olmak during his interrogation had been specially tailored to play with their minds, he still actually believed it. Those words had been exaggerated, with certain parts of Krevator’s true motives hidden--his lust for a legacy--but that was the point of the Kritor Empire.

“The paths of the foolish are not to be trampled by men such as us,” Krevator reflected. So he had been taught by Kragator.

Tell me something, Kragator’s voice floated into his head, what do you think it is that everyone shares?

Krevator thought back. At the time, he as Ervik had probably answered something stupid; probably the three virtues. That would be what the Turaga of Uniran had taught him to say. He had been quite a different creature then--in fact, the names “Toa Ervik” and “Emperor Krevator” were best thought of as belonging to different beings, so wildly different were the nature of the individuals.

The answer is death.

Death was unavoidable; the only way one could survive past death was through one’s legacy. Further, destiny was unfulfilled legacy. In present, one could think of it as duty. So perhaps Krevator had carried the three virtues into his reign; Legacy, Duty, and Destiny. As for Unity, it was his means of achieving Power, much like Power was his means of achieving Unity.

Oblivion, however, was an altogether different game. Oblivion occurs when you are incapable of achieving a lasting legacy. Oblivion is the fate that occurs for the countless, countless commoners in the universe, the machines who fulfill their designated role both in this universe and in the universes well beyond this one. Everyone is a machine, whether they know it or not. At least the Kritors were honest about it. But for the Kritor Emperors… the Paths of the Foolish were not for these… they couldn’t be. For if they were, that was a sure way to achieve Oblivion.

“And Oblivion is a fate worse than death,” he muttered aloud.

At least through death you could become a martyr or a symbol or a nightmare. Through Oblivion you return to what you came from.

Nothing.

It was all too easy to fall into a path of Oblivion. You had to stand out in history’s eyes; you had to be the very best of the best of the best. As such, the existences of more multiversal powers presented such a dilemma. It would have been so easy to establish the first multiversal power and leave a lasting name. But now he would have to fight all the more.

And if he died… then it would be left to his heir to ensure the name “Krevator” be never forgotten and instead become a symbol or a nightmare.

He sighed and checked the time. Although it was morning, the night had been a long one.

It was time he get some rest. He had big plans in store and he’d hate to miss his sleep.

Chapter Three: Olmak
Vudrai Nui, Vudrai Nui Universe

“Cerevena, what do you have to say for yourself?”

She stood before a council of arguably the most powerful beings ever to have existed. This was the Politburo of Barons. The beings that made up the Council were “Barons”, although some Agents had taken to calling them “Politibarons”.

But they were each monarchs in their own regard.

There were eight of them. Only seven were present today--only seven were present most days. The head, named Telravarn, was rarely present for the meetings. He had played a large role in the Agency’s formation--indeed, he had been considered the unofficial leader of these barons--but ever since the Agency stabilized and found its new role in the universe, he had been largely absent.

Karrnot, chair of the council whenever Telravarn was not present, had asked the question. He sat at a large chair at the head of the ovular table the Barons sat around. The room was small, but he held an almost menacing presence that filled it. Prone to losing his temper rather quickly, the other barons did well to let him preside.

Bakreth, considered unfairly by some to be Telravarn’s lackey, sat to the right of Karrnot. He glanced at Karrnot in alarm, but made no move to ease his wrath.

Frentis sat to Karrnot’s left. Whenever interrogated by Karrnot, it was best to talk through Frentis. When talking to her, it was easy to fall into that famous misconception about the Agency. She was warm, sweet, sympathetic. Whenever the Agency wanted someone to speak directly with those they wanted to align with, Frentis was the first choice for negotiation.

Gorbere claimed a position to the right of Bakreth. This one rarely spoke, although when he did, it was with a rough, gravelly voice. He was the head of all things that required a military. He had all the bluntness of a club and none of its grace. One could gather this simply by looking at him.

To the left of Frentis was X-2436, or so he was nicknamed. His real name was Terk, but he was so nicknamed because he seemed to know everything there was to know about the multiverse as a whole, the individual universes, and the deviating characters within. A digital encyclopedia could do no better.

Waktun, the only Makuta this high in the Agency (the only Makuta agent Cerevena knew for that  matter), having sugar-talked his way to the top. Waktun was one of the few who was still recognizable as actually belonging to a species: most agents, especially this high up, had taken large amounts of surgical modifications, such that they couldn’t be identified as belonging to one species or another. Waktun had denied this, figuring he could shapeshift anyway.

And finally there was Berian, the only non-native of Vudrai Nui to be allowed into the Barons. His path had been much like Waktun, only, as far as Cerevena knew, more underhanded. He was a quiet one and rarely spoke his mind. When he did, it was usually to snap at someone he found irritating.

Speaking of snapping.

“Answer my question, Cerevena!”

She nearly jumped, so entranced was she in the daze. She had hardly slept a wink since Krevator’s attack.

“Er… sorry, what was that?”

“What do you have to say for yourself? Emperors walking right into our base of operations without so much as knocking? What were you thinking?”

“Uh… We were not aware of how powerful the Kritor Empire has grown. Our field agent did not consider the Kritor Empire a priority threat. She didn’t even think there was a Kritor Emperor.”

“Which agent was assigned to the Kritor Empire?”

“Krivosh, sir.”

X-2436 nodded his agreement. Karrnot slammed his fist down as he took his seat. “Well get her in here!”

“Well… you see, all communication with her has been cut off. We believe Krevator caught her.”

“What?” Karrnot rose once more to his feet. “We can’t allow field agents to leak important information to the Empire.”

“I completely agree, sir. I’ve already dispatched agents to recover her or to silence her. Though… it wasn’t an easy decision. Krivosh was… a good acquaintance.”

“Good. Now then,” Karrnot sat down again. “What information do we have on the Empire and its head?”

Before Cerevena could fish for details from the recesses of her memories, X-2436 opened his mouth. “The Empire is a built to be a self-perpetuating machine. The leaders pride themselves on the expendability of any individual within, even the emperor. The Emperor, Krevator, was formerly a disciple of the first Kritor Emperor, named Kragator, who was that universe’s deviating individual. Kragator himself drew much influence from the teachings of Pravat. Due to the nature of Kritor succession, Krevator, formerly a Toa named Ervik, had remodeled his personality and behavior after Kragator, with the subtlest of differences. For example, Kragator resorted to conquest where Krevator resorts primarily to manipulation. The so-called “Iron Command” governs war affairs. The so-called Heads of State and Heads of Species govern Nation-States and Species respectively. Each State is assigned a responsibility, even as each species is given an assignment within that responsibility. While the species do not directly involve themselves in war, they are authorized to defend themselves should…”

The way he spoke, it was as though he were rattling off a list from some databank. It might be easy to dismiss him as a simple data cruncher, but X-2436 had single-handedly caused the downfall of a universe thanks to his knowledge of the individuals within.

Each of the Barons had been hardened by countless interferences and interventions in intrauniversal affairs. Countless wars had unfolded before their eyes, and yet still they stood firm in their convictions.

“...it’s downfall. Now then, does anyone have any questions?”

“You say Krevator’s influence lies in his manipulation,” Waktun said. “Might I ask how this works?”

“He’s an orator,” X-2436 started.

“I can personally attest to this,” Cerevena blurted out. “I can confirm that some of my guards felt themselves coming under the sway of Krevator during our interrogation. It was almost like they were being convinced of his plans.” She neglected to mention Krevator’s near-spell on her as well.

“He’s an orator,” X-2436 ignored her. “He speaks to desperate peoples and convinces them of his virtue. He’s had tremendous success in his own universe; now one can presume he may try to replicate this success in others. Now… I suggest we review Krevator’s most famous speech. It occurred shortly after his resurrection of the Kritor Empire.”

“Go ahead,” Karrnot waved his hand dismissively.

X-2436 pulled out a datapad and scrolled through several files almost by reflex. When he had found what he wanted, he triple tapped it and a hologram sprung to life above the table.

Cerevena almost didn’t recognize the emperor. In the hologram before her, Krevator was completely transformed; he held himself boldly, proudly, and with a firm regal air and an assertive conviction. Gone was the “grunt” that had been allowed entry into the Base. And no wonder. This emperor would never be granted entry into Crossroad Station. He wore a broad cape over his shoulders and another around his waste. Easily the size of a larger titan, it was no wonder he was feared throughout his universe--even if he wasn't statistically the most physically powerful there.

As if on cue, each of the other six barons also pulled out their datapads which Cerevena knew granted them influence over the playing and pausing of the hologram. As the simple Chief of Operations, Cerevena was not allowed one of these, although, much to her surprise, Frentis gestured at one of the regulars who brought over a chair for her. Now here was a privilege.

The camera had apparently been near Krevator’s feet, for he towered irregularly above the table. The Emperor gazed out at what was presumably a crowd, looking around as if looking for the right words. There were no papers before him. When he knew when he was ready to start, he somehow stood straighter.

“When Kragator first met,” Emperor Krevator declared, “''with what would become the administration of the Kritor Alliance, he held in his head a grim mandate for the universe. Ten thousand years--''”

X-2436 paused the video abruptly. “It hadn’t been ten thousand years. He exaggerated for effect. The Hand/Foot War in his universe lasted just as long there as in any normal universe.” He continued playback.

“''--of conflict between the Hand of Artakha and the Foot of Karzahni had left the universe in tatters and the mist of confusion and disorder rested upon the universe. The Great Beings breathed the breath of sentience into the denizens of this universe realized a leader was in order. If the destruction rampant during the Hand/Foot War was to be prevented, a king had to rise up from the ashes.''”

X-2436 paused again. “Note Krevator’s repetition of ‘Order’ in paragraphs pertaining to Kragator and the Kritors. These are juxtaposed with those without order in non-Kritor paragraphs. No doubt this was intended to develop an unconscious association between the Kritors and order--the Kritor Empire was resurrected in the middle of a time of chaos and the Kritor Empire had to be a beacon of hope if the universe was to hand itself over to him. Also, that nonsensical sentence about the denizens--that’s deliberate as well, for obvious reasons.” He let the video play.

“''Kragator was that king, and the wise flocked to him. Kragator was a symbol of hope to whom those who feared disorder turned to. When Kragator organized the first grand Kritor military, the rest of the barbaric world watched in fear, for Kragator sought order in the world’s disorder. Kragator’s commands shed new hope where none existed. We were separate, and without purpose, but Kragator illuminated our hearts with cold, hard… order. The murderers, the thieves, the assailants turned to Kragator and through his orders and his command learned new purpose. The wise, the law-abiders, the orderly fled to Kragator for cover under his cape from the chaos. Beings of every genus, of every species became a part of this new species, the Kritors. The powers of the Kritors grew until they were the single greatest power in the universe. The Alliance of Kritors grew to encompass the entire universe, filling the universe with order and purpose and power. And Kragator took his rightful place among the gods.''"

“Once again,” X-2326 interrupted, “This is complete exaggeration. The Brotherhood of Makuta (and later Makuta League) was evenly balanced against the Kritor Empire for much of its run, until the last few weeks where the Kritor Empire felled Destral and claimed the Makuta League’s lands. This ended not long after his fall, which you shall hear about soon. Also note how Krevator flips to present tense to emphasize the current situation and his right of succession.”

“''But this was not to last. Kragator is forced to choose an heir to carry on his line, for he is quickly assassinated by jealous individuals who had once dared to consider themselves his equals. The Kritor Empire, with no more king to lead us--Everything he has worked for! Everything he has built--is barbarically dismantled. Everything is torn apart. The Kritor Empire is torn apart. The Kritor Empire is…''

“''The Legacy of Kragator, your very order was lost. The wick--''”

Waktun’s finger came off his datapad. “Okay, tell me you guys heard that.”

For a second, Cerevena thought X-2436 smiled, but then she didn’t see anything. “Very good. He is clearly communicating that he, the legacy of Kragator, and the Kritor Empire--which now encompasses everything--are all the same thing. Since you’ve paused it, I will say that he goes on to remind them of their seeming desperation with the onslaught of apparent chaos in the Faux-Barraki… and their apparent need for order in the Kritor Empire.”

“''--ed fiends, Helryx and Sheriem reshaped the world in their image. They instructed fools to worship false gods such as Mata Nui or Sheriem himself. Cultists were deceived into praying to the four Archcommanders, not to the Great Archcommander. Along the fringes of the universe, in the barbarian realms of the periphery, false warlords arrogantly boasted their names into the storm. They rose up, each claiming to be the next great Kragator, or worse, Kragator’s Heir. The Legacy of Kragator was not among them, but the fools pranced about in pride and foolishness, devastating lands and pillaging villages of the helpless and of the Genus-Nations alike. The disorder incarnate in the Fauxrakki would not have happened had Kragator not fallen. Those rabid beasts would not have dared to rise up to devour your villages or to destroy your friends had the Kritor Empire not been in place. Nobody who is wise would dare rise up against the Kritor Empire while a king sits on Bythrain’s throne.''

“''Let the age of chaos and disorder end. I have taken my place; a king once more resides in Bythrain. I am the Legacy of Kragator. In order to end the chaos, the Kritor Empire shall once more institute an Age of Metal to end the rabid beasts. Nothing will stand against the age of metal. You may be Kritors, but the Kritor Empire is not you. You are cogs in the machine, gears in our clockwork. You know as well as those around you that chaos reigns when the Kritor Empire isn’t there to protect you or to give you purpose. If you want order, you and your leaders will obey my orders, for in order to restore order to this universe, to the universe beyond this universe, to the entire multiverse! the Kritor Empire will rise above all.''”

The image of Krevator walked off the stage, but there was no cheering, no applauding. Krevator’s words had struck them hard to their core; now his stunned audience was prepared to do anything they ask in order to prevent the “disorder”.

“Now,” breathed X-2436, “Had you been in that audience, without my frequent interruptions and your own experience with unconscious manipulation, would you have been as immune to his speaking as you are?”

“I would have been,” Karrnot declared.

Cerevena narrowly avoided rolling her eyes. Karrnot need only catch her doing this to have her disciplined.

But Berian was not so fearful.

“Karrnot, calm down. We all know you are the most invincible one of us here. There’s no need for you to prove that.”

Waktun folded his arms. “I am confident I would have avoided manipulation. How powerful can this emperor be?”

Frentis shrugged. “You are not desperate. Desperate peoples are always easy to manipulate. Most dictators come to power after some great depression or national humiliation.” she chuckled. “One need only look at the history of Vudrai Nui for that.”

A breeze of laughter swept over the room and Cerevena knew the barons were in good humor again. She chose this opportunity to speak.

“Now, if I may ask, what am I to do about Krivosh? Shall I send agents in to recover her, or shall I leave her here?”

“Do what we always do,” Karrnot grinned, waving his hand dismissively. “Send people in. If she’s cracked, silence her; if not, pull her out and we’ll decide then. But we cannot risk the integrity of our mission. You’re dismissed.”

Cerevena stood abruptly and didn’t hesitate to walk out. The Agency was stricter than the majority of the Orders of Mata Nui due to the drastic nature of their business. She new better than to disobey.

Nor did she feel sorrow for Krivosh. It was implied that she would lead the operation to recover her lost agent, and she would make the call whether she should live or die. While Cerevena knew the agent rather well, the secrecy of the Agency and its purpose must remain strong. The Agency didn’t know how much Krevator knew of their true purpose, or how close he was to learning of this, but if he didn’t know, maintaining that secret was key.

She pointed at group of regulars who ran up. “Yes ma’am?”

“You: tell Agents Perla and Narro to meet me in the Engineering Wing of the tower. You: send a message to Pohok I need the best equipment he can find me. And I need you to inform Narcus to drop what he’s doing and catch up on the history of the Kritor Empire. The rest of you are excused.”

Half an hour later, she was pacing impatiently in the Engineering Wing of the Agency’s castle-like tower. Pohok, one of the Heads of Engineering, watched her uneasily.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon…”

“Pohok, did you not hear what happened up at Crossroad?”

“I’ve been down here all day. I have a vague understanding at best. But I’m sure it isn’t as bad as the rumors and whispers have been making it out to be.”

“Let’s just say… I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. I fully expected the council would demote me.”

Just then, two agents--one a white Mersion and the other a red Toa.

“We were told you wanted us,” Perla, the Mersion said.

“Have you heard about what happened up at Crossroad Station?”

Perla and Narro nodded at the same time. Narro smiled slightly, signalling to Cerevena he’d heard some nasty rumors about it as well--likely involving her.

“Good. Your mission handler, Narcus is currently being briefed on the nature of the threat, the Kritor Empire. Once he is done, he will inform you of what he knows and you will make plans. I’m sending you both in after an agent who has been captured by the Kritor emperor, Krevator. If she has clearly been broken, I want you both to kill her. If she doesn’t appear to have leaked information, bring her back here and I will decide. Take no chances. Under no circumstances are you allowed to get captured. The Kritor Empire has just made itself the Agency’s Priority Threat; I will not take failures to carry out your mission lightly.”

The Agents nodded. These were two highly experienced agents. Cerevena had picked them because they’d done this sort of thing before, although the stakes likely hadn’t been so high then.

“Trust me, any failure on your part will put the entire Agency at risk. Now, Pohok, what do you have?”

The Av-Matoran directed them to a table lined with several large pieces of armor, as well as a few weapons. Cerevena had suggested they not go into the simulation room for time constraints. In the background, the large clang of a wrench could be heard resounding as some engineer working on a giant cylindrical machine shouted in dismay.

“Because of the… delicate nature of your current mission, I am not going to equip you, Narro, with your normal Olmak-infused armor. Instead I will give you Rode-infused armor pieces. This will allow you to interrogate the agent--Krivosh was it?--and learn of how much she has given away. Of course, it will also mean you cannot travel in and out of the dimension as you need; it will be of paramount importance that you stick with your partner. If you find yourself stranded, I’m afraid you will have to absorb this poison pack which will kill you immediately. Perla, you will also have a poison pack.

“Each of the armor pieces I have given you are also equipped with stealth mechanisms. The Kritors have built a special force field that detects interdimensional teleportation in and out of their universe. They also have a primitive version of the field that protects the Vudrai Nui Universe, but they don’t have this activated at the moment. We’ll take advantage of that to get you in. These stealth mechanisms attached to your armor will prevent your detection and even get you through the shields protecting the Great Spirit Robot, but because of the extreme difficulty they require to be built, you have two of the three such mechanisms that we have built. Do not damage them.

“Now, in addition to your normal weapons, you will be granted Zamor throwing disks. They’re basically a cross between Zamor spheres and Kanoka, but these can absorb the energies of the first victim for a powerful attack on the second if you so choose. Following this, it becomes an automatic projectile you can throw or bring down on the head of a third assailant, but it will shatter and become useless. The Zamor disks we’re giving you have special modifications to they can return to the user pretty well, although this isn’t promised.

“We’re also sending you in with special helmets that go directly on your head, placed under your Kanohi. These allow you to shut off any of your senses at will: sight, hearing, feeling, pain, and, to a limited extent, taste and smell. Things may get a little hairy in there, especially with heavy Kritor propaganda, so Cerevena felt these may be necessary additions.

“Finally, each of you will be sent in with special drive scanners. The Kritor Empire has reached a point where they can use computers much like ours, although theirs are somewhat primitive in comparison. If they are, in fact, hijacking our computer system as is rumored, we need to know what exactly they’ve recovered.”

Pohok breathed deeply. “Now, would each of you like to take your equipment into the simulation room and try them?”

Cerevena interrupted quickly. “No. There’s no time for that--” She saw a glint of blue out of the corner of her eye and knew a blue Virakan, Narcus, was running up to them. “Impeccable timing. Brief them quickly. Then head immediately to the launch pad. I want them landed in ten minutes.”

On the highest room in the great tower of Vudrai Nui, an aged, ailing being watched all that happened within the politburo council chamber with a mixture of fascination and disgust. The barons were fools, he knew. Preparing for a war they would not wage. He had been there from the start. He was the one that had laid the foundations of this tower and this Agency. These were merely imposters. Especially Karrnot.

He swiveled his chair with great pain to another monitor. This one revealed a telling view of the launch pad. Yes, he’d seen Cerevena’s meeting with Pohok, Perla, Narro, and Narcus. Heard it too. It had, in fact, been he who first changed Pohok’s name from “Photok” to “Pohok”. This was his organization. He did as he pleased.

He turned his attention again to the barons. Yes, he could see Karrnot in all his raging glory. It wasn’t hard to guess Karrnot’s true motives. He sought to turn the Agency into a self-serving engine of wealth.

But this was not in line with the Agency’s original foundation. If it hadn’t been for the sickly titan dwelling in the highest chamber of the tower, Karrnot could never have made it this far. None of them could have. They were powerful, alright. But not powerful enough. Not for this.

Not powerful enough to build a multiversal power lasting upwards of a million years.

The barons finished their meeting. Frentis made a joke and the rest of the members were put at ease--for now. It was always momentary.

Nothing lasted for long with these sorts of people.

As they were standing to leave, Bakreth rushed to the door. X-2436 collected the various files he brought to the meeting--he always had something or another--and also left. Gorbere and Berian both meandered out. Those two had the impression of being reserved and austere, but in his opinion, they were quite vacuous and empty-headed. The only reason they didn’t say much was because they had nothing to contribute on an interdimensional scale. Gorbere was good for an occasional battle strategy, but not much else. As for Berian… well, he had no idea how Berian had landed a position among his politburo. Only that he had. Whatever.

Waktun glanced at the two others remaining in the room and scurried out. Now only Frentis and Karrnot remained. Both made it to the door about the same time. The aged creature smiled. This would be hilarious.

“Er--” Frentis’ voice came over the viewing system.

“Go ahead.”

“''No, you were here first. You can go.''”

“''Frentis, I told you you can go. Just go.''”

Frentis shrugged and made her way out. The aged being sat back in his seat. That hadn’t been as entertaining as most times were. He was convinced Karrnot harbored secret feelings toward Frentis.

There was a knocking on the door to the room and the withering titan reached over and deactivated all his visual and audio feeds. He pressed another button that allowed his door to slide open. Swiveling around, he was greeted by Bakreth.

“Did you see and hear us just now?” Bakreth asked.

“What I wanted to,” the aged creature swiveled away from him. “I know exactly what I need to know.”

“My lord… this is the greatest threat the multiverse has faced since the Soulshredders. Are you going to come down and lead us?”

“I will lead… when I so choose. Until then, enjoy the reckless ambition of Karrnot.”

“My lord… this threat may very well be the greatest we have faced--”

“''I told you what I will do. I do not deviate from my plans, Bakreth''. I would think you of all people would know this by now.”

“I’m sorry. It’s… just that this could be the greatest victory of the Agency’s existence, and I know how you feel about those. I do hope you change your mind.”

“I never said that I will not come down. Only that I will do so when I am ready. Very soon I will take my place at the head of that table downstairs, a place Karrnot has presumed to claim in my absence, but one I can reclaim at my leisure. But I will make that determination. Not you. And certainly not any of those other self-proclaimed warlords.”

Bakreth bowed yes sir and stepped out of the chamber. Almost mindlessly, the figure turned and flipped back on the monitors. Ironically, Bakreth was the only one who viewed him with the respect he desired. The other barons thought of him as less as he thought of them, if not lesser. He didn’t care--his power was certain in his own eyes--but there was still the damaged ego… and the fact he couldn’t go down and prove himself to them.

Well, he could. But he disciplined himself not to.

But the time was coming when he would take his place once again. He could sense it. Krevator was just the sort of challenge he enjoyed--something in his bones told him this. Like a kindred spirit of sorts. Another entity seeking to take his place among, well, the gods.

He trembled with anticipation.

Chapter Four: Order
Solis Magna System, The Broken Order Universe

The next morning, High Commander Zorus took a space warp over to a planet called Gigas Magna to watch the Kritor military parade.

It wasn’t a comprehensive parade, of course. The vessels, personnel, and soldiers present in the parade did not contain the entirety of the Kritor military; that would take far too long. Only a small fraction of the combined militaries was going to be present.

The “parade” as it had been called for lack of a better term, was set to head around the seven main planets of the Solis Magna system. The event was set to draw tens of quadrillions of spectators. Of course, it helped that even those not interested in coming (of whom there were none--Krevator’s brainwashing and too much time time had wiped any other reality from their minds) were under orders to turn up.

On Gigas Magna, the largest tower offering the most magnificent view of the spectacle had been reserved for the six Kritor High Commanders not present in the parade. The four senior-most commanders--Karion, Fortag, Lorgon, and Krax--were to be in the procession.

When Zorus walked into the command deck, he realized, much to his shame, that he was late. Hydraxon, Trinuma, Botar, Hazat, and Quokus were already there waiting. As both the youngest and newest High Commander, he was not living up to the expectations his rank entitled. He resolved to never again be late for important military affairs.

Qoukus glanced at him, but said nothing. The rest of the generals ignored him.

Of the High Commanders, only Botar and Hazat did not hold sensculars pointing skyward as they already had naturally superior sight and hearing capacities. Zorus noticed a pair waiting for him.

“Nothing up there yet, is there?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He was late, but he hadn’t been that late.

“Not yet,” Hydraxon replied shortly.

Zorus nodded and raised his super-binoculars to the skies. Sure enough, nothing yet. He moved them over so he could see Spherus Magna. Vaguely, in the distance, he could see Spherus Magna, the grey sphere that it was.

“Zorus, Karion has informed me that Krevator wants you to maintain hold a defensive position in this universe,” Trinuma said.

“Thank you. Fortag already told me.” Zorus replied.

“I take it the rest of us have our assignments then?” asked Trinuma. Each of the generals responded with some variety of affirmation.

The new Kritor communication systems work fast.

“The first Screws are starting to arrive from the tour of Alchemica Magnus,” Botar said. “It will start soon.”

Sure enough, within a matter of minutes, some of the forerunner vessels were shooting across the sky, gently brushing along the edge of the atmosphere. These were scout vessels, known as “Screws”, designed to be sleek, small, and swift. Their hull was streamlined to accommodate any environment.

This was the way all Kritor vessels were built. Knowing how many environments they would have to slug through and how hard it would be to transport unlimited numbers of large vessels between dimensions, Krevator had rejected the idea of numerous, highly specialized “elite” vehicles in favor of “jack-of-all-trade” type ships. Although initial models didn’t particularly master all the environments the Kritors would have to fight in, hundreds of thousands of years of ceaseless modifications and new models designed by the Great Beings and manufactured by the RML Nation-State had produced these beauties. They were specially equipped to fly, crawl, tunnel, or swim through any known environment consisting of any natural element, not unlike Toa Canisters. Unfortunately, as Krevator was well aware, much of the universe didn’t consist of the natural elements, instead being constituted of bizarre, wild material. Kritor vehicles were incapable of traversing these, but the Great Beings were hard at work, looking for ways to overcome this.

Now hundreds of Screws were streaking and rolling across the sky, forming long blazes and spirals of pure grey. A sharp shriek echoed down whenever the ships brushed the atmosphere.

“Dare I say our enemies are… screwed?” offered Zorus.

After some time, the droves of Screws began slowing, and every general knew what followed. Screws were followed by vessels formally referred to as the “Destroyers”. These were the power-based warships. Although they were slow, they had enough firepower to cripple a planet. One of the destroyers fired a weak shot at the surface and the entire planet shook.

Cheers erupted from the levels of the tower below the High Commanders. The wilder, far more unrestrained Heads of State and Heads of Species were positioned down there. But Krevator had been sure that the High Commanders held the highest level, Zorus thought.

The Destroyers took much longer than the Screws for their slowness. As such, they were nicknamed “snails”, although this could be shortened to “nails” when in the same sentence as the screws.

“Nailed it.” Zorus said.

“What is the order of the planets in the tour?” asked Quokus.

“The parade starts in Procul Magna. It tours Alchemica Magna, Gigas Magna, Spherus Magna, Noctxia Magna, and Proxima Magna before terminating at Zypvera.” Hazat replied.

When that fleet ended, then came the “Heavies”, “Bolts”, or, most properly, the “Carriers”. These were the organs of the Kritor invasion fleet, for it was here that the legions of Kridroids, one-man vessels, or Exo-Kridroids were stored. There were always at least four of these per military, but within the parade, there were about seventeen.

These ships were flatter than either of the other two, but they held a tremendous width. Although they were incapable of storing Screws or Destroyers within them, those ships were capable of attaching to the hull and riding.

“Next you know, the enemy will exclaim ‘Nuts’ and bolt in the opposite direction.”

“Shut up.”

“Zorus, just because you’re my equal now doesn’t mean I can’t court-martial you. Act your rank. Act like a Kritor.”

The final ships to sail into view were the flagship vessels of the High Commanders. Every Screw, Destroyer, or Heavy answered to one of these, for this was the command station. In the procession, there were four: Krax’s Annihilator, Fortag’s Sweet Killer, Lorgon’s Pride, and Karion’s Cold Justice. Collectively, this class ship was known as “The Silver Platters” for their general roundness and width.

At the center of everything, the remodeled Kritor Spirit (or the Great Spirit Robot) signalled Krevator’s presence in the procession. Krevator had apparently abandoned his normal flagship, Oblivion, in favor of proclaiming the jewel of his empire. A certifiable masterpiece, especially ever since Krevator had, with the assistance of the Great Beings, removed the mind of Mata Nui out from his own body and designed artificial controls. As it flew, the ever-present Nui Ship and Red Star sailed loyally alongside it.

“What a sight,” Trinuma sighed.

“Just think,” Botar said. “Once other universes are converted to serve the Kritors, they will enjoy sights like this.”

“They will thank us,” concurred Hydraxon. “There is no alternative. Once they give in to the Kritor Empire, they will love us.”

“A shame they aren’t as smart as they ought to be,” Hazat muttered. “A shame they can’t look ahead and see all the good we will bring.”

“If it were that easy, we wouldn’t have to manufacture militaries.” Hydraxon replied.

No one responded to that, so they continued to watch the procession. It’s like seeing fireworks, Zorus reflected, Only it’s ironworks. At this point, it largely consisted of miscellaneous ships such as cargo haulers, medical vessels, and prison transports. There were no silly names for these. But these lasted a surprisingly long time.

“The prison ships are bound for Natura Magna after the parade, correct?” Zorus asked.

“Yes.” Hydraxon replied.

“Good. I’m going to ask the emperor if I can rehearse a siege on Natura Magna. It’s been too long since I and my men practiced an attack on a planet, and I don’t think practice would hurt. Especially since we won’t be in the attack fleets.”

“That would be good,” Hydraxon replied.

Natura Magna was the Kritor prison planet. Its constantly shifting environments made both for good bad prison conditions, but it also prevented sieges of the world from going the same way twice.

Additionally, its inhabitants consisted of everything the Kritors viewed as “extraneous material” or beings Krevator felt weren’t necessary to the operations of the Empire (included races such as the Vorgaan). These held a natural hatred for the Kritors, though whether it was because they saw the empire as hostile, whether they were mad for being dragged off their planet to this prison world, or whether they were just jealous for being left out--or some combination thereof--Zorus couldn’t say. What mattered was that they were expendable, and they often learned with each Kritor invasion, prompting the requirement of greater innovation on the High Commanders’ part.

Regardless… it all made for fun practice attacks.

Of course, these attacks should in-theory be harder than the majority of real-life Kritor invasions. Most races the Kritors should encounter in the campaigns the Kritors will already be familiar with, having dealt with them once in this universe, “Universe 4,711”. But not all opponents will be this easy. Harder enemies may require the direct intervention of Krevator and his manipulation and breaking of the opponents over a long period of time.

But Zorus had no delusions. He knew his place, just as the other High Commanders did. Although they would lead their militaries into battle very far away and for a long period away from Krevator and his capital in Bythrain, they would never forget Krevator’s true purpose for them.

''We are his chariot, and the empire is his horses. We are carrying his legacy to immortality.''

Several hours later, the Emperor, Krevator, stood with a hand against the interior door to the prison cells under Bythrain. So many years ago, Kragator had stood on this exact spot, even as he followed behind him.

It wasn’t that he was afraid. Under normal circumstances, he would be none so reluctant, but when Kragator did something very similar so very long ago, he’d learned something he shouldn’t have learned that soon, and sure enough, he’d suffered a mental breakdown for it. The Kritor Empire under his rule suffered and the Makuta League very nearly succeeded in overwhelming the lands under Kritor control. They didn’t, thanks to Helryx’s Alignment and the foolishness of the Dark Hunters, but it was still the most unstable time in Kragator’s sanity. The conviction of his beliefs were shaken to their core.

Krevator couldn’t remember what exactly Kragator had learned, but--

“''In telling me that the Order of Mata Nui existed in place of the Kritor Alliance or Empire,  Cootol confirmed that Helryx had been successful over me.” Kragator explained to Ervik on his flagship, known as the Oblivion. “This opens a lot of questions. Did this mean I simply didn’t exist in that universe? Or did I exist and just not rise to power? If so, was that Kragator naturally inferior? Or was he as powerful and just couldn’t successfully pull off the Kritor Alliance? If so, did this mean it was just luck that I have accomplished what I have in this universe? Was I just a sham? Were my personality and philosophies not guaranteed victory? I always attributed his successes to a grounded state of mind and reasonable ways of thinking, but what if the other Kragator shared all of those, yet didn’t hold victory? Was this Destiny’s way of telling me my success was an accident? Some byproduct of a single variable not come to pass?''

“''All this I grappled with and more in my struggle. But I have recovered and emerged all the stronger. It means that this incarnation of Kragator--I--am superior to the parallel Kragators. It must be. There is no alternative. Those must not have come upon the same philosophies or learned in the same way I have from Pravat. There is no possible alternative. When we arrive at Tren Krom, I will confirm this…''”

He stopped, blinked. He’d long since forgotten this--it had happened hundreds of thousands of years ago--yet he now recalled it with such fine detail. Not that this was the only time of late this had happened. Kregator’s speeches, his sayings were all flooding back with the same crystal clarity as if they had happened yesterday. But they had long-since been engraved into his instinct and forgotten. It was as though his long life--or the important bits at least--were flashing before his very eyes.

Kragator promptly recovered from his existential crisis to greater power than he had ever held before--only to be killed at the peak of this success. Technically it had been Ervik/Krevator who killed him--to prevent his capture or ignoble execution by the Alignment who had Bythrain in their throws--but it was still disturbing. It was to this that Krevator had alluded when he spoke to Krivosh in his court.

He heaved a sigh and shoved open the door to the cells. Krivosh was held in the very last one. Some careless Kritor had seen fit to imprison her in the same position as Cootol had been held in.

“Krivosh, Krivosh, Krivosh.” Krevator said as he drew near. “I am vaguely aware of a Krivosh in my universe. None so remarkable as you.”

The shadowy countenance of the prisoner appeared in the bars lining the doors of the cell.

“Have you decided what to do with me?”

“Uh-uh,” Krevator smiled and shook his head. “Let’s not forget how this works. You don’t ask the questions here. I do.”

She backed away from the bars. Because he couldn’t see her (and his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dimly-lit room, he reached over to a wall and flipped on a light within her prison. She recoiled deeper into her cell, but Krevator, satisfied, pulled over a small wooden stool and sat down, pulling one leg over the other to neatly cross them.

“Cooperate… and I will neither torture you nor bring in one of my interrogators to drag the information out of your skull.”

“Agents are equipped with mental barriers.”

“They said the Great Barrier could not be broken, yet the Kritors have. They said the Sound Barrier could not be broken, yet the Kritors have. They said the Light Barrier could not be broken, yet the Kritors have. We have broken all these and more--and you think a mental barrier can stop us? It couldn’t even slow us.”

When she said nothing, Krevator sighed. “Come, now, Krivosh. The Agency is aware of our capacities. If they’re as smart as they think they are, they know you will give us the information we want. There’s no need to drag out the inevitable.”

Again she said nothing. The emperor nodded.

“Now then… Tell me about the eight beings who run the Agency. I have examined the data I have stolen thus far from your base and I can find nothing on them.” Of course, the Kritors had yet to download much of the data, but Krevator wanted to know about them sooner rather than later.

At length, with great hesitation, Krivosh smiled sheepishly. “Well, I… don’t really know that much about them. I was only recruited a few years ago.”

Somewhat vague understanding of the Agency… An agent for just a few years. This could present an opportunity.

“Krivosh, are you aware of what the Agency stands for? The heads--these mysterious barons--have maintained their secrecy. Do you really know what they’re doing?”

“Of course I do. Do you?”

“I am the one asking questions. Are you aware that the Agency misleads its members with a noble mission even as it fulfills its own selfish agenda?”

These were lies, of course. Krevator knew the Agency stood for things much like most Orders of Mata Nui stood for--the preservation of the multiverse as it stood. But if he could plant lies in her mind, he could use her to spread deception and deceit. If he played his cards right, the Agency could crumble from the inside.

“No. No it doesn’t. The Agency is the one thing that stands between greedy, multiversal warlords like you and the rest of the universe. We fight for protection and self-determination, where you fight for greed and fame.”

“You’ve spent so much time in this universe… and yet you know so little. Fame is fleeting. What use would I ever have for that? Moreover, greed… I have no need for wealth. I own an entire universe, but in the end, that will decay and and waste away when I die. And it isn’t for the sake of devastation or revenge either. Devastation grows old rather quickly and Matoran soon rebuild and forget. If I wanted revenge against someone, I wouldn’t need to conquer the universe for it. Have I convinced you of how little you know?”

Still she said nothing. Krevator couldn’t help but wonder if she existed for the sole purpose of spouting Agency beliefs.

“''There is only one thing in life that unifies everything and everyone, and that is the great equalizer, Death.” Krevator recited from memory. “No matter how powerful you are or how much territory you might control, Death will always come for you. There is only one way to live on, and that is through your legacy. Some people leave legacies of heroism—they will live on in the occasional legend, perhaps the subject of a discussion in a Ga-Matoran lesson here or there. Others leave legacies of conquest, of terror—they will live on in nightmares and horror stories, as models for future conquerors, and in the annals of those who realized themselves superior to the Great Spirit and acted on it. All others are forgotten. Think about that for a moment—and tell me which path you would choose.''”

“You fight for fame.”

“No. I fight for glory. I fight for a true, lasting legacy. Grant those and fame follows.”

“You will have no legacy when the Agency is finished with you.”

Krevator looked down and decided he had to change tactics. He would get nowhere teaching her the ideals of Kritor Emperors if she was as chauvinistic and closed-minded as she acted.

“The point is… you know so little about us and you’ve studied us. How can you think you know so much about the Agency when you’ve spent so little time there and haven’t studied them at all?”

“Krevator--”

“Please. My friends call me Krevator. You can call me ‘lord emperor’.”

“--I am an Agent from another realm. Designed to decide the outcome of this universe--”

“Oh, I know. Why else would you be imprisoned?”

“--I have told the Agency that your Empire cannot be allowed to continue. Enjoy your days as Emperor because they are numbered.”

It took all his self-discipline to hold his fury down. How does anyone survive in the real world with such a narrow mind?

“No. At worst, I am evenly pitted with the Agency. They have none of the militaries I have.”

Krivosh said nothing, but she smiled smugly as though she were hiding something.

Come on, Krevator thought. ''Of all the agents that could have been assigned to this universe, we had to get the stupidest, most mindless one? Why couldn’t I get one with a brain--someone I could come to a common understanding with?''

The emperor was well-practiced in manipulating smart people. He hadn’t expected this. Someone had brainwashed her already.

“I see what you mean by ‘mental barrier’.” Krevator remarked. Someone had brainwashed her already.

Suddenly very bored, Krevator stood and turned off the light in Krivosh’s cell. Perhaps he would order one of the interrogators to handle her.

“Where are you going?” Krivosh demanded.

Wordlessly, Krevator marched out of the prison block, shut the door and locked it. Let her stare after him desperately for all he cared. But for now, she had to be broken.

“Don’t give her food for four days,” Krevator ordered the guard standing outside the exterior prison door. “Over this time, only let her have one day’s worth of water. I or one of the interrogators will deal with her later.”

Behind him, he heard the guard lock the door and it was still.

So he had gained nothing from Krivosh except what he already knew. The self-righteous Agency existed for the sole purpose of protecting the denizens of any universe from any potential multiversal threat. He could have guessed this before he even sent soldiers to infiltrate the base.

With a heave, he sat down in his office chair. All of a sudden he felt so... old.

He pulled the data-screen off his desk and pressed a button underneath the pad. The screen flared to life right where he left off. Feeling more like reading than watching, he left it in two-dimensional mode rather than switching to three-dimensional mode.

''' Lykos Kinsmen. '''

The Lykos Kinsmen are a species found in some universes in the Great Spirit Robot or on Aqua Magna.

History  

Early History, Seven Paketo's of Exusia

''Not much is known from the tribal times of the Lykos Kinsmen, or more specifically about where they came from; and what purpose they were to serve for Mata Nui--if any. They remained on the lonely and forbidden island of Exusia for most of the earlier history of the Matoran Universe, left to battle the wilderness which surrounded them. This time was primarily know to the Lykos as their darkest ages, as the people struggled to survive against the terrors of the Exusian wilderness; primarily the Exusian Bear and the Titan Eagle--which both hunted the Lykos Kinsmen as a food source.''

''During this time, the Lykos Kinsmen demonstrated extremely vital adaption tactics to overcome their enemy within the wilderness; adapting great speed, strength and communication to overcome their larger opponents with brilliantly executed and planned tactics. Within time, the Lykos Kinsmen became the dominant force of the Exusian Wilderness; praying upon the Exusian Bear and Titan Eagle--nearly bringing the two species upon the brink of destruction, before relenting their force and allowing their once great enemy to again repopulate. Without the distraction of survival against the larger and more powerful Rahi populating the Exusian Wilderness, the Kinsmen began developing complex relationships as they had the chance to operate as a group.''

''Eventually, these groups expanded and grew larger--as the Lykos began to recognize seven different tribal relationships; which in the Lykos tongue became known as 'Paketos'. Without distraction, the Lykos began developing keen talents, systems and codes which eventually became the Honor System of the Lykos Kinsmen; which was held with high regard by the Lykos people--a mentality they would keep as they viewed their honor as their title and their purpose.''

''As the Paketo's began to expand across the island of Exusia, the Lykos Kinsmen found themselves competing for resources and land, and eventually an all out war broke out between the eight Paketos. Because of the constant state of war, the desire to become stronger and tougher than their opponents began and caused the first ever War Colleges to be assembled for each Paketo, where a warrior would be tested and made ready in the field if combat. Offensive and defensive weapons also became something to be desired, as more elaborate pieces of equipment were found and put into use.''

''As the War of the Eight Tribes continued, is was eventually found by seven of the Paketos that the Third Paketo had discovered a source of powerful elements hidden under the earth which applified their abilities in combat. The seven other Paketos united to face the Third Paketo, successfully crushing them before the threat could ever become to serious. Because of the collaboration, the seven Paketos overtook and eventually put an end to the last bloodline of the Third Paketo. Because of the events of the Destruction of the Third Tribe, the other seven Paketos were finally able to set aside their differences and came together under the Lykos Kinsman Empire…''

The text went on, but Krevator placed the tablet down. How powerful were these Kinsmen relative to the Kritor Empire? From what he understood, the Lykos were a powerful, aggressive warrior race. How would they fare against the Kritor militaries?

And what about these other so-called multiversal threats? There were quite a few. The Fallen Empire, Empire of Shadows, The Initiators, The Corpsian Empire, The Silent Knights, Shadow of Ages, The Soulshredders,  just to name a few. Most of these had been undermined or overthrown by the Agency--these six in particular, all of whom once shared the Kritor Empire’s status as “Priority”,  were noted as past-tense. But the Lykos were marked as a constant threat--the sort of threat that comes whenever Lykos are present in any universe.

But the Lykos Empire was different from the rest of these. There was a savage beauty to this culture--a culture of honor and pride and glory and victory.

Well, perhaps not the last.

Victory had been stolen from the great Lykos Republic by the Agency of the Olmak.

As he reflected on this, a sudden rage bubbled up like a boiling spring. Polemistis, sixteenth dictator of probably the first recorded Lykos Republic had been robbed of victory by the Agency. Robbed of victory. Triumph which belonged to him was stolen by two agents. One had gone missing not long after the event; the other was found dead in Polemistis’ throne room.

Robbed of victory. Polemistis, Krevator realized, was like a kindred spirit. While he didn’t partake in the same philosophies as the Kritor emperors--philosophies which called for the leveling and equalizing of all races, including the Lykos--Krevator nonetheless couldn’t help noticing a certain beauty in what the Agency described. Of course, any normal being, or at least, one with a normal moral compass, would be horrified at some of what the description read, but Krevator was fascinated.

He picked the Chalice of the Kritor King off his otherwise Spartan desk and fidgeted with it. (As an emperor, one has the right to play mindlessly with things others hold in the highest esteem.)

His current quest would see to the downfall of the Agency itself. But was this fair? Did he have the right to deprive the Lykos of their chance at revenge?

No.

Suddenly grasped by an unusual fervor, he placed the chalice back on the desk and made his way to the local Dimension Gate. The Lykos Kinsmen Republic deserved a chance to take back what was theirs.

And if the time came when the Kritor Empire would have to battle the Lykos… well, Krevator would wage that war fairly and properly. He would not behave like the Agency, picking off enemies from their lofty perch as they did.

Already a plan was forming in his head as to how he could… influence… these Lykos into working with him.

Chapter Five: Osade
Yermo, Exusia, Impeeriumi Osade Alternate Universe; Present Day

It had been nearly two decades since the commencement of the New Age. It had been two decades since they celebrated the departure of their older Ultra Director. Two decades since the people rejoiced for the sake of their new found Ultra Director: Polemistis, Ultra Director of the Sixteenth Age—overseer of the Lykos Kinsman Republic. He relaxed in his throne, having been used to such a luxury for quite some time—the fine material cushions sinking him in deeper, adjusting automatically to fit the Ultra Director.

Drumming his fingers on the holographic display mounted onto the armrests of his fine seat, Polemistis watched the projection pad mounted in his Hall, which orbited every fine strand of the world his people lived. This projection offered him knowledge about every island, continent, ocean and river which ran through his inheritance—offering him all the knowledge the Lykos had gathered on the other existing worlds, outside of Lykos influence.

And how he despised the fact that what was inherited by the Lykos by their Gods, have been taken by the unworthy—a gift from their false idol. Every island northward belonged to these vermin, making his land filthy and unclean before the sight of their Gods. How the Lykos tried to warn these creatures, but they forbid the Ultra Director to instruct them the error of their ways. Two decades have stirred in an unceasing conflict, although no arms have been taken up yet—tension still brewed in the air.

The Ultra Director closed his restless eyes, taken up in the silence of his Honor Guard; his Hall abandoned with the exception of his statues of guards. He learned not to speak to them, as they are there for a singular purpose—defense and protection; any attempt to question them was answered by even deeper silence, to him they remained statues.

Suddenly, the massive and impressive doors on the other end of the Ultra Directors Grand Hall sparked to life; the impossibly decorated and perfect doors whirred in response—automatically opening to allow in Polemistis' new guests, as the Honor Guards tensed, peering without moving at the subjects pacing through the grand doors. The holographic projection of the ocean world ceased to exist, as Polemistis caught glance at the prisoner dragged into his sanctum, the size of a Lykos comparatively. This surprised Polemistis greatly, for non-Lykos heretics were generally said to be miniscule compared to Kinsmen.

“Tell me, guards. Why have you delivered this «ketser» to me instead of imprisoning him in the Void where he belongs?”

Of the seven Verkhov who had prevented the escape of the new prisoner, three released their mighty grips on him and dropped to their knee. “Holiest Utra Director. This heretic demanded appeal to you. He informed us that he bears with him an object of highest interest to the Ultra Director.”

Upon these words, Polemistis took steps from his high throne. Those Honor Guards standing closest to their holy king placed their hands on the hilts of their plasma blades, prepared to strike the prisoner dead should he make a move against the Ultra Director.

“Step away,” the Lykos Kinsman waved his hands and the soldier obediently bowed their heads and took two steps back, although they kept their Plasma Blades at the ready. Polemistis looked at the tall prisoner, garbed in crimson and violet garments, as well as a small brown pouch at his side. Other than this, his armour was wholly silver and gray.

Though he followed the leads of the Honor Guards in bowing his head, the prisoner’s hands remained on the front of his thighs and he kneeled in such a way that he could stand quickly if attacked. He held about him a regal air, not at all the humility of any other prisoner.

The Ultra Director was intrigued.

“Who are you? What is your name and the reason for your arrival in this most holy city?” he demanded harshly.

The prisoner would smile slightly.

“This is the second time I have played the role of a prisoner in the last several weeks. I daresay I play it rather well by now. I am Emperor Krevator, Lord of the Kritor Empire.”

Polemistis scoffed, “Then grand fellow leader, you shall know me as the Ultra Director of the Lykos Kinsman Republic. And what of your kin, what cause do you lead?"

“None… but my own.”

The Ultra Director turned then and strode many paces away from the self-proclaimed Kritor emperor. Krevator would raise his eyes to see what the Ultra Director might do, but he kept his head respectfully bowed.

“Emperor Krevator of the Kritor Empire. I know you are lying, Emperor Krevator of the Kritor Empire, for I know all the great kingdoms and empires under the Pantheon’s creation. The Lykos Kinsmen have many ears and just as many eyes. But our records--and I who know the records as well as I know the lists of heretics I have slain--do not know of this Kritor Empire. And this says nothing of an Emperor, Krevator.”

“You know nothing about me, and yet I know so much about you, Polemistis, and your war machine. I know who, and what you are, Polemistis. Doesn’t that set your instincts on edge?”

The Ultra Director stiffened impulsively. No one dared called the Ultra Director by name, it was forbidden unless they were above the Ultra Director. And he, a heretic—was not above the Lykos Ultra Director; a Verkhov was about to take his life; before the Lykos Ultra Director waved it off.

“Yes, that’s right,” Krevator growled. “The War Colleges teach each of their students that the understanding of the enemy is key to their downfall. And you, greatest of all, should know this.”

“You know my name. I am impressed,” Polemistis would reply. “But you have not answered my prior question. What do you fight for, Emperor Krevator of the Kritor Empire?”

“You fight for Plasma, but I fight for Iron. You fight for controlled, focused fury, but I fight for cold calculation. You fight a holy war, but I fight for purely selfish reasons, to live forever in the only way one can in a multiverse. Through an eternal legacy.”

“Aj, I too mean to build an enduring legacy. It seems our purposes may cross and conflict, for my path is to stomp out all heretics.”

“Yes, I… had a feeling that would come up sooner or later.”

The Ultra Director kept his back to the so-called emperor, although his face turned slightly toward him. “You already knew then that we should take opposing sides. Have you come then to beg escape from our eventual conquest?”

Krevator stood up, although his head remained bowed. “As the Lykos would say, ‘Nada’. As powerful as you are, I do not think you can defeat me or my empire. An empire that reaches beyond the skies--beyond the walls of this dimension.”

“You claim to be an other-worlder then? But you are here, in our courts. We could kill you if we so chose.”

“Yes, you could. And my empire and my successor would return and kill you and kill every other Polemistis that exists within the multiverse. But that would be such a waste of an impressive and formidable war machine.”

Polemistis turned his face away again and a smile crept across his countenance. “So you are impressed with our strength then, other-worlder?”

“I am.”

“You have travelled worlds to meet with us?”

“More or less, yes.”

“If you are as powerful as your claims would reckon, why then would you seek my court?”

“Because your death is looming.”

Polemistis turned around sharply to see Krevator no longer bowed his head. In his hands outstretched he held what could be presumed to have been the contents of his sack. In his hands… the shattered remains of a helmet of which only one existed, or should have existed.

It was the shattered remains of Ultra Director's helmet.

The ornaments adorning the helmet were melted through and the mask was cracked deep to its base. “What is the meaning of this?” Polemistis exclaimed as he sensed his own helmet had not been removed nor was marked by the cracks that had apparently found their ways through the helmet Krevator held.

“Send away your Honor Guards and your commanders and we’ll talk,” Krevator growled.

“The Honor Guards will stay. They will not betray your words. But the Verkhov…” Polemistis gestured with a broad sweeping arc of his hand. The Verkhov commanders looked uncomfortable as he did this, for they did not feel it was right for Polemistis to court a heretic. But the Ultra Director was more curious than cautious at this moment, and he acknowledged to himself that he could fend for himself if Krevator dared strike at him.

In the interim, the Ultra Director pondered what the sign could possibly mean. Polemistis could not imagine it was a fake; it was not permitted that a replica could be made among the Lykos ranks, and the helmet had never left the shores of Exusia lest it fall into the hands of the foul offspring of Grogus Sarkos, the corrupt one of the highest Pantheon. Still, ancient sciences had revealed that the existence of other worlds was a possibility; that there could be realms beyond this one. While the possibility transcended the Ultra Director’s mind even now, the reality of the statement was not out of the question. In fact, the dilemma of the second helmet when rightfully there should be one would presume to yield the answer.

With Krevator and the Ultra Director remaining the only ones in the room (discounting the statue-esque Honor Guards), Polemistis repeated, “What is the meaning of this?”

Krevator ignored the question, however. “I have read that, many many years ago that a Toa of Plasma, Lykor, was stranded on this, your holy homeland and brought before the Kinsmen Emperor, Paladika. The the emperor took a liking to him, trained him, dare I say, brainwashed him, and gained his service and worship, while also using his plasma powers to boost the Kinsmen existence. You renamed yourselves ‘Lykos Kinsmen’ in his honor. Now I stand before you, the Ultra Director in a similar manner and hope to similarly bring the Kinsmen to a new level of power while my mind is touched by the Lykos culture.

“In fact, I too was once a Toa of Plasma, washed up on the island of the Kritor emperor, Kragator. I was called Ervik then. He taught me a great many things, but above all, he taught me the nature of interpersonal power, and the understanding I needed to become almost exactly like he was in intellect and personality. I was moldable and he molded me. I was soft and he shaped me. When he was killed, I renamed myself ‘Krevator’ in his honor and in the honor of an inspirational philosopher who taught him. I took an inheritance as the Kritor Emperor, and conquered the universe, and the universe beyond the universe. But now I have been confronted with a force which has made itself your enemy in times past, and I seek to give you a chance at revenge.”

“You are an orator, I see,” Polemistis remarked. “You too have a gift for the tongue.”

“Yes. I am not as athletic as others of my rank, but my tongue and my mind are my choice of weapon.”

“I am sure you think Grogus Sar--Mata Nui has set you above his people for a reason.”

“Oh, I do not adhere to the religion of Mata Nui. I told you before, I fight for no cause but my own. I do not worship any except myself for all have fallen before me. Great Beings, Great Spirit… They were said to be as gods once--if I could beat them, am I not above them?”

“You must live a truly empty existence if you have no god to set your path, your goal before you.”

“I may not have a Road of Life per se,” Krevator frowned. “But I do have a purpose. There is one I have yet to beat, not a god but a force. Oblivion, the swallower of all things, the opposite of a benevolent god. It has thus far swallowed all things, but I mean to escape its jaws and crush it forever. If I unite the multiverse, nothing will be lost to time and space, least of all my legacy. I will have vanquished Oblivion forever and everything I have done, my legacy will live to eternity.”

“That is all well and good,” the Ultra Director replied. “However, I am afraid I can stand the suspense no longer.” He raised his finger at the broken helmet. “Inform me about this.”

Krevator breathed deeply, and then began.

“You are not the first Polemistis to claim the title ‘Ultra Director’. Nor, if nature continues as it always has, will you be the last. You are a multiversal plurality, Polemistis. You repeat time and time again, echoes of the same threat. Unlike myself and many special individuals throughout the multiverse who are, through some reason or another, singularities, you and your beliefs are frequent symptoms of easy paths for a universe. Like me,however, you are a multiversal threat, at least if you were only given the chance. You could very easily unite the Lykos in an empire as formidable as my own.

“But there exists an Agency of the Olmak who knows this. They regard the Lykos as animals, the downfall of whose kingdoms are mere rites of passage for Agents who seek to graduate to the next level. Once, when an instance of Polemistis arose long ago, an agent was sent to explore this possible threat to the Agency. Upon her arrival in this world, she made contact with the Unity and aided it against you. Secretly, the Agency tipped the balance of scales against you. First you were declared a dictator and a tyrant, something that builds over the rest of your reign. Then Predavis and his huntsmen are killed and the Line receives word through the Agent, Vulf, and a rebel faction calling itself the Red Flag of Soyedmevos that you have found a way to break the Line. Then your Void is infiltrated and destroyed with a team under Vulf. You order a purge of all Lykos revolutionaries which further inflames hatred against you. You order the imprisoning of your enemies in metal frames to destroy your enemies, betraying your religion, your honor… Meanwhile, Vulf and her team destroys the Divine Hand which you have constructed to destroy the Line. Galvanized by this victory, the Lykos revolutionaries and Unity forces press southward, even assaulting this, your very capital, and one of the heads being none other than this Agent of the Olmak.

“Then at last, Vulf and her handler Corvin (the latter of whom infiltrates your tower in secret) made it to the top of your tower, prepared to strike you down. When all was said and done, Polemistis and Corvin were found dead and Vulf was missing. My Empire has intercepted word that the Agency is even now hunting her, although I do not know why. Regardless, the Agency saw to your death there, and it has seen to your death in every universe since where you may exist.”

Polemistis lowered his gauntlet from his face slowly, as the words of this man sunk in. The Divine Hand was a secret known only to the highest Verkhov Directors, and the nature of the Void was a relative secret as well. But there would be no denying the Krevator was confident in his words.

“''Nada. Surely you jest.''”

“I do not. This is why I have come here.”

Polemistis cast his gaze to a window as orange sunlight cast a fiery hue across the contents of his Hall. “I find it hard to believe. We are the superior species under the Pantheon.”

“Perhaps by the laws of war. But these individuals claim to fight for what is right, and they strike down the powerful in their crusade.”

“Then tell me… Krevator.” Polemistis would return his eyes to Krevator. “Why am I still standing?”

Krevator returned the broken helmet to his satchel. “You are standing, Polemistis, because they haven’t had enough time to defeat you. The Unity’s Line, with the Agency’s help will stand. They will best even your most noble fleets in time. Then they will race back down here and invade this very capital, taking your life and the life of your most noble followers.”

Polemistis was staring into the proud but noble face of the lord of the Kritors. From his knowledge of an older incarnation of the Matoran dialects of the north, Polemistis could ascertain that the word “Kritor” was short for “Kritekk Mator”, a phrase translating to “Destiny’s Master” in modern Matoran or «Kaptenid Saatus» in Lykos.

“The Lykos and the Kritor. The Wolves and the Masters of Destiny. Krikos. Destiny’s Wolves. Inform me, however, Emperor Krevator of the Kritor Empire. If I were to commence such an alliance as you would propose, what would intend to do with it?”

“First,” began Krevator, turning his back to the Ultra Director, “I would send my fleets in to join your armies in defeating these pesky Unity. Kritors and Lykos will join in stomping out any resistance in this universe, even as you begin sending messengers to Lykos in other universes. When you and other Polemistis link up and join your republics in stomping out every Unity under the… well, Pantheon, I will have already fought a long campaign against the Agency. When you join, I expect I will have them on the ropes, by which time you can enter, claim your vengeance against those responsible for your demise time and time again. Our joint forces will see the end of the Agency. And then… who knows? We probably would have to war against each other. A Lykos/Kritor War is inevitable given the Lykos seek to eliminate non-Lykos while Kritors seek the unification and mechanization of all races, including Lykos. But that will be faced down the road--the Road of Life, if you will. I am not worried. We will fight when we get there. The main goal for now is vengeance for you.”

“Tell you what,” Polemistis then replied. “I and my Lykos will continue to fight this war, as we have been, alone. If in a few months the Unity nearly succeeds in overcoming our fleet, then I will know your words are truth, and I will take your technology to reverse-engineer and rebuild. But I will not accept Kritor support, for help is not a tool of the Lykos.”

“If the Unity nearly succeeds?!” Krevator exclaimed. “If the Unity succeeds, it will be too late! You will be killed and history will repeat itself yet again!”

“Nada, my friend,” Polemistis smiled, a gleam in his eye. “For you will see things will turn out differently this time around the cycle.”

Outside the doors of Polemistis’ grand hall, Zilotis listened through the ornate doors at the conversation within. The Verkhov Director could not make out all of it, but what he could was… quite capturing, to say the least.

He turned his head slightly to one of his servants standing nearby. “Inform Machitis that I want to meet. The time may be ripe for overthrow, and this vermin will be the key.”

Krevator threw his hands in the air and started for the doors. “Suit yourself, Polemistis. If you wish to take chances with Destiny, be my guest. I would not recommend it, though.”

“The Lykos would not enjoy an alliance with heathens. They must be slowly acclimated to the idea. And you yourself claim to be a master of Destiny. Can I claim any less?”

Krevator laughed. “Well played. Very well. I will abandon this world to its fate… and you to yours. I wish you the best of luck in your conquests.”

The Kritor Emperor turned with the sharpness of a brazen military officer and was beginning to make his way to the doors of the Hall when the Ultra Director’s voice resounded behind his back. “Do you imagine yourself to wage a good war or an evil one?”

The Emperor rotated ever so slightly on his heel. “How do you mean?”

“What I ask is,” Polemistis declared, “When the historians reflect on your story, how do you think they will remember you? Shall you be a crusader or a tyrant? Are you to be a revolutionary or a terrorist? You have confessed before that you campaign for purely selfish reasons, to construct an eternal legacy. Will the chroniclers and recorders remember this in your annals?”

Krevator faced Polemistis, taken aback by the question.

“You mean… am I to be remembered as a protagonist or an antagonist?”

“Aj.”

“I…” Krevator stood speechless, unable to formulate an answer. Words Kragator had once spoken to him echoed in his brain.

''There is only one thing in life that unifies everything and everyone, and that is the great equalizer, Death. No matter how powerful you are or how much territory you might control, Death will always come for you. There is only one way to live on, and that is through your legacy. Some people leave legacies of heroism—they will live on in the occasional legend, perhaps the subject of a discussion in a Ga-Matoran lesson here or there. Others leave legacies of conquest, of terror—they will live on in nightmares and horror stories, as models for future conquerors, and in the annals of those who realized themselves superior to the Great Spirit and acted on it. All others are forgotten. Think about that for a moment—and tell me which path you would choose.''

He had proclaimed to the Agency--and indeed himself knew--that the end goal was to unite all reality in a higher form of living. But might this conflict with his path to be remembered in fear? He knew that it was better to be feared than to be loved by his own soldiers and subjects, particularly during the campaigns. But in the end, was it better to be a protagonist than an antagonist to all others? Should he insist on leaving a fearful memory for those who would live in the higher plain of existence that he would prepare?

At length he replied,

“I think… that it is well that I am an antagonist to those who would oppose my calling. But to those who will live in the Kritor Empire well after it no longer has need of a Kritor Emperor… I will be feared. There is no alternative. But with that fear will be respect for doing something no one else could do.

“So to answer your question, I am an antagonist. My primary calling is not to unite reality as I may say, although that is certainly an end I strive for. But the reason I do that, my true cause is selfish, to be remembered forever through fear, but I also commit atrocities against those who stand in my way… for that it is fair that I am remembered as an antagonist.”

Polemistis nodded slowly and walked to his throne. “Then you and I think similarly. For I myself have grappled with these very questions. I have taken upon myself to cure the illness which has seized this universe, and to purify it. I have taken upon myself the responsibility to change all, according to the way I have perceived which way to be right. Am I justified in doing so? For there are no heroes, no absolutes which have the moral high ground—because there is an opposition to all things. For the hero you perceive yourself to be, you shall appear villainous to another. For the morals you believe to be the mighty, there shall be others conceived to believe it evil.”

Polemistis turned and faced Krevator, visibly distraught. “You and I are very much alike, Krevator. All my life, first in my Paketo and then in War College, I have been taught to despise those who do not submit themselves to the Khodka. But you and I are the same, or as much the same as we can be.”

“Kindred spirits.” Krevator replied.

“Aj… It is well that we have met. I often find myself in need of someone with whom I can share my burdens or consider the thoughts that lie heavy upon my mind.”

“You feel a burden for your actions and your philosophies?”

“Aj, Yes! These are my fears! Already my own legacy is being set in stone. Am I to be forever remembered as Polemistis the Tyrant? And yet I cannot seek peace, for my beliefs do not permit the sparing of the heathens. Peace… will never be a tool of the Lykos.”

“I… do not know how to help you with your own beliefs. But if I know one thing, it is that I am making this offer as a chance to take revenge. If nothing else, let that motivate you.”

“And be labeled a selfish tyrant? Throwing Lykos armies not merely of this universe but of other parallel universes at this Agency you speak of? Not simply would I be Polemistis the Tyrant! I would be Polemistis the Destroyer of his own Kin!”

Krevator leaned on his right leg and began unconsciously tapping his left. These conflicts on the part of Polemistis were unforseen on his part. Was this dictator too unstable to achieve the ends Krevator wished him to?

“No,” he replied. “Not only are you taking revenge for yourself, but you are taking vengeance for all the Lykos Republics that have never had a chance to flourish under the Agency’s reign. You are forging the way so that Lykos throughout the multiverse can achieve their purposes and traverse the Road of Life. You will be remembered as the one who participated in the overthrow of the Agency of the Olmak, and then, if it must be so, you will have stood to defy the Kritor Empire as it rose. By Lykos you will be remembered in glory. By Kritors you will be remembered with honor. By all else, you will be remembered in gratitude.”

The Ultra Director looked into the Emperor’s eyes which betrayed a vortex of mad energy, excitement, and confidence in the infallibility of his plans. “You are sure of your claims?”

“You will be remembered in infamy by some,” Krevator continued, advancing toward the Ultra Dictator, “But this is inevitable. Someone will always hate beings like we. It is inevitable. There will always be those who oppose us. We will always be antagonists to some. But in the end, when history looks back on us, we will be in the right. We will be the just tyrants.”

“Antagonist and antagonist. It can be no coincidence we were meant to find each other.” Polemistis concluded, as he drew in a deep breath before releasing it. He looked back towards his throne, and out through the window to the orange world beyond him.

“Perhaps it was destiny.” Krevator breathed softly.

“Perhaps.” Polemistis replied.

Krevator smiled proudly as he turned for the doors again. Sheer discipline prevented him from betraying his excitement at the development.

“Before you depart for your own world again, Emperor Krevator of the Kritor Empire,” Polemistis said suddenly as though a sudden thought had come into his mind. “I must ask you something. Truly it has bothered me for a very long time.”

The Holy Ultra Director turned and looked at Krevator directly in the eyes.

“Do you believe it should be the sole responsibility of one being to decide the fate for the rest of the universe?”

Krevator was taken aback at this, but more out of confusion this time at the nature of the question this time than an inability to respond. Four hundred thousand years of such rule and it had never bothered him once.

“Yes,” he declared in response. “Those powerful enough to take power have the right to claim and do as they wish with what should be theirs.”

“Aj, perhaps. Still, it bothers me so…”

Krevator laughed and started again for the doors. “Get some rest, Polemistis. We have a long war ahead of us, and a powerful new Krikos alliance to jointly exploit; neither of us would do well to die of exhaustion mere days into it.”

Chapter Six: Olmak
“Damnit, Frentis, you said the Kritor Empire hadn’t finished its war preparations.”

“Clearly I was wrong. It doesn’t make much difference anyway, does it?”

“The Agents aren’t fully mobilized yet!”

The baroness sat back in her chair and put her fist to her mouth. “...oh.”

Karrnot slammed his fist down on the table. “What’s more, not only have they finished mobilizing their troops, but four of the ten High Commanders have launched militaries into nearby universes in an effort to create more of these Broken Order Universes. Your mistake may have just meant the downfall of four whole universes.”

“That isn’t the only problem on our hands,” Waktun said. “Several agents have received word of rumblings that the Lykos Kinsmen in one of the V Osade-type universes is growing out of control. Not only are they on the verge of crushing their Unity, but that Polemistis has sent envoys out beyond his universe to fellow Lykos Republics and Lykos Empires. It would seem he seeks interdimensional unification of the Lykos.”

Karrnot breathed deeply in through his nose.

“Damn.”

“Just think,” X-2436 muttered. “The joining of two powerful empires. Very little could stop them.”

“Do you think they would join with the Kritors?” Gorbere asked.

“Gorbere,” X-2436 said. “Until a few days ago, the war between the Lykos and the Unity in that universe was going exactly as it normally goes. Our agent, Tegar, who’s been involved in several Lykos/Unity Wars at this point, reported that there was absolutely nothing unusual about this universe.”

“What changed?” asked Gorbere.

X-2436 laughed, a short, sharp squawk. He looked around to see if anyone else would answer before speaking.

“Let’s just say… Krevator’s sure been getting around, hasn’t he?”

“You think the Kritor Empire is responsible for giving the Lykos what they need to unify interdimensionally?” Fentris asked.

X-2436 shrugged. “To be honest, I doubt the Lykos would even accept Kritor aide. I’m just saying Krevator could very easily have placed the idea in his head.”

“I don’t think so,” Karrnot said. “Krevator hasn’t even seen what we can throw against him. Why would he allow a potential rival power to rise if he hasn’t even defeated us?”

Once again, X-2436 shrugged. He said nothing this time.

“Okay, let’s just think for a moment. X-2436, do you have any ideas as to how we can attack these people? How well defended is their capital?”

“Hmmm…” The Baron leaned back and placed a stylus to his mouth thoughtfully. “Krevator’s primary base of operations is the Great Spirit Robot of his universe, and after he usurped Mata Nui from control, the vessel has been transformed into an impenetrable fortress pumping out Kritor android legions. The modified hull is impenetrable, to say nothing of the Bohrok swarms that assault anything that lands on their hull. Inside, the Rahkshi, Red Serpents, and Visorak hordes are positioned throughout the universe underwater or at key stations, respectively. Even if you can somehow avoid the oceans, the trek is long. Not only are the Nation-States authorized to protect themselves should invaders enter their lands, but various legions of Kritor Androids are placed at important points throughout the universe. Bythrain, the heart of Krevator’s empire, is the most heavily and most thoroughly protected of all of these lands. And at the heart of Bythrain is Krevator.”

Someone whistled.

“And that’s just the Great Spirit Robot. The Nui Ship and Red Star are also thoroughly guarded.”

“So what do you propose?”

“Well… perhaps… Perhaps we could target Spherus Magna. It’s far less defensible, it’s easier to launch a siege and scale and invasion, and it’s the lifeline of the Great Spirit Robot. The planet has been converted to serve the singular purpose of putting more nanotech in the Great Spirit Robot so it can perpetually continue its duties. Moreover, the memory banks of every creature in the Great Spirit Universe is stored there, preventing their permanent deaths. Stop Spherus Magna and you cripple the Kritor Empire.”

Bakreth shook his head. “No. Telravarn says we will use Spherus Magna to our advantage later. Until then, we cannot give that strategy away. Telravarn says that we must activate Provision: Evening Odds, especially if the Kritors have landed militaries in other universes.”

Karrnot scowled. “And just where is Telravarn? Let him speak for himself.”

“I agree with him.”

“Well… Bakreth… Would you like to put it to a vote?”

“Yes. I put it to a vote.”

“All in favor?”

All seven creatures at the table raised their hand, including Karrnot.

“Then it’s decided. Provision: Evening Odds is to commence immediately.”

“That’s nice and all,” Gorbere snapped. “But have we forgotten the Lykos?”

“Mmm. X-2436, what do you want to do about the Lykos?” Karrnot smiled thinly. “Unless Telravarn,” he looked at Bakreth, “would like to add anything.”

“Telravarn says we will use the various Machitis to undermine the developing Lykos power structure.”

Karrnot glanced at X-2436 who nodded his concurrence. “Machitis apparently has never been particularly loyal to Polemistis. One of the first Agent of the Olmak who had to physically interact with them, Vulf, reported that he was an invaluable asset to the Unity before it collapsed.”

“Vulf…” Frentis said as she twirled a pen around her fingers. “I seem to recall that name… Was Vulf the one who attempted to lead a botched rebellion among our members? And then was found by Derkin?”

“No, that was another one.” X-2436 replied. “This one was sent to deal with an early instance of the Lykos Republic, but disappeared after the death of Polemistis and her handler, Corvin. She is still in hiding, although we’re closing in on her location. She won’t be--”

“This Machitis,” Karrnot interrupted. “How likely is he to turn on us?”

“Telravarn says he was loyal to the Unity until the fall of Polemistis. Telravarn is optimistic about his cooperation with us.”

“Again I ask… ''where is Telavarn? Why can’t he tell us this in person?''”

“His injuries currently prevent him from joining us. He’s currently in search of parts that can supplement his damaged ones.”

“He’s been saying that since five hundred thousand years ago.”

“There aren’t enough occurrences of Telravarns throughout the universe. Otherwise he would kill one of his doubles and take his parts. But he think the time is coming. He will have parts again soon, and when he does, he will take his seat again. The Agency will return to what it was intended to do.”

Karrnot snorted.

We will see about that, he thought.

On one of the few plains of Versuva, located directly between two of the Mersion mountains, blue grass covered by a blanket of snow shuddered. A thunderous boom resounded from one of the Mersion villages. The ground heaved, followed soon by the sounds of a handful of small avalanches. Too many years of weapons tests on this island had already dealt with the larger snowfalls, so the potential for a powerful avalanche anymore was minimal.

A smaller, somewhat sharper crack echoed, with the indistinguishable shouts trailing in its wake. Once more the crack could be heard.

But the grass cared for none of this. Once again it stirred with the wind and was still.

A small Dermis Turtle scuttled down one of the nearby mountains, followed quickly by some smaller babes. Their home in one of the higher regions had been ruined apparently with the snow, so it was time to seek haven in a less precarious position.

Their progress across the plain was slowed when one of the babes fell deep into a snow mound that was larger than it actually appeared. The mother returned to it, attempting to help it out with limited success.

From the distant city, more shouts rang triumphant.

There was a crackle of energy not far from the turtles. The mother turned, alarmed.

A large purple and black orb leapt into existence, expanding suddenly into a small portal. This portal appeared to birthe two large, humanoid creatures before disappearing abruptly. The mother, panicking, chomped down on her babe, yanked him out of the snowdrift, and fled that place with her children as fast as their stumped legs could carry them.

Perla looked down at the fleeing animals before they disappeared in the white. Contrary to their briefing, the landscape of this Versuva appeared much as any other. Either Narcus had been wrong about the Kritor Empire, or they weren’t in the right universe.

Another boom resounded through the plains, and Narro pointed to their left.

“That way.”

The Mersion and Toa of Fire ran quickly up a nearby mountain, seeking a view that afforded the best view of the region in question. They soon arrived at a peak from which they could see a village Perla recognized as Keadrah. But this city was far more mechanized than any she’d seen, even on her native Versuva.

This is most certainly the work of the Kritors, she thought grimly.

“Is that a Screw?” Narro asked, pointing at a large, grey vessel that appeared similar in shape to standard Metru Nui airships. This one, parked somewhere near the center of the town, was large enough that it overshadowed the entire capital city.

“I think so,” Perla replied. “Mata Nui, that thing’s humongous. And that can be a one-man ship?”

“Yeah. Narcus wasn’t kidding.”

Beneath the ship, barely visible were some Mersions in lab coats arguing with some Vortixx. Narcus had said every race had special assignments. Mersions, in particular, tested equipment, tested information, and provided data to their superiors about the general running of the Empire and possible ways it could be streamlined. Vortixx, on the other hand, engineered the Kritor war equipment. It appeared that some Vortixx had been ordered to take a Screw into Versuva to be tested.

The argument was short-lived, however. One Vortixx walked up to the small crowd of arguing Vortixx and Mersions and said something that instantly caused them to stop. The Mersions returned to their business and the Mersions to theirs. Not long after, the Screw fired a projectile from a hole in its hull which flew straight before blowing up in mid-air roughly a kio away. For a second Perla thought something had malfunctioned, but cheers erupted at the sight.

“They’re mad,” Narrio breathed.

“Or they’re ingenious. That is, assuming there’s any difference between the two.”

The two watched for a while longer before Perla asked,

“Do you think that ship is bound for Bythrain?”

“You think we could sneak aboard?”

“Maybe. And considering Krivosh will likely either be kept in Bythrain’s underground prison or the Pit, I don’t think it would hurt to start there.”

After stealthily traversing the long distance between their current position and Keadrah, they found themselves hiding behind a small building not too far from the Screw. Perla approached any Mersions standing in their way, distracting them with smalltalk while Narro moved closer to the ship. Much to her chagrin, the Mersion realized Kritor Mersions don’t exactly smalltalk. Instead they tend to glare at those who talk so smally. So instead, Perla decided to switch tactics and spoke at them with what were hopefully technical-sounding jargon Kritors knew as well.

Apparently she sounded enough like a Kritor Mersion that the two were able to make it onto the ship undetected and hide themselves in a cargo hold. Moreover, Perla was able to gather the Screw was, in fact, bound for Bythrain, the Kritor capital.

“Now it’s just a matter of waiting,” Narro breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the engines roar to life several decks below them.

Several days later, Narro nudged Perla awake.

“I think we’re almost there,” he whispered.

Perla rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Almo--Finally! It’s been days! Narcus said Screws travel a lot faster than this! Several times light speed, he said.”

Narro shrugged. “Maybe they aren’t allowed to travel at high speeds inside the Great Spirit Robot.”

Perla crept over to a small window affording them a decent view of the ocean in front of the ship. With the exception of a few small, highly mechanized islands and the crossing between different domes, the ocean had been rather monotonous.

But the view was anything but.

Bythrain. A small island that in the majority of universes was home to the Wyrak race. Bythrain. Once a swampy island, then a mighty fortress, and now… Bythrain. Often an island not even present in many atlases, now the center-point of an empire that spanned an entire dimension, and soon perhaps more. Bythrain.

The entire fortress, once consisting of powerful wood, stone, and dirt in Emperor Kragator’s reign was now a sparkling, glistening, polished metal jewel. Rising from what appeared to almost be a circular base encompassing the island (and then some), the walls rose in a towering, almost egg-like metal form. These walls which reached their widest distance several kio up from the ground-level, only to begin narrowing on upward. These concluded in narrow, jagged upper battlements. The shape of these battlements only furthered the ovoid comparison, as they looked like an egg whose top had been cracked off and removed. However, protective force fields continued the upward climb, concluding in a dome well above the central tower. All around the central structure, sharp pointed metal spikes of skyscrapers reached, clawed for the sky like thorns of a briar patch.

As for the central tower… like so many things in the Kritor Empire, it had been structured to resemble Kragator’s sword, only this was upside-down compared to most renditions of the famous blade. One large upside-down parabola reached up from the ground. Near the apex of the lower structure, another, smaller parabola extended up, ending in a sharp spike. The building, almost resembled the end of a rattlesnake’s tail, except less round.

“We’ve arrived,” Narro whispered. “Send a signal to Narcus. I’m going to see if I can check on the cockpit.”

As quickly and stealthily as he could manage, Narro made his way to the door leading directly to the cockpit. Staying hidden directly under the window allowing insight into the small room, he could just hear the pilots, two Kromivians.

“--will be landing in the eastern pad.”

“SC-15596I, you are clear to land. Repeat, you are clear to land.”

“Begin landing procedures. Extend flaps. And don’t forget to report we’re slightly overweight.”

“‘Kay. Sir, our instruments report being a few hundred pounds overweight. Shall we touchdown, or should we hold off until Inspections is ready?”

“... Touchdown, but do not open any hatches. We’ll perform a scan once you’ve landed.”

Silently, Narro crept back to Perla, where she was just signing off.

“We’ve got trouble. I think their instruments read the ship is overweight.”

“You think they’re detecting us?”

“Well, I don’t want to take any chances. I think we should try to open a window and jump into the ocean.”

“If we jump into the ocean, there’s no way we’ll get in. Didn’t you see the walls?”

“Perhaps we can get in through some underwater door.”

“I… think it’s too much of a risk to take. Let’s crack open the window as we’re landing. With any luck, there will be a point where we aren’t noticed.”

After successfully slipping past the Ship Inspection Squadron, the agents began the long walk to the central fortress. Krivosh would be held in the high-security underground prison located beneath the fortress. The prison itself held several miles of distance between its top and the bottom of the fortress proper, so people could not take an explosive and allow themselves to be taken prisoner. The Kritors had long-planned for the day they would war on those of equal power to themselves; they had worked to anticipate all the ways another organization could strike at them.

But they had not thought of everything.

The island had been expanded a tremendous distance beyond its original borders. Under the surface of the artificial land, countless Screws were kept underwater in case of an attack. These were the final defense of the Great Spirit Robot. If an army were to somehow make it through the many lines of Kritor defenses surrounding their Great Spirit Robot, Bythrain would be the final destination. Fell the Kritor capital and the Empire very well could fall to ruin.

But it wasn’t so easy--else they would have done it so far. This small team consisting of Perla and Narro was the most the Agency could sneak in; any larger team would draw too much attention and be eliminated with the highest efficiency. As it was, Perla and Narro were within reach of Krevator’s chambers. Although it might seem like a simple task to assassinate the emperor and the High Commanders, too much stood between them. To make matters worse, there was no guarantee that cutting off the head would solve the issue.

As it turned out, the platform Perla and Narro had landed at was one more of the ones further from the fortress, to their dismay. Buildings were shorter and harder to cover behind. To make matters worse, buildings were predominantly cylindrical and silver. If the lack of corners wouldn’t give them away, Perla feared, the reflection certainly would.

But nothing saw them.

“It’s as though some higher force is protecting us.” Narro muttered.

“Death?”

“No. Something more fiendish.”

“I--shhh!” Perla whispered abruptly, pulling both of them behind a statue abruptly. Narro almost reacted when just then a tall,ornately-clad Titan strode by accompanied by what looked like an uncomfortable lieutenant. The titan, whom the agents understood to be a High Commander, was thoroughly garbed in grey armor with red and brown garments visible beneath--and these covering natural biomechanical armor and flesh. Flowing behind him were two flowing grey capes, one descending from his shoulders and the other wrapped around his waist. He was clearly nobility and was substantially taller than the Agency images made him look. Here he was probably around ten feet tall, thanks in no small part to heavy modifications made on his body by the Great Beings. In person, he was quite intimidating and he walked in long, deliberate strides.

“--But it doesn't mean I have to be happy about it,” he growled as he marched by. “The triumphal march of the Kritors beyond the universe has been what we have been building toward for the past few hundred years and here I'm stuck while the other generals march.”

“Lord Zorus, our Lord is just looking to the defense of our universe. If the others fail, someone capable is needed to help our Lord protect the Matoran Universe and the Magna system even if the rest of the universe falls.”

Zorus stopped and whirled.

“The rest of the universe will never fall. The most experienced High Commanders are keeping Agency forces occupied and even if they failed, Krevator can just recall the other five from their assignments. But my talent is wasted and I am anxious. For the other High Commanders would need fail… except they never have… But I should stop. All emotions are banned where they can't be kept equal. This is a machine and we must behave as such.”

He clearly said this more for his sake than that of anyone else. The High Commander heaved a deep sigh, took a few steps before stopping again.

“But it bothers me so…”

“Have you told our Lord?”

“Don't be absurd. Lord Krevator would never change his mind, especially for something so minor as my feeling of helplessness. No. I must endure.”

The pair resumed walking, but they were soon beyond the point where the agents could make out what they said.

“The Agency would never take the Empires forces head-on. Especially four of them,” Narro whispered.

“We have to keep going,” Perla returned quickly, starting to move.

“No, Perla,” Narro hissed as loudly as he could without drawing attention. “How is the Agency dealing with the Kritor militaries? And where are my engaged? Surely not the Vudrai Nui Universe?”

“That doesn't matter, Narro. Only the mission matters and it must--it will succeed. Stop getting sidetracked.”

“But don't you even wonder--”

“Yes. For what it's worth. But that's not what we're paid to investigate. Sure I'd like to know what other agents are doing to handle the Kritors. Sure I. Sure I want to know the names and faces of the barons and those who run the organization. But for the time being we aren't allowed to know more and trying to will only get us in trouble. Now come on.”

“I know,” Narro mused. “I just wish--”

“No.” Perla stated. “Not now.”

Silently Narro lowered his head and followed his partner.

Krivosh paced, impatient in her cell. There was no way to tell what time of day (or night) it was and she was kept in almost complete isolation. Only Kritor guards just visible on the outside of the larger chamber revealed to her she wasn’t completely forgotten. But they did not move, not even to twitch, not even to itch. The only time they betrayed signs of life was at the change of shifts--the only means she had of gauging time.

The prisoner fell to her knees and let out an involuntary cry of despair. Here she was seemingly forgotten and her mind was in more agony than any physical torture could infli--

There was some shuffling behind the doors. Krivosh looked up. The sides of the guards could not be seen where they normally were. The prisoner crouched down and waited to spring in case it was Krevator or one of the interrogators for her again. When the door to the chamber creaked open, she couldn’t make out the silhouettes of the two individuals sneaking in as all the light was emanating from outside the prison. So when Perla and Narro busted open her prison cell, she could be forgiven for nearly slamming them against the opposing cell block.

“Krivosh! That’s you, right?” Perla hissed in the dark. “We have to get out quickly.”

“Perla? Narro? They sent you two to bust me out?”

“What, were you expecting someone higher end?” Narro glanced at her.

“No, no… Well, I was just worried they’d send someone to put me down.”

“No such luck,” Perla grunted. “Get ready, we’ll be using this Olmak armor to teleport all at once--”

“No, don’t you remember?” whispered Narro. “We’re supposed to use the disk drive to see just how much data the Kritors have stolen.”

Perla sighed. “Ohh, I completely… Do we even have time for that? I could have sworn someone was staring straight at us on the way in. I keep seeing shadows looking after us.”

“We have to do it. This is the Agency’s one shot.”

“We’ll have to move fast. Krivosh, are you able to move fast?”

“They were starving me, so not as well as I’d like. But I can if I have to.”

“Krivosh,” Perla interrupted, “Did you tell them anything?”

Before Krivosh could reply, a sizeable portal opened and Narcus the two agents’ handler appeared.

“Narcus!” Perla exclaimed, “How did you teleport through the shields?”

“We placed something on your equipment that let me warp to your location, once you were inside the shields I could finally get here. Now: my eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark; where is Krivosh again?”

“Right here,” Krivosh replied.

Almost fluidly, Narcus swept a blaster out of its holster and fired a laser blast at her. The agent crumpled like a doll.

“What did you do that for?!” Narro exclaimed, forgetting the need to be quiet. “She hadn’t told us if she’d compromised anything yet!”

“The Agency can’t take any chances. The Kritors have an arsenal of persuasion techniques and they very easily could have flipped her as a double agent regardless of her willingness to do so. In short, we can’t risk bringing her back, but she can’t stay here.”

“We don’t know that!” Narro insisted. “Why couldn’t we isolate her until we could get things straightened out?!”

Of the two of them, Narro was the more distraught. Perla looked upset, but she was determined to follow the rules.

“Orders are orders,” Narcus shrugged. “We don’t have time to keep all the rules. This is war and time is of the essence. Now, grab her body; we can’t let them access what’s left of her mind once her mental barrier begins to decay. Did you say you’ve scanned the Kritor files?”

“No,” Perla said quickly. “We’ve been focused on getting her.”

Narcus bit his lip. “Mmm. Well, we’re going to have to do without. I was told on my way here that there are Kritor soldiers inbound within five minutes and it’s been three already. We’re going to have to go. The Agency’s already working on a way to use the Kritor digital hijacking against them anyway. Come. Grab her.”

At the direction of Narcus, the two disturbed agents picked up Krivosh’s body and started for the interdimensional portal their handler opened. They would have been surprised to know they were thinking the exact same thing; if the Agency was so quick to dispose of Krivosh, how long until it was their turn to be bumped?

Chapter Seven: Order
Hydraxon lowered his sensculars. The special instruments allowed him to see and hear wherever he pointed them, but now he wanted the full view. Screws streaking toward their destination.

The Rebellion Alternate Universe

The time had come. Krevator had selected four random universes for their first invasions, and this was the one he had been assigned. So here he stood on the command deck of his flagship Daggers of Death staring out the glass panes and smiling as the streaking sleek vessels shot forward like iron balls from a cannon converging on a tiny speck in the distance. Kritors were highly discouraged from feeling emotions of any type, but he allowed himself a little pride.

He only knew what he had to about this universe. The Kritor-hijacked Agency database had offered surprisingly little information about this place. Some demon had ravaged this place once. It’s people, driven to desperation, had rebelled and overthrown the demon’s faction. Makuta had risen and fallen, and now on Spherus Magna a Kingdom ruled and a Rebellion sought its demise.

All in all a pretty standard affair.

If the demon returned somehow, Hydraxon and the Kritor Empire would deal with it. Until then, the High Commander wasn’t too worried.

The process was to be the standard Kritor method. Manipulate fools into driving the peoples into utter desperation, then sweeping in with vows of order and protection. It was essentially a modified version of the process Krevator had used to seize control of the Matoran Universe in the so-called Broken Order Universe. Hydraxon had already decided the Rebellion would play the fools this time.

Yes, this shouldn’t be too hard, thought Hydraxon. They would base on Privius Magna, an abandoned planet from which they could stage the secret invasion.

“Sir, the first Screws have reported landing on Previon.” His first lieutenant, Krolis said from behind him. Hydraxon smiled. Yes. Their staged attacks would be no easier than this.

Spherus Magna, The Rebellion Alternate Universe

The portal opened and closed and Agent of the Olmak, Derkin, stepped onto Spherus Magna of the Rebellion Universe, followed by a small band of subordinates. One has no idea how stale air within Crossroads Station is until one breathes fresh Spherus Magna air again. The Glatorian Agent smiled and looked into the sky. He wondered when the last time the Kritor had tasted defeat, or whether they even remembered the flavor.

He looked at a small city rather close in the distance. Av-Magnus. There were six other major cities, but here lay the capital of the Kingdom. Surrounded by grassy plains, it was a wonder to Derkin that the city hadn’t expanded into these areas yet. But perhaps it hadn’t had enough time to yet.

He was in no rush. Derkin began moving toward the city followed closely by the other Agents, neglecting the Kanohi Kualsi he had donned for the trip here. Supposedly the agent who had been sent here once before, one who went by the moniker “Corrupt Toa” had been killed, but it seemed difficult to die in this speck of paradise.

The Head of Security looked back at one of the subordinates. “You. Run ahead and inform the city leaders, the Holders of Office, of our arrival.”

The agent nodded and darted forward, shrinking into the horizon quickly. All the while, Derkin and his agents maintained an even, steady, inexorable pace toward the city.

By the time they arrived, a small company of city guards were apparently waiting for them. One of them pointed their weapons, a hefty looking spear at Derkin.

“Are you the other-worlder Boruun was telling us about?”

“I am, as a matter of fact.”

Without hesitation, the guards slapped cuffs on. “You’re coming with us.”

Derkin smiled slightly and glanced at one of the subordinates as if sharing a private joke.

“Well met.”

They were directed into a small room. The chamber was entirely bare save three individuals. Underneath the thin white paint of the walls, the dark crimson splotches of brick constituting them were just visible.

There were one Turaga and three Toa, Toa of Light, Psionics, and Plasma waiting for them. From what he knew from his job as Head of Security, Derkin recognized the Turaga as Koden, one of the uncommon sand Toa. He didn’t recognize any of the Toa, though.

There was also Boruun. His face immediately brightened upon seeing Derkin, though it shifted to worry when he saw they were bound.

“The various mechanisms on your friend’s person can certainly attest to your claim as other-worlders,” Turaga Koden began. “But as to your other claim, that you are here to warn us against some impending threat… I’m afraid I see no reason to believe this. What evidence do you have that this empire is preparing to attack us from space?”

Derkin shrugged. “I mean, if you really want to wait to find out, that’s up to you. I was hoping to give you good advance notice. But it’s really up to you whether or not you heed i--”

“How hard is it to understand?” blurted out one of the other agents. Derkin sighed and closed his eyes.

The Turaga walked slowly up to the agent, a Toa. When he spoke, his voice had the chill of ice.

“I didn’t aide in the overthrow of the demon master of shadows, and the Fallen Empire only to see another outside threat attack this universe. But I did not help overthrow the puppet, the foul traitor, Vahkna, and his foul overlord, the resurrected Teridax only to see The Kingdom manipulated once again. Tell me, why should I listen to you?”

Derkin couldn’t help but reflect on how the Agency of the Olmak had been the ones to resurrect Makuta. It had been in an effort to set a powerful guardian in place to protect the planet should said demon master of shadows and the Fallen Empire return for revenge.

“Listen… I hail from an Agency that seeks to prevent evil multiversal threats such as this Kritor Empire. We have stopped dozens of such threats before, and normally we don’t try to involve the inhabitants of other universes in these affairs. But this threat seeks to invade your universe and we want to give you a chance to defend yourselves. Dismiss it if you want… but you do so at your own risk.”

Koden stiffened.

“I have seen many faces… and many conspirators. I know there’s something you aren’t telling me… but I can also see you’re telling the truth.”

He exhaled deeply.

“So… Tell us what we must do.”

Privius Magna, The Rebellion Alternate Universe

Privius Magna was now home to the entirety of Hydraxon’s armada. Throughout the planet, Heavies were unloading their supplies and equipment as the entire planet was quickly being converted to serve the Kritor causes.

Hydraxon was leaning back in a hot oil bath on Daggers of Death, rubbing his face when the door chirped and Lieutenant Krolis entered the room and walked up to him.

“Sir, one of our screws above the atmosphere reports an incoming vessel. The commander says it’s a UFO.”

“Really,” Hydraxon mused. “Inform me once we’ve confirmed what it is.”

“Yes sir.” Krolis saluted and exited the room. Hydraxon leaned back. This was… unusual. According to the Agency’s database, the only planet with serious space travel capacities was several light-years away, and they hadn’t even surpassed soundspeed yet.

This could be… interesting.

Hydraxon waited and sure enough, Krolis returned presently.

“Sir, the ship has engaged our Screw in battle. And sir…” he hesitated

“Spit it out.”

“... Sir, it has on its hull the crest of an Olmak.”

“What?!” Hydraxon rose from the liquid pool like a great spirit rising, oil dripping from his form as he stepped out. “You can’t be serious!”

“That’s what I said to Commander Xanur.” Krolis insisted as Hydraxon dried himself quickly. “I ordered him to check his instruments, but he was sure of their functionality--”

“Tell Xanur I must see the images immediately. Deploy Screws to intercept in the meantime. I’ll be on the bridge in ten minutes.”

Nine minutes later, High Commander Hydraxon stalked onto the bridge of his warship, clad in his full uniform. Krolis stood up and saluted.

“High Commander on the bridge,” he declared. Every other officer leapt up from their seats and did the same.

“At ease.” Hydraxon walked quickly to his command chair. “Where are the pictures?”

Krolis pointed at an ensign who typed furiously into his datapad. Onto the giant monitor in the front of the bridge, four crisp pictures slid onto the screen. With that there was no doubt.

The emblem of the Agency of the Olmak.

“Lovely,” Hydraxon muttered. But the pilots did not have the appearance of Agents. “But how…”

“Monitors register some ongoing unidentified interdimensional activity near Spherus Magna.” another ensign reported. “And… it’s really big.”

“Do we still have view of the planet? Or has Privius Magna rotated to dark side now?” Hydraxon cursed. “Send Screws to identify at once. I want live feed on the double.”

Hydraxon stood and paced impatiently as what felt like hours stretched into eternity despite being only minutes. This anxious waiting was only broken when Krolis announced the vessel had been shot down and was being brought in for investigation.

Spherus Magna

“Derkin, we’ve lost all communications from Davu and our ship. We’ve all but confirmed it’s been shot down.”

Derkin smiled. “Excellent. Inform Turaga Koden of the death of Daru and the destruction of our ship. Begin launching the rest of the fleet and ready my ship.”

Boruun ran off to accomplish this deed. Derkin grinned.

“It only takes one martyr…”

Koden bit his lip. Something told him that something wasn’t right, but all evidence pointed to an invasion of their universe. It had been so long since the last interdimensional threat, the great master of shadows and his malicious gang of fellows, that the Turaga had finally hoped the universe was out of the dark. But it appeared there would be no such luck.

Yes, his gut told him that the universe was the battlefield in this, a multiversal war. But which organization was the true threat?

Privius Magna

Hydraxon’s flagship launched from the planet’s surface surrounded by dozens of Screws and other Kritor vessels. Their base had been rotated away from facing Spherus Magna, so their horizon blocked any view of the planet, but they would soon see in a few minutes.

Spherus Magna

The door swung open to the city’s council room--converted to a war room by the Agents. Derkin glanced around and the light from the Agency’s giant monitors glowed on Koden’s worried form.

“Do we have visuals yet?” Koden asked.

“Scans report a large armada coming around the edge of the planet Privius Magna. Our own fleet is readying to engage and soon I will join them.”

“Very well. But leave one of your lieutenants here.”

“Fair enough.”

One of the computer operators lowered his headphones from his head. “Sir, the armada will be within sight in T minus fifteen seconds.”

Space

“Five seconds.”

“Show me everything.”

The screen at the front of the bridge blinked and soon the entire Solis Magna System that they could presently see was in view as they approached it.”

“Zoom in on Spherus Magna.”

Just as the planet was coming over horizon, the monitor zoomed in. Spherus Magna was in full view and there appeared to strange purple and black dots blinking in and out of existence on the surface of the planet. None of that had been there when Hydraxon’s armada had first arrived.

“Zoom on purple and black activity.”

The screen zoomed again, this time bringing the unusual activity within full view. The dots were large portals and dozens of silver vessels appeared to be emerging out of them.

“The Agency’s fleet!”

Spherus Magna

“It’s larger than I imagined,” Koden breathed. Countless Kritor vessels had come in full view along the edge of the distant planet. Resembling a large swarm of hostile insects, the Kritor menace was truly apparent. The Turaga felt his heart sink.

“Davu’s ship was lost to that,” Derkin said, grabbing his blaster. “Now the Agency will move to fight for your universe. Our Agency has shipped in all the fighters we can, but we don’t have enough agents. Our organization is overloaded defending the other universes this empire is invading and we need some of your people, Koden, to help us fly.”

“We will go,” volunteered Karza, one of two native Toa standing nearby. “And Motara and I can get a bunch of Toa ready to fly with us.”

“Do that,” Koden ordered and the two Toa rushed out of the room.

“I’ll be going too. Boruun will be the head here; you two got off to such a good start already.”

Space

“There. That’s the last of them.” a lieutenant remarked as the dimension portals appeared to close. Before anyone could respond, a dark form seemed to blacken out the camera.

“Zoom out.” Hydraxon ordered.

At once a large ship resembling the one shot down before was revealed, even as its external blasters flared to life.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Hydraxon declared.

Although the artificial gravity prevented them from feeling it, the ship rolled and swung up hard to the right. The flagship narrowly evaded the blast, but apparently the ship behind them hadn’t seen it coming.

“Order the fleet to engage.” Hydraxon barked. “Pilot: fly us to the planet; someone down there allowed those Agency ships to fly in.

Derkin watched his ship’s monitor closely. Hydraxon’s flagship was accelerating on a path around the Agency fleet toward the planet.

“Get us to where I can see within their ship,” he ordered.

As the Agency fleet and the Kritor armada collided, Derkin’s ship pivoted toward the Daggers of Death. He glanced at the Agent taskforce around him, all sporting Kanohi Kualsi like his own.

Hydraxon’s flagship flew past theirs and apparently realized Derkin’s course toward them for it opened fire on the Agency vessel but kept on its course. By this time the Agency vessel had swung around the other side and was now travelling behind but parallel to Hydraxon’s Daggers.

“Accelerate! Hard!” Derkin shouted.

“I’m trying!”

The agents could feel the ship groaning beneath them as it shot forward, overtaking one of the flagship’s portholes.

“Now!”

There was a noise behind Hydraxon and he whirled to see half a dozen agents all wearing glowing Kanohi Kualsi.

“Hmm,” Hydraxon remarked. “Cleverly done… if ignoble.”

Without a word, Derkin raised his blaster and firing, throwing Hydraxon backward. The entire cabin of the flagship erupted with fire as Derkin’s Agents rapidly dispatched the Kritor crew. Although normally infallible soldiers, the crew had been taken too by surprise, and when they tried also to maintain control of the ship and follow their orders as they fought, it was a deadly mistake.

When the last Kritors had fallen, Derkin glanced around the cabin before spitting.

“Pilot this ship for the center of the Kritor fleet at maximum warp. Order all of our Agents to set their ships on autopilot and teleport out of here.”

“But what about the natives? Don’t they need help defending the planet?”

“Defense of this universe isn’t the main objective, soldier. Defense of the multiverse is. The natives flying in our fighters will die, but their sacrifices will live on as we spread word throughout the multiverse of the Kritor evils. It’s tragic this universe must fall, but if we fall too, who will be there to warn the universes of the coming wrath?”

The Agent still looked uncomfortable.

“This universe will die whether we defend it or not,” Derkin continued. “We could try to save it, but then we’d only die too. That’s just the way it is. That’s just the way the Kritors are. We have to retreat now or other universes will suffer the same fate. Those are our orders, but even if they weren’t, the right choice is still the only option. We must sabotage this Kritor machine.”

Glancing once more at Derkin, the Agent raised his transmitter to his mouth. “Attention all Agents: Begin retraction from universe. Leave fighters to autopilot; retreat--I repeat: retreat.”

Derkin looked around again. Pity such a beautifully efficient ship had to be destroyed. Still, it was the only way of beating the Kritor Empire. The best weapon they had was the element of surprise. Warning other universes would throw a wrench in the gears of their machine.

“Sir, the Daggers of Death is set on a collision course for the center of the Kritor fleet.”

“Excellent. Activate self-destruct and let us be gone.”

Bythrain, The Broken Order Universe, two days later

The Kritor messenger took uncomfortable steps up to the door to Krevator’s private chamber, cursing for the first time his position as a captain under Krax. Because of Krax’s undercover position in the Agency of the Olmak, he had sent the captain to send his message.

Krevator made it a point never to take his rage out on messengers. But never had he received word this worrisome.

The captain raised his hand… and pressed the door-pager. Four seconds later a small tweet signalled the unlocking of the door and it soon after slid open.

“Enter.”

The captain hesitantly stepped into the private chambers. The emperor, naturally a looming presence even when sitting down, took on the height of a gargantuan staring down with condemning eyes. Somehow Krevator already knew the messenger bore terrible news. The captain shrunk before him.

“Deliver your message,” spat Krevator. He eyed the stripes on the captain’s uniform. “And stop cowering like some worm. Krax would slay you instantly if he saw you like this.”

“Sir… your High Comman…”

Krevator leaned forward in his seat.

“Is one of them dead?”

“... Sir… four of them have been slain.”

Krevator stood, blinking.

“What do you mean?”

“Four of them--”

“''What do you mean ‘slain’?! How are four High Commanders slain?!''”

“I… I don’t know…”

Krevator took swift strides around his desk. The messenger shrunk as Krevator stooped down over him.

“''How are four High Commanders slain?! Who informed you of this, captain?!''”

“Krax, sir.”

“He told you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Directly?”

“Yes sir.”

“He told you point blank that four High Commanders have been killed?!”

“Ye--”

“WHO?!”

“Hydraxon, Trinuma, Botar, and Hazat, sir.”

“HOW?!”

“Assassins, sir.”

“So they weren’t defeated in battle?”

“Ye--”

“And what of their militaries?!”

“Largely intact…”

Krevator inhaled deeply. When he exhaled, it was with barely contained rage.

“''Inform… KRAX THAT I… must see him… IMMEDIiately. Am I clear?''”

“But sir, that might jeopardize his cov--”

“DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE?!”

The captain nodded and scurried out.

Krevator stalked back over to his chair and sat down. He stood back up again and walked over to the glass, all the while fighting the impulse to break something. He had known these four for hundreds of thousands of years. They had not only served Krevator, but they had served Kragator long before him. Their service had been unimpeachable and their loyalty unquestionable. These ten High Commanders were the closest thing to friends, and now…

They didn’t even have the dignity to kill them in battle.

Krevator had respected the Agency for its loyalty to its commitment and the well-being of the multiverse. But this… This was unforgivable. Breathing hard, Krevator could only manage four words through tight lips.

“''Damn. Damned be the Agency. Damned be the values it stands for. Even I must die to do it… damn.''”

Chapter Eight: Osade
The Councilroom, Metru Nui, A V Osade Category Universe

The large domed room whispered with echoes as the voices of several individuals spoke, the brightly lit chambers were helped only by the massive crater found in the dome. Black streaks and dots decorated the otherwise white pillars and the emerald floors, freshly added from a fierce battle that had only won a day or two earlier.

The chamber nonetheless was secured as much as it could be, as guards from a variety of species protected a select few that had been sitting in elevated thrones. Banners had been unfurled above the heads of each race they represented, singed or torn from the battle—but remained still despite the fresh breeze which had made its way through the hole in the dome.

They were incredibly lucky to even be able to reclaim this place, in the opinion of the Toa of Light that stood quietly on the left-hand side of the Turaga which had been chosen to be a representative of this meeting. The assault had nearly seen the destruction of the entire island of Metru Nui, and left much more of the life that once inhabited the industrialised land nearly extinct.

The Toa of Light, Raskuyu, had wondered how it could have ever become possible that such an attack could have ever been amassed; especially in the brilliant defence of the Line. The Lykos Kinsmen were indeed brilliant fighters and engineers, but being able to break the Line? It had become even more obvious that if the Line couldn't prevent a Lykos assault, then nothing could ever hoped to be manufactured to stop what the next siege would have in store.

Her own island, Topo had been decimated twice by the rampaging Lykos war machine. She and her childhood friend, Takua narrowly escaped the first burning of their original village, Takua while sustaining mortal wounds. Her friend’s dying breath only had time to reveal the existence of an object which surely would alter the course of the war. Upon returning a second time to recover the object, a mask called the Avokhii, she and her team almost didn’t escape again, for the island was burned for the second time.

Something very similar would occur on the Unity side of the Line if the barrier were permitted to break. Having already seen her homeland fall twice, she could not afford to let this--her new home fall to the savages.

The Lykos Republic had already taken a heavy toll on the Line, and they appeared to be taking no time to rebuild or regroup before they struck again…

The capitol of Yermo for the first time in months had been gifted with but a few clouds and the sunlight from above. The metal structures gleamed in the sunlight, reaching high into the sky as the streets below were covered in the shadows of these structures.

The streets and foundries below were busy constructing the weapons of war, and busy were the marching guards who were checking the progression of the construction of these weapons. But the largest building—the Superstructure or Supercapitol—stood in the centre of Yermo. It reached high into the sky, cutting through the clouds as the sun gleamed on the top of the structure—the silver top radiating to appear as that of a second sun.

From within the structure, the open window allowed the rising sun into the Council Chamber. The light spread across the dark interior of the chamber, as it danced across a holotable—a variety of Lykos in seats wrapping around the table. From the head of the table, the gravity throne was rotated around to face out of the window. The Ultra Director clasped his hands together as his fellow Directors conversed.

He had been uninterested in the conversation following the development speed of vehicular weapons, nor had he been too interested in the conversation about the discovery of Mayraka, the Director of Airships--the Flotskya Director--that a rebel faction of Lykos had allied with the Unity and called itself the Red Flag of Soyedmevos. The name of the leader, which was yet unknown in the eyes of the Directors, should soon be discovered.

"Perseverance and honour shall bless all," spoke the Director of the Honour Guard, tapping the holotable as he turned his head towards the back of the chair for the Ultra Director.

Suddenly, the Director of Airships—the Flotskya Director—spoke finally, as she drew the attention of Polemistis to her. He knew well of Mayraka, the Flotskya Director and her loyalty to him.

"My Ultra Director? Shall you gift us with your input for the development of this new Red Flag of Soyedmevos?"

Polemistis rotated his gravity throne to face the rest of his Directors, looking along the table as he reclined into his chair and sighed afterwards. "I imagine what could be said, has been said. We have our focus clear, and I am certain that when the time comes, I will assign our Verkhov Commander, Julm, and his taskforce the duty of eliminating the plebeians, this Red Flag faction."

The Directors nodded their heads, in unanimous agreement with their Ultra Director. The chamber was silent, and the Director of Armour attempted to speak up before Polemistis motioned for him to be silent. The Director nodded his head, as the Directors returned their attention to Polemistis.

"May I ask," Polemistis started, "what news may we bring from the latest of our Timeless Siege? How happens the assault of our enemies capitol?"

“Your plan was a success, holiest Ultra Director,” Mayraka replied without any hesitation. “Your idea to replace the Divine Hand with a prototype incarnation just prior to arriving in Metru Nui was a stroke of brilliance. The Unity soldiers sent to dismantle it fell for it without hesitation.”

“And so the true Divine Hand remains at the ready to crush the heretics that defy our Road of Life?”

“Aj, holiest Ultra Director!”

“Then ready our second fleet and all that remain of the last. Our second strike on Metru Nui will leave none of it standing. Prepare my greatest vessel. When we are finished this time, nothing will stand in the way of the holiest Pantheon, and our place among it!”

When the Directors were departed, Polemistis rotated on his gravity chair to face the window and clasping his hands once more.

It was a bizarre feeling, to be sure. For the first time in decades, his mind was clearer than ever.

Was this because of his meeting with the so-called Su-Polemistis? The one who had deigned to call himself the leader of all Polemistis throughout the multiverse? He had certainly predicted several battles before now with the highest levels of precision. But now, with the greatest battle surely looming, was it right to take recommendations from someone outside this world?

Aj, he decided. Su-Polemistis had agreed to give Polemistis credit for all his accomplishments, not taking credit for providing tips. There was considerable evidence indicating the Su-Polemistis was as he claimed. Polemistis himself could do no better. Their test of wits had resulted in equal standing, at least where the visitor did not outmatch him. Polemistis felt kinship to him more than even he had experienced with anyone in his Paketo. They were most certainly one.

But how to break the information to the Lykos? Never before had they dealt with something like this.

The Lykos were an isolationist group. Intense hatred was felt to those not of their race, and outside help was hated. However, at the same time, Lykos were respectful to Lykos. How would Lykos take it if they realized this entire war had involved the assistance of Lykos from outside their world--Nada, outside their universe!

Polemistis did not know, and that alarmed him. Lykos could take in in any number of ways, and the consequences of bad interpretations could be catastrophic.

How then would the Lykos of other universes take it if these Lykos acted out? Surely they had seen it before, but if they were the first? Would they extinguish this Lykos Republic with their superior power and intellect? Perhaps it would be for the best, especially if those Lykos were pursuing their very Road of Life, obeying their very own Khodka.

Polemistis would continue to brood on his throne. These recent weeks were presenting new challenges the likes of which he would never have faced before had it not been for the arrival of Su-Polemistis. These were to be trying times indeed.

Raskuyu was sleeping when it occurred. Noise on levels unheard of in the normally silent district. Shouting and panic and mayhem that should awaken Mata Nui, wherever he might be sleeping. Where was he now?

She took cautious steps out of her dwelling place in Ko-Metru. Matoran were running in the streets south, toward Le-Metru. But surely Lykos would come from the south?

Her question was answered when, in the far sky, a brilliant green and sienna-colored arc rose into the air above many canals of the Ga-Metru and then a second above the statues of Po-Metru. What was happening? The Divine Hand had been destroyed--she had been there when it occurred!

Without hesitation, she darted for the nearest Knowledge Tower. Fighting the oncoming waves of Matoran fleeing the structure, she made her way up the crystal stairs and onto the roof. It was there she saw everything.

Powerful Lykos vessels, perhaps the most powerful she had ever seen--were firing plasma weapons at the coast of Metru Nui. Those ships that weren’t launching arcs of green and orange plasma were landing Verkhov or Voskya Lykos on the shores. From above the ships, the Flotskya fleets were floating in to lend their support to the naval forces, even dropping Plasma bombs to prepare the way for the Lykos troops. The Divine Hand--far more elaborate looking than the one she and Elisis helped to destroy--remained offshore, sending cascades of plasma tearing through the land.

And then--the unimaginable. The Lykos More fleet began sailing for the Ga-Metru harbor, making their ways up the canals as they fired deeper and deeper into the heart of Metru Nui. Indeed, the very waters of Ga-Metru were beginning to run orange and green.

Fearful of the northern fleets, the Matoran were racing for the south. But lo, on the distant southern horizon, Raskuyu could make out emerging Lykos warships blazing for the coast, already throwing deadly plasma waves ahead of them.

Far below, and on telescreens all over the city, Dume’s normally-consoling face appeared. “Matoran of Metru Nui, you are to gather in the Coliseum. Do not flee to the southern regions or any of the shores. All Matoran, as well as those beings of other races, return to the Coliseum.”

He’s calling them to their deaths, Raskuyu realized. If they are all gathered in the Coliseum, they can be snuffed out like a flame by the Lykos.

But then she knew. Dume was giving the Matoran something to strive for in their final moments. The Coliseum was to be a beacon of hope in Metru Nui’s last instants. If the Matoran made it, they could console each other in their final breaths--if not, they at least died with hope in their hearts.

It was an act of desperation. But it was a necessary act. One final effort to provide hope in a world where none lived.

Her hope fell at this. Nothing could warrant this. What cause, here or beyond the skies could possibly call for such heinous acts of evil? What creatures could possibly carry out such acts?

This was nothing short of pure madness.

Raskuyu would think she heard a familiar voice calling up at her from the streets--a voice unlike the screaming of the Matoran.

“Raskuyu!” the voice called. “Toa of Light!”

The Toa looked downward, far below, at the rogue Lykos near the base of the Knowledge Tower. “Yarvok! Do you see what is happening?”

“Aj, to my dismay! The Red Flags are attempting to regroup and to take out the Divine Hand, for it seems the one we destroyed was a prototype! But we need every available body in the attack!”

Raskuyu looked at the powerful fleets sailing up the Ga-Metru canals, and at the other ships arriving from the south. Fear gripped her heart, but her mind knew what she had to do. A simple glance at the Matoran throngs fleeing to the Coliseum confirmed it.

When she had arrived on the ground, Yarvok and she raced east, toward the Encampment where they encountered Kvar and numerous other Red Flag agents.

“Where is Machitis?” Raskuyu asked about the sly, manipulative Lykos who led the anti-Republic Red Flag of Soyedmevos forces.

“He has not been seen for the past few days. I say perhaps he has revealed his true colors now,” Kvar muttered vengefully.

“Or perhaps he has sensed a greater opportunity,” Elisis added.

A Red Flag Intelleka agent raced toward the readying force from the north. “The Republic’s fleets are nearing the center of the island! Ga-Metru has been burned, and the Lykos have recovered Dancing with Blades!”

“We have no time anymore,” Kvar declared. “We must charge, even if it means the end of us.”

“Nice attempt,” a voice came from above them. “It was a noble effort, if ultimately futile.”

As one, Raskuyu, Elisis, and the Red Flag Lykos turned their heads to a tall office building nearby. At once, Kvar recognized the Lykos as Julm, a powerful Lykos hunter and an elite Verkhov commander.

Julm leapt off the building and landed on the cement earth several stories below, unharmed. More Verkhov were revealed on the buildings surrounding them, plasma rifles armed and prepared to fire at the unready crowd beneath.

“At the least, Mayraka’s information was true. These traitors have dared to defile the title of Red Flag of Soyedmevos by calling themselves by the name. They must be eliminated with all haste,” Julm hissed. “Destroy the Lykos at once, but I will bring the heretics and the leaders of this expedition to the holiest Ultra Director.”

As the Verkhov moved in, the screams of the Red Flag Lykos reached to the very Pantheon…

Through a glass pane of an unknown vessel in space, Machitis could only watch as everything he had achieved in the Red Flag of Soyedmevos was undone. Humbled, but by no means broken, the Warmaster looked on as the Knowledge Towers of Ko-Metru were melted by the searing flame.

“There is no path you can take to save them.” declared a familiar voice behind him. “This is their Destiny. They, like all others too weak to stop the mighty have been consumed by Oblivion’s jaws.”

“I mourn not for them,” the Warmaster replied bitterly. “I mourn for my inability to secure my rightful place. I mourn all that has vanished now, with that tyrant’s final triumph.”

“Victory, aj. Triumph, nada. Polemistis will never walk the Road of Life. It is not in his fate’s decree.”

“Then you have come persuade me so? That there may be a second chance?”

“Come, now. Have you not yet recognized your own voice?”

“I have guessed the nature of the multiverse; I understand your existence. For had you arrived from another time, one of us would have already ceased to exist. I understand ‘what’. I do not understand ‘why’. You tell me to meet you on the outskirts of Po-Metru. For what purpose?”

“One Polemistis is always doomed to be struck down by one of us. But now one of them has been contacted by a power of the multiverse and has begun joining his forces with those of other Polemistis. Together they can defy the efforts of any one Machitis.”

“And you seek to unite Machitis?”

“I have been contacted by another multiverse power, one that wars with the other. They planted seeds in my mind. But when they ripen to fruition, I will do as I must, rather than what they will.”

Machitis turned toward his very destiny. “Then take me to those others you have found. We will join our prowess and topple what plans Polemistis may have prepared.”

“Prepare yourself. My plans reach beyond the very cosmos. We ourselves must be of the multiverse to claim power in it. We must defy that which mere Warmasters would cower from. Truly, we must become Warmonsters to claim what is ours.”

The Warmaster emitted a low laugh, "I fear, for whatever sanctity and promise you shall make next."

Within the command section of the Divine Hand, Polemistis watched as Ta-Metru erupted in raw flame. Even the fires of the Great Furnace could not compare to the Burn which it endured on this very day.

Everywhere around him, the operators of the Divine Hand rushed about their stations, stepping in and between the bodies of the Directors. It was indeed a risky move, keeping so many of his commanders in one place. But Polemistis had prevented Spetvedka, the Verkhov Director from coming, so that he could take the place of the Ultra Director should the Divine Hand fall.

From behind his back, a Verkhov commander’s voice was heard. “Holiest Ultra Director. Verkhov Commander Julm has returned and claims that the Red Flag of Soyedmevos Lykos have been destroyed. He has brought heretics who abetted them as trophies.”

Polemistis nearly raised his hand to order their purge, but then he reconsidered. Perhaps he could afford to be charitable and give the Unity one final voice.

“Keep them in the brig. I will journey in there presently after I commend Julm for his attack.”

The commander bowed and walked over to the elevator and departed for lower decks. Polemistis watched the screen with avid fascination before standing and similarly making his journey to the elevator.

The walk to the brig was a long one, as Lykos regulation held prisoners far from the command centers on ships. The More officers and sailors moved to the side quickly and saluted or bowed as their holiest Ultra Director made his way by. Upon his arrival in the vicinity of the brig, Julm who had been awaiting him bowed.

“Commendable work, Verkhov,” Polemistis replied. “Your assignments produce results, this no exception.”

“Many thanks, holiest Director.”

“You were my first choice for this dangerous assignment, especially following word of the fate of Predavis.”

Julm stiffened at the name of his former rival, but this was to be expected. “Yes, my lord.”

“Fear not, commander. I respect you still. Although you are not a Paketo high-born, you have still accomplished much that your current peers have accomplished. For that, I will reward you. But not now. Right now you must return to Metru Nui and rejoin your fellow Verkhov Commanders.”

Julm bowed again. “Aj, Holiest Ultra Director.” He departed and Polemistis entered the prison area.

Inside, one Toa of Light and a Ga-Matoran were kneeling, and bound with metal handcuffs.

“So this is the Unity. Speak well, Toa and Matoran, for well-placed words now may save your kind.”

The Toa of Light looked at him with eyes of hope before they became clouded in darkness.

“Would you truly relent? After you have waged so long and so devastating a campaign?”

Polemistis smiled slightly. “Aj, you are correct in your thinking. It is indeed unlikely I would halt.”

The Ga-Matoran, meanwhile, was staring at him in terror. Here stood the massive figure of what was perhaps the most terrifying being in this universe. Clad within a well designed and fashioned armours, the being of the one whom Elisis and Raskuyu had come to fear the most sat right before her. And she was standing within his warship. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have had been so terrifying for them. But now? They faced what to them was an actually credible threat. His red eyes locked on to the Ga-Matoran, as he finished what he designed to say while Elisis was caught in her petrified state.

“But we cannot know what Destiny has in store.”

“You’ve burned our homes! You drove us away,” Raskuyu exclaimed. “All of this you did in order to appease an insatiable religion! For I have been informed of your reasoning…”

“An insatiable religion… You may well be right. For the Kodka and the Scrolls of Polkis hold in itself the most abominable of contradictions. My people to be missionaries to those who understand not our ideals, to help convert those who refuse to learn! But then it speaks it is an abomination unto the Pantheon not to know of the Khodka, and so destroy those heretics who do not understand!" He spoke sharply, "Then so, what shall I follow?"

“You should question your own religion?”

He shrugged. “We are alone and you are soon to be killed. And no one will believe you heretics. But nonetheless… we are a warrior species, one that strives on the thrill of conquering our foe! One that works to destroy those who are weaker than us! We pray to follow this pact of honour, but only can we through the war!" Polemistis spoke, "And for us to be inactive to the cries of war?! Heresy! Why even teach one lesson, should another override it and mean we are destroyed anyways for not following this principle? I say these things in hopes you heretics may provide wisdom the Lykos could not offer.”

“Abandon the Kodka--”

“But I should have known better,” Polemistis said, sharply turning and storming out of the cell.

And from a point high in the atmosphere, the entity known as Su-Polemistis gazed down at the destruction of Metru Nui, and the final resistance the Unity could offer. He considered the Polemistis of this universe to be doing well; this was exactly what Su-Polemistis had instructed him on doing based on so many experiments in his own universe and those of other Lykos realms. Surely it was now a formula of perfection.

Soon, yes, soon the now-Su-Polemistis would be ready to take the new Lykos Dominion to join Krevator and his Kritor Empire in the inter-universal war. Ultra Directors would serve him in a council unprecedented in the history of the multiverse, in like manner as Directors normally serve Ultra Directors. And he, the greatest of all Polemistis for starting this new turn of events, was to be Su-Polemistis, the first Ultimate Director of the Lykos Dominion.

Perhaps Krevator had not seen even this turn of events. But a few more living universes in the multiverse where Lykos dwelled had yet to consign to this new grand organization. Once they had joined, the game of revenge would begin.

At that moment far below, the Lykos armies invaded the Coliseum. Su-Polemistis could not see what was happening now, but he knew well enough. Events were happening just as they had in so many dozens of universes to date. The Lykos would make their way to the top of the Coliseum, Polemistis and the Turaga Dume may exchange a few words, and Dume would be executed along with the rest of what remained of the Unity.

And then… Once the universes were united, Su-Polemistis would journey to Krevator’s headquarters where they would determine what had to be done. Likely it would be a joint attack, a swift, sharp stroke, striking at the heart of the Agency’s universe, the Vudrai Nui Universe, much as what the Agency had done all too many times to the Lykos. Revenge would be sweet indeed.

Atop the Coliseum, the Lykos banner was hoisted. But it was not the banner of the Lykos Republic, as it would normally have been. It was the banner of the Lykos Dominion.

So caught up in this sight, a thrill swept up Polemistis, and the vision of the whole Lykos Dominion appeared before him.

Hundreds of Lykos universes, awaiting his command.

Inflamed as he was, Su-Polemistis uttered in the Lykos tongue

«Impeeriumi osade on üheskoos.»

“The parts of the empire are coming together.”

Chapter Nine: Olmak
TBA

Chapter Ten: Order
TBA

Chapter Eleven: Oblivion
TBA

Chapter Twelve: Osade
TBA

Chapter Thirteen: Olmak
TBA

Chapter Fourteen: Order
TBA

Chapter Fifteen: Osade
TBA

Chapter Sixteen: Olmak
TBA

Chapter Seventeen: Order
TBA

Chapter Eighteen: Oblivion
TBA

Chapter Nineteen: Oblivion
TBA

What Went Before
TBA

Characters

 * V Osade
 * Machitis
 * Derimis
 * Ultra Director Polemistis - (mentioned)
 * Olmak
 * Head Baron Telravarn
 * Baron Karrnot
 * Baron Bakreth
 * Baron Frentis
 * Baron Gorbere
 * Baron Terk (or X-2436)
 * Baron Waktun
 * Baron Berian
 * Cerevena
 * Derkin
 * Terp
 * Agent Krivosh
 * Pohok
 * Agent Perla
 * Agent Narro
 * Narcus
 * Boruun
 * Agent Tegar - (mentioned)
 * Corvin - (mentioned)
 * Corrupt Toa - (mentioned)
 * Guards
 * Order
 * Emperor Krevator
 * High Commander Karion
 * High Commander Fortag
 * High Commander Lorgon
 * High Commander Krax
 * Messenger captain
 * High Commander Quokus
 * High Commander Zorus
 * High Commander Hydraxon
 * Lieutenant Krolis
 * Commander Xanur
 * Crew
 * Hich Commander Trinuma
 * Hich Commander Botar
 * High Commander Hazat
 * Heads of State/Heads of Species
 * Angonce
 * Emperor Kragator - (mentioned)
 * Helryx - (mentioned)
 * Sheriem - (mentioned)
 * Osade
 * Impeeriumi Osade Universe
 * Ultimate Director Su-Polemistis
 * Zilotis
 * Su-Machitis
 * A V Osade Category Universe
 * Ultra Director Polemistis
 * Director Spetvedka - (mentioned)
 * Director Mayraka
 * Julm
 * Predavis - (mentioned)
 * Raskuyu
 * Dume
 * Yarvok
 * Kvar
 * Elisis
 * Takua - (mentioned)
 * Other
 * Vulf - (mentioned)
 * Rebellion Alternate Universe
 * Koden
 * Davu
 * Karza
 * Motara
 * Makuta Teridax - (mentioned)
 * Cootol - (mentioned)

Trivia

 * This story is a celebration of the legacy of the Custom BIONICLE Wiki. Although it would have been appropriate for the Ten Year Anniversary Contest, it really couldn't be finished in time and instead An Exercise in Futility was submitted to introduce the character of Telravarn.
 * Although FireDrag has left the wiki, this story was planned out and largely written before his absence. As such, although ToaGonel is the one publishing and promoting this story, the writing was a joint effort.