The Silence of the End (original version)

The Silence of the End is a novel surrounding the dark events that occurred on Predaria, such as the murders and executions that take place on the island. Rated PG-13 due to mild language and intense violence.

This story is going to be rewritten

Prologue
There was a defined crisp silence in the air; it was nearly palatable. However, the nothingness and desolate ambiance it put off was considerably more pleasant than the alternative: the bloodcurdling screams of villagers being slaughtered either by bounty hunters or lunatic serial-killing Matoran who virtually infested the island known as Predaria.

Nowadays, the rotting cadavers of those murdered littered the roads, and seldom did a day pass that did not include the loss of another pour soul. Hope was the first casualty in the fight for humanity; Predaria’s Toa team was disbanded in a series of gruesome deaths courtesy of the killers.

Predaria had evolved into a killing ground that ended the lives of anyone who entered it. Ironically, the island had been shrouded with a grey overcast of skies ever since the beginning of what was referred to as “the outbreak”. Rain poured down frequently, washing away the blood of the victims into the streams and off of the roads.

There was nothing left to look forward to for the few that did not sink into the despair of the apocalypse…that was, until one day – the Rising Day – that a mysterious group of warriors appeared on the beach. They called themselves the Dismorphus, and they were the closest thing to actual Toa that the islanders had experienced for a long, long while…

Chapter 1
In the midst of Predaria’s forest, a keen-sighted warrior scouted through the trees, stalking a bounty hunter on his way to find himself a kill. Everything on the island was grim, morbid, and downright dark. Most of the Matoran were either insane or psychopathic; a vast majority of them being homicidal maniacs.

A group of renegade vigilantes known as the Dismorphus has arrived on Predaria to keep the balance in check. In order to protect the innocent survivors of the apocalypse, the warriors would sometimes be forced to kill one of the soulless villagers.

One such warrior, Garvankh, gripped his pulseshot rifle firmly in his strong grip, his knuckles turning white. His once-pristine silver armor shone less, now adorned with scratch marks and dings. Just like the other members of his group, he was forced to patrol the island daily in order to ensure everything was safe – a demanding task.

The goal was vague, lacking any sort of specifications to the mission; remove evil from the island. It was so generic, in fact, that it could be taken to any island and be performed.

Sitting alone in a large forest with tall trees that blocked a large portion of the sky was not Garvankh’s opinion of a good time. The log he was hiding behind had become a station for him for the past five days; a couple of days, he would be there without so much as the sound of a falling leaf; others, he would deal with hordes of bounty hunters.

He and his teammate, Baya, had split up those five days ago; she was to make a supply run to an abandoned village up the road a ways, and she would meet him on the last day – today…provided, in fact, she was still alive. The other four members of the Dismorphus had been missing for a great deal of time now, and were presumed to be dead.

“Dammit!” Garvankh muttered to himself, clearly frustrated with his current task.

His claw-toed feet dug into the soft soil below him in an attempt to stabilize his broad body should an enemy enter the forest. He inspected his rifle to make sure everything was in order – just as before, the scope had a minor fracture, making images slightly distorted.

Gathered intel had created rumors circulating around the idea that a bounty hunter named Warx would be taking the forest as a shortcut to the village of Moril. Taking secretive routes like this one provided the enemy with new ways to travel incognito and reach their destination without any hassle; not today.

With Garvankh stationed in the proper position, Warx and his gang members’ operation would certainly be halted. However, if the traveling gang was bigger than the anticipated four members, he would be in a dangerous situation that would most likely end in his demise.

Garvankh pressed his green-hued right eye against his rifle’s scope once more. The Dismorphus warrior scanned around with it, adjusting the focus on it. Something that looked like a plume of thick black smoke appeared on the other side of the lens. Shifting unpredictably, the mass moved on its own as if it was a sentient being.

He debated calling out to it to see if it was in fact a conscious creature, but the risk was too great if it was hostile. Raising his rifle, he shot at it, hitting it where it’s chest would have logically been. The bullet rocketed straight through, providing no damage to whatever the smoky object was.

The figure’s head swerved towards Garvankh’s precise position; its eyes were a piercing red. A heavy, overbearing feeling of dread came over Garvankh as he saw the shadowy being rush towards him.

“I believe you will be coming with me now…” its voice slithered in a tone more slippery than a Kankari snake.

Garvankh’s heart sunk three notches in his chest, beating faster than the war drums of the Predarian villages. However, he was unafraid of the being – his only concern was the innocents of the island, and how their fate would be if this situation wasn’t handled precautiously.

If his rifle were to get confiscated by the red-eyed creature, he had hand blades and a wrist gauntlet to serve as backup…though their use would have to be determined, as they could fail just as easily as the bullet. Self-trained in melee attacks from the get-go, Garvankh was fully aware of how to fight off anyone. He hadn’t been prepared for this.

“I believe you know who I am? Warx was not too fool to know you’d be coming here to ambush them…those little ‘spies’ you hired…Ranex, Paler, and Quma, I believe their names were…they entrapped you in our plot to snare you. I hope you don’t mind we did this…they belonged to us. We hired them to spy on you. Brilliant, isn’t it? Don’t worry, Garvankh, they tasted excellent between two slices of Predarian-baked bread.”

“So…you’re Syran? You’re the piece of dung I’ve heard about…Warx doesn’t think too kindly of you.”

“Warx not thinking well of me? Dimshanks! He sent me to clear up any confusion you may have about your upcoming death…after all, he knows I’m not fond of mercy.”

“If you’re going to kill me, I suggest you do it now. Just know that I have you surrounded by snipers in each of the trees above you.” Garvankh lied.

“I know you better than you know yourself, Garvankh…perhaps I would fall for that if I were in my youth…however, I’m smarter than that, and know that the only thing in those trees are the mockingfinchs and humming sparrows.”

Syran began to shake the trees profusely, disturbing a group of the birds he described.

“See? Precisely as I told you…anyhow, where was I? Oh yes…I believe I was preparing to torture and kill you. Oh, how I do love the taste of blood on a morning like this.”

Torture always came before the termination of an undesirable in the Bounty Hunter’s Code. In their minds, the hunters figured that if they were going to kill the person anyway, why not have a little fun first? Garvankh had witnessed it once while he was spying on the bounty hunter Lanzx in Tomadhras. He had been caught having relations with a female prisoner, and he was executed in front of everyone, including her. Ever since then, the image had been ingrained in his mind so deeply that he couldn’t forget the rivers of blood pouring from his many wounds.

Even Garvankh had committed such a sinful act, though it didn’t involve torture and it wasn’t an act of pleasure; he was forced to kill the homicidal Matoran in order to preserve innocence on the island. In this day and age, it was truly kill or be killed, and if it meant survival, there was nothing holding you back from killing for it.

Prior to the Predarian apocalypse, Garvankh was rather popular with the girls – he was dashing, head-strong, tough, and even a bit charming. It wasn’t until the later days when the Dismorphus formed that Garvankh finally met his “destined girl”, Baya. She was cunning, like him, and often outwitted Garvankh’s attempts to woo her by giving him a simple wave of the hand. She wasn’t interested in him in any way, and she didn’t look at him the same way he did at her. Something about her just attracted him. Never before had he actually had feelings for a female other than primitive impulses to create a relationship.

Syran drew closer to Garvankh’s face, making him increasingly more uncomfortable. However, the warrior’s face was unimpressed with the bounty hunter’s attempts to intimidate him; his arms sitting neatly folded on his silver-armored chest.

Suddenly, he felt himself losing control of his physical being, as if some superior force was taking a hold of his body. Every attempt to move himself resulted in nothing. Syran was possessing him, embodying every reason that he had been dubbed the “epitome of evil”.

Assorted thoughts and memories shuffled through Garvankh’s mind as he made attempts to control himself in vain.

Oh God, what is going on? He thought to himself.

The rogue now knew exactly what Syran was capable of. All bets were on Syran going out to kill while in Garvankh’s body, making the warrior witness everything from inside his head. In past possessions, Syran had beaten the host up fatally, and had escaped unharmed to take control of another victim.

Being the shapeshifter that he was, Syran had many different forms and identities he was capable of taking on: smoke, a Matoran by the name of “Sylvos”, a homeless and beaten-down warrior named “Varmus”, and a snake.

Demonic energy coursed through Garvankh’s body as if it were his own blood flowing through his veins; his body seized viciously in such a way that it almost looked as if he were being electrocuted. Within moments of the final twinge, his bulky arms pushed his whole weight off of the ground. Stumbling to get a foothold, he finally balanced himself firmly in place and gripped his rifle tightly. He examined his wrists and other armor to figure out his full potential in the world of mass-murderers. Fear, for the first time, flew through Garvankh’s powerless conscience – Baya was to return today, and she wouldn’t have any idea that it wasn’t really Garvankh onboard. Syran was in total control of everything except for the rogue’s subconscious…and it was going to be one hell of a ride.

“Prepare to bathe in your own blood, Matoran…you’ve got a massacre on your hands.” Syran proclaimed in Garvankh’s voice.

Chapter 2
Outskirts of Moril Village, Predaria

A lone Matoran stood in the middle of the road, fumbiling his fingers nervously, growing more anxious and agitated with each moments passing. It was almost as if someone was watching him, or he knew something he shouldn’t. Alone. He was totally alone.

His name was Kyro, a highly paranoid schizophrenic who had been outcasted and ridiculed by the members of his village. It seemed as if the island had been plagued with insanity, almost as if it were a virus, infecting them with an array of mental ailments. But how could that be possible? Psychological impairments were most certainly not contagious in any way, shape, or form.

Though Kyro had been delusional all of his life, it had greatly intensified with all of the recent events. He began to sweat vigorously, gravely worried about his imaginary “friend” that had the name “Talos”. The two had a harsh, almost-parasitic relationship – according to Kyro, Talos had threatened him on numerous occasions almost too high to count.

During these fits with Talos, Kyro would often end up hurting himself to the point of scarring and permanent injuries. On the better days, Talos would simply argue with Kyro a short while, and then the fight would cease.

Further up the same road, Lanua had fellow villager Xinol beneath his long dagger. A psychotic lunatic, Lanua did not deserve the luxury of hut, which only could be deemed a luxury by him. Provided that Predaria was not a post-apocalyptic, dystopian wasteland, he would most certainly have a death sentence.

Villagers trying to hold onto the old ways of life attempted to imprison Lanua; they wound up slaughtered like Xinol. Murder had lost its former taboo, and had become so commonplace that it was a daily event much along the lines of having lunch or dinner.

Lanua began to feel reassured as Xinol let out a final gasp of oxygen. It was his favorite moment – the final breath, the dying moment. He grabbed a sharp rock and carved a tally mark onto his dagger, which was adorned with fifty of those little tallies. Each number represented the kills he had performed with that knife. Inside of his hut, there were several other weapons, each scratched to the maximum.

He dabbed his finger in the pooling blood on Xinol’s body; he then smeared it on his tattered black cape. Every kill Lanua performed gave him a certain high. It was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of, and it didn’t affect his health.

“Lanua, you know I had him on my list of targets, didn’t you?” a voice asked from behind him.

Lanua jumped slightly, shocked by the sudden appearance of Hadrid, his arch-rival in the world of mass murdering. He had over three-hundred kills under his belt, and was considerably colder than Lanua.

“Yes…but this is my turf, and therefore he’s mine to do what I want with.”

“Why in the name of hell would you steal my kill? You know I don’t take this kind of stuff lightly…besides, my target is my target. His life was mine to take.”

“Nobody’s life has a claim on it.”

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to track that bastard? It took me five blasted weeks of stalking his every move!”

“It’s a free-for-all out here if you haven’t noticed.”

“Each life has a claim on it. Now back the hell off before I rip your head open and eat that puny brain of yours. I’ve done it to a number of my kills…my promises are fuller than your skull.”

Lanua drew closer to Hadrid slowly. Like himself, Hadrid wore a weathered cape with assorted holes and splatters of blood. An assortment of hand-crafted blades were fastened to his belt, each with a patina of dried blood on them.

“What don’t you understand when I say back off?” Hadrid yelled, quick-drawing one of his many blades.

“Nothing. I’m just saying you’re right. Lives do have claims on them…”

Lanua plunged his blade into Hadrid’s stomach, provoking him to cough up blood.

“Yours was all mine.”

Hadrid continued to choke on his own blood, cussing fluently at Lanua all the while. His eyes became watery and breathing became a laborious task. As his amount of blood decreased, his fear increased.

“You know I love a lingering death, don’t you, Hadrid? All serial killers are familiar with other serial killers’ MOs.”

“Oh God! Have mercy…I’ll never bother you again…”

“I recall you telling me once that mercy was for the weak-hearted and the pitiful.”

“I did…but please! I beg you! I’ll…I’ll be your slave. You can beat me…just…just don’t make me endure your kill.”

“Hah! Aren’t you the most pathetic of sights!? You, Hadrid, the most notorious killer in all of Predaria is here at my feet crying for mercy over a minor stab? I wouldn’t save your sorry being if you paid m. Besides, you have always claimed to be anti-religious. Stop praying then and take it like the man you claim to be!

“There’s always a day to change…”

Predaria had a religion unique to the island – it worshipped a god named Lyphan, and no one had ever seen him. However, Lyphan had allegedly contacted many of the villagers spiritually prior to the dark events that had occurred. He warned them of dark times; only a day after the warning, the island’s leader was killed. Believers rapidly diminished as their prayers were left unanswered. Very few spoke of Lyphan other than as a figure of speech.

“You’ve only got but a few more moments before you are intense pain…what are your final words, Hadrid? Choose wisely what you say – it determines how much pain you will endure.”

“Screw you…”

With all of his might, Lanua took one of Hadrid’s blades from his belt – a long serrated knife clean from any blood. He began to skin the shins of his victim’s legs, casting the flesh to the side. The skinning was proceeded by a thin incision across the victim’s belly. Lanua ripped it open, exposing Hadrid’s internal organs.

Attached to Lanua’s belt was a small vile containing a watery green substance. His doused the exposed organs in it. Hadrid screamed in agony. It was a concoction of acid, itching powder, and heating gel – causing an eroding and burning sensation. Lanua then took sutchers and stitched up the incision.

“I imagine you are enjoying yourself now…being in all of that pain you are in. It could have been a simple stabbing, you realize, if you hadn’t offended me so with those last words.”

Blood covered Lanua’s hands. It was time to finish the job. His armored arm took a firm grip around his victim’s head. Dying and in indescribable pain, Hadrid took small breaths.

“Lanua…before you do this…please tell me…do you feel remorse…guilt…anything?”

Lanua tightened his grip.

“Nothing. Not a single blasted thing…and I plan to keep it that way.”

With that, he began to slowly turn Hadrid’s head clockwise, allowing him to hear and feel the uncomfortable twisting of his own neck. The twisting noise was quickly replaced with the sound of snapping; Hadrid was dead.

“The village is mine now. Mine to kill…mine to eat…mine to do whatever I damn well please with.”

---

Syran continued to stumble over his own two feet as if her were a drunkard. He was still getting used to being in the command seat of the buff warrior. His usual form was more serpent-like; it represented his deceitful ways. While it was armored and looked like the average being, it was capable of transforming into other forms.

He attempted to gain balance, but it was still on the clumsier side in comparison to Syran’s natural agility and swiftness. After walking down the road some ways, the possessed warrior was ready to fight anyone who obstructed his path.

Moril wasn’t far now, and it would surely have excellent conquering potential. Syran soon encountered a road with some clearing on the sides. In the middle of it was Kyro, still tapping his fingers quickly.

“Byrol? Is that you?” he called out to Syran, mistaking him for his dead brother who had died but a few days earlier. “You’re seeking revenge, aren’t you?”

Syran was taken back for a moment, confused. His pathological lying began to kick in.

“After what happened, I had to come back.”

“I’m sorry, brother…I had to kill you, remember? I had no choice. When you put the knife to my head and threatened to kill me, I just had to defend myself. I’m sorry!”

“I need a lot more than sorry. You were insane before that incident, my brother.” Syran said, taking aim at the Matoran’s head.

“Please! Don’t!”

He pulled the trigger without hesitation, leaving Kyro in a slump on the ground.

“Garvankh!? WHAT THE HELL HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU!? We’re supposed to help the innocent, not kill them!” proclaimed a warrior in blue in her strong voice.

More like who has gotten into me… thought Garvankh inside.

“And who are you?”

Garvankh’s mind went wild.

No…this can’t be the way this plays out…it can’t be…I’m ruined!

“Garvankh…it’s me, Baya….”

Chapter 3
Baya lifted her left eyebrow up, fixing it in such a position that she expressed confusion for what was going on. Why was Gavankh not remembering her at all? Had those earlier missions contributed no pieces in the puzzle that was Predaria? It was like his memory had been erased, and everything he had ever been had gone with it.

Typically, Bata expressed no feelings towards Garvankh; however, she was deeply concerned. She knew him well enough to be aware that he wasn’t the coldhearted killer she had witnessed him be. He had too strong of morals to perform such a grizzly task. “So…you don’t remember me at all?”

“The name rings a bell.”

“Oh God…you are messed up. You had a crush on me, remember?”

“Oh…so I did.”

“You don’t even sound like yourself…you ok?”

“Um, fine. Yourself?”

Baya sighed.

“That psycho threatened to kill me! You saw it, didn’t you? He attempted to end me!”

“I witnessed the entire thing, Garvank…he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He thought you were his brother.”

“How long have you been standing here? What have you seen?”

“Long enough to know you aren’t yourself. What’s gotten into you?”

More like who has gotten into me… Garvankh thought inside his imprisoned mind. He longed to free himself so he could explain everything to Baya. If he couldn’t fix everything, this would ride on his conscience the rest of his life. Syran’s control over him was irritating – beyond irritating; mortifying.

“Things have changed, Bala. We’ve got to…”

“It’s Baya.” she cut off sharply, unpleased with being identified wrongly.

“Right… Anyhow, we must kill them all if there is to be any chance of this island becoming ours. We could potentially rule this place, Baya! It could be ours! Just you and I! We’ll kill the others. And I, being the potential ruler of the largest army of the island, will…”

“What? The largest army? Garvankh, the largest army is the bounty hunter army, and that’s scum we’re not going to get involved with. Zygros is in charge of it, and everybody knows it. There’s no way.”

“Oh, right…I’m sorry.”

“Who the hell are you?” cried Baya, slamming her right forearm against his chest and pinning him against the ground.

As she knocked him down, she raised her other hand in a tightly clenched fist, willing to strike her hand against his face in order to obtain what she wanted. Syran struggled to get away from her grip, kicking the air. Eventually, he knocked her off, hurling her to the other side of the road. There, she stayed in a slump, stunned.

Syran leaped to his feet, equipping one of Garvankh’s blades in his hand, swinging it about like a lunatic on some sort of hallucinatory drug. He plunged it downwards at Baya’s motionless body with all of his might. Somehow, it didn’t penetrate her flesh; she rolled away from where the blade struck at precisely the right moment.

Just as Syran realized what had happened, he felt a strong hit against the back of his head at the base of his skull, rattling his brain. Baya had struck him from behind, temporarily debilitating him.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but you certainly aren’t Garvankh.”

Syran let out a deep rumbling growl from his gut. Garvankh was becoming increasingly frustrated at Syran for being such a coward and performing such a dastardly act against whatever relationship he and Baya had. It was driving him absolutely mad.

As Syran slowly pushed himself up off the ground, Baya jumped at him, kicking him against the ground. She had the upper hand now. Now, her arm pressed against his windpipe, making breathing a more laborious experience.

“I asked you before…who are you?”

He refused to speak, prompting her to ask again. Baya then grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, shaking him against the ground. She then proceeded to strike him in the jaw.

“Now…you tell me who you are or I’ll rip you open!” she said, pulling out her switchblade and pressing it against his throat.” In reality, it was no threat to Syran, as he would be able to escape before the damage was done; it would be Garvankh that died. He quickly slipped out of Garvankh’s body in the form of a serpent. He emanated from the warrior’s mouth, slithering off as slipery as he came. Baya twinged slightly, disturbed by what she had just saw.

“Baya, it’s me. I was possessed by Syran…that was him…the snake.” explained Garvankh.

It sounded like Garvankh finally. He was back in control of his body, and things could return to normal…at least, relatively normal. Baya threw her hands around the snake’s neck in attempts to wring it. As she thrust her palms around it, it transformed into a puff of smoke with piercing red eyes floating in the mass.

“RUN!” Garvankh screamed at the top of his lungs.

“I’m not one to run from a good fight…”

“Just run! Baya, it’s not the time!”

“Shut up! I got this!”

In the heat of the moment, Garvankh dove at Baya, knocking her into the dirt. Syran tried to get back into the warrior’s body, but failed. The rogue scooped his comrade up into his arms and ran as fast as he possibly could despite her heavy armor weighing down his already weak body.

“Hey! I said I could fend for myself!”

“You’ll understand eventually…but for right now, shut up so I can focus on getting our asses back to basecamp or…or somewhere.”

After a long while of endless running, Garvankh grew tired as his thighs tightened up; his calves pulsating. He was forced to set the injured Baya down. She could run, and she wasn’t afraid to. Neither one of them knew where Syran was, and they didn’t want to look back. Garvankh pointed his right index finger at a tall ring birch tree that had a number of large and stable branches.

“We can scale that. I’ve got my rifle. We can try and snipe any bounty hunters out from there.”

“Alright.”

They approached the tree, where Garvankh stood next to it and allowed Baya to climb onto his shoulders. He followed her up, and they were well camouflaged by the lushious green-leafed tree.

“I’ll only take the shot at Syran if he’s in a sentient form. I learned the hard way that he can’t exactly take a shot in smoke form.”

“You didn’t know that?”

Garvankh sighed. Behind them, a dark figure climbed up the tree and snuck up on them. He placed his hand over Baya’s mouth tightly, prompting her to let out a scream. She began to fight back viciously.

“Quite before they find us!” he said.

Chapter 4
Garvankh looked over his shoulder, having heard the mysterious figure whispering to Baya. He was immediately shocked to see Baya’s captive. Whoever it was wanted to keep his identity sealed, as he was wearing a dark cape with a hood that covered his Kanohi. “Follow me.” The captor said.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, they followed him. Garvankh’s rifle remained in his hands in case something should go wrong. Nobody was trustworthy anymore. No simple situation could be taken lightly. “Where are you going?” asked Garvankh.

“No questions! Just come with me.”

The captor swiftly let go of Baya and jumped onto a vehicle below the tree in one motion. He revved up the motor, and gestured for the others to jump down with him. Again, they did so without hesitating. Within seconds of landing on the vehicle, it sped off, jolting each of them a bit. Luckily, they had a good enough hold on it that they didn’t lose their balance and fall off completely.

“Who are you, really?”

“My name doesn’t matter. What matters is getting you two out of here. Syran has been terrorizing Moril the past few days now, and quite honestly, that village is doomed.”

“You live in Moril?”

“Did I say that?”

“No.”

“Honestly, the ways you guys assume…never mind. My boss says there is a way we can get Predaria back in the hands of the villagers without stirring up to much attention.”

“How can we do that?”

“There are ways. Once I get you to him, things will make more sense. But right now, all that matters is me getting you to him.” The hooded figure explained. “Psych on your right!”

“What should I do!?”

“Kill it!”

Garvankh shot at it, and the psychotic, blood-thirsty Matoran fell into the dirt. He got back into a sitting position in the sidecar where Baya was. A lot had been running through his mind the past few hours, and it was causing him a lot of stress. Never before did he have to shoot so many Matoran. Never had he been possessed. It was all new to him, and he didn’t like it.

“You do this all the time?” he asked.

“What?”

“Do you kill Matoran like this every time you go out?”

“I’ve killed a lot, but nothing in comparison to those hunters. They’ve put so much of a dent into Predaria’s way of life that it is going to be near-impossible to restore it to some sense of normalcy. We’ve got a major fight on our hands.”

The bike pulled into a small village that seemed well protected from the outside darkness of the world. They had constructed a wall around the village limits, and guards lined them. The gates were opened so the three could enter.

“Welcome to Arxis.”

Baya and Garvankh were gravely impressed, but they also felt some kind of an intense feeling in their gut like something was wrong. Although they didn’t know what, they were not sure whether or not to trust their rescuer.

“We’ve been working hard on building up the walls these past few days. In the next week, we should have a larger region under our control.”

“You aren’t doing this for power, are you?” asked Baya inquisitively.

“No way. We’re here to free the people. The walls just mark where our territory ends. No psychs have broken in yet.”

“That’s what you call them? Psychs?”

“Yes. It identifies us from them.”

“They are Matoran, and they always have been.”

“Call them what you want. We call them psychs.”

The rescuer took them into a relatively large hut down at the other end of Arxis. Inside was the leader, Grizael. He was about the same height as Garvankh, being on the tall side of the average height. He was holding a spiked staff, one that only leaders could carry on the island.

Garvankh started to feel his morale raise a little. Being in the comfort of someone’s care made the world a better place for him. The rogue thought he could be a potential asset to Arxis, and even gain them a good portion of land. It would be a long conquest filled with bloodshed, but the people of Arxis believed it was possible. As long as the people believed, they’d go for anything that Grizael ordered.

“You know me more than you think, Garvankh.” Said the rescuer.

“I know. And I’m almost certain I know who you are now.”

Chapter 5
Only the sounds of running water from the river filled the warrior’s head. He was clad in red and black armor, and he, like the rest of the members of his team, was fighting for survival. To him, that was more precious than anything he could ever own or sell. His head turned sharply to the left, having heard the defined sound of a twig snapping under the foot of a equally heavy being. Under normal circumstances, he would have passed it off as nothing…absolutely nothing more than a Rahi grazing through the woods. Not today. Normal circumstances were different now. Normal circumstances generally did not include murder and serial killers roaming the land, but they did.

Life sucked. It had been that way for the warrior for a long while now. Living off whatever he could find in the woods was what kept him going. Green plants symbolized hope to him. Life went on whether or not you liked it. His sense of emotion had definitely decreased, being forced to kill even if it was against his own belief system.

A tan armored bounty hunter, Lerwish, was gracefully stalking the warrior, who was hiding in a branchy tree. Just as Lerwish was below the branch the warrior was on, the red armored rogue jumped on him and wringed his neck. The cracking of the hunter’s neck assured him that his job was done. Dragging the body over to his bike, he was tasked with the part of his job he hated most. ''Screw my life. Screw the world.'' He thought. He hadn’t seen the rest of his group for three weeks now. It was truly a miracle he was still alive.

Five bodies were on the back of his bike, each slugged over in a defeatist position. The warrior inventoried each of them, examining their Kanohi and figuring out who was who. Nobody, not even of the most low-down class of life, wanted to die so dishonorably. The warrior mounted his bike after securing the bodies tightly with rope.

He rode off to his small camp in the woods. Built out of lumber in the area, his small wood hut provided some warmth and protection from the harsh storms that passed through the island of Predaria. He started a large bonfire to burn the bodies after he collected all of their armor and gear. It was a shame to let it go to waste. One day, if the world was back in order, he’d sell off the gear and make a handsome profit…that was, if there was any money to be had in the new world.

For the most part, his campsite was safe. He had provisions, a fire to keep warm, and a relatively comfortable shelter, considering. Food was not sparse; several rodent-like creatures roamed the area, and many berries were in the forest as well. He wasn’t a victim, nor was he going to ever be one.

The warrior took a stick and poked one of the bodies to make sure that it burned. Making sure that the fires were hot ensured that it would only be a quick body burn. Short-length fires made it easier to get things done with less chance of alerting bounty hunters.

His name was Valkyr, which meant ‘merciless’ in ancient Predarian. Sitting on an old, rotted log, he thought about how things used to be. He missed the good old days of freedom, living carefree on what was called “the island of hope”. No one could even think of calling it that these days.

Lumbering around his campsite was about the only thing that kept boredom away. Though his emotions were lacking, he did have a compassionate side. He was not completely merciless, and often spared lives where he could. The blood that covered his hands each and every day was washed away in the river as easily forgotten as the lives of which that blood came.

For a few days now, Valkyr had been contemplating suicide. He wanted out, but he knew in the back of his mind that the island needed him. It was cowardice, and he certainly didn’t want to ruin his ego that way…even though he wouldn’t be there to face the moments when the survivors recollected about his way out. It bothered him that his legacy would be told that way…an elder telling Matoran Valkyr’s sad tale of living a semi-decent life up until the final three weeks out in the woods that did him in.

No, he wasn’t going to opt out. Not yet, anyways. It was his duty to help the islanders, not be selfish. And, it was vital that he found his team quickly. They were probably counting him as dead. And that wasn’t illogical either, as bounty hunters did cover all aspects of the island, not just the west anymore. Determined to free the island, Valkyr worked a slow job of killing every enemy that entered a certain range. Patrolling by day and resting only an hour at a time, nights were extremely stressful. Not only was he working on little sleep, but he didn’t know if he’d be ambushed.

Valkyr often wondered if it would just be better to go down in a fight. That way, he wouldn’t be labeled cowardice nor would he have to remain in the hellish world he currently lived in.

His fire was extremely warm at this point. Cold nights were as miserable as the rest of life on Predaria. Laying beside it comforted him, something that was seldom accomplished anymore. Tomorrow, he thought, I’ll set out for new ground…maybe I’ll find my team…maybe I won’t…but staying here is not something I can tolerate anymore. It was decided. Tomorrow would be the day he would leave for a better chance at life…or a worse one.

---

Lifeless. Utterly lifeless. The dead body of a mercenary was dragged into the center of the village. Garvankh had skillfully shot him in the head. The corpse grabbed everyone’s attention. One of the warriors, the one that had saved Baya and Garvankh, approached the body to identify it.

“That’s Xio. He was one of the bounty hunters that first tried to attack the village.”

“Put him into the fire like we have in the past.” Grizael ordered.

“I have claim on his armor, sir. It is a shame to let it go to waste.” Garvankh spoke up.

“Who says you are any more worthy than the others?”

“I killed him, didn’t I? The rest of you didn’t even know how to kill him with your limited weapons.”

“That is true. You may have the armor, but this is the last exception. From then on, all armor goes to the armory.”

Beside the flickering lights of fire and the torches that lined the walls, Garvankh picked off the armor that was useable. All the rest was set aside for craftsmen to use as scrap metal. The corpse of Xio was thrown into the blaze. The rescuer warrior came close to Garvankh, leaning next to him. “So, you think you know who I am?” he whispered.

“Yes…and I’ll talk to you about it in my quarters.” Replied the other warrior, poking an unlit torch into the fire.

The two got up and walked towards the small hut that Grizael had provided for him. Once inside, Garvankh placed the torch on a rack used for improvised lighting. Sitting on his bed, he gestured the other warrior to sit on the ground.

“You’re Devor, aren’t you? You have a very similar personality and speech pattern.”

“I am…but I can’t believe you figured that out at all…”

Devor was a member of the Dismorphus that everyone thought was dead. Both he and Valkyr had gone missing at the same time, but they didn’t go the same way, making tracking extremely difficult. In addition to that, there had been no trail to follow on either of them since the rain washed all of the tracks away.

Rain started to come down outside. The guards of Arxis still patrolled the walls since it was their duty no matter what the weather was like. One seemed to spot something suspicious from the other side of the barrier.

“We’ve got bounty hunters, sir!” he called.

Chapter 6
The rain, which growing increasingly heavier, would definitely serve as a distraction that the troops would have to work through. An army of what looked like bounty hunters approached. They were each equipped with spears tipped with a golden point. Lined six abreast and what looked like fifty deep, they stood near-motionless with the exception of breathing. Each one looked like they were not yet going to engage in battle, suggesting that some kind of leader would first try to negotiate terms, probably to capture Arxis. Grizael, having heard the call from one of the guards, came close to the wall, but not on it. He didn’t want to be seen by the opposing forces.

“What’s the word?” asked the leader.

“They are taking neutral position, sir. No motion.” Replied the guard, Larxus. “Call all guards to the walls except for Z-Squad.”

“Yes, sir.”

Z-Squad was a small group of warriors, including Devor, that worked closely with Grizael. Being that Arxis had only been a stronghold and refuge for a short while, each of the members were flash-trained by Larxus, who did serve in the Predaria Guard for several years. Z-Squad, however, had become much stronger and more intelligent than the rest of the military inside Arxis. While Grizael was rather appreciative of his own personal guard force, he also had a fear that they would somehow do him in. Grizael, who was not a Matoran, had a mild case of paranoia. He stood nearly as tall as Garvankh, but was shorter by a hand. Assembling in the center of the walled-up village was Z-Squad. Garvankh approached them. He seemed to recognize them.

“What the…?” he began. “It’s the rest of my team!”

Grizael nodded affirmatively.

“They said something about a Garvankh someone…thought you might know them!”

“Sir, this is no time for mundane conversations!” Larxus stated.

“I understand!”

The warriors outside the village all lifted up their spears in unison. As uniform as their last motion, they slammed the ends of their weapons into the hard ground, creating a large thumping noise. It was an act of intimidation, no doubt. Growing louder and louder, they continued making the noise. Devor and the rest of Z-Squad went to Garvankh and Baya. One of them, Lahua, shook his head in what appeared to be disappointment. Inquistively, Garvankh’s head moved down a little to get a look at his teammate, his back tensing and brow firm.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“It’s Valkyr. We lost him three weeks back.”

“To bounty hunters? The psychs?”

“No. We don’t know for sure that he is dead…he’s just…missing.”

“If we make it out of this invasion alive, we’ll warrant a search. For now, we’ve got something a lot bigger on our hands.” The vigorous pounding continued, growing faster and faster. Then, it stopped. Dead silent. A dark armored figure, broad in the shoulders and a bit stalky, emerged from the back of the group. Equipped with what looked like some kind of a large sword, he looked utterly ominous.

“Grizael!” he yelled, voice ripping through the silence. “Come out from your hiding hole!”

Larxus lifted his spear into a defensive stance.

“What do you want him for!?” he called.

“Grizael has a debt to settle up. Back in Moril four weeks ago, he promised me that he’d provide protection…he left me for dead back there.”

“Farlock…” Grizael said under his breath, which made a small cloud from the cold temperatures.

“You won’t have him!” replied Larxus.

From the forest, an arrow pierced Larxus’ heart, killing him near instantaneously. His lifeless cadaver fell down from the wall and into the hands of Devor below. He put the body on the muddy ground.

“Looks like we’ve got a rather large fight on our hand.” Devor commented.

“I want all the troops armed with energy bows immediately!” Grizael ordered.

---

Tonight was a cold night. Valkyr was huddled under his “tent”, trying to keep himself warm. His fire was simmered down to only embers, having been mostly extinguished by the pouring rain. Water was seeping in through his makeshift shelter. The wood, having been exposed to so much rain the past few weeks, was growing weak. A constant drip kept hitting Valkyr’s head, which he found to be extremely irritating. The cadence of it, though, was driving him mad. Like a beating heart next to one’s ear, it was consistent. As tired as he was, it was of no use to set out for new ground. He could be easily killed if bounty hunters were in the area…but would it be worth an attempt? He’d only become more tired if he stayed. In addition, he could become gravely ill if the cold weather and wet rain kept going.

“Screw everything…” he whispered.

Propping himself up, he huddled his knees close to his chest. His red Kanohi Hau was of no use to him ever since he had become so tired – the power simply did not work. Attempting to create some kind of a spark with it, it failed once more. He cussed under his breath, which was not uncommon for him to do. Stepping outside his shelter, he found that his fire was fully extinguished with the exception of one last piece of wood that was burning lowly. Somehow it gave him hope. It seemingly represented him, alone, surviving. He dared not extinguish it. Pushing himself to go on although being fatigued, he looked at his motorbike. The sidecar was filled with goods. If he wanted to leave, he’d need to use that bike to out run whatever kind of enemies lingered in the forest. Bags filled with his loot were in the campsite. He didn’t want to leave those…too valuable for the bounty hunters to get their hands on. Strapping them on with some rope, they were secure on his vehicle. He ignited the engine; it hummed assuringly. Now, it was in Valkyr’s hands to get out of the forest and to somewhere safe without alerting much attention.

---

The troops lined the walls, each equipped with Grizael’s raided energy bows. Garvankh put his right hand on the leader’s shoulder, as if reassuring him. “You can do this, Grizael. Your people need you to.”

“I’m not a leader. I’m as young as you are!”

“Age doesn’t make a leader. It’s the guts that do.”

A gentle smile came across Grizael’s face. He went inside his hut, where Devor equipped him with large amounts of armor that would protect him when he would go to the walls.

Climbing up the stairs to the top of the walls, he stood where Larxus did moments before he was shot. Farlock was below, as menacing as ever.

“This all could have been prevented, you fool!” called Farlock. “You would have saved lives, no doubt!”

“I understand what happened…it was truly an accident. When the roof caved in, I thought for sure you were dead.”

“Well, well, well…you always told me that ‘no one should be considered dead until there is a body to prove it’…I see where your integrity lies.” Though his rage inside was brewing, Grizael kept himself cool on the outside.

“I had never experienced it firsthand like that.”

“It’s too late for apologies now!”

Farlock signaled for the troops to tear down the walls. Snipers in the forest started shooting arrows from their energy bows. Three guards from the walls were taken out. Grizael signaled for them all to duck down so they were level with the turrets on the walls. It provided much more cover. Then, something terrible emerged from the forest – a large group of psychopathic Matoran armed with weapons.

Chapter 7
The hum of the engine on the bike overpowered all other sounds in the area. Valkyr was now deep in the woods, but he seemed to know where he was going. Suddenly, almost compulsively, he swerved left sharply. His breath was visible in the cold night air. His hands numb, he had to be careful in his motions, as one miscalculation could result in death or severe injury. Injury would be extremely agonizing since he’d be alone and he didn’t have much medical training. A slow, lingering death would surely ensue. He continued on his path – a straight one going left, dodging trees. Without warning, a shadowy figure appeared and caused Valkyr to go head-over-handlebars onto the ground.

---

The army of psychotic Matoran slaves started waving their weapons as if they were flags. It was an intimidation attempt, no doubt. One of them was swearing at the top of his lungs, seeming both uncontrollable and speaking it as fluently as if it were a language. Garvankh tightened his grip on his rifle, knowing that in order to make some kind of a difference in this soon-to-be battle, he’d have to use it. The other warriors seemed unprepared; nervous hands clutching their weapons. “I’ve warned you, Farlock…we’ve got true soldiers behind these walls…they surround the place. I suggest you leave…now.” Grizael yelled.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Farlock gestured with his left hand, his right was clutching his sword, for the troops to proceed. The “psychs” started to climb at the walls, attempting to gain traction against the slippery makeshift barrier. Some of the guards were able to knock them down by throwing loose stones on them. Saving their ammunition was important when resources were so limited. Grizael heard the sound of some kind of a energized rifle, and he instinctively ducked down to cover himself. One guard, Rifus, took the bullet to the head, falling off the wall and into the army of psychs below.

The corpse landed face down in the mud, its arms extended in twisted positions that no living being would do without experiencing intense pain. Lifeless, the psychs dug into Rifus’ body as if it were a delicious banquet. Farlock had starved his troops in order to get them extra psychotic. Sure it was abuse, but Farlock wasn’t compassionate. Truly, he was most insane than most of his victims, who were more-so “imbalanced” when it came to the psychology of the situation.

---

He was unconscious…for the most part. His head hurt…his body was battered…and he was dizzy. This was new ground for him. His eyelids pried apart, and he began to see a little bit, though it was fuzzy. Upon further clearing his eyes, he realized he was moving. Valkyr, the strong and semi-loner warrior, was moving on his own without his own control. What the…what the hell? He thought. Tightly held down, he realized someone…or something…was carrying him.

“What the heck are you doing!?” he yelled, now realizing the full heat of the situation.

There was no response. He tried to punch his captor, but realized his hands were bound tightly with thick, green (likely vine) rope. In attempts to kick, he noticed that his feet, too, were bound.

“You think this is a game? Set me down before I gorge your eyes out!”

Still no response. The kidnapper set Valkyr down in the mud face first so he wouldn’t see his captor’s Kanohi. In one swift, sweeping motion, the captor knocked his fist into Valkyr’s temple, knocking him over once more. He mounted Valkyr’s bike, tying him to it as well. Things would be interesting tomorrow…most interesting.

---

Garvankh was feeling tense. The casualties where not looking good. No losses to Farlock’s legion; all loses were on Grizael’s thought to be “safe-haven”. Arxis had been relatively peaceful, but it had days where bounty hunters would find it and have natural curiosity as to what a fortress was doing in the middle of such a, quote Farlock, “wasteland”.

“Farlock’s seems to be more talk about battle…less actual combat.” Devor commented.

“The weaker the hound the more it barks.” Garvankh replied, probably having heard that from some elder…or perhaps it was his own bit of wisdom.

Grizael jumped down from the wall to talk with the group. A firm plan had to be established in order to get the victory in their hands.

“Devor, I want you to lead the troops that are on the north-eastern portion of the wall. You have skills in leadership and you have a good relationship with the guards there. They are the ones you have been sharing a bunker with.”

Devor saluted the leader, but didn’t move out yet…he was to wait until ordered to do so. “Garvankh, you need to sweep Arxis for any villagers that need refuge.”

“But sir, I’m an excellent shot. It would be foolish not to use me as one of the men on the walls.”

“I didn’t ask you to! I need you to do the ground work!”

“But…”

“Shut up! My rules here!”

The Dismorphus warrior’s shoulders fell in disappointment. Grizael was wasting an able-bodied soldier that was stronger than 90% of the guards out on the walls. His teeth were grit, but he didn’t let the leader see. There was some kind of a dark feeling that Grizael gave off…almost as if he knew something and didn’t want the others to know, or he just lacked compassion…

“Carvas, you take the south-eastern part of the wall, and Lahua, you are on the north-western portion.”

“Who will be taking south west?” Baya asked.

“I already have a few guards there.”

“That may be so…but you don’t have a leader…a supervisor. I can do it.”

“I don’t take women.”

Baya’s fists tightened. All her life, she had been discriminated. This was the last straw.

“You can’t do that!!! I fought my way from the shores of the island all the way to Arxis! That should tell you I’m a worthy fighter!”

“Calm down, Baya.” Garvankh said.

“Shut the hell up!” she replied, pushing him aside.

“Baya, you were with the rest of your team…covering you all the way, no doubt. This is no place for you. Nor will it ever be…”

By this point, Baya was infuriated, her brow tensing, her eyes squinting in anger. At her hips, her hands were tight, the fingers unmoving.

“Let me on the wall or I’ll burn all of Arxis down…with you in it. And trust me…I’m not one to stray from my word.”

“You will not be burning Arxis down nor will you be on the wall. Garvankh, I have decided you will go on the south western portion. Baya, you will be in the quarantine chamber where we keep our new inhabitants for the first three days of their induction into Arxis…you know where that is, don’t you?”

She nodded affirmatively, then waving a vulgar gesture at Grizael. “Take to your corners, men. Order your troops as needed, and make wise, conservative decisions…we don’t have much ammunition or man-power, so we will need every bit of strategy possible. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” Devor replied, speaking for the men, who all nodded as well.

Baya walked slowly towards the quarantine chamber, reluctant, yet cooperatively. The troops took to the walls as she watched them, wishing to be one of them. She sat herself down inside the chamber, holding back the tears that she felt rushing to her eyes. Being such a strong personality, it was extra hard for her to be held back from something she felt so strongly about doing. Watching through a small hole in the chamber’s walls, she saw the troops shooting at the attackers. It was then that a brilliant idea came into her head.

---

Valkyr had been out for a long time now, and he was not aware of where he was. Before long, his captor set him down. It took several minutes for Valkyr to regain consciousness, but when he did, he was still blindfolded. The captor put a gun to Valkyr’s back and told him to walk straight.

“What…?” he stammered, his head aching and his brain confused.

“Walk forward. We’re approaching our destination.”

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Shut up,” replied the captor, kicking Valkyr in the back of his right knee. “I don’t want to have to knock you out again. Carrying you around like a Kankari kitten was growing ever so tiresome. And quite honestly, I don’t think the boss would ever stand for it. After all, you do have two feet, don’t you?”

The captive said nothing in response, rather, he sighed and kept moving even despite the fact he was blindfolded and his wrists were bound. Before long, he began to hear the sound of a creaky gate opening. Two armed what seemed to be soldiers grabbed Valkyr roughly by the elbows and escorted him to a chamber of some sort. The stench of excreted meals lined the room.

“I don’t want him staying here,” the captor announced. “I want him cleaned up for what we have in store.”

“Yes, Szeslik.” one of the armed soldiers responded as the two left.

“So, you’re name’s Szeslik? I think I’ve heard a better sounding name coming from the behind of one of your Kankari kittens…”

“I already told you to shut up! Do I have to beat you? I swear I will beat the living hell out of you if you say another word. There is a dead man rotting to hell at this moment in another chamber. He met his fate to my hands! I will not hesitate, you understand me!?”

“Loud and clear, psycho.”

The captor pounded Valkyr’s face square in the jaw, almost knocking out one of his prisoner’s teeth. He then kneeled down carefully, trying to avoid the fecal waste. “You aren’t a typical warrior. A normally trained warrior wouldn’t have been able to take such a blow without cringing. Where is the rest of your group? If you do not tell me, I shall have you tortured in a realm of pain that you have not yet ventured.”

Chapter 8
Baya snuck outside the chamber quietly to be as inconspicuous as possible. Her back was pressed up against one of the buildings inside the walls of Arxis. She scouted out a small building only a few feet away from her. Silently but steadily, she made her way towards it. A twig snapped beneath her foot. One of the guards looked down for a brief second, and was shot down by an arrow. His body fell beside her, and Baya nearly screamed out loud…but she couldn’t.

“Oh my God…” she said to herself, crawling into the building.

Once inside, she realized the building was filled with old gear that was probably used for military forces before everything went down. She grabbed a chest plate, two shoulder guards, a helmet, and a sniper rifle.

“This oughta do…”

---

Valkyr had been transported to another room; this time, cleaner than the last. The interrogator, Szeslik, stood in the room with his fists clenched tightly. He approached his prisoner and took of the blindfold. Being that there was a large amount of light in the room, it took his eyes time to adjust. As soon as they did, Szeslik punched him in the left eye.

“Tell me who you are and what team you’re part of!” yelled Szeslik, infuriated by this point.

Valkyr said nothing while he sat helplessly in a wooden chair. Again, Szeslik pounded his captive’s left eye. Not once did the warrior cringe after the painful blows he was taking. Deep inside, he knew this was his death sentence. The rest of the team didn’t know where he was for the past few weeks…or was it months? He didn’t know anymore. Szeslik grabbed a sharp blade and brought it towards Valkyr aggressively.

“Answer me, or I’ll drag this across your body and introduce you to a place called hell.”

---

The wall soldiers proceeded to pick off the attacking bounty hunters. Garvankh had landed a few headshots, which boosted his morale. He rubbed his palm along the stalk of the rifle, as if petting it. Before long, he had picked off all of the enemies in his portion of the wall. Garvankh’s arm fell to his side, along with his gun. The warrior then patrolled the wall, marching over to Devor’s.

“Any bounty hunters over here?” asked Garvankh.

“Yeah, they’re still coming pretty strong.” Devor calmly stated as he picked off more and more of the hunters.

Garvankh bent down to assume a sniper position between the turrets of the wall. From there he saw a bounty hunter he had encountered before named Zalen. Zalen was not by any means a friendly fellow. He much preferred the sound of screaming to the sound of laughter.

Pressing his eye up against the scope, Garvank aimed directly at Zalen’s knee. Without any second thought, he pulled the trigger of his gun and let the bounty hunter fall wounded.

“Why didn’t you kill him!?” snapped Devor.

“I’ve got a personal treat for him once this thing’s over…”

The sound of a chaingun suddenly ripped through the air, calling Garvank’s attention to the western section of the wall. Nobody was issued chainguns to defend themselves with, causing much suspicion among the two warriors.

Garvankh looked at Devor, who shrugged and kept shooting. However, the other warrior went out to go investigate. The soldier wielding the chaingun had full body armor on, painted black, and his Kanohi was not visible. Oblivious to Garvankh, he kept sweeping away the bounty hunters. Many of the soldiers were being completely obliterated by the gun.

“Sir, where did you get that chaingun?” asked Garvankh.

The warrior refused to answer. Garvankh put his hand on the chaingunner’s shoulder, and he jumped a little bit as if he had no clue the warrior was there.

“Where did you get that chaingun?” he repeated.

“The arsenal.” He replied in an odd voice.

It sounded vaguely familiar to Garvankh, but it wasn’t the same to anyone he knew. The soldier stopped shooting temporarily, wiped his brow, and continued onto the next segment, having cleared the last area. There was something uncannily familiar about him. His attack methods – his voice – everything about him seemed…familiar.

Garvankh jumped down off the wall and went to see Grizael, who was standing in the middle of the fortress. The warrior pulled him aside to talk with him.

“Who is the soldier on the western wall?” he asked Grizael.

Grizael paused to look, but he didn’t recognize him.

“I…I don’t know. It is not of much concern anyhow, as he’s fighting much stronger than most of the others.”

---

The wooden chair began to rock blow after blow delivered to Valkyr’s face. Blood spewed out of his mouth, his face was swelling with a purple hue, and he was in as much pain as he had ever been through – but he didn’t budge. Szeslik’s dagger glistened as he brought it to Valkyr’s right calf and slowly began to drag the tip of it up. Gushing flows of blood came out of each wound produced by the blade.

An armored figure snuck along the walls of the room. Szeslik turned around, having heard someone. The intruder was a female bounty hunter named Laran. She stabbed Szeslik in the stomach, inducing much gasping from Szeslik’s mouth.

“Come on, I’m here to rescue you, man!” she said as she put the blindfold back on Valkyr. “Trust me…I don’t wanna be with these guys. Just let me take it from here.”

Valkyr was too hurt to speak. The blindfold hurt his eyes and face with every movement he made. Laran led him out of the room and into the catacombs. No attention was paid to the two, as it simply looked like yet another prisoner meeting his fate. She placed Valkyr in the sidecar of some kind of speederbike. Revving up the engines, she sped off faster than any vehicle the warrior had been on before. The two quickly arrived in the woods. She dismounted, and swung him out of the sidecar. Valkyr pulled off his blindfold.

“I’m Laran.” She said as she shook his hand.

The warrior said nothing in reply.

“Those bounty hunters were the wrong crowd…they beat me around a lot and made a lot of bad remarks just because of my gender. I’m not like them, ok? I was in it for the money when I couldn’t find life anywhere else. I come from a big city. Often times I had to make ends meet by taking on other identities…disguise became who I was. The bounty hunters want to see this island conquered – all the inhabitants to be dead. It’s because they want it for themselves. Once that’s done, they are going to bring in the people from the city and claim it is better than the old way. It’ll be one of those situations where you are promised something better when in reality it is way worse. Once they come in, they are going to stay in. We need to destroy the order of bounty hunters…we need to work together.”

Valkyr trusted her now. No bounty hunter would spill out their emotions if they were lying. He offered his hand in a shaking way.

“Valkyr,” he said. “I’m working to clear this island up.”

The two had a common goal and a common interest – to free the island of its bounty hunter captors.

Chapter 9
The rain had slowed down quite a bit near Arxis. It appeared that the storm was finally passing. Only a few bounty hunters remained now, but the casualties on the Arxinian side were also increasing. A small legion of about twenty hunters started to scale the walls. Garvankh impaled one of them, and its body fell to the inside of the wall.

Grizael patrolled the grounds within the barrier, and passed by the arsenal to get himself a weapon should things go terribly wrong. Once inside, he picked up a massive blade that could surely decapitate anyone as if their necks were made of butter. Swinging it through the air, it hardly made a noise other than its light swooshing sound that it gave off naturally in his tough palms. Fingering it softly, he ran his hand down the flat side of the blade. It was his now. The sword felt as if it were destined for him.

He grabbed its sheath, put it on, and put away the blade. Grizael headed towards the quarantine chamber to make sure that Baya was alright. After all, some time had passed since she was delegated to go there. Swinging open the door, he realized that she was gone. Frantically, he searched through the room, trying to find her.

“Baya!?” he yelled out.

She was nowhere to be found. The leader ran to Garvankh, who was on the wall. Slashing the bounty hunters, he helped the Dismorphus warrior out greatly.

“Baya is missing.”

“What!?” Garvankh cried in dismay.

“I checked on the quarantine chamber and…she wasn’t there!”

Garvankh was now riddled with worry that his love interest had been kidnapped or killed. His focus drifted away from the battle and into the concern of where Baya was. He ran over to other warriors on the wall to see if they knew – but they didn’t. Eventually, he came up to Devor, who claimed he saw her sneaking around within the walls of Arxis, but that was all. Partially relieved by this point, Garvankh helped his teammate pick off the remainders of the bounty hunters that were below the walls. The chain gunner made his way around, clearing out bounty hunters over and over again as if they were nothing. Garvankh approached him to see if he knew anything about Baya. The warrior pulled him aside where no one could see. Then, he took off his helmet and leaned in to kiss Garvankh romantically. Garvankh’s heart stopped in his chest, shocked.

“You knew I’d be up on the wall, didn’t you, Garvankh?” Baya said.

“Grizael is going to go insane. He told you not to go.”

“Shhh,” she said, pressing a blue finder against his lips before proceeding to kiss them once more.

She put her helmet back on and returned to battle as his heart raced. It was the first real romance they had experienced. Just as he had begun to realize what happened, his blissful feeling was knocked out when the sound of pounding on the walls began. The bounty hunters were trying to tear down the wall.

“Grizael! The bounty hunters are trying to break in!” called Garvankh at the top of his lungs.

Several soldiers came down to try and keep the hordes away. Grizael, wielding his blade, killed anyone that came in. Carvas, a member of the Dismorphus, jumped down from the wall in order to help with the horde. A section of the wall broke down in one burst, leaving the soldiers overwhelmed. Many of them were stabbed to death by the hunters. One of them cannibalized on the soldier he killed, feasting on his heart. Grizael ran his sword through the cannibal’s head.

Carvas frantically shot arrows from his bow at the bounty hunters. He kept missing. Khromos, one of the bounty hunters, snatched his arm and twisted it. With his other arm, Carvas tried desperately to stab the hunter with his hand knife, but he couldn’t reach it. Khromos took Carvas away with him into the woods.

More and more bounty hunters seeped in. Warriors rushed to the arsenal in order to save the weapons. At this point it was an evacuation, and it needed to be treated like one. Villagers were gathered into large transporation vehicles that had been saved in case of emergency. Baya, still in disguise, managed to clear a few hundred more bounty hunters from the wall. A gunshot ripped from one of the trees, and it struck Grizael directly in his left arm. His entire forearm had been blown off cleanly. One of the guards, trained in medical care, pulled him off to the side and cauterized the wound with his fire abilities. A ball of flames sealed it shut as Grizael lost consciousness.

In the tree, Farlock felt satisfied with his achievement. If Grizael was out of play, then the game of life would have to continue without a leader. Soldiers gradually filtered out of Arxis in means of evacuation. Quick-thinking, Baya approached the guard that cauterized Grizael’s wound.

“You’ve got the power of fire…I saw you use it.” She said in a fake deep voice.

“Yes? What of it?”

“We cannot defend this safe-haven. We don’t have a chance. The only way to protect it is to burn it down. Get the rest of the troops to take as much as they can from the place, and then you are going to light it up. There is a well of solara gas in the arsenal. Pour it over the ground and then light it up.”

“Got it.”

The soldier, Andren, quickly went to work as the group gradually filed out. Grizael was taken onto one of the large vehicles. Pouring the fluid all cross the area, he realized that it was up to him to burn the place down. If he was going to do this, he knew he was going to have to do it right. In order to kill virtually every bounty hunter, he would have to serve as a living torch. Andren chugged down at least a liter of the toxic fluid, and doused himself in a gallon of it. Walking towards the break in the wall, he ignited his pyrotechnic display. The balls of fire emitting from his palms became a huge inferno that engulfed his body and the former safe-haven known as Arxis.

Screams came from the bounty hunters as they, too, were swallowed by the devastating blaze that Andren had created to save his comrades. Grizael half-consciously watched his small empire burn down in a furious storm of flames. All he had worked for in the past few months – gone. “It’s gone…” he murmured. “Arxis…is gone.”

The vehicle passed over rugged terrain as it approached the Layrol Forest. It would serve as a temporary base for the evacuees until a new establishment could be made. The convoy stopped once it reached its destination. Everyone got off.

Garvankh helped the injured off and set them up in a small portion of the forest where they could be looked over. Devor helped Grizael out, all the while staring at his bloody stump of an arm. Due to the overall lack of safety on the island, the vehicle would serve as the bunking area, being that it was an armored tank-like structure with an enclosed area usually used for the transport of troops.

“Did you ever find Baya?” asked Devor, now concerning that she may have been left behind.

“Yes,” Garvankh said as he leaned into Devor’s ear. “She was the chain gunner.”

Devor pulled himself away from Garvank in pure shock. Baya was the chain gunner? How? It seemed impossible. Grizael regained his consciousness, having been given some sort of energy booster from one of the soldiers. He stood up and went to thank each of the soldiers for their service.

As he passed by Devor, he gripped his right shoulder firmly and nodded, signaling that he liked how the warrior acted during the battle. He pulled a small knife from his belt and handed it to him.

“You deserve this. It was a good friend of mine’s knife. He was killed by the bounty hunters. I need you to understand that this knife is only to be used to kill the hunters with – no one else. You are a worthy soldier. I believe you will follow this wish.” Grivael explained.

In his hands Devor held a piece of Grizael’s mysterious past. It felt comfortable in his grip, and he swung it around a bit. The blade looked as if it could do some serious damage, provided that the swing was strong enough.

The former leader of Arxis continued evaluating the troops, which helped them feel a bit more useful in Grizael’s personal vengeance against the brutal warriors. Eventually, Grizael made his way down to Baya – who was still dressed in her disguise armor with her chain gun strapped onto her back.

“Sir, you provided what we needed most in this world – hope and destruction of the enemy. You are deserving of becoming a high-ranking soldier in my army. But I am unsure of who you are. Please remove your helmet so I may see the Kanohi of the hero that helped us evacuate Arxis.”

Baya cringed. If she did as she was told, she could be subject to unspeakable punishment. Grizael repeated the order, this time resulting in her lifting off the helmet. The whole army looked at her in astonishment.

“…Baya?” gasped Lahua, one of the members of the Dismorphus.

“Yes.” She murmured.

Grizael felt himself tingling with both rage, shock, and some mild embarrassment. She had gone against his orders, but had been the changing force in the battle.

“How did you get up on the wall without my noticing?”

“It was easy – I snuck out of the quarantine room, got to the arsenal, and got ready to fight. I knew I could outdo your soldiers…so it was worth a shot.”

“The punishment is death for disobeying my orders…but you have done such a noble thing, and you saved many innocent lives…I am at a tearing point. I believe that you’ll have to stay. I can’t simply punish someone who has done the right thing.”

He hugged her with his right arm, and told her that she was welcome to remain in his army if she chose to do so. She bowed her head honorably, knowing that it was a big event to be allowed to fight with someone who was at first so opposed to her joining the battle.

“I’ll remain in your army as long as our mission allows for it.” she decided.

Grizael began to feel weak and elected to sit down. The troops all got together, pulling Baya aside with them in celebration. “It’s the first time anyone has made it past Grizael’s orders!” one of them, Xayr, said.

She smiled softly, feeling that she had obtained some kind of big goal that she had always wanted to achieve. “You are officially one of us now, Baya. Welcome in!”

With that, the group began to work on setting up a camp that would hold back any kind of creatures that lurked in the forest. A make-shift wall made from logs was set up around the entire convoy. Members of the army would keep watch during the night in order to keep everyone safe.

Baya had volunteered to serve the first two hours, with Xayr helping her out. The past was behind them – the future laying in the balance of their success.

Chapter 10
Coming soon.

Part 2
Coming soon.

Trivia

 * It is currently the 73rd largest page on the wiki at 68,409 bytes - more than 1,000,000 bytes shorter than Eternal Darkness, the longest page on the wiki.
 * Kopakamata97 takes inspiration from various media:
 * The story has influences from The Lord of the Rings, The Walking Dead, and The Hunger Games.
 * Arxis is slightly inspired by Woodbury from The Walking Dead
 * Valkyr's character was influenced by Altair from Assassin's Creed, Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead, and Aragorn from The Lord of the Rings.
 * Baya was inspired by Eowyn from The Lord of the Rings and Mulan from Mulan.
 * Syran has similar traits to serial killer Ted Bundy.
 * Most of the killer Matoran were inspired by assorted historical killers, such as Jeffrey Dahmer, Ed Gein, and Jack the Ripper.
 * The characters come from Kopakamata97's fascination with horror characters and insanity.
 * Kopakamata's Writing Contest was held in 2013-2014. The winner was "Cat and Mouse", detailing the story of Valkyr.
 * The story will become a series on YouTube.
 * The history of Predaria has influences from both literary sources and world history.
 * Despite being fairly non-religious, Kopakamata97 used several biblical names for the eras in Predarian history.

Appearances

 * Garvankh
 * Valkyr
 * Baya
 * Lahua
 * Devor
 * Carvas
 * Syran
 * Warx
 * Kyro/"Talos"
 * Lanua
 * Hadrid
 * Xinol
 * Grizael