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This article was written by ToaGonel and FireDrag1091. Please do not add to it without the writers' permission.
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| Olmak (story) | |
|---|---|
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| Story | |
| Setting |
Various universes in the Bionicle Multiverse
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| Date Set |
Various depending on universe one is looking from
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| Media Information | |
| Released |
Weekly early 2018
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| Timeline | |
| Previous |
The Vow
(see top of page)
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| Concurrent | |
| Next | |
The following story constitutes the Agency of the Olmak or "Olmak" side of the fateful conflict between three different multiverse-scale powers in the Bionicle multiverse. As such, it focuses primarily on Baron Telravarn and his journey. It is co-written by ToaGonel and FireDrag1091. The other three parts of the story are Osade and Order. The full story is assembled in Oblivion's Game.
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.
Story[]
Chapter One[]
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:
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.
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.
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 Three[]
Vudrai Alternate Universe
“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.
The Broken Order Universe
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 Empire's 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 Four[]
Vudrai Nui Alternate Universe
On the highest room in the great tower of Vudrai Nui, the aged, ailing being watched all that happened within the politburo council chamber with his usual mixture of fascination and disgust. The Barons were meeting more and more frequently these days; it seemed there was always something going on now.
But now the sickly titan could wait no longer. The Kritor/Agency/Lykos War was growing too large and they did not have what it took. The last time the titan had emerged from his room to assume command was to eliminate the unification of the Soulshredders and the Fallen Empire, a union that appeared to place the entire multiverse in peril. But now the development of the Kritor Empire and the Lykos Dominion was looking to dwarf that.
With great difficulty, the titan would stand out of his chair. Some sticky goo peeled away between his ruined body and the chair--for the longest time they had been one, but now the baron sought to separate them.
When he stood, he was uneasy--quite wobbly. Once his ancient muscles seemed to stabilize, he took the first steps forward he had taken in… he didn’t know how long.
This would not work, he knew. His body was in terrible shape; he had not maintained it at all. No matter. This would be fixed soon.
He reached for his cloak and swept it over his back. He then limped out the door of his chamber.
“This council disgusts me,” Karrnot declared, sweeping his arm as he did. The others looked at him with expressions of shame or anger. All of them were terribly sleep-deprived.
“We are the Agency of the Olmak,” Karrnot continued. “We should be more than capable of dealing with this threat. We’ve done so for… millions of years!”
“Neither of these threats are like anything we’ve fought before,” Waktun replied. “The aggression of the Lykos… the mechanism of the Kritors. Provision: Evenings Odds will only work so far.”
“Telravarn says Provision: Evening Odds is all that we are to do right now.” Bakreth insisted.
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a damn about what Telravarn wants,” Karrnot snapped. “If he wants something, he has to come down here to say it.”
“Evening Odds will not work,” Waktun continued. “Nothing we have done before will work. All the empires we felled before--The Fallen Empire, Empire of Shadows, The Initiators, The Corpsian Empire, The Silent Knights, Shadow of Ages, The Soulshredders… The classic enemies we have fought before--Shadowmaster, the Dark Lord, Eostra Nihiltian, Nihiltidax, Millennium, Nightwatcher, Serrakaan, the Cold One… The simple fact is that none of them knew of our existence as we fought them. We could remain hidden as we struck at them.
“But now… Krevator and Su-Polemistis not only know of our existence; they have set their eyes on destroying us. And their ambition dwarfs that of our classic enemies. Krevator seeks to unite all of reality; Su-Polemistis means to destroy all that isn’t loyal to the Lykos Road of Life. Both would war against each other under normal circumstances, save for one thing; they both have a common enemy. The Agency of the Olmak.”
“Perhaps there is a way to make ourselves disappear?” Frentis offered.
There was a snort from the direction of the entrance. The heads of the barons turned as one to see the intruder.
“Make ourselves disappear? What are we, the Order of Mata Nui? I mean, I know people often confuse our mission for something like that… but it could not be further from the truth.”
The rotting titan hobbled into the room.
“Telravarn,” Karrnot gulped. “You have arrived.”
“Yes, and I will have my seat back again,”
Karrnot, stunned, moved to one of the chairs on the side of the table. Telravarn took his place at the head.
He was once a mighty member, possibly once belonging to the Glatorian species. His flesh was rotting, however, peeling off in many places, and his armor was filthy green, pitted, and scarred. Once he stood about ten feet tall, but now he was withered and could only manage about seven feet. His left hand had fallen straight off. The stump that was his arm was black.
On his face rested a mask any of the could recognize as the Mask of Power Reversal, a true masterpiece of engineering. The entire thing was made of two components; one, the inner component, a helmet to grant the Glatorian use of Kanohi powers and two flaps that could be raised and lowered to cover the mouth; the other the mask itself, a horned mask with symmetrical openings that ascended from the base to the eyes and then stretched from the eyes to the ears. For all anyone could guess, the inner part was holding his head together; they hadn’t seen him without it really since he’d put it on. The mask itself held the ability to turn any power on its user or another target, or even to inverse the power or to manipulate it entirely. Telravarn’s pride, assuming he wasn’t in a narcissistic mood.
“Now, then, where was I? Oh, that’s right. Making ourselves… disappear… I know it seems like a smart idea, Frentis. But you truly do betray your ignorance here--”
Frentis reacted immediately. “What makes you--”
“Intelligence. Cunning. An understanding of these warlords. Do not forget that it was I who originally taught you miserable lot how to defeat Shadowmaster, the Dark Lord, Eostra Nihiltian, Nihiltidax, Millennium, Nightwatcher, Serrakaan, the Cold One--the like. Krevator and Su-Polemistis… do not be deceived. These are not they. They are far less reckless and far more desperate… and will not be fooled so easily.”
Of the barons present, only Bakreth appeared thrilled to see Telravarn. The rest were fuming.
“After so many years--and now you return to us? To claim the glory of defeating these empires--to claim credit for work we have already done?” Karrnot snarled.
“Who was it that ordered Provision: Evening Odds?”
“That Provision did not work. We only destroyed so many Kritors--and do not try to claim credit for what we have done to undermine the Lykos.”
“I will not, rest assured. Not yet at least. As for the Provision, it accomplished what it meant to. Krevator is suffering, the Kritor Empire is shocked, and I can prepare my next move.”
“Your next move?!”
“Yes, Karrnot. My next move. I will take it because you so-called “barons” are too stupid to handle it yourselves. You have grown so wealthy, so powerful off the Agency I lay the foundations of. You have grown fat. Now you have lost what originally made you adept enough to serve on this council…. And you have lost your ability to wage war.”
“You… disgust me.”
“The feeling is mutual, old friend.”
“Well, then,” X-2436 inferred. “What do you propose?”
“Oh no, first things first. I must repair my body.”
“And how do you plan to do this?’ Karrnot hissed.
With a heave, Telravarn collapsed into his chair.
“Well… glad you asked. I can always count on you, Karrnot, to do the predictable.
“As all of you know well, in days gone by, I have located parallels of myself and taken those body parts for my own, but I have not found many parallels of late. Failing this, I tend to take the bodies of those multiversal conquerors and integrating parts of them into myself as trophies. It’s an interesting existence, if an empty one.”
“Why do you tell us things we already know?” Waktun asked.
“I tell you these things because Krevator and Su-Polemistis are kindred spirits. I can sense it. They are much like I am. Or perhaps I would like to be like they. They are powerful and honorable and everything a foul wretch like I could strive to be. If I am to face them head-on, I must be at full strength. But I have no parallels and the only multiversal threats alive aren’t available for the moment. Who can I possibly integrate? Who is powerful enough to be worth my time?”
“I don’t know. Don’t waste our time with rhetorical questions.” Karrnot snapped.
Baron Telravarn gasped, as if taken by sudden inspiration. “I know! Why, eight of the most powerful beings in the universe are sitting within this very room! I mean, I can’t integrate myself, but the rest of you…”
Frentis rose.
“Whh--you can’t--”
Telravarn smiled and nodded.
Karrnot simply stared, his mouth gaping like a Makuta Fish. Bakreth smiled awkwardly and blinked. “You wouldn’t to me, would… After all I’ve done for--”
“Why would I not?”
With that, Telravarn pressed down on a pager. “Derkin, you may enter.”
The doors swung open as a small army of soldiers stormed in. At their head was Derkin.
Telravarn laughed from his chair. “I have taken quite a liking to our Taskforce Officer-slash-Head of Security. After all, I have monitored our agents greatly, especially since I will have to form an effective command once all of you are gone. Derkin, I have found, is particularly proactive. Far more than any of you.”
The barons, frozen in fear, could only look at either Telravarn or the soldiers.
“Don’t you do this,” Gorbere gasped. “Don’t you dare do this.”
“Telravarn,” Bakreth wept. “After all I have done for you.”
“All of you have done something for me. You were all useful for a time. Why do you think I allowed you too to be Barons and join me in ruling this empire? Why do you think I left you solely in charge for so long? Each of you are the closest things I have to friends. But all things come to an end in time.” He looked at Derkin. “You may commence.”
Bakreth gasped and started for the door, only to be blocked by two Agents who cut him down quickly. Karrnot’s eyes widened, and he looked at Telravarn.
“Are you mad?”
“I find that ironic knowing your temper. Or lack thereof.”
Karrnot whirled to face the agents, but it was too late, one was already standing there to stab him.
Gorbere was the most valiant. Telravarn was actually impressed the baron would have the courage to leap onto the table, unleash a war cry, and jump into the fray of soldiers; however, it was ultimately futile in the end. Disgusted, Telravarn wiped some of Gorbere’s remains off his cloak.
Frentis looked at Telravarn in fear. “How could you do this? How could you turn the Agents against us? The Agency of the Olmak?”
“Do you not know what this Agency stands for? What I founded it to be? And you thought I it would remain so perfect for you lot forever? Don’t turn around now, by the way.”
Frentis glanced down as a blade tore through her chest. Telravarn raised an eyebrow and strummed the armrest with his fingers.
“When you have big fingers,” the baron growled, “It’s easy to break little things.”
Boredom. It was the bane of all rulers.
Telravarn stood, staring at the seven dead once-barons and the bodies of the soldiers they had managed to fell. Derkin saluted and awaited orders.
“Summon my head doctor. Tell him I need to be repaired. After that, I want you and Cerevena to meet me in the Valley of the Maze in Bara Magna. I am about to set the greatest trap ever to be laid.
“Did he say why he wanted us?” asked Cerevena as she donned the Olmak-infused armor.
“Not really, no.” Derkin replied, having already put on his Kanohi-esque shell. Focusing, he cast open a portal to Bara Magna and stepped through. Cerevena followed shortly thereafter.
The Valley of the Maze was as it had always been. Despite the technological advancements made by the Agency on all fronts, Bara Magna and Bota Magna tended not to receive the same benefits Aqua Magna gleaned as a result. All resources brought from outside the Vudrai Nui Universe tended to favor only those dwelling in the Agency of the Olmak.
The two agents found the baron, Telravarn standing on a cliff overlooking the Maze. Cerevena hadn’t seen him in any good light before, but for Derkin, Telravarn looked completely changed. The baron had been rotting and decaying before, chunks often hanging from his mechanical parts. Despite probably having once been of the Glatorian race, it was almost impossible to tell for sure for all the modifications and repairs that had been done on him with parts from other once-multiversal conquerors.
Now he looked young again, or as young as he could get. On his face he wore an ornate golden mask, the Mask of Power Reversal, if Cerevena remembered correctly. He bore the golden Olmak-infused armor as they did, but his looked longer, covering much of his body. Underneath, fresh muscles almost glowed in Solis Magna’s light. The man was about ten feet tall, although this added height had been artificial. If gold was his primary color, blue was most likely his secondary, although this was largely covered by the Olmak armor. A sweeping silver cape with a high collar blew in the wind.
“There you are,” Telravarn said. “It has been so long since I visited the planet… I forgot how clean the air feels on a fresh body.
Cerevena gulped. The barons had been selfish, but might this have taken it a bit far?
Telravarn stepped closer to the edge of the cliff overlooking the Valley of the Maze. “I have found in my many ponderings that I, Spherus Magna, and this Vudrai Nui Universe are very much alike in many ways. All of us are decaying. The universe is on the verge of collapse, it needs imported materials on a regular basis to keep it functional. So also do I regularly need pieces replaced to keep me alive. You follow?”
Cerevena and Derkin both nodded. Telravarn noted that Cerevena didn’t look too keen on seeing Derkin considered her equal, but the baron didn’t much care about their feelings.
“I have found that all universes revolve, in some form or another, around the Core War. More specifically, they tend to revolve around the Shattering that ended it. In many universes, Mata Nui is successful in reuniting the shattered pieces of Spherus Magna. In our universe, however, Spherus Magna was never restored. Bara Magna continues, as it always has, drifting in empty space accompanied by its two moons, one of which, Aqua Magna, hosts our Vudrai Nui facilities.
“In many such universes where Spherus Magna is reunited, Mata Nui and the Ignika take further steps to heal and renew the shattered world. When they do so, they prevent the ability of the world to shatter again; however, in those universes where they do not heal the world, the planet still retains the fractures of before. It is a rather precarious situation, as many universes have found. The hard way. Adding energized protodermis back into the mix exponentially increases the volatility of the planet.
“My plan is this. Using the Agency’s powerful equipment, we must reunite this shattered world, but without Mata Nui or the Ignika to renew its life, the planet will be just as fractured as before. I am sending agents out to find the frozen core of energized protodermis drifting in space. Spherus Magna will be much like it was in pre-Core War state; however, because the planet has already shattered once, a second time will be far less forgiving.”
“But… Wait, you mean to weaponize the Shattering!”
“With these empires, can I do no less? Now, I believe I was informed the Kritors have spies downloading the information on our databanks and transferring it to the Broken Order Universe, was I not? If I wasn’t, it was rather obvious in my opinion; how else would they have known where to launch the attacks on those four universes? With the Kritors tapping our communications, the next step is most obviously to plant false information that we are sending our agents from Crossroad Station into the Vudrai Nui Universe--even as we send our agents from Vudrai Nui to Crossroad. This universe is no longer sustainable; it has grown to be more trouble than it’s worth, and I am ready to seize a new one and continue where we left off.
“The Kritor sensors will register excessive traffic occurring between the main universe and the pocket universe, and that coupled with our false information will make it appear that we have abandoned Crossroads to them. Desperate for revenge for the four militaries they lost to us before, they and their Lykos allies will attack Spherus Magna directly, skipping Crossroads altogether, only to realize our universe is almost completely abandoned, with the exception of a few small armies on our part. Once the Kritor and Lykos armies have landed and we are sure their respective High Commands are among them, we will tap the energized protodermis once again and cause it to explode. This time, however, the planet will become an asteroid field and the Krikos forces will all be slain.”
Cerevena gasped. “You’re insane, Telravarn!”
“No, but my opponents are. To defeat the mad, you must think accordingly.”
Telravarn was exaggerating, of course, but his lieutenants didn’t have to know that.
“My gosh,” Derkin breathed.
“But do you understand, now, what must be done? Cerevena, I’m assigning you to plant the false information in our transmissions. Derkin, you will reunite Spherus Magna and send a taskforce to track down the energized protodermis. I want this ready ASAP.”
Telravarn started to storm off, but when he listened for their movement, he heard nothing.
“What are you two staring at?” he growled.
They did not respond. He whirled to face them.
“What?”
“Sir, your,” Cerevena gagged, “Your right arm…”
Disturbed, Telravarn glanced where Cerevena had indicated and, sure enough. He’d been so caught up in his own ingenuity that he’d failed to notice seams of his lower arm beginning to fray. Scowling, he pulled it all together and held it in place. By the time he’d done this, neither of the other two had moved.
“You are disgusted, then?”
Derkin looked down. Cerevena couldn’t stop staring at his arm.
“You find it disgusting. I find it poetic. I’ve lived in this universe far longer than any of them had; my body needs to be repaired just the same as it does. And it was I who first set about creating this Agency. This was always my organization; they were merely pretenders. They always did belong to me; that their bodies and minds should be incorporated into me is not only fitting but timely, especially in this war. After all, the fewer individuals in charge, the faster things get done, the sooner we can eliminate the multiverse’s greatest threats. Get moving.”
Without further ado, both Agents bowed and ran along, about their work.
Agency Head of Training and another Taskforce Officer, Terrik, looked on with Derkin as the claw of their spaceship navigated to the largest chunk of frozen energized protodermis floating in space.
“Pretty large chunk, ain’t it?” he muttered.
“That was Spherus Magna’s core,” Derkin reminded him quietly.
Terrik looked at Derkin. “So the rumors are true? Baron Telravarn killed the other Barons?”
“Shhh. Yes. He had me lead the,” Derkin grimaced slightly, “the taskforce.”
Terrik half-smiled sarcastically, “Oh, what fun that must have been.”
“Well, let’s just say I’ve discovered that it’s one thing to leave a universe with helpless innocents in the clutches of the Kritor Empire; it’s another to slaughter the superiors one has respected for… hundreds of thousands of years.”
“Listen, Derkin. Half our agents still don’t know the Baron has less-than-noble plans in mind for the Agency. I can assure you too many still think we’re ‘the Order of Mata Nui but in space.’ It’s all I can do to nudge them away from that in their training.”
Derkin nodded.
“And what of us, now? What rank even am I anymore? And what of all the other Taskforce Officers? At least you, I, Frenzit, and Harkorn have the consolation of knowing we were sent to repel those Kritor forces in their universes. Most of the others haven’t done any ‘tasks’ since all this stuff started happening. Do we have any certainty that we’re even officers anymore?”
“I…” Derkin nearly assured him that everything was probably still the same, but then he remembered how he had treated Cerevena and himself as equals on Spherus Magna.
“The package has been recovered.” one of the pilots informed them.
“Very good. Begin warp over to Bara Magna. Tell the Spherus Magna crew to begin preparations for reunification.”
“Aye, sir.”
The ship rotated around and entered warp.
“Do you know if we’re supposed to join the others in fleeing the universe after this?” Terrik started whispering again. “I get so little info with the chain of information shattered.”
“You are, I think. I’m supposed to join Cerevena with the Baron and a few others for the battle.”
“Why you two specifically? Did he say why?”
“No. I don’t even know. Can any of us say what goes on in his head? Either his moves are exceedingly complex or sporadically insane. Or a brilliant mixture of the two.”
“Well, I suppose you would know better than I.”
“Would I?”
“You know, I’m tentative to trust where this is going. Whatever happens after this, the Agency isn’t going to be the same. What if he makes us taskforce officers his new politiburo? What happens if we outlive our usefulness?”
“We aren’t going to outlive our usefulness,” Derkin replied mindlessly.
Terrik snorted.
“Terrik,” Derkin said suddenly. “When you and your agents were seeing to the Kritor invasion in the Deserts of Death Universe, what did you tell them? What did you say when they started questioning orders?”
Terrik smiled slightly.
“Yeah yeah, defense of the multiverse is the main objective, and the Agency is the only thing capable of that.”
“As the one who founded our organization, Telravarn will best know how to deal with these multiverse powers. Whatever he does, we know it’s to that end.”
In a breath so low Derkin almost thought it was a figment of his imagination: “Takes one to know one.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Telravarn chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t paid much attention to the Taskforce Officers before, but now they were starting to grow on him.
Once again in the seat of power in his beloved chamber, the baron looked to another screen where Cerevena was carrying out her orders swimmingly. Vudrai Nui was being evacuated of most Agency of the Order personnel. A few candidates had been selected for the Agency’s new home, but for the time being Crossroads had closed its doors as the exodus unfolded. Telravarn had even ordered that unwitting, innocent citizens of other universes be imported to inhabit Spherus Magna and to deceive the Lykos and Kritors into thinking the Agency still inhabited it. When the Kritors and Lykos invaded, the resulting slaughter would produce hundreds of corpses which, when returned to their homes, would galvanize whole universes to rise against the Krikos. And the Agency could simply sit back and watch as both sides decimated each other… and the Agency swooped in afterward and claimed double, triple its power and influence compared to before.
Yes, he decided. Nothing was going poorly. All was fitting into place like he’d imagined it.
It was as though some great power had deemed it to be so.
Such words jammed in the stream of his mind, refusing to be lost. Some great power… with a shrug, he resolved that he was, in fact, the great power setting such cataclysm in motion.
He, of course, didn’t believe in Oblivion. If there were such a force, he would never have lived all these millions of years, raiding the life forces of his parallels and so many beings of such titanic power. He would have been long gone. No. Telravarn prided himself on how he’d weaned himself off of believing in powers greater than himself. And as for Oblivion, such fears were for lesser beings… and Emperor Krevator, seemingly.
Telravarn moved to stroke his mask. As he raised his hand to his face, he realized some of his prior stickiness left in the chair was clinging to him. With great pride, he knocked the disgusting stuff off.
How nice it was to not have the other barons on any of his monitors anymore. Soon he would have to bid this beloved chamber farewell, even as the entire universe fell to ruin, but he could enjoy it one more time without their repulsive faces featured with such prominence. Still, he would have to be certain to build an exact replica of the Vudrai Nui temple, with this precise room at the top. History repeated itself enough, they were bound to find an apt temple again.
Telravarn looked to another monitor where he could see incoming data from probes reporting that the Lykos Dominion was poised to meet with the Kritor Empire soon. With another, he could see the Kritor mole in the Agency, General Krax “secretly” packing his materials in his residence to sneak out in the midst of all the traffic. On still a different monitor, Spherus Magna could be seen, uniting as it hadn’t since well before even the Agency had risen.
With that, he laughed.
“Yes, Su-Polemistis, my new rival. The parts… The parts are indeed coming together.”
Chapter Five: Oblivion[]
Vudrai Nui Alternate Universe
For this Polemistis, it had been some time since the seizure of the Coliseum by the Lykos forces. Some time since his declaration of union with the Lykos Dominion, and his convincing of the Lykos to join the interuniversal military. Now here he was, leading the forces with so many other Polemistis’ as they invaded the central command of the Agency.
Quite a reversal, from what he was told, from what normally happened.
Dust and destruction greeted Polemistis as he took his first steps onto the artificial supercontinent of Vudrai Nui, followed soon by his Directors. The rings of battle from the Lykos harbingers resounded the planet over. Before him an Agent already severed at the waist raised his blade in one final, desperate attempt to fend off the Lykos crusade, but it was a wasted effort. One of Polemistis’ honor guards cut him down with a casual stroke of his plasma blade.
Out of the portals came hundreds of Flotskya and More ships, riding into the skies and ocean respectively. Simultaneously, the Intelleka spies ran ahead to discover and spring traps that may be hidden, while the Verkhov special forces readied themselves and Voskya armies took formation. Nearly every Lykos of their universe that could raise a sword was present for this glorious assault.
Along the entire beach for miles, the entirety of their universe’s forces deployed to invade the realm. The Polemistis knew that all along the shores of the vast Supercontinent, other universes were deploying their forces to commence attack, such that the entire realm was effectively besieged in moments. In Bota Magna and Bara Magna, Lykos and Kritor forces were additionally leading attacks on Agency outposts, but this was to be the focus of it all. Many-a-Polemistis had volunteered their universe’s power for such a glorious and monumental battle.
Summoning a servant to his side with a gesture, Polemistis instructed him, “Announce to our leader, the glorious Ultimate Director, Su-Polemistis, that I have arrived at our position. We are commencing our attack on the central city.” As the last of the Lykos exited the portal, Polemistis could at last look back upon the ocean world to their backs. The combat noises as Agents and Lykos battled drowned out much of the ocean noises, but under normal circumstances it may well have been a beautiful place. The late afternoon sun shone brightly over the reflective silver seas lining the coast of the artificial supercontinent. Silver waves approaching the shore became shorter and shorter until crashing, ending their futile attacks on the beach--though not before taking sand with them.
“What a view,” he declared. “In another world, in another time, perhaps I may have taken a seat and enjoyed meditation here. But no longer.”
“The city’s up ahead,” Spetvedka said. “We should make haste before their forces erect barriers to stop our advancement.”
“Other Polemistis have preceded me,” Polemistis replied. “We were to be one of the last universes to deploy its forces. No doubt those others have cleared the way, but we shall still encounter much resistance.”
Spetvedka cursed in an ancient tongue. “Aj. I yet forget that there are others just like us. Other identical to us.”
“It will be something we must acclimate to quickly if we are to forge a new life in the Lykos Dominion. But now we must depart. Inform our legions to march.”
The Verkhov Director raised his trumpet to his lips and blew, at once signaling the might of their universe’s full legions to converge on the city, and on the tower presiding at the center. In this way, the march began. Turning their backs to the dimming orange light and purple skies, they took a brisk pace through the dark fields which built up to the combined structures Vudrai Nui. The city was large; taking its outstanding presence with the tall forests which guarded it. It seemed natural, as it didn’t seem to deviate too far from the designs of nature.
When a chorus of surprised cries echoed from somewhere along the right flank, it was realized by Polemistis that a band of Agents previously hidden where now betraying their previous cover to desperately strike at the waves of Lykos.
“Shall we slow and weed out the heretic bands?” asked Spetvedka.
“Nada. Have the More and Flotskya contacted and order them to fire ahead of us. Keep them apprised of our progress.
Spetvdka moved away to issue the command and mere moments later, the skies lit up as More plasma missiles honed to their targets. Screams of hidden pockets of agents blended with the shrieks of plasma bombs as the Flotskya airships emptied their bowels. Polemistis looked up with approval.
“Good. Now the march will continue. We must seize the tower and extract our revenge before the Kritor forces arrive.”
Again at trumpet’s blast, the brigades resumed their ascent into the city.
“Our fated march,” Polemistis said, almost reverently. “One final effort. Nothing can stop us from destroying the city that has stopped our progress for so long. This is the Road of Life. Once this organization protecting the heretics fall, Lykos all across the multiverse can claim their destiny and claim their rightful place in the Pantheon. After so long, after so many tries… We can finally achieve what is ours.”
“The ultimate test of the Lykos race,” Spetvdka remarked. “If we fail here, we never will succeed.”
At last the forest started blending with the buildings and more attackers were making themselves apparent and the progress of the forces was slowed to accommodate the increasing melee. One, a member of the Virakan race with a nose missing, leapt out in front of Polemistis himself.
The Ultra Director regarded him coldly as he growled.
“You’re a Polemistis, aren’t you? I recognize your face from my own universe. My missing nose is the work of your hand. You came into my village, you slaughtered my family and Burned my island.”
“Are every Polemistis responsible for the actions of one? I have never done such a thing.”
“Perhaps not,” the Virakan raised his rake. “But I can at least satisfy myself before I die.”
As the rake fell, Polemistis reacted instinctively, slicing the end off the rake with his Plasma Blade and grabbing the Virakan by his throat. Savagely, he raised the heretic into the air.
“I do not know you. But if you see me as the same individual who claimed what is yours, then allow me to finish the work of my hand.”
“Then… you are just as monstrous as the one I knew. You Polemistis are all the same. None of you has ever achieved victory… and none of you ever will.”
Polemistis scowled. Ruthlessly, his hand tightened around his victim’s throat until the Virakan’s spine snapped. As the light in the heretic’s eyes dimmed, Polemistis discarded him like a broken doll.
“Burn this city to the ground. Leave not one heretic breathing,” he snarled. “By the Kodka, by the Scrolls of Polkis, this city will pay for this blasphemer’s words!”
Nearby, moments before...
Telravarn watched from the his ancient tower on Vudrai Nui as another tremendous void was ripped open and Lykos troops descended upon the supercontinent. Hundreds of thousands of Lykos emerging from realms beyond the dimension gates. The Agency of the Olmak had often staged invasions and attacks on other universes, but never before had this one been invaded.
He turned at looked at the room behind him, packed with observers from other universes. “Do you see now? This is the sort of savagery the Agency fights to protect the multiverse from. Even now, you can see our agents desperately trying to fend off the armies and getting trampled as they try. Thankfully, I had the foresight to order our innocents to abandon this universe. This universe, our home has been lost to the greed of the Lykos and Kritor militaries.”
“I cannot believe this,” one of the several Helryxes said. “This is insane.”
“You should see the Bota Magna area,” Telravarn replied. “I hear the Kritor legions have set the forest ablaze in search of our center there.”
“These organizations cannot be allowed to stand.” Helryx said.
“Indeed. I know in your universe, you defeated the forces of evil. You, of all people will recognize greed and savagery where you see it. The Lykos are narrow-minded, racist bigots who cut down those who do not agree with their religion. The Kritors are extremists who want to force individuals to yield every freedom in exchange for brainwashing and the hope of security. Helryx, in your universe, you successfully united the forces of good to defeat wickedness; I think you, of all people will be capable of uniting whole universes against these… these… savages.”
“I will do so at once,” Helryx replied. “This is far worse than I could possibly have imagined.”
“And you, Tahu,” Telravarn turned to another in the room. “Surely you see the desperation to which I am driven! This universe, which I have fought for all my life, where I was raised and have spent most of my days! Can you believe this?”
Tahu folded his arms and shook his head. “I cannot. These organizations slaughter with ruthless efficiency. If we do not resist, they may very well devour the multiverse.”
“You have opened our eyes to the dangers of the larger multiverse,” Angonce said. “Now all of us, leaders from our respective universes can unite and spread word throughout the multiverse. Any universe threatened by these evil organizations will have the full support of all others.”
Telravarn nodded. “Thank you. I knew I could appeal to you, ladies and gentlemen. Now that you have seen the brutality of my universe as it is consumed by the insatiable conquerors, perhaps you can avoid the same fate. My agents will take you back to your universes; I will go and fight the emperors. If this is the last we see of each other, please tell everyone that I go to my death fighting for the freedom of the multiverse.”
“We will carry your name and spirit with us, Telravarn,” Tahu declared. “Hereafter, Agents of the Olmak will be welcomed with open arms in our universes. And if the Agency falls today… we will honor you and everyone who fights for you with our memories.”
“Thank you, my friends. I cannot ask for more.”
As the elevator doors closed on him, one individual in the back of the room removed her hood. She had travelled far and long, and her path had not been an easy one. But after fleeing the Broken Order Universe, she had stumbled upon Vulf and the snowball effect began.
Callah, Toa Uniran of Psionics looked around her at the individuals Telravarn had lied to. Although these fools did not know just how they had fallen into Telravarn’s scheme, they would become exactly what Vulf needed them to.
At the base of the tower, Cerevena watched as Telravarn stepped outside and closed the door.
“They will watch as we try--and fail--to defend our universe,” Telravarn said, turning and starting toward Cerevena. “Were my last orders fulfilled?”
“Yes sir,” Cerevena replied. “None left in this universe is a native. All the beings you see fighting the Lykos and Kritors were stolen from other universes.”
Telravarn smiled. “Excellent. And so our own forces are preserved. When these aliens are slaughtered, their bodies will be shipped back to their native universes as examples. The universes themselves will rise against the Kritors and Lykos and overcome them with sheer willpower. When that is done, the universes themselves will be weakened, and the Agency will swoop in hailed as heroes and claim dominion over the universes.” He grinned. “None of the other barons could have thought like this. My victory is assured.”
“Yes, my lord. Your ship is ready to take you to Bota Magna. The Kritor and Lykos High Commands are directing the attack out of the Bladed Plains region of Bota Magna. One of our patrols happened upon Krevator as he arrived...”
Nearby, moments before...
Desperate to warn Su-Polemistis and the others of the Agency’s trap, Krevator stepped through a Kritor Dimension Gate, at once moving from the Broken Order Universe into the Vudrai Nui Universe in a matter of strides. After some faint vertigo cleared, he stood and gathered his bearings. It looked like he’d ended up exactly where he meant to.
The emperor was currently positioned in the Bladed Plains region, not far from where Su-Polemistis and his High Commanders were supposed to be. Bota Magna was ablaze and Su-Polemistis and the Kritor forces had already engaged in the battle. But he had to warn him of the Agency’s true purpose. He had to be warned as Vulf had warned him.
And then, from behind him, he heard a voice he had not heard in millennia and had never expected to hear again. The voice of his sister when he had been Ervik.
“I found him!” shouted Callah, Toa of Psionics, from behind him.
Krevator whirled. Charging at him valiantly were a group of all beings he would never think to see together. They were lead by Toa Helryx, an old enemy of Krevator’s, but he realized this was not the same one he’d known. This was a Helryx who had convinced the Archcommanders to form the Order of Mata Nui instead of Kragator’s proposed Kritor Alliance.
Before he could take stock of who the rest were, his mind was hit by a mental blast, forcing him to his knees. His audio receptors only seemed to register ringing, while his eyes were blurred and dazed.
“What a fool,” came a familiar voice. “Why would anyone think they have the right to conquer all reality,”
“Calm down, Lieutenant Kragator. I’ll inform the Agency immediately that we have found the Kritor Emperor. Tobduk, you and Miserix look to see if any of the Emperor’s High Command are in the vicinity and execute them. Ervik take Callah, Arrin, and Kelrik and inform the other Helryxs’ that I have apprehended Krevator.”
He could feel his mind ebbing and fading.
Footsteps were audible and Krevator heard Krivosh’s voice:
“Well done, Helryx. I’ll inform our superiors immediately.”
How did she… escape my prison?...
Krevator forced his eyes open, but the figures that stood before him were much different. Instead of Krivosh, he saw Cootol. Instead of Miserix, he saw Polemistis. Helryx became Telravarn. Arrin embodied the Dark Hunter, Pacer, and Kelrik embodied Zekrim. Tobduk was transformed into Sheriem. Ervik was replaced by Likor. Kragator was replaced by the first Lykos Emperor. Callah was replaced with Vulf.
He blinked again, but the figures were now unrecognizable. They were all the beings who’d ever affected his life or whose life he’d altered unchangeably. Beings such as Koram, Pravat, Emperor Kragator who had influenced his path. Beings such as Artakha, Karzahni, or Heremus whom he’d enslaved.
He opened his eyes again, but his eyelids felt as if they were held down by hundred ton weights. Helryx and her crew were moving away, but an overwhelming blackness was encompassing him.
Krevator was sharply awakened by a sharp stabbing sensation.
A sword tore through Krevator’s chest. Satisfied the Emperor was dying, Telravarn withdrew his sword.
“It’s a shame we had to meet like this, Krevator. I’m sure both of us would have preferred to meet in more noble fashions.”
The baron was covered in blood and his cloaks were torn. The Kritor Emperor became aware of a weakness overwhelming him as the wound bled out.
“You put up a valiant effort. But in the famous words of Makuta, they don’t remember those who tried the hardest. Only those who won. Today that is I.”
Krevator croaked. “Telravarn… You can’t do this. If I can beat Oblivion… If I can lead the Kritor Empire to unite everything, then we will open the floodgates to a whole new way of living! Evolution will break its never-ending cycle and we can transcend to a new level of existence! I’m doing the right thing!”
“Do you remember when the Kritors posed a threat? Now look at you. Your body is slowly leaking out and your armies will soon follow. Neither Su-Polemistis nor you could stop me. You are not undefeatable.”
“I did not profess to be… undefeatable. Only inexorable. You… cannot stop my legacy. I will defy… Oblivion.”
Telravarn turned and walked a few strides away. “You reached too far, but only the truly great can decide the fate of the multiverse. Sad to say, you are not one of these, Krevator. No matter what you or your predecessors believed. The legacy of the Kritor Emperors will die.”
Something in his words sparked a memory. A question that had taken root in Krevator’s mind. Something that shook him to his core.
Does one being have the right to decide the fate of the universe?
In the blurry haze of his vision, a tall being in polished grey armor with crimson detailing took form beyond Telravarn. Krevator tried to move, but he physically could not. His muscles did not answer to him and it felt as though his powerful bones pinned him down.
He had never seen the newcomer before, but something in his stance sparked a realization. This was a man of the same nature of Kragator and Krevator. His upper cape represented every color of every Matoran element and his lower cape represented every tone of every Virakan emotion. Parts throughout his body appeared to be inspired by every species of Rahi.
In one hand, he held Power and the Kritor Chalice. In the other, he held Unity and Kragator’s Sword. His feet stood proudly on the firm foundation of the three Kritor virtues; Destiny, Duty, Legacy. Behind him waved the Kritor Banner.
A surge of energy flowed through Krevator as his beliefs were affirmed. He did have the right to decide the fate of the universe. This was his heir! His work was successful! The Kritor Machine would grind on, pumping out a successor in the way it was meant to.
“I just wish,” Telravarn said, “You had done more to help me entertain the readers of my magnificent annals.”
“Magnificent?” Krevator exclaimed, finding strength to prop himself up on his elbows. “You want something truly magnificent? Look at me! I’ve ended empires before they’ve begun. Listen to me! I’ve raised kings to emperors and condemned the self-righteous to Oblivion. I will have a legacy; he is clad in iron, he bears my mask, he wields my sword, and I control him. His destiny lies with mine and Kragator’s. When the time comes, I will be reborn through--”
Before Krevator could finish, he choked on his blood.
Telravarn gazed at him and snorted.
“Pathetic.”
Krevator gasped and continued.
“I condemn you and your puny attempts at playing ‘emperor’. When my Empire resumes its work, your Agency will be shattered and my words will be fulfilled. I was struck down, but now I have become more powerful than you could possibly imagine, for I will live on in words and whispers and fears. I’m looking at him. I see him now. My heir to my throne. He will take his proper place among Kritor Emperors. But you will not stand. I will see to that. Farewell, Telravarn. Though I am dead, you will find I am the last enduring Multiversal Warlord.”
Krevator was enveloped in a realm of pure grey and a harmonic ring grew in strength. He was on his last breath, he realized.
The young, spectral heir raised Kragator’s Sword. When he spoke, he spoke the same words Krevator told Kragator when he was killed.
“Your legacy will live on in me.”
So Emperor Krevator, true heir to Kragator, architect of the modern Kritor Empire, and the conqueror of a universe… breathed his last.
Telravarn glanced back at the Emperor. He was clearly dead, but he was right. There was too good a chance future individuals would seek to emulate his success.
There was only one way to ensure this did not happen. He signaled Commander Derkin.
“The Kritor Emperor is dead, but we will go ahead with the destruction of this planet. Now that his Mask of No Powers is not preventing us from escaping the universe, order all remaining Agents of the Olmak to return to the pocket dimension. Leave all Lykos, other-worlders, and Kritors here to fight each other. When Spherus Magna explodes, their bodies will be shattered as well.”
Derkin nodded and ran off. Telravarn watched him go and then resumed staring at the slain emperor. With any luck, Krevator’s “legacy” would shatter with his corpse. His followers would have nothing to remember him by.
Bota Magna was ablaze. Most of the Great Forest region had been set aflame by the Kritors in order to drive out the remaining Agents stationed in the fortifications there. The scene was quite visible from space, particularly considering how much of Spherus Magna the Great Forest constituted.
All this had been directed by High Commanders Quokus and Fortag, operating from different points along the outside the forest. Lorgon’s military had been sent out by legions to sweep the other areas of the planet for important locations, although only factories and development centers were held in the other regions. Krax was now joining the Lykos assaults on Vudrai Nui and Karion supervised the procedures from his position in space.
Quokus watched as Agents desperately fled the inferno only to be cut down by Kritor soldiers. He had been given this assignment as well as one other, the protection of Su-Polemistis who would be heading to the Lykos in Aqua Magna after meeting with Krevator here. But of the emperor there was no sign.
“Where is Krevator? Where is the Kritor?” the Ultimate Director demanded. He had received no sign that the Emperor had arrived as promised. Only the High Commanders were present with their armies to show any sign of Kritor support.
Before the High Commander could respond, a chirping noise sounded in Quokus’ belt. Instinctively, Quokus retrieved his communicator and activated it. The screen read: “Quokus: Portal activity .96 kio from your position at 230 degrees. Interdimensional and intradimensional. Investigate. --Karion.”
Quokus placed the communicator back in its holder.
“We’re heading southwest,” he barked to his lieutenants.
“Where are you going?” Su-Polemistis hissed.
“Some interdimensional and intradimensional activity happening nearby. If Krevator was trying to join you as planned we must go meet him; if it’s something else, then we must fight it. Either way, Karion saw something from his ship and I’m the closest one to the site. We must go.”
Su-Polemistis barked something in Lykos at his entourage of Ultra Directors, Directors, and Honor Guards nearby and all of them turned and started in the direction of the Kritors.
The march was fast for the trained warriors, and as they drew within a few hundred bio of the site, Quokus could see a tall, menacing figure looming over what looked like a large grey body. The menace was clearly neither Kritor nor Lykos, and Quokus immediately broke into a run, followed quickly by the others. As the Krikos forces drew closer, the High Commander could make out the form of Krevator lying prone at the feet of the figure.
“Hey!” Quokus shouted. “Get away from him!” His eyes widened as he realized who the man before him was, although he looked significantly different from his portraits in the Agency database. “Telravarn!”
Telravarn looked up at Quokus and Su-Polemistis, as well as the host of Kritors and Lykos running at full speed behind him, now slowing as they drew within reach of him. But he held his ground.
“You, then, are the one who has stopped me and the Lykos race at every turn!” Su-Polemistis snarled.
“Su-Polemistis!” Telravarn’s eyes blazed. “To think we nearly had a proper meeting, the three of us. Shoot, now I regret not holding off on killing him.”
Quokus snapped and lunged forward, swinging his sword in a blind rage. Telravarn dodged neatly.
“Well, I’ll have to cut this meeting off anyway,” the baron smiled. “Anticlimactic, I know, but at least your doom is already sealed.” He stepped aside, letting another stroke from Quokus miss, then activated his Olmak-infused armor and stepped out of the dimension, and out of the Ultimate Director's near-trap.
“Fie on him!” Su-Polemistis exclaimed. “Damned be him all. Had the portal not arrived, he would have fallen to my clutches.”
Quokus ran over to the corpse. “I must return this body to our universe!”
One of the Lykos Directors shook his head. “My Ultimate Director! Something is wrong with the earth!”
He was right. The planet was shaking and trembling so violently it could by no means be natural. The earth near the High Commander cracked and he could swear he saw straight down into Spherus Magna’s core. Dozens of other fissures etched their way along the earth. He had heard legends of this before, but never had he been on Spherus Magna when this occurred.
“This cannot be… Is this--The Shattering?”
“We must escape this realm!” declared Su-Polemistis. “Ultra Directors, Directors, withdraw the Lykos Kinsmen at once. We must abandon this universe!”
As Quokus stared at the world around him, he knew he was right. What he did not realize that this Shattering was more dangerous and far more destructive. For this Spherus Magna had already been exploded once; a second Shattering would be far less forgiving.
The High Commander ran away from the Lykos and pulled out his communicator. He had no time to catch their attention through video communication, so instead he typed a message
Spherus Magna shattering. Krevator dead. Lykos and Polemistis retreating. Ordering my troops to return to the Broken Order Universe; advise the rest of the High Commanders do as well.
--Quokus.
and sent it.
The High Commander darted over to Krevator’s broken body and pulled the famous sword and mask off the dead body.
He stepped away, mask and sword in arms. With one final, mournful glance at his beloved master, he triggered a Dimension Gate and fled the universe.
Chapter Six[]
Crossroads Station, Pocket Universe to the Vudrai Universe
Weeks after the destruction of Vudrai Nui
After so long working behind the scenes, Baron Telravarn had at last resumed his “throne” in Crossroads Station, and not a moment too soon. The treachery of Su-Machitis had been anticipated, but it was hardly welcome.
“Derkin, find me some high commanders. The makeshift council of Cerevena and you worked for a time, but especially with her dead, it simply will not do. Bring forward your fellow Taskforce Officers if you must.”
Derkin bowed and left through the “throne room” doors. Telravarn stood and walked over to the window to space. Although he could not see beyond the walls of the pocket dimension, he could certainly imagine. The second Shattering had sent a shockwave throughout the galaxy, slamming into nearby planets and sending them off course. As the Solis Magna system fell to pieces, a ripple effect would throw nearby systems into turmoil which would in turn disrupt the entire galaxy. As the universe itself felt the waves of the Second Shattering levelling damage on it, the Vudrai Nui Universe became increasingly uninhabitable.
Added to the fact that the Agency of the Olmak had been keeping its universe alive through artificial means meant that the universe in its entirety was on the verge of collapse. And once the universe collapsed, so would the pocket universe of Crossroad Station soon after. The Agency had as much time to relocate all its resources, or else everything would be crushed within.
But the Agency would survive. It always had. The Station was in chaos as agents shut off immigration and desperately worked to relocate its materials. But Telravarn was fine. He always was.
No. His concern lay with the rogue agent who apparently had made contact with Krevator not long before his death.
The baron unhitched a computer pad attached at his waist and moved to place it in a docking station nearby. Once it was in place, he declared aloud, “Computer. Provide all data on former Agent Vulf.”
“Vulf. Former Agent Vulf. Toa of Psionics. Handler: Agent Crovin. Deployed to Detriment Universe. Task successful. Deployed to Initiators Universe. Task successful. Deployed to Moirai Universe. Tas--”
“Skip to V Osade Universe.”
"--Deployed to V Osade Universe. Task unsuccessful. Killed handler and fled universe. Employment terminated. Life termination pending.”
Telravarn frowned. “Computer, do we have footage from Crovin’s death?”
“Broken footage. Play feedback?”
“Yes.”
The computer began projecting a hologram and playing footage collected from Corvin’s equipment in his final moments. Such footage was not typically available to individuals below a high rank, so even Krevator would not have seen this.
“But what are [--] tha[--]vin?!” the computer buzzed in Vulf’s voice.
"We [--]ngs Vulf. We aren't here to bring peace, we've come to expand into a universe with considerably more resources readily ava[--]ble! Peace is only a [--] of what we are doing here!"
"B-but why?"
"Because our universe is dying, Vulf! We've reached the absolute end of our universe’s time! We are running low on resources! Would you rather [--] peace we have devolve into senseless violence and barbarianism as it has here? What we are doing [--] is a gift, Vulf! We are liberating them from things like this and giving them something better in return! How is this cruel?"
"You are allowing yourself to remove their freedom of choice, Crovin! You are doing something that is just as bad—if not worse—than what Polemistis was doing!"
"And you helped us [--] We just had to cover it up as a fight for peace, and you were all over it! You were [--] of loyalty without question for so long! [--] we were set to use you as the tool you were designed to [--]! But I am sure the Agency will understand your termination. If you aren't with us Vulf, then you are [--]
As Telravarn listened to the broken feedback, it suddenly disturbed him that an agent as well trained as Vulf should turn on them so easily. What had happened to lead Vulf against the Agency, in spite of all she’d been taught? Was Polemistis’ influence truly so great that it drowned out his own?
Without warning, a roar resounded from the feed and the images jumbled together in a mess. Crovin had likely been fighting, Telravarn thought. After some tumbling, the visual feed blacked out. The cameras had likely been broken and Crovin had been slain. Only the audio feed remained, and from that the Baron could pick up Polemistis’ and Vulf’s voices. In a weak voice, Polemistis uttered.
"Vulf..? A-allow me to speak to you only once more... before I shall be gone from this realm forever. W-we [--] oth agreed... we understood it was wrong for the will of a single being to decide the fate of an entire people... to decide for an entire universe."
"We did."
"T-then [--] me one last promise... allow no one to ever hold enough power to decide the fate for all who reside in it... deny them this power, deny them a chance where one like me shall rise ever again!"
"I will."
"And promise me... you shall end this Agency for whom you once served... stop them from also erasing the will of all."
"This I will do, [--]tor."
"Then take my blade, Toa... it has touched only one realm... in mem[--] allow it to touch a thousand more."
With that, there was nothing. Some sounds of scuffling and then dead silence. In the distance, there was what sounded like pounding at the gate that gradually grew louder.
“Polemistis, killed by an Agent of the Olmak. An Agent of the Olmak killed by Polemistis. Is this how we are doomed to be, then? Eternally cutting each other down while the multiverse moves uncaring on?”
Everything seemed to converge on this point. This was the point where Polemistis’ influence had overcome Telravarn’s own.
“So how do I fix it?” he mused.
Callah moved with patient calm through the bustling halls of Crossroads. She was in search of one thing in particular, but with all the moving going on, this was proving far harder than had been anticipated.
“Don’t go down that hallway,” Vulf’s voice echoed in her head. “The security barracks are kept there. Take the next right.”
Callah frowned and continued in the direction she had been going previously. When Vulf had caught wind of the rise of the Broken Order Universe and the fact one individual had escaped despite the Kritor isolation of the universe, the rogue Agent had sought her out immediately. Vulf had long-since recruited some individuals to aid her in overthrowing the Agency, but with as the only person to escape the Kritor Empire following Krevator’s rise, Callah would not hesitate to join Vulf in overthrowing multiversal threats. Vulf had been right. Upon joining, the two Toa of Psionics had become excellent co-workers, their ties to the malevolent powers quickly binding them.
“I’m glad I found you, but I won’t go to the same trouble again,” Vulf’s voice echoed again.
Callah frowned. “I keep forgetting.”
“I’m sorry we have to do this, but it’s the only way. They’re less likely to recognize and capture you than me. I can’t do this; only you can.”
The Toa Uniran of Psionics turned and started down the indicated hallway. Although Callah had helped to come up with the plan, it was exceedingly difficult to remember that her thoughts were not her own. The two Toa had recognized the need to strike at the Agency while it was at a low point; this phase where it relocates to a new universe presented a perfect opportunity. If they could only trigger the destruction of Crossroads while all Agency personnel was onboard, they would bring the Agency to its knees. Naturally, Telravarn would have already installed a means of destroying the base, as Vudrai Universe was on the road to collapse, so if they could locate this and trigger it early, it would go a long way to striking the crippling blow. And Vulf, having once been an Agency Agent, would know the most likely location for such a trigger.
Upon these realizations, Vulf had formed a mental link with Callah much like Gali had once done with Takua in so many universes. The fact that both were Toa of Psionics strengthened the ties such that one could see and hear through the eyes and ears of the other. Once the connection was formed, they used Vulf’s special Olmak-infused armor to enable the link to transcend universes.
It was a cool idea… on paper.
“Rest assured, we will not maintain this connection longer than you wish, friend. But bear in mind that it works both ways.”
When the connection was formed, Callah was sent in, and through sharing her senses with Vulf was directed on the paths she should follow. Vulf had even been so generous so as to grant Callah the use of her Olmak-infused armor and elemental gauntlets to blend in better, as well as Polemistis’ old Plasma Sword should any conflict arise. The Plasma Sword was a wonder of a weapon, and Vulf had kept it at her side constantly and relied on it often since it was gifted to her. The sword was carefully concealed beneath her armor so as to not attract attention by those studying up on Lykos weapons at this time.
“As long as this can be broken when we’re done.” Callah thought.
“Yeah… I certainly hope so.”
“You hope so?!”
“I’m not sure if it has been done before. But we will find a way, I’m sure.”
Callah’s scowl deepened.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
“Indeed.”
Although the Toa Uniran continued on her course, she could sense Vulf beginning her own train of thought. The ex-Agent was picturing a checklist; if Telravarn and the Agency of the Olmak could fall, then that would leave only Su-Machitis and the Lykos Dominion. With any luck, the Dominion would collapse under Machitis’ reign as it so often did. That would only leave the Kritor Empire. Although it was in a state of stagnancy, particularly after the death of Krevator--
At this, Vulf sensed conflicting emotions rising to the surface in the Toa Uniran.
“I am sorry. I forgot.” thought the ex-agent.
“Look, I’m just glad Krevator is at last dead. Or Kragator, or whatever was inhabiting that shell. Whatever killed Arrin and Kelrik… and Ervik.”
“He’s down, but he’s not out. If the Kritor Empire achieves a new emperor, we’ll just be back where we started. And then we might not have the Agency or the Dominion to throw against them.”
Callah shuddered. “Do you think… do you think it will happen the same way? Some new Ervik to follow the same twisted fate?”
“I… I honestly don’t know. The circumstances that led to the Kritor Empire are so rare it has only happened once in all the Agency’s recorded history. We have nothing to go by. This isn’t like the Lykos Republic which happens time and time again and on which we can base our knowledge of it. Kragator, Ervik, the Kritor High Commanders--these are all completely different individuals in the other alternate universes. In fact, Kragator, Tobduk, and half the Kritor High Command usually becomes lieutenants in the Order of Mata Nui under Helryx. This… this is highly unusual.”
“Lovely.”
There was some silence then, or at least as close as two people inhabiting each other's’ mind can get. Callah reflected on the deaths of her three brothers, the other Toa Uniran. Vulf began relating the story of the Kritor Empire to her own experiences with the Agency of the Olmak and the Lykos Republic of what was dubbed the “V Osade Universe.”
“Turn to the right, continue down the hall, and it should be inside the command deck. If there is a crew inside--and there usually is--act as though you are maintenance, checking up on one of the computers.
The last Toa Uniran rounded a corner and shoved open a door--
--and there he was.
Callah froze in her tracks.
In her mind, Vulf gasped. “What is he… but of course he converted this place to his headquarters.”
Telravarn turned and his eyes fell on her like searchlights. He rose from his seat which had been angled to the side.
“What have we here?”
“Relax. Now!” hissed Vulf. Instinctively, Callah let her muscles loosen and a wave of mental power washed over here. Vulf was using her presence in Callah’s mind to issue commands to Callah’s muscles, controlling them with telekinesis where she could not normally.
As such…
Callah’s body saluted in crisp Agency style.
“Sorry, sir. Got turned around and headed here on accident.” Callah’s body twirled on heel and she started to leave.
“Wait a moment, Agent,” Telravarn called.
Despite Callah’s voice trembling in the back of what was now Vulf’s head, Callah’s body turned.
Telravarn’s head was cocked unnaturally, as though the seams along the neck of his restored body had somehow torn. He was regarding her with a bizarre look in his eye, one Vulf knew he did not normally have.
“Tell me, Agent… when is my time?”
The Toa of Psionics regarded him curiously.
“What… is my time? When will it come? Or has it come?”
“I…” Vulf and Callah exchanged the mental equivalent of glances.
“I… I’m not certain why I suddenly fear such, but seeing you… Seeing you, for some reason… Tell me. I have evaded death--even, dare I say, Oblivion for this long. On stolen lives. On stolen parts. Taken from me throughout the multiverse, and from others who aspired to my height. I have outsmarted death for so long, so why should I fear my time? Why should I have any care in the world?”
“Your time…” the Toa of Psionics muttered. Muscle memory surfaced and Vulf forgot herself, reaching for Polemistis’ weapon. Telravarn’s eyes narrowed at once.
“That hilt… why do I recognize it?”
Vulf, at a loss for words, failed to respond. Carefully, she pretended as though she were simply itching herself.
Telravarn looked down. “And yet I should not fear…death. It is inane for one who has survived so long to still fear death.”
“There are things far worse than death,” the Toa of Psionics growled abruptly.
“My time?”
“Yes, your time.”
“What is my time, if you know so much?”
“Your time will come when you have claimed the body of an other much as I now claim this body. Your very mask, your power reversed against you. Your greatest endgame turned on you, and you will descend into the fiery inferno that awaits you.”
Telravarn raised his bloodshot eyes to Callah and stared.
“... Is that you?”
Callah backed away slightly, for Telravarn advanced. The baron advanced so close that their noses nearly touched. The Toa of Psionics could feel his breath on her, all as he stared into her eyes.
“Can it be? Are you speaking to me through the voice of this agent?”
Callah froze.
“Oblivion… is that you?”
Telravarn stared for a minute… before scoffing.
“No. Oblivion isn’t a god if I don’t believe in it. I did not believe before, and it has served me quite well. Let the Kritors tremble at such thoughts.”
Telravarn returned to his throne.
“Begone, Toa. I do not know what you are or how you could have incited me to think of such things, but I refuse to care. Get out before I grow more suspicious.”
Callah walked as quickly as she could out of the room. The moment she was out of his sight, she broke into a dash.
“Quickly!” Vulf urged. “There’s one other location where it’s most likely to be!”
Telravarn starred at the door through which the Agent had left. He had had many bizarre encounters in his time, but this one had gone a long way to unnerving him. Although he possessed a powerful mental barrier, it was still as though a large psionic presence had filled the room, one which had summoned forth thoughts that otherwise remained thoroughly buried.
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and ran through the meeting in his head. What was it with Toa of Psionics? It was as though…
His mind’s eye fell upon the sword the agent had borne upon her.
Telravarn snapped upright. Turning at once to the computer, he imputed a series of directions for the machine, and the same projection as he had seen before began playing again. Telravarn fast-forwarded until he the Ultra Director in all his armored glory, then forward again
"Then take my blade, Toa... it has touched only one realm... in mem[--] allow it to touch a thousand more."
Telravarn slammed down on the intercom, and he heard Derkin’s voice.
“Lock down the facility at once!”
As the red lights began wailing, Callah darted into a run, but she knew what had to be done before Vulf asked it.
“Callah, I--”
Before she could finish, the Toa Uniran permitted Vulf access again to her facilities, choosing not to think too hard about what she was doing. Now Vulf ran along the halls of her old stomping grounds, her direction clear and known. Like so many other Agents now rushing to assume their positions.
But even now, as the waystation struggled to contain the entire populace of the Agency of the Olmak, the halls grew flooded with Agents. Vulf pressed through the crowds, the knowledge that her destination would be locked within minutes weighing heavily upon her.
So focused was she that she didn’t notice until it was too late, her collision course with two other agents.
“My apologies,” Perla said at once, picking herself off the ground.
Vulf gasped. “Perla?”
Narro offered Callah his hand, and Vulf accepted. “We apologize.”
“Have we met?” mused Perla.
“Uh… no. I mean, I must have heard of you,” Vulf mumbled as she stepped briskly around them. When she was out of their sight, she resumed her jog.
Derkin nodded at the guard and operator and stepped through one of the station’s launch pads, landing at once in the Central Data Chamber. If Telravarn was right and Vulf was back, no doubt she would be intent on a means to destroy the Agency here, at its weakest. Although the main trigger was kept safe, with Telravarn, another access point could be formed through the complex network that surfaced in the CDC. Now, ever since Krevator had broken in, a dozen guards were stationed at its entrance, and another dozen greeted Derkin upon his arrival.
“We ran here as quickly as we could,” the captain said. To Derkin’s surprise, the chief of engineering, Pohok hobbled out from behind him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I knew Vulf far better than you,” the orange, aged Av-Matoran replied, pointing his cane at the Officer. “I am far more fit than you to handle her.”
“She can’t be handled--she killed her last handler,” Derkin groused. “Have all teleporters been deactivated?” he asked of the captain.
“All except the ones you came through, and guards have been posted at all of them.”
“Very good,” Derkin frowned. “Have TOs Pandin and Udrek begin a station-wide sweep, capturing all Toa of Psionics we can find. If they don’t come immediately here, they will be fou--”
“There!” a lieutenant shouted.
“Hold your fire!” Derkin shouted. “Seal the doors. Activate our anti-interdimensional field.”
At the far end of the hall, Callah’s body whirled and tried to run out, but the door sealed before her.
“Callah,” Derkin smiled, starting forward. “Or should I say Vulf? Officer Pandin will be disappointed not to have been present at your apprehension; he spent far too long seeking you out after your treachery.”
“Officer Derkin,” Callah smiled humorlessly. “Has Telravarn retired you lot, or are you Taskforce Officers still clinging to relevance?”
Derkin scowled. “Surrender your weapons and your armor. Both are stolen property of the Agency.”
“Can it be said to be stolen when you have already stolen so much?”
Derkin advanced. “Come, now, Vulf. You consigned yourself to our command the day you partook of that Toa Stone. You are stolen property.”
Callah held up her hand and Derkin paused his forward motion.
“But you see, Officer Derkin… I’m not Vulf. I’m Callah.”
“Don’t play game, Vulf, we know it’s you.”
“If I were Vulf, could I have possibly kept all this equipment intact for so long?” she grinned at Pohok who looked down to disguise a grin.
Crovin started to answer, then thought better of it.
“Still,” he insisted. “If you are indeed the former Toa Uniran, then you must understand that your mind harbors one who belongs to us. Give her to us and we can join forces in extinguishing the Empire that took your beloved brother.”
“I have no love for you,” Callah scowled. “You may not have conquered an entire universe or established an inexorable armada like the Kritors, but you are an empire all the same. You, the Lykos, the Kritors… I see precious little difference, you exist to claim power. But you are not powers.”
Pohok spoke up. “Callah, we know Vulf has told you many things about us. But please, I beg you earnestly, listen to what we have to say.”
Derkin started forward. “Call--”
But before he could finish, the Olmak-infused armor lit up, and Callah was swallowed by a portal.
“When you have big fingers,” Callah growled, “It’s easy to break little things.”
Derkin cursed. “Damnit!” The Head of Security looked around in helpless fury. “What was that even supposed to mean?” he imitated her in a mocking voice. “How did she escape!”
Pohok chuckled.
“How did she get past our barrier?”
“I seem, (heh), I seem to recall hearing a report that she spoke with, (heehee), the Kritor Emperor? That she used her armor to get past their interdimensional fields? She’s clearly modified the armor (hah).”
“Why are you laughing?!” Derkin exclaimed.
Pohok grinned.
“It’s what she said. Vulf could never have kept such armor in one piece. Oh, how I’ve forgotten.”
Derkin cursed again and started for the door, now unsealing. Was everyone off their rocker?
Chapter Seven[]
Crossroads Station, Pocket Universe to the Vudrai Nui Universe
In breathless silence, the halls of Crossroads Station were still.
Some remained situated in their barracks, but most had crowded onto the bridge to listen to the audio broadcast emanating from the Impeeriumi Osade Universe.
On the monitor, Telravarn’s face appeared.
“Is this Officer Terrik?”
Terrik saluted. “Yes sir. And the other Taskforce Officers are here as well.”
“Very good,” Telravarn growled. “The fleet has arrived inside the Impeeriumi Osade Universe where I am to launch the invasion of Su-Machitis’ fortress. I will tell you if we need backup; in the meantime, task someone with monitoring the Broken Order Universe. Emperor Kazsavor sent a letter informing me of his takeover of the Kritor Empire. If past Kritor efficiency is anything to judge by, it will be a matter of days before the Empire is back on its feet again. Watch them. I should be back by then, but if not, I do not want you taken by surprise.”
Terrik bowed. “Yes sir.”
“Very good.”
The projection of Telravarn turned his attention to something they could not see and the baron inhaled and exhaled deeply.
“The Lykos have launched their airfleet.” someone on Telravarn’s ship exclaimed…
“Switch to external view,” Terrik barked. The monitor switched view and the Agents could see the Agency warfleet set against the late afternoon sky of the Impeeriumi Osade Universe. The view was stunning; it was the projection that was bad. Because the projector was sending light directly onto a window pane, the black of the void space beyond made it difficult to see the projection clearly.
“Turn up opacity.” Terrik ordered.
It was a spectacle, he admitted to himself. Most of the time, the Agency worked from the shadows, launching strikes under the cover of darkness. Rarely--and not in his lifetime much less his employment--had the Agency ever launched an armada. And never had it lost. Certainly not under the command of Telravarn.
“What’s that ghost thing in the background?” Terrik’s colleague, Pandrin asked.
Now that he mentioned it, Terrik did think he saw some ghostly vessel taking form around the Agency ships. Oddly enough it looked rather Kritor-esque.
“Do they not see that?” Pandrin asked. “Someone needs to tell--”
The cannons on the Kritor vessel glowed to life, almost as though it were preparing to shoot. From their position, the crew on deck could see straight down the barrel.
“Inform Tel--”
The cannons fired and the photon torpedos moved as though they were coming directly at the station. Terrik gasped.
“Turn off the projection!”
The crew gasped and dashed for their stations as the realization struck. Unfortunately, the Kritor firepower hit a split second after. The station shook violently and Terrik narrowly dodged some falling masonry.
From the opposite direction, from the command station on the Annihilator, Krax’s lips curled into a grim smile. In all the time he had spent infiltrating this station, rarely did the thought escape him that he would soon be part of its destruction.
“Sir the Sweet Killer, Pride, Cold Justice, and the Oblivion will be arriving to their coordinates soon.”
“Rain hail fire down on them,” Krax said. “Let there be no station left by the time they arrive.” Let Fortag, Lorgon, Karion, and the Emperor arrive only to clean up the mess. Triumph was to be Krax’s prize.
Under the lead of Krax’s Annihilator, the small fleet the High Commander could fit into the tight pocket universe unleashed Kritor firepower upon the defenseless station. Unable to fight back, the Station raised its shields which commenced buckling under Krax’s wrath.
“Beginning dimensional jump now.”
Kazsavor leaned forward in the command chair of Oblivion, the traditional warship of the Kritor emperor. He was indeed fitting quickly into this role, although he couldn’t shake the fear that he wasn’t doing it exactly right. Still he had to work with what he had. The teachings he had learned in the labyrinth were meant to be the fundamentals, the teachings that would allow him to branch perfectly into the full doctrine. Regardless, he was equipped with what he needed to teach himself.
The portal ripping open the fabric of the “Broken Order Universe” distracted Kazsavor from his musings. Instinctively, the emperor clutched his command chair. This was his first time in space, much less travelling through a portal of any variety, so he really didn’t know what to expect.
His fears were alleviated as the ship glided smoothly into the portal and, like stepping through a door, the Oblivion simply slipped into this other world.
But what Kazsavor immediately saw distracted him entirely.
“Why is Krax trying to destroy the station!” he exclaimed. “Open a channel.”
The Kritor at communications tapped on a few buttons and a few seconds later, Krax’s face appeared on the screen.
“Why are you firing everything you have?” the emperor demanded. “You’re meant to stall them. The destruction will come later.”
Krax bowed. “Sorry, milord. It’s just been too long since I was out of action.”
Kazsavor rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the space station. Now three other flagships and various other vessels appeared at equidistant points around the edge of the station. “Has the shield fallen yet?”
“No sir.”
“Focus fire on the shield generators. Bring them down, but I don’t want the station to fall yet. The Empire must finish the acquisition of the Agency database.”
As one, the noses of the five flagships drifted downward until they were pointing directly at the bottom of the station. At once, all five opened fire.
“Reinforce the shields!” Terrik shouted. “Direct all energy to the protection of the shield generators!”
To his side, Pandrin shook his head.
“Would you like to take over?!” snapped Terrik.
“This is a waystation, not a battlestation. And since when can vessels that large coexist in this pocket dimension with us?”
“They must be mere inches from our outer shield region,” Terrik growled.
“It’s only a matter of time before the Kritors take the station,” Pandrin said. “We must evacuate all personnel and the database to our fleet!”
“And if our fleet is somehow destroyed by the Lykos?”
“Less likely than this Station falling into Kritor hands.”
“We have to call Telravarn back. There’s no other way.”
Pandrin stared at Terrik. After a moment, he nodded--or would have if the Station didn’t take that moment to buckle and quake. Upon regaining his footing, he barked at an agent at the Communications Station.
“Ensign! Send an urgent message to Telravarn. Inform him that Crossroads is under Kritor attack.”
“Yes sir!”
The station shook again, more violently than the last time. The room was consumed by darkness for a few seconds before being illuminated again by red lights. The two Taskforce Officers exchanged fearful glances.
“The shields have fallen.”
Following the lead of the harbingers, Krax raised his pistol and stepped through the portal generator of his ship into the Station interior. With his knowledge gleaned from his presence here, he knew precisely the best point to begin the invasion. As such, he found himself exactly where he wanted to; the janitor’s closet.
The Kritor harbingers had positioned themselves behind the sides of the door and were exchanging fire with the Agents beyond--something Krax also did at once. Frowning, he looked back into the portal.
“Point the Rammin’ Cannon at the void and aim through the door!”
It was like something cartoonish. The “Rammin’ Cannon,” as it were, was a far larger instrument than there was room inside the janitor closet. As such, when the Kritors positioned it in the portal and rolled it in as far as it would go, only the barrel fit could stick out of the sustained portal. But it was enough. Disregarding his own defense, Krax leaned on the barrel, in full view of the Agents and grinned.
“Oblivion sends its regards,”
The cannon fired and the walls beyond shattered, sending shards everywhere. Agents screamed as the back wall became a million projectiles shot out in every direction. Krax himself dove for cover, and the Kritors narrowly closed the portal enough to fit only the cannon barrel before the projectiles flew through the door and pelted the rear wall and did some damage to the Rammin Cannon. Indeed, the walls that provided the Kritors their cover recieved some pits and dents visible even from the interior.
When the world outside seemed silent again and the screams of Agents defenseless against the onslaught quieted down, Krax looked outside again. Satisfied that the shredded pieces of wall, the abandoned engineering facility beyond, and the bloodied Agents would pose no trouble, he stepped outside. Already he could hear fresh soldiers running to their position. He beckoned to the Harbingers.
“Split in two units, run down the hall, find a good position, and engage. The rest of our units will emerge presently.”
As one, the harbingers nodded and began running in either direction down the hallway. Krax turned and looked back inside the janitor’s closet. “Retract the cannon and begin sending the designated legions in. Inform the emperor that we have secured this position.”
Now it was Kazsavor stepping through much a similar portal. On the other side, he was greeted at once by Krax who bowed.
“At ease,” Kazsavor ordered.
Krax rose. “The Agents have been pushed out of this floor, but several times they have used portals of their own to teleport themselves in or to steal Kritors away. In addition to our frontal units, we’ve placed soldiers at frequent positions equidistant from each other should it occur.”
“Very good.” Kazsavor looked around. “Is this… Is this the floor with access to the central database?”
“I’m afraid not,” Krax replied. “That’s a few floors down. We’re positioned at the center of the diamond.”
Kazsavor nodded. “Begin pushing for that floor. It’s the most important thing here. After we claim the rest of their information,” he grinned at Krax, “then you can proceed in destroying this station.”
Krax grinned savagely. “Will you be returning to the Oblivion?”
“Not yet.” Kazsavor grinned. “This is my first battle. I must lead my soldiers, take charge! And if I am killed, no matter. Someone else will replace me.”
“Oh don’t say that. The Empire was out of the war long enough. If you die, there’s no telling when we’ll get a suitable replacement.”
Kazsavor chuckled.
The Taskforce Officer, Udrek, positioned himself behind some cover and dared a glance down the hall. Yes, the Kritors were holding their position. And fresh faces had arrived, too. Udrek cursed that aside from himself, Terrik, and Pandrin, the other Taskforce Officers were heading warships in the armada.
“Open up portals beneath the soldiers,” he ordered.
Several particularly proficient Kanohi experts who had donned Olmak-infused armor moved their arms in a circle-like motion. Several large portals were ripped open beneath the feet of Kritor soldiers, and they barely had time to look down in terror as they fell into Oblivion-knew-where. If they survived, they had no chance to climb back out before the portals slammed shut again.
“Go!” Udrek shouted. “While they’re off balance!”
Emboldened by the success of the portals, Udrek’s Agency unit charged forward, beyond cover. The Kritors, taken off-guard by the sudden, aggressive onslaught, had no choice but to fall back, and Udrek allowed himself some exultation. The Kritors were in fact forced to a secondary barricade and the Agents claimed the first barrier as theirs.
Udrek looked at the Kanohi manipulators. “Ready?”
They stood and hesitated. One gasped. Udrek dared a glance over the barricade.
A small portal had opened just beyond the new Kritor barricade and the large barrel of what appeared to be a cannon was poking out. It could be no larger than the average head, but it was quite deep as Udrek realized, staring down its barrel.
“Close their portal!” he shouted. “Close it now!”
“We can’t!”
“What do you mean you can’t?!”
Something in the depths of the cannon glowed red and began powering up. Caught like a deer in headlights, Udrek’s training kicked in and, remembering what he’d seen of the security footage of its first usage here, he realized he had only a split second to get over the other side of the barricade before the wall behind him exploded. In his panic, he did not recall the cover he had held before, although it might not stand before the onslaught of the cannon’s power.
He barely had a chance to stand before Kritor fire cut him down.
Kazsavor had returned to the Oblivion as per Krax’s advise, and he was watching a cross-section map of the occurrences within.
Karion’s face appeared on the screen. “Sir, we’ve rooted out the level of the Central Data Chamber.”
“Excellent,” Kazsavor stood. “I will be there presently.”
The emperor started for their dimensional portals, suddenly remembering what Krax had told him of Krevator’s visit to the CDC. It was there that the war had been sparked in full… and perhaps it was to be there that the Agency would be ended.
Kazsavor chuckled. No, it was unlikely. Telravarn was still out there, as was the Agency fleet. But now it was only a matter of time before the Agency was ended… and then he could turn his attention to the Lykos.
The emperor stepped through the portal and found himself in the entrance to the data chamber. The portal closed and he glanced back, through the doorway, and saw Kritors standing guard--and further down the hall, Kritors warding off the Agency bombardments. He did not worry that he was so close to the battle--the Agents could not use their Olmak pitfalls on him as he was out of their sight--but he was wary nonetheless.
Frowning, he made his way to the podium and inserted a small drive made to be compatible with the Agency outlet. Upon its insertion, the screen lit up and buffered for a moment before registering an upload to the five Kritor vessels not far away. With the Kritor drives so close, the upload process could proceed far faster than it had before.
With the hijacking drive successfully installed, Kazsavor mindlessly began working his way through the files--to the best of his abilities, considering his lack of acquaintance with digital technologies.
“Catalog of Enemies of the Multiverse.”
“History of the Enemies of the Multiverse.”
“In the earliest periods, before the Agency held major rein on things, the multiverse was quite chaotic. Beings would often travel between universes, sometimes abducting others and dragging them into Fight to the Death contests or crossovers. Some who would be considered minor multiversal threats by today’s standards, but who were powerful in their time, were rampant, and maintained a great deal of power. As the Agency began secretly working to clean these up, however, multiversal activity grew less common, and because there were less people hopping between universes, it inspired less and less people to do the same in time.
"Multiversal singularities were easy enough to remove; however, multiversal pluralities posed more of a problem. These would take a great deal of time to weed out, and an Agency campaign that would stretch even to modern times.
"Also of note were races naturally of multiversal nature such as the Zormacht and the Initiators; these tribes were secretly driven back by the Agency. Additionally, kingdoms such as the Shadows of Ages, Empires of Shadows, Corpsian Empires, Temporal Empires, Cold Orders, and others held great power throughout universes of their categories during this exceedingly long period. The heads of these organizations, as well as other independent, equally powerful beings, would proceed to shape the courses of their respective universes, and as many of them had parallels throughout the multiverse, they made quite a mess.
"Finally, in one universe, there were creatures known as Netorrians, and of the Netorrians, some more powerful ones were deemed “Godly Ones.” Although not gods themselves, they held great power and prestige, and they developed some degree of interdimensional travel. Out of this dimension came one who held greater power than other similar threats, although others certainly held the power to rival him. “Shadow’ as he was initially called, who would in time pave the way for the formation of the cataclysmic organization ‘The Soulshredders,’ rapidly became active in interdimensional affairs upon his exile from his world--”
“Milord,” came Karion’s voice from the doorway. “We’ve received word from Zorus that the Lykos have launched an offensive on the Kritor Spirit Robot."
Kazsavor frowned. “I hear you. Very well, I am coming.”
As it so happened, mere minutes after Kazsavor removed himself from the pocket dimension under siege, Telravarn returned to it. Looking around the bridge, he noted to his disgust, helpless Taskforce Officers looking to him as liberation. Rolling his eyes, he summoned another portal and stepped through, to the exclamations of the crew on the command deck.
He was now in the Central Data Chamber, and as he looked at the podium with the Kritor hijacking drive. The computer registered that the upload was complete, but he still scowled and tore the drive from the outlet.
The guards at either end of the doorway notice him and raised their rifles to fire. Telravarn’s bad mood melted as he grinned; drives on the guns pulled on Kanohi-esque power to enhance their shot.
The Kritors fired, but Telravarn’s Mask of Power Hijacking glowed and he raised his hands. The glowing protodermis projectiles fired by the blasters hesitated in mid-air before whirling around before the enhancers reversed their power, pulling the blast inward and causing the guns to explode. The guards screamed in agony.
More Kritors turned their attention to the CDC, having heard their comrades’ screams. As Telravarn stepped outside, several Kritors were forced to turn from the warring front down the hall and open fire on him. The baron’s mask glowed brighter, as did the Kritor weaponry, as the weapon supplements aimed elsewhere. Kritor hailfire erupted at him, but Telravarn’s mask inverted the shots so they were directed at the shooters or at other Kritors in the hall.
Most of the soldiers fell, and the rest quickly fell to the Agency resurgence at the far end of the hall, galvanized by the turn of fortune. Agents of the Olmak shouted in triumph, running past Telravarn as they moved to secure their regained territories. Telravarn looked on, emotionless, until he triggered his Olmak-infused armor and fell into a portal directed again at the Kritor areas.
Krax and Karion had assumed nearby positions in the closet from which the invasion had been launched, so both heads turned as one when a messenger came within earshot with the distressing news.
“The Agency is making progress upward! They’re pushing back the Kritors!”
The High Commanders exchanged glances.
“The Agency is no good at direct combat,” Krax growled. “They must have happened upon some advantage they’re exploiting.”
“Or they’ve remembered how to use their own territory in their favor,” Karion replied. “Regardless, it’s a turn of fortune that was due to have come along.”
“Are we waiting on anything anymore?”
Karion pulled a communicator out of his belt and turned it on. Lorgon’s face appeared immediately. “Lorgon, have the files finished uploading?”
“They have. You are welcome to pull out when ready.”
“Very good.” Karion deactivated it and returned it to his belt. “Well, I would have liked to have claimed the station and found what else we could salvage for the Empire, but no matter. Lieutenant! Retrieve the Graviton Spear and the unit I set aside from my flagship.”
Krax whirled in alarm. “The Graviton Spear?! But that takes all the fun out of it!”
Karion smiled slightly. “Oh come now, Krax, surely even you have wanted to open a black hole in a pocket universe.”
“I wanted to blow the station to smithereens.”
“Nothing can be allowed to remain of the Agency that the Kritors do not possess. The database was their most crucial weapon; with it in our hands, there is no point in leaving any remains left, especially when someone could yet salvage it. Total destruction is the most efficient, most effective option. Oh--” Karion laughed, “Stop pouting, Krax, you’ll have an opportunity next time. Come, let us return to our warships and flee the pocket universe before the Graviton team arrives. We will give them something they will never forget, even unto death.”
Terrik ran to Telravarn who now had the last Kritor position in sights, the janitor’s closet they were holding steadfast.
“That’s all that remains?” he asked.
Telravarn nodded, but aside from that, there was no indication Telravarn knew he was there until the baron said suddenly,
“I don’t have a good feeling about the ease with which they yielded the last several segments. Prepare the Olmak-infused armor to teleport to the Impeeriumi Osade fleet just in case.”
Terrik nodded, but Telravarn’s words barely registered before a Kritor legion tore from the closet without warning. Terrik raised his weapon to fire, but before he could do so, he saw… himself?
Yes, there was no mistaking it. Terrik, Derkin, and Pandrin, all clad in Kritor armor. And more, the barons too! A myriad of beings they recognized, and at the head was Telravarn, waving a Kritor banner.
“A parallel?” Baron Telravarn muttered in shock. “How did he evade my hunts?”
“Long live the Kritor Empire!” the Broken Order Terrik shouted at the top of his lungs as he swung the Kritor banner. “Long live Emperor Kazsavor!”
Terrik tried to fire but realized he could not. Agents often dealt with parallels of themselves, but he had never had to kill himself before. As he stared slack-jawed at his Kritor parallel, he could not help but wonder what could possibly have ever led him down a road where he worshiped the Kritor Empire above freedom!
“The Kritors are masters of mental warfare. No doubt these parallels of ours were studied and interviewed by the empire for use in strategizing against us… and no doubt the parallels of these barons are meant to make me reflect in fear on my actions.” Telravarn muttered, though he could barely be heard over the mad patriotism of their brainwashed parallels. His eyes narrowed on the spear in the brainwashed Telravarn’s hands. He gasped, “Barionk’s Graviton Spear! Agents, abandon Station! Head to the fleet!”
How successful this was, the baron did not know. Terrik was still staring into the Kritor mirror by the time the baron leapt into a portal, as the baron assumed others were.
So the baron was not there when the Agents came to themselves and realized their numbers far outnumbered those of the Kritors. The Olmak brainwashed charged forward, unleashing fire on the Kritor brainwashed, but before the Kritor Telravarn fell, he smiled and the Graviton Spear ignited.
Chapter Eight: Oblivion[]
The Confusion Dimension
It was a place Vulf never imagined she would visit. In her studies, she had long been taught that this place was one to be avoided at all costs. Those who weren’t torn apart, the Agency had told her, rapidly lost their minds. Then again, most who were imprisoned within this place were insane to begin with.
The Confusion Dimension was one of the most bizarre corners of the multiverse. The realm had been used by the Zormacht to imprison immortals, although when the Agency grew in power and drove back multiversal tribes like the Zormacht and Initiators, it had fallen into popular usage. The Agency used it for the same purpose--the imprisonment of immortals--and it had been used by universes with no better place, not even death, to send the most troublesome of warlords. Recently (in multiversal scale), denizens of the Dark Empire Alternate Universe had sent their iterations of the Dark Lord, Millennium, and Eostra Nihiltan to this place.
The Toa of Psionics floated through the chaos weld, strangely unaffected by the effects of the bizarre reality. It was as though she had been guided here by a power greater than any she had known. The dimension was like a cackling nebula, charged with energy and with colors flashing and swirling all around. The closest thing Vulf could hearken it to was a Force Sphere. Although she had not personally experienced one, just about everyone knew the stories of the hypothetical “Core Universe,” least of all how the Toa Metru recover their Great Discs.
Yes, Vulf realized, that was an excellent comparison. Although there were no chutes, the Confusion Dimension passed by universes of the multiverse in much a similar manner. The longer it existed, the stronger and larger it grew. Unlike a Force Sphere, however, the Confusion Dimension was never destroyed; it simply grew in power and strength. Vulf was simply shocked she could exist in this place.
The Toa of Psionics narrowly slowed her forward progress in time to avoid being struck by some flying masonry, a large steel pole with a blade-like surface stemming off of the end. As the metal piece flew off and disappeared in the chaos, Vulf wondered what it could have belonged to… at least until she realized it had been a giant scythe.
She shook her head and remembered her destination. Yes, that had to be the connection.
The Toa of Psionics was heading for the center of the dimension, the “eye of the storm,” the place where prisoners were kept. Unlike the fringes, the center was more ordered and less physically hazardous. Nonetheless, it held its own misery as eternities passed in mere seconds in this place for the prisoners. Truly, Vulf thought, this was such a bizarre place.
The eye of the storm came within view. Gone were the shifting colors of the nebula; this place was lit by a vivid white luminescence. Something resembling a fortress floated in the center--or at least it consisted of walls resembling those of a brick fortress--like wall flats floating in space. Oddly enough, it was not a closed structure--very incomplete in many respects. In fact, it was like Vulf was staring at the ruins of an old building, for she could see just about everything within. Almost as though it had been eaten away. Still something about it seemed to be perfectly natural to the dimension, like it had always been there, always like this.
As Vulf started forward, she observed that the walls were lined with prisons. Most of these were likewise incomplete; large sections of walls, ceilings, and floors were torn out, but the prisoners inside--and there were many--did not seem to notice this. Instead, they seemed frozen in time, caught in mid-motion, looking about their cells as though the prisons were complete.
Against the backdrop of the dark, cackling nebulus, the white glow of the eye and the dark grey prison structure seemed almost tranquil and peaceful. The frozen warlords appeared almost harmless, their perception of time slowed down to almost nothing. Eostra Nihiltan appeared as though she were falling to her knees, her mouth opening as if to scream. Millennium’s fist was ablaze with a frozen fire as he stood, reeled back to attempt to punch through his cell wall. The Dark Lord’s eyes crackled with energy as he stood simply, staring in vengeance through the bars of his cell, one hand on his hip, the other seizing one of the bars. And they weren’t the only ones. The Cold One of the White Kingdom, Nihiltidax, Serrakaan, Treknerrok of the Syilon Collective, and a myriad of others also held positions to their side. As Vulf floated through the realm, she could see more such walls, also lined with other iterations of these characters, as well as other beings that had been exiled from their universes… and who now held residence here. Vulf grimaced slightly to imagine if all of these were unleashed. But now… they never could be.
As she continued to float through, she neared the far end of the structure (if it could be called that). On the far side was attached the largest cell yet. A titan of incredible size and power stood there, glowing in the colors of the dimension as though they were somehow feeding his growth. Even the cell he stood in seemed small in comparison, as though it had been initially designed for a more average-sized titan and was forced to grow in response to his growth. The entity was clad in jet-black armor, possessed bat-like wings, and his piercing eyes glowed red like the furnace of hell.
Indeed, this titan was often regarded as the King of the Old Era, before the Agency had undermined all possible opposition. The Lord of the era of unleashed multiversal warlords, the Master of the Soulshredders. The greatest, most powerful of those who dwelled when the multiverse was an untamed, uncontrolled period of dimension hopping and empire expansion.
Vulf gulped, mentally asking the power that had guided her here if this was truly the right choice.
The only response that greeted her was laughter.
A V Osade Category Universe
Su-Machitis stared out the open window from the Council Chamber. Like a gliding flock in the skies far above was the Agency armada.
Deja-vu.
It seemed Telravarn hadn’t realized after the Impeeriumi Osade Universe that he was the only one with anything to lose. Nor had he realized it after the second universe. Or the third. Su-Machitis was growing bored. It seemed the two of them were caught in this strange, vicious cycle of theirs, doomed to repeat it time and time again until destruction consumed one or both of them.
For the first time, Su-Machitis began to despair. Was this their destiny then? Lykos and Agency eternally cutting each other down while the multiverse moves uncaring on?
A cycle. Su-Machitis had considered the Agency would blink first in response to Machitis’ attricious actions, realizing there was no future in sending wave after wave of Agents to dash themselves against the Lykos, but they had not. Instead, Telravarn had allowed the war of attrition to wage on. With both proud warlords refusing to back down, Su-Machitis increasingly feared the inevitability that word would break out that Su-Machitis was actively allowing these universes to face ruin. A rebellion might soon be on his hands.
“Machitis,” he called. “Spetvedka.”
Footsteps behind him informed him of the arrival of the two respective Lykos of this universe. “Aj, holiest Ultimate Director?”
“Do you see this, the fleet of the Agency?” Su-Machitis nodded toward the windows outside, as the Agency and Lykos fleets had already engaged in combat. By this point, the Lykos pilots had learned and could evade the Agency portals where they were opened, although the Dominion was forced to start with fresh parallels each time.
Machitis travelled over to the window Su-Machitis had indicated. “I do indeed see our enemies. I see them all around us.”
Su-Machitis frowned. “I begin to wonder then, if they should not have already deployed their bombers and if we should send Spetved...” but as the Ultimate Director was speaking, he began to perceive the Ultra Director looking not at him, but at something behind him. In fact, the Ultra Director nodded slightly, but before the Ultimate Director could observe what was behind him, two tremendous arms caught him in a headlock.
“Spetved--!” he sputtered. “I sh(erg) have elim--ted the lot of you!”
But the Verkhov Director was not alone, as Su-Machitis would realize to his dismay. Indeed, Machitis leapt up and landed a roundhouse kick in the Ultimate Director’s vulnerable side. Su-Machitis gasped in pain, successfully gaining much-needed air, despite Spetvedka’s best efforts. Holding his breath, he pulled the Soyedmevos Blades from their sheaths and stabbing backs. Greeted by warm liquids travelling down his blades, he took it as a sign of success. The Ultimate Director pulled them out and stabbed them again, narrowly bracing himself for Machitis’ second kick.
Spetvedka screamed in response and released his headlock, quickly grabbing Su-Machitis’ neck to snap it. The Ultimate Director immediately stood on one heel and tightened his muscles in his neck so when the Verkhov director spun his head, his body whirled too. Before the shocked Director could react, the Ultimate Director sliced his head off with both blades.
So absorbed with he in the defeat of the Director that he nearly forgot about the Ultra Director until it was too late. Machitis’ next attack knocked him to the floor such that his “Ultimate” garments clattered off of him and he realized he looked exactly like his assailant. If someone were to enter at this moment, he would not know whom to help. In a fury, Su-Machitis seized one of the offending Blades of Soyedmevos and stole Machitis’ momentum, using it to carry it over himself, sending him crashing to the floor.
Both Machitis leapt to their feet, one hand free respectively and one hand bearing both Blades of Soyedmevos. Snarling, both swept the blades down from left to right where they clashed in the center. Both withdrew their blades and uppercut with their free hands, then twirling around each other in an effort to sweep the others’ legs out from under them.
“Yield,” both growled at the same time. They snarled in frustration.
A different Machitis altogether stood in a Lykos warehouse, masses of Lykos spread out around him--some with parallels, others not.
“I think it can be agreed, then,” Machitis continued, “That Su-Machitis is ripe for overthrow! He has poisoned our lands, burned our home--all in an effort to beat the Agency in a battle of attrition. Why, then, must we continue to suffer at his hands?”
Some of the crowd agreed fervently; others were far less certain.
“Aren’t you supposed to be one of his most loyal? One of his devoted parallels?” demanded someone dressed in farming garb.
“So I was,” Machitis agreed, “Until I saw the light. Until I saw him for what he truly was. A tyrant. A veritable monster of war. So here I am, your devoted Warmaster, offering liberation.”
“What could we possibly hope to achieve with merely ourselves, against every universe of Lykos?” demanded Mayraka.
“Aj! There are no more than a hundred in this warehouse.”
“This war-house,” Machitis smiled, “is simply the beginning. Seven other universes have consigned themselves to my cause, as have the survivors of the realms Su-Machitis left to destruction. Moreover, you must be very bad at counting; there are one hundred and fifty-eight in this room alone.”
“And what difference would that make?”
Machitis’ lips curled savagely. “A world of difference when considering--well, I suppose you never went to a War College, did you?”
The room fell silent once more. Machitis towered over the others, the only light source in the room being at his back. His large shadow was cast over the other various inhabitants of the chamber, most of whom feared to defy him--service to Su-Machitis had certainly taught them better than the defiance of this archetype. Still, not all were so awe-inspired.
“You spoke earlier of a small fleet you have seen to the recovery of?” Mayraka asked. “Where, then, did you procure these?”
“Aside from my own Dancing with Blades which is in some order of disrepair, I have also recovered some fighters which the Agency has struck down from the sky. Not all are operable, but there are those which would achieve our ends.”
“Why did you not tell us sooner about these?” the ex-Director demanded. “Nada, why did you not even insert them into your plan which you have relayed to us?”
“I told you,” growled the former Fleet of Seas commander. “It is in disrepair. But you can be certain that when the time comes, I will intend to go to war with it. Of that, you can hold no doubt. Now, I am quite surprised to see you moving against the Ultimate Director as I am, given you are the esteemed Flotskya Director. How has this changed?”
“After he has permitted the desolation of four of our universes, the destruction of our righteous fleets, and the oppression of our lands to appease his vain appetite, I moved to stand against him. I decided that this shall no longer be permitted, I could not stand idly by as the Ultimate Director lays waste to us all.”
“So, then, shall we take his throne from him?”
“Aj, I believe so, Machitis. We will fight flame with flame, for it takes one to know one.”
Machitis visibly swelled in pride at this boast and an even greater shadow resulted. Mayraka smiled slightly, but the farmer in the back was not appeased so. “How could you expect us to support your rule when one of you led us into these flames to begin with? In what way could you possibly be different?”
“Su-Machitis promised open elections, and yet he removed all who might oppose him. It would not be so with me.” Machitis’ pride fled him as he stared at the dissenter.
“If you would lead this revolution, in what manner would it differ from the reign of Su-Machitis.”
Machitis frowned. “Unlike Su-Machitis who simply inherited his rule from the prior tyrant, that ill-fated Su-Polemistis, but failed to overthrow the republican system, I would instead transfer power directly to the people in a true patriotic spirit. I stand before you as a Warmaster, in the tradition of Soyedmevos once before me. Su-Machitis failed to carry out his promise. I would not. I would see the beginning of a new age, for I shall be the liberator whom all would acknowledge.”
The corners of Machitis’ lips twitched.
Another voice called from the other side of the room, a musorik. “A lot of us trusted Su-Machitis, and the next thing we knew, he was opperating by daggers.”
“I am not the same as he was!”
“And yet the only thing that separates you was an opportunity presented.”
Machitis snarled and swept his arm out. “And can you say that liberation could arise from another source?”
Mayraka smiled.
“Have you heard of the Destiny Seekers?”
Formerly the Impeeriumi Osade Universe
Telravarn looked around at the new holdings of the Agency of the Olmak. Most of the Matoran Universe was uninhabitable. Those areas that had been fit to hold land had been populated--so they had been specifically targeted by the Lykos after Krevator had first inspired them.
Still, the baron thought, the Agency had started off small to begin with. At first they had been limited to several continents on Aqua Magna--something that would expand in time into the Supercontinent of Vudrai Nui, and then beyond.
Telravarn’s eyes widened as he was struck by despair. Starting from the beginning. The important aspect, the empire of knowledge had been preserved, but technologically, so much had been lost to the savagery of the Kritor Empire and the Lykos Dominion.
In a blind rage, Telravarn punched the air. Were they rebuilding simply in vain? Or worse, would they achieve their former heights only to turn around a new corner and see a new Lykos Dominion and a new Kritor Empire awaiting them?
The baron could not focus on such thoughts, he realized. He had to focus on the present, as he always had. Yermo was uninhabitable, but the Exusian countryside was doable. They would have to spread out there while they made this universe habitable again… or just looked for a new universe.
Perhaps the Broken Order Universe, Telravarn suddenly mused. They have such a rich wealth of resources… technological advancements. Not as young as would be preferable, but I can work with that.
Galvanized by his new idea, he stood and walked over to the grounded warship doubling as the headquarters.
“Derkin! Where are you?”
The taskforce officer appeared at the entrance to the warship. “Yes, my lord?”
Although the baron detected a hint of resentment, he dismissed it at once. “Are the Taskforce Officers leading our fleet against the Lykos doing as I’ve told them to?”
“Yes. Those Taskforce Officers that are still alive.”
“Good, good,” Telravarn ignored the bitter tone. “Now, inform those of us here that we aren’t going to colonize this universe as I had initially planned. I have instead decided that after we have absorbed what we can from the Dominion, we will conquer the Broken Order Universe and convert it to our cause. It’s been far better preserved by its inhabitants than this one has by its.”
“So we spent so many lives, so much equipment on this universe… for nothing?!”
“Not for nothing. As I said, we are gaining useful assets from the Dominion and what they have built.”
“We dedicated so much to the assumption of this universe!” Derkin cried. “We might have still held Crossroads if you had only thought that far ahead!”
At this the baron snapped, seizing Derkin’s neck and slamming him against the wall. “I would think,” the baron hissed, “that you would know me well enough by now to realize I do not think of the future or the past. Only the present matters. I fly by instinct, and it has never failed me yet. Listen carefully, Derkin. I have given you power even over the others of your rank for a reason; you are far more capable than they. Do not let this get to your head. It went to the heads of the other barons and, well… you know what I made you do to them. Do not let it happen to you. New lieutenants are like an abundant spring; there are always those eager to fill that position. I can discard you as quickly as I took you up. This is my Agency; I built it into what it is, and it will answer to my will. You are simply a guest, a temporary occupier of a job that was held by dozens before your birth. I am the only constant here, and I will remain that way for as long as I and the Agency exist. I am the Agency; it cannot exist without me, so it will always bend to my will alone.”
The baron released his commander. When Derkin looked up, it was as though nothing had happened; all emotion was gone.
“Spread the word. Also, repair what Olmak Projectors we have. I know they’ve grown outdated with the invention of Olmak-infused armor, but that creation of the Society of Guardians still has its uses. I was remiss to have not had them in our assault on the Lykos before; I will most certainly need them in the inevitable strike on the Broken Order Universe.”
The Broken Order Universe
Kazsavor sat in the comfort of his chair in his office, staring out of his massive window at the reaches of his Empire beyond. It was a beautiful vision, particularly as Kritors diligently worked to clean up the mess left behind by the Lykos in their wake did terrible damage to the infrastructure of what was formerly the Matoran Universe. They were like machines, Kazsavor realized with a glorious pang. They were machines, and they were going about their duties before returning to their own duties. They were much as he had been when he stood among them. Now he stood above them. He had escaped their world and travelled to a realm beyond. Indeed, now he was Enlightened, and the tree resulting from the seeds planted with Krevator’s and Kragator’s writings was blooming.
Still, the beauty of the blazing orange skies and seas and the plain view of his entire capital, much less the comfort of his chambers, could not fully offset the discomfort of realizing the other multiversal powers had drawn so close to seriously crippling the Kritor Empire. An emperor could be done away with, but the Matoran Universe was the heart of the factory. Seeds were grown here to be spread to other universes… seeds or viruses, whatever analogy one prefers.
Still, perhaps it was to be expected. These were multiversal organizations with power on par with the Kritors’ own. It was inevitable they could find even the slightest chinks in the armor and exploit them in ways other universes could not--Kazsavor should have granted that. The Empire was impervious to the attacks of universes or organizations of lesser power, so perhaps there was nothing to be worried about--at least if the Agency and Dominion fell soon. Maybe Oblivion could yet be escaped as it was--Oblivion who had very nearly had its way, its say in this, its game.
And yet… It was alarming to know just how close the Lykos had come to obtaining their objects, the Legendary Masks. Krevator had probably kept them around in case the Kritor Empire he was formulating went faulty and he had to scrap it and start again, but it had worked out exactly as it needed to. There was no conceivable reason why the Kritor Empire might need a hard shutdown: could the Legendary Masks indeed be retired? Certainly two of them, perhaps the Mask of Time and Creation. But Life? It was certainly a matter worth more pondering.
So absorbed was he in his musings and the beauty before him that he failed to realize someone else was in the room until he heard the air shifting a few feet before his desk. In alarm, he swiveled his chair.
Behind the emperor--now in front of him--stood a confident blue and gold Toa. Resting on her chest was gold supplemental armor.
“Under normal circumstances, I might commend you for infiltrating the energy barriers protecting this fortress,” Kazsavor said, rising. “But I have seen far too much getting through our defenses. Inform me of how you did it, and I will see that your time in our prison is short and your end painless.”
“I was simply utilizing technology the Agency already has manufactured and I modified,” the Toa replied. “I told you before, Krevator.”
Krevator placed his hand on the sword of his hilt.
“You spoke with Krevator once?”
“Indeed. Under almost identical circumstances. Likewise, it was before the broom of Oblivion swept away so many at the crossroads…”
“A Toa of Psionics… Need I ask?”
“Vulf,” The Toa said. She did not extend her hand, but Kazsavor would not have taken it anyway. “And I know you well, emperor… although I am well acquainted with another who desires to confront him who replaced the shell of her brother. But she will have to wait.”
“Get to your point before you get the end of mine.”
Vulf turned and looked over her shoulder at him.
“A short while ago, one of the Kritor High Commanders--Hydraxon--was forced to lay waste to a universe. Meet me there alone and you can come face-to-face with your greatest nemesis.”
Before Kazsavor could respond, Vulf vanished.
A V Osade Category Universe
The Lykos picked himself up off the ground and placed the armor of the Ultimate Director over his own. Frowning at the mess of the corpses of his parallel and of Spetvedka, he pulled them to the side and shoved them into some closet until he could figure out what to do with them… or until the Agency destroyed this tower and they were lost to it. Either way, it was a problem to be dealt with later.
A disturbance behind him caused him to whirl around at once. Having spent a short period among the Matoran--before the destruction of the Unity--he had come to master the elemental code of the Matoran race. So, when he observed a Ce-Toa standing in his throne room where there previously had not been one before, his hands instinctively called upon the still-wet Blades of Soyedmevos once again.
“There is no need; you cannot harm me anymore,” Vulf replied. “You are the original Su-Machitis? Or are you another?”
“I am the one that matters.”
“Well… I guess it doesn’t matter either way. But as much as I would love to reacquaint myself with you--for of course you do not remember me--I’m afraid that pleasure must be reserved for later. Very soon, a warship involved in the Agency clash with the Kritor Empire in quite a different universe will crash to earth; go to the universe associated with its last coordinates.”
“And what makes you think I would abandon this campaign to go on a scavenger hunt?” Su-Machitis snarled.
The Toa of Psionics reflected on how Su-Polemistis would have once been swayed by a promise to see the answer to his religious dilemmas--something which would have indeed been true. Instead, however, she went with something more applicable… and yet still completely honest.
“Travel there alone… and you will take sight of the only true power with the capacity to fell you and overthrow your ambitions.”
With those words hanging on the air, Su-Machitis was left to stare where she had just stood.
Formerly the Impeeriumi Osade Universe
Telravarn looked up at the arrival of the Toa of Psionics.
“So, you return, oh black sheep. Was it not enough to send your friend in your stead… Vulf?”
Vulf held up her hand to quiet him--something that actually worked, to the baron’s surprise. “Baron Telravarn--you who have been a levelling instrument for so long: your time is up.”
He snorted. “Am I to take it--”
“Travel alone to the Rebellion Alternate Universe and you will meet a god you served for so long… but neglected to worship.”
“The Rebellion Alternate Universe,” Telravarn mused half-sarcastically. “I can’t imagine what would be waiting for me there. After all, I did take care of the biggest threat that once walked in that place.”
“You cannot take care of anything the god does not wish you not to… and you can only handle those whom it wishes you to,” Vulf replied mystically. “Join us and you will receive answers to questions you have forever turned your head away from.”
Telravarn half-smiled. When Vulf disappeared, he looked down at his hands.
The Rebellion Alternate Universe
Kazsavor stepped out of his portal, onto the ruined surface of Spherus Magna, a place that looked far different than what he had imagined. Unlike the Kritor variations of Spherus Magna, this one was absolutely desolated. Plants, fungi, animals all absent. Simply scorched dirt and poisoned waters. In the distance were the ruins of what was once probably a great city. He had been well informed as to what had happened here.
Much like in three other universes, a Kritor military--this one under the head of High Commander Hydraxon--had invaded this universe with the intention of integrating it into the Empire in a process similar to how the Broken Order Universe had become Kritor. It had not been a successful endeavor. Although the Kritors were not intended to cause destruction or death, the Agency of the Olmak had arrived first, alerting the natives to the secret presence of the Empire.
With the crucial element of surprise gone, the Kritor military was forced into an attack posture. The Kritors proceeded to invade Spherus Magna even as the Agency sent a small force to assassinate Hydraxon. Leaderless, the Kritor armada went forth with standing orders to raze the planet and leave none alive--for if any survived, they would warn other universes of the impending Kritor invasion. But to add insult to injury, the Agency took the dead of the universe and began circulating word of the Empire.
Kazsavor looked around. There was no sign of life, much less the presence of an enemy.
This did not last long, however. A golden portal tore the world open and Baron Telravarn stepped out. Much to Kazsavor’s surprise, he was alone.
“So you’re my enem--” he started. But to his shock--and anger--Telravarn took one look at him and began laughing.
“So this is the god? This is the one that determines my actions? Well, I should hope you know why I would choose to ignore him.”
Kazsavor snarled, drawing his sword. “Speak sense, baron, or I will make you bow before me.”
“All gods have fallen before me,” Telravarn hissed in response, adapting a combat stance.
Before they could take action, however, reality again cracked open and out stepped Su-Machitis. The Lykos took one look at the two others standing there and scoffed.
“Well, I suppose I should not be surprised the Ce-Toa had this in mind.”
“So, Vulf had us come here alone to decide the fate of the multiverse,” Kazsavor said. “Did she expect we would divide the realms up by treaty and end the war?”
“Vulf is far smarter than that,” Telravarn shook his head. “She was always quite adept at the history of politics and war.”
“So she is your agent?” Su-Machitis demanded. “So this then is your plan?”
“Vulf is not an Agent of Telravarn’s anymore,” Kazsavor replied. “She rebelled against him and the Agency.”
“Aj, and for no wonder,” Su-Machitis chuckled. “Look at that face. I’m glad I’ve never had the displeasure to see it before.”
“Say that again, I implore you,” Telravarn demanded, again preparing for combat.
“Enough!”
As one, the heads of the three Barraki swiveled to someone some distance away. Vulf was positioned, equidistant from each of them. When she was certain she held the attention of all of them, she smiled.
“In the words of someone from so long ago: Have your resolution.”
Chapter Nine: Oblivion: Deus ex Machina[]
“Shall we decide it in a simple game of Kolhii?”
Vulf, the Toa of Psionics allowed a slight grin. “Was that not the famous suggestion spoken by Makuta Teridax to Takanuva? If that could be decided so well then, why not try it again here?”
Baron Telravarn, master of the Agency of the Olmak, stepped forward. “If you have nothing of significance to say, Vulf, you should have known better than to summon us here.”
The Toa of Psionics took a single step back in response to the baron’s advance, but in doing so she braced for a fight. “I knew the risks the day I swore to Polemistis of the V Osade Universe never to allow any one to hold the power to decide the fate of universes. And here you are, all three of you. If I had a weapon with only two items of ammunition, I genuinely would not know whom to shoot first.” she chuckled again.
“Has your exile driven you mad?” Telravarn growled.
“Telravarn, deal with your rogue so that we may fight in peace,” Lykos Ultimate Director Su-Machitis declared.
“Do not lay a hand on her, baron.” Emperor Kazsavor of the Kritor Empire snapped. “She summoned us here and I will hear what she had to say.”
Vulf glanced at Kazsavor. “Thank you for listening, Kazsavor, as Krevator did moments before Oblivion consumed him.”
“Hurry before my courtesy wears thin.”
The Toa of Psionics laughed in scorn. “Why? The multiverse has existed for an eternity, and it will continue to do so. Or are you afraid that you might be swept away before my point is made, that Oblivion’s broom will carry you into the dustpan and you will be discarded.”
The ex-Agent glanced down at the dirt before continuing.
“The Recorded Timeline of the Multiverse begins at the rise of the Agency of the Olmak. That is because there was no one with the capacity or knowledge to record time before then. Recorded history details very many individuals who sought an empire built on universes.
“We’ve had The Dark Lord, master of the Empire of Shadows, yet doomed forever to clash with his rivals, the good Jareroden and the vile Serrakaan. We’ve had Eostra Nihiltian, Mistress of the Corpse Empire. We have Millennium, with all his powers over time, and the Shadow of Ages cult which altered history and created temporal paradoxes in order to conquer the universe. We’ve had the Cold One, king of the White Kingdom, who once defeated an army that overthrew the Dark Empire, a shared empire ruled jointly by an Eostra, a Dark Lord, and a Millennium. We’ve had the Caller in Darkness, a devourer of universes. Of course we have powerful individuals who probably could conquer universes if they wanted; Nightwatcher, Apoplex, perhaps even Krataxus, et cetera.
“Heck, we had arguably the most powerful of these, Shadowmaster, who united eleven beings who were in his day the most powerful beings in the multiverse--many of whom were beings I have already mentioned. Shadowmaster, who broke the walls of universes and forced them to collide to form the Fallen Empire, and who can traverse the multiverse with ease. The jewel of his conquests was the Rebellion Alternate Universe, home of Davu and Koden, among others. At some point or another, Shadowmaster engaged all of these beings in combat and claimed his title as the most powerful of the old dimension kings. He only fell when Telravarn struck him at his weakest and trapped him in the Confusion Dimension.
“Nevertheless… never have we had beings as successful or as powerful as you three. Emperor Kazsavor, you rule a machine out of people, a self-sustainable clockwork empire that answers to you and your line of emperors. Machitis, the empire you have conquered unites Lykos from across dimensional boundaries for the sake of your singular cause, the decimation of the non-Lykos. Telravarn, you seek to document every individual and every choice in every universe so that your computers can forecast with absolute precision every decision a character would make and all possible outcomes as you engage them in war--all while your Agency maintains a front of protecting the universe.
“Yes, our multiverse has a long history of war and bloodshed. But this is the greatest recorded confrontation yet. Would you not agree, Telravarn? Being the oldest of us four by far, you are certainly fittest to judge.”
“Of course,” Telravarn snorted. “Otherwise it would have been the Second Dimension War, or the Third.”
“Precisely,” Vulf nodded. “Now, how long has the multiverse existed?”
“An eternity.”
“Certain?”
“Positive,” Telravarn growled. “An eternity of universes growing and dying and being replaced by others. Each with its own point of deviation, as far as has been documented, yet often which follow similar paths. Those that do end up following similar paths are grouped into similar categories, much as the Osade Category or V Osade Subcategory,” he grinned malevolently at Su-Machitis who scowled.
“This is common knowledge, Vulf. What are you playing at?”
“Kazsavor, would you not agree?” the Toa of Psionics smiled.
“I would. If you think wasting time will allow our fury to temper, think again.”
“Oh, I would not be so foolish,” Vulf smiled. “Still, it is a bizarre phenomenon. Yes, all of them apparently unique, at least in the eyes of us who have such small lifespans compared to an eternity of a multiverse. And yet, there are finite variables in a universe. There is a number to everything in any given universe, a limited number of atoms, a limited amount of space, a limited amount of time--no matter what we may attempt to prolong it. Therefore, it follows that there are limited amounts of choices available. Any scenario with a set amount of variables--as all of these dimensions are--can only play out in a limited amount of ways. Only the multiverse is infinite--infinite time, infinite space as far as we are aware. The Agency has only documented as much as it needs to determine character archetypes and universe categories. Would you not agree, Telravarn?”
“You speak with knowledge stolen from the Agency, Vulf.”
“So I do. And Su-Machitis, Kazsavor, is there anything to which you object thus far?”
“Yes!” Kazsavor exclaimed. “Don’t you see now why it must be tamed? Why it must be united? Vulf, you prove yourself worthy enough now to understand why the Kritor Empire must not be halted!”
Su-Machitis snorted. “Shut up.”
Kazsavor raised his blade to the Lykos and snarled, but before he could say anything, Vulf interrupted. “Yes yes, the second mission of the Kritor Empire, I am most familiar with it. But allow me to unite science with philosophy and bring this train of thought to its endpoint.
“As far as the Agency--the oldest, most eligible source of information on the matter--has documented, every universe is unique, or holds its own unique source of deviation. Universes banging into existence and crunching into non-existence only to bang again to repeat everything the same tale a slightly different way. Yet, strangely enough, we find ourselves following these cycles, these loops. We learn from our mistakes, yet this knowledge is lost when our universes and we die and are reborn. Each time we try something different, yet, as I was once told, ‘the river of time always favors its original course.’ Polemistis will always find himself trapped in religious paradoxes. Telravarn simply took to striving to live forever and hoarding his knowledge, while the Kritor Empire undertook the unification of the multiverse to ensure the never-ending cycles of information gained and lost were broken. Still, even now it finds itself trapped in its own cycles. And Machitis… Machitis’ years of manipulation and power-plays as the manipulated awaken for themselves. It’s all happened before. What’s to say it won’t happen again? Surely this event has never happened before… or has it?
We have established that there are finite variables in infinite time. Constrained universes in an unlimited space. Knowing the ceaseless cycles of the multiverse, the ever-repeating variables, the constant characters, and the river of time which favors its original course… Even when you have universes capable of affecting each other, they are still limited by their own limited variations. The amount of variations is still constrained, even if it is a number so large we, with our small minds, products of chance evolution, can only begin to fathom. A game of chess, for example has only so many possible outcomes, even if it becomes a game of 3D chess. As such, who could possibly say we are in uncharted territory, or a frontier? Perhaps this all happened before. Perhaps there was another Telravarn, another Agency, and it once warred against the Kritor Empire and Lykos Dominion until this point. With limited variations in infinite time, we are forever doomed to repeat the same things over and over and over. And yet… none of you have ever succeeded. Certainly not that recorded history will ever tell. Otherwise the multiverse would have been united under a Kritor Emperor or the Lykos would have slain all heretics or… well, who knows what would happen if Telravarn conquered reality.”
“None of you have ever succeeded. And if an eternity past is any indication… none of you ever will. Oblivion has swallowed all of you before; how do you possibly think you can escape it again? Ever again? You, who have nothing more going for you than ever before. Oblivion’s Game always ends the same way. It is a vengeful tyrant that allows nothing to overthrow it. Oblivion is the true master of the multiverse.
“Finite possible variations in an infinite amount of time. Everything that happens at this very moment is an echo of some variation that has happened long before. There is no freewill; only a variation or choice that does or does not come to pass. All possible cycles have happened already. Finite variations in infinite time. None of you have ever succeeded before; gentlemen, it is mathematically impossible that you ever will succeed.
“Oblivion will find a way to consume you, the same as ever before. This is the burden of knowledge placed on all who set foot beyond the walls of their universe. You may think you'll escape any existential crisis by doing something at this level; but you cannot escape it. The choice is yours, whether you should accept this knowledge and give up now, or continue in vain until the vicious cycles terminate. I wish there were a god to give me purpose and hope. But there isn't. Not in this multiverse. There is only Oblivion. The Lykos are fated to forever fight the heretics. The Kritor engine will somehow fail. The Agency will always be forced to start from scratch. All people will be their own undoing in the most poetic ways possible. At least I hope it's poetic or worthwhile--not having dramatic irony takes all the power out of death.
“But your names will fade. The only reason the names I listed have lasted this long is because here is decorated history; once the Agency falls, ‘recorded’ history will die until some cycle calls for another Agency. Yes, the five of you have amused Oblivion… but it is all for nothing. This is an impossible game, after all. None of you can win.”
Vulf took a breath; she hadn’t meant to say so much, but once she started talking it was hard to stop, like someone, perhaps these three, were egging her on. And it looked like the emperors were genuinely listening. But as she stopped, visible rage began building back up in their faces.
“Baron,” Su-Machitis announced, “you are taking too long. Now I will finish the job one of me should have done ages ago.”
“You speak lies,” Kazsavor shook his head, dazed at Vulf. “There is a way. There is always a way. Where there’s a will, it will triumph… in the end… All barriers can be broken… are meant to be broken…”
“Oh don’t be so naive.” Vulf spat. She raised the blade Polemistis had given her so long ago. “For once, peer out of your cave, Kritor, and look around at the blinding light! I am now a servant of Oblivion, the only true force in this reality, and I condemn you three men for daring to decide the fate of universes. I will see emperors cut down; if not now then in a time not far off, if not here, then in a place much like this one.”
“You cannot defeat all three of us,” Telravarn replied. “Not even one of us. Or have you forgotten the story of Nightwatcher’s battle with Dark Lord, Eostra Nihiltan, and Millennium?”
“You are right. I cannot on my own. Your own history will be your undoing. You are predictable; you always make the same decisions time and time again. For every time you learn from your mistakes, you die and another of you must start over and make the same mistake. You are predictable in the eyes of Oblivion. It had honed its game to perfection, and no matter what happens here or in the multiverse at large, all three powers will devour each other.”
“Kill her!” ordered Telravarn at the top of his lungs, and Kazsavor, who was about to do just that, turned and swung at the baron for trying to command him.
“I swore that I would never let anyone hold the power to decide the fate of universes. As such, I cannot let any of you get away. Worse still, vengeance must be taken on all of you. Telravarn: for millions, millions of years, you have overseen the manipulation and exploitation of other universes simply for your own gain and for the gain of your subordinates, all the while lying to the Agents that your cause is a noble one. Machitis: you have transformed the Lykos Kinsmen Republic into a self-serving war machine, the likes of which even Su-Polemistis did not intend. Kazsavor: while I have nothing personal against you, an individual named Callah who lost her dear friend, Ervik, to the Kritor line met up with me and told me of the Kritor Empire and the story of the bloodstained banner. Moreover, your predecessor and your subordinates saw to the destruction of the inhabitants of this very universe simply because they rose up against your integration of them into the empire. For you, revenge would be very personal, but not for me--for someone else who stands among us, waiting to strike.
“You see, this universe was actually in the clutches of a massive, galactic entity. An old god, if you will. He is known by many names; outside this universe he is feared, but inside he is revered, worshiped as he toys with the minds of his subjects. Above all, he is a madman, an absolute madman, although he is not mortal. And you, Kazsavor, have aroused the wrath of--”
Behind her, the sun and all the stars seemed to be extinguished, but Kazsavor realized it was because a massive entity had blocked them.
“--Shadowmaster!”
Instinctively, Kazsavor activated his Mask of No Powers. The Kanohi awakened and its power of cancellation flowed out through him to stop the attack of the oncoming demon. Shadowmaster’s shock at seeing his power deprived gave the Kritor Emperor a smile of satisfaction.
“I have seen emperors brought to ruin before me…” the Kritor Emperor said, “and have cast gods into slavery. I have been transformed to the very core of my beliefs… and claimed a place among an unstoppable legacy for doings so. I am a Kritor Empire--and as such, I am the bearer of the Mask of No Powers. You are little more than power yourself, Shadowmaster… Take that away, and what are we left with?
Before he could answer his own question, a sharp sensation of pain shot through his body as a gash was torn in his left arm.
“Nada!” Machitis shouted, reeling back to strike again with his plasma sword. Kazsavor stumbled back in searing pain, fighting to maintain enough concentration to give power to his mask.
“You fool!” Kazsavor screamed in agony. “Don’t you see? I’m the only thing preventing that demon from destroying us!”
“You are also,” Machitis growled as he swung his plasma blade down, cutting into the Kritor emperor’s foot as he fell backward, “The only thing preventing my servants from recovering me from this universe. If I don’t return to my realm soon, there is nothing to stop another Machitis from taking my throne.”
As Kazsavor fell back, blood filled his mouth and he realized he’d bit his tongue to stifle his scream. He landed in the dirt hard and rolled over to avoid the fall of the Lykos’ Plasma Blade. He barely raised Kragator’s sword to block the next strike.
Enraged at the loss of his powers, Shadowmaster snarled and brought his unnaturally titanic fist down upon the planet. Telravarn ran to avoid getting smashed, but due to the gargantuan nature of the hand, he avoided it by a hair’s width anyway. Glancing back, as the fist drew close, he thought he could see Vulf standing where she had been, her piercing blue eyes meeting those of her old leader. But as soon as he saw her, the fist touched down. When it rose again, her body was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but that was a mystery to be solved at a later date in the comfortable confines of his personal chamber.
He glanced over to see Machitis and Kazsavor still grappling, so he glanced up at the demon lord, who was larger than a small planet.
You sure have grown since I last saw you, Telravarn thought. I should never have locked him in the Confusion Dimension. “Shadowmaster! Do you remember me?”
The fearsome monster laughed deeply.
“Worms, insects, slugs--you all tend to blur together in my mind. Enlighten the lord of shadows.”
The lord baron stepped forward.
“You are Shadowmaster, former king of the Fallen Empire, head of the the Bringers of Destruction, and lord of an untold number of universes. You are the last surviving member of the Soulshredders; all others were either killed pathetically or they dashed themselves to pieces against you. Regardless, they are no more.
“You are Shadowmaster--but I am Telravarn, Lord Baron of the Agency of the Olmak. For it has been I who struck you down every time you grew too large. It was I, Telravarn, who, when your final battle with Enthydenius had you at your weakest, trapped you and barred you for the second time within the Confusion Dimension, the Chaos Weld, never to travel outside of it again. It was I who resurrected Teridax to rule your kingdom and serve as a buffer in case of your return. And because I recognized the formidable threat Alchemica Magna’s natives posed, I destroyed that world and all of its inhabitants. I will beat you to eternity and beyond. You are a multiversal threat--just the sort of thing the Agents of the Olmak seek to destroy.”
Shadowmaster was not laughing anymore.
He hissed slowly, “You little--So YOU were the one--”
Telravarn smiled as he nodded slowly, recalling something he’d read in his Agency’s database. A wicked scheme formed in his mind.
“Yesss, now you remember. I hold control of an almighty organization. My influence is far greater than any power you wield. The only way you could best me is if you somehow gained control of my organization. But they only answer to this voice. My voice.”
Shadowmaster frowned, connecting the pieces Telravarn wanted him to.
The problem with holding vast power is that you’re more likely than not inclined to use it.
Kazsavor had managed to get back on his feet and was managing to put up a good fight despite his injuries and athletic inferiority. Machitis scowled and brought the plasma blades down at Kazsavor, only for the Kritor to catch the blade between his sword’s upper prongs. Much to Machitis’ dissatisfaction, the blades were unable to melt through the sword.
What’s that thing made of? He wondered to himself.
The Kritor brought his sword down sharply, twisting the plasma blades and wrenching the Lykos’ firmly attached wrists. Machitis shouted in surprise and Kazsavor broke off the attack in favor of a kick to the Kinsmen’s torso. Taken by surprise, the Lykos fell back, placing his weapons in his belt.
Kazsavor moved to press the advantage. Grinning maliciously, Kazsavor rammed his Kritor shield into Machitis’ head. Upon seeing the Lykos dazed, he continued his attack. Once, twice, three times he hit, but as he moved to strike the Ultimate Director a fourth time, the Lykos’ arms shot out and he seized the Kritor heirloom.
The Lykos tore the weapon from Kazsavor’s grasp, attaching it instead to his arm.
“I can consider why you are so proud of this weapon.”
Kazsavor grinned, but he could not disguise the envious indignation. “Toss that to the side at once!”
Su-Machitis swung the blade around, testing its agility. “It is a well-crafted blade. I recognize it, believe it or not. Once in my universe, very soon after your Krevator arrived, Polemistis--before he renamed himself ‘Su-Polemistis’--moved in his first of many battles against the heretics. Our first destination was Daxia. Those inhabitants, so-called Order of Grogus Sar--or rather, Mata Nui, fought bravely. I was a Fleet of Seas Commander under Polemistis’ direct command. One of the Order’s number, a lieutenant under Helryx whom I now realize was named ‘Kragator’ fought us bravely, but he had nothing to fight for, nothing he believed in, certainly. He quickly fell. I neglected the opportunity to add his weapon, this weapon, to my collection. Perhaps I can do it now. Certainly, this version is far sleeker and more elegant than that one.”
Without warning, Machitis ignited a Blade of Soyedmevos and began cutting into it… or trying.
“It is made of Kritosteel,” Kazsavor snorted. “Like our warships. Immune to the attacks of elements, even if not yet all forms of matter. For as you have honed Plasma, we have honed Metal. Krevator had it modified, like this Mask. Now it is better… and the Mask’s power reaches beyond a single island… its radius can reach beyond a single planet… and prevent interdimensional travel… as it is.” He beamed.
“Your pride is repulsive,” Machitis scowled and threw it to his side and advancing toward the emperor. The Ultimate Director reignited his second blade and swung both at the emperor’s head. Kazsavor ran and leapt around his side, somersaulting for his fallen blade. Kazsavor was able to reclaim his weapon, but unable to block the swing of a blade from cutting a deep ridge in his torso.
However, the Lykos had exposed himself. Kazsavor moved to press the attack when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving to him with alarming speed. He barely had time to turn his head and register his attacker before Telravarn’s armored gauntlet bore into his face.
The Mask of No Powers knocked askew, Kazsavor’s concentration was shattered. He barely registered his fall before his hands were holding him against the pull of the earth.
Machitis loomed over to Kazsavor’s fallen body and glanced at Telravarn who stood over it.
“Well, I would guess this leaves--”
The Baron lashed out quickly at Machitis’ face and an audible crack echoed. Momentarily stunned, Machitis reached for his mandibles in pain.
Above the planet, Shadowmaster felt all his power flow back into him. He only needed one in particular in this moment.
“You remind me of the Dark Lord,” Shadowmaster growled, “before I slew him. Still, I doubt you’re quite as smart, for he didn’t reveal the seeds of his own demise… ”
He reached out with his power, shoving Telravarn’s mind aside in his own brain so that he, Shadowmaster, could take its place, or at least sit alongside it. The Baron’s mind resisted as it instinctively would.
But then--agony. It was as though his own mind were the one being shoved aside. The daemon glanced down at Telravarn to see his finger was on his mask which glowed.
“You’ve grown so used to being the mightiest creature you know,” Telravarn said, “That you cannot see a challenge when it stands before you anymore. You know that you’re a multiversal threat, and you’ve killed everyone else you know to be one. But we are very much threats like you are; there’s a reason for that. We may not have almighty powers like you to toy with lesser beings--we fight for what we have.”
With that, the Baron shoved back on Shadowmaster with the weight of his Kanohi, Mask of Power-Reversal.
With a roar of fury, the demon shoved back with all his mental might. Invisible waves of raw energy and power threw themselves against each other in a struggle for domination.
But the power of the Kanohi was not to be underestimated as Telravarn’s mind began taking shape in Shadowmaster’s head. The demon looked with horror at the forming mind.
Su-Machitis glanced at the bodies of the baron and the demon with a mixture of alarm and disgust, engaged in their mental struggle as they were.
Behind him, he heard the tell-tale sounds of an interdimensional portal opening. He whirled around to the appearance of one of his most trusted lieutenants.
“Ah, you have arrived to bring me out of this cesspool. Has one of my parallels made a mess of everything yet?”
“Not yet, my holiest director, but numerous sieges are being laid.”
“Good. Aj, I can work with that.”
Machitis glanced back. Telravarn’s body was starting to slump lifelessly. Shadowmaster was beginning to shake violently, as if taken by convulsions. Meanwhile, Kazsavor was still sprawled on the dirt. Apparently he still had enough energy to rally himself and stare at Machitis with a bizarre expression he couldn’t decipher. The Lykos Warmaster dismissed it as helpless fury.
“Let us depart this realm,” he said. The lieutenants stepped back into their own world, and Machitis moved to follow them.
And then it struck him. Kazsavor wasn’t staring at him with helpless fury. It was like the Kritor emperor was waiting for something.
He was about halfway into the portal at this moment. He realized what was happening just as happened. The Mask of No Powers ignited to life--and all powers were nullified.
As if on cue, the portal, with no power to hold it open, slammed shut like a guillotine.
Exactly half the Warmaster’s body fell into the sand. It probably isn’t best to think what came of the other half.
At that same moment, Telravarn had very nearly crossed the plain of existence between his own body and Shadowmaster’s. But the Mask of No Powers did not spare them either, slicing the bonds between what of the baron’s mind was now in the demon’s head and what was still left in the baron’s body.
The Kritor Emperor disciplined himself to stand and watch. If Shadowmaster had been convulsing before, he was under a full seizure now. Two minds--one a broken, largely unformed one--fighting for dominance over a body and spirit of almost unlimited power.
Kazsavor spat blood in the sand. Much of his tongue was swollen now. He would do well not to speak to anyone for a very long time.
From behind him he heard the distinct sound of an interdimensional portal rearing to life. Fearing it could be another Lykos portal, he whirled even as he prepared to shut it with his mask, but his fears were alleviated upon seeing Quokus.
“Sir, we’ve found you!”
“And not a moment too soon,” Kazsavor muttered.
He started to walk in the direction of the portal when the voice sprung involuntarily into his head.
Finish it. Finish the game.
Kazsavor stopped.
Finish the Dimension Game.
The emperor’s eyes widened as he realized the voice had once belonged to Vulf. But as he looked around, she was nowhere to be seen.
Your kind started this mess. Now finish it.
“Are you--”
Finish the game.
Kazsavor stared at the entity in the throws of vile spirits. But he was at a loss for what to do.
For how do you kill a god?
He’s not a god if I don’t believe in him, Kazsavor thought. And no one can claim that position unless they have no weakness at all… and if they have claimed mastery of the entire multiverse.
Kazsavor looked up at the wretch, now floating lifelessly in space. Where to even begin? Or perhaps, what would possibly be poetic justice for Telravarn’s execution of Emperor Krevator? Was there anything that could allow him to extract vengeance upon the two great, unwitting servants of Oblivion in such a way that he could laugh in the face of the weapon of fate.
After pondering for a while, he grasped upon what he had to do.
“Quokus! Get out of here!”
The High Commander’s face betrayed complete shock. “... Sir?”
“Get out of here now. In ten seconds I’ll activate my Mask of No Powers and you will be locked out. But keep trying to open the portal here, for as soon as I deactivate my mask you must retrieve me immediately. Understood?”
Quokus nodded and the portal closed. Taking a large breath, Kazsavor turned back as his Mask of No Powers flared to life.
He cupped his hands to his face and shouted, “Shadowmaster! Shadowmaster!”
He knew under normal circumstances the demon lord would never hear him, but somewhere in that myriad of powers, he had to have some sense of hearing. “Shadowmaster!”
The dark lord’s eyes flared to life, but gone was the former cunning gleam. Kazsavor realized the voice was right. If Shadowmaster wasn’t stopped now, with his power and his capacity of transversing universes, it could unleash absolute desolation. And while the Kritor Empire could certainly use that to its advantage, there were too many variables to track, particularly with Shadowmaster mindless as he is.
“Shadowmaster!” Kazsavor shouted a fourth and final time. “Or Telravarn, or whoever you are now. I yet remain! If you do not defeat me now, you never will!”
The mad demon snarled, hellish rage claiming control of an uncontrollable mind, and the gargantuan Shadowmaster screamed. With Kazsavor’s mask ignited he again could not use any other power, so he plunged his fist down to the surface, casting shockwaves across the planet and shattering a countless number of structures.
The Kritor pulled himself to his knees, dazed. He didn’t know how he’d jumped out of the fist’s path, much less run fast enough to get out of the way, but he forced himself to shake it off. He placed his hands to his mouth again.
“Come now! Surely you--”
Kazsavor gasped and started sprinting for an area not in the shadow of the incoming strike. Once again, he narrowly jumped out of the way before the fist touched down. Kazsavor was unexpectedly reminded of Shadowmaster’s own prior convulsions by the shaking Spherus Magna now underwent.
The hand pulled back and the Kritor Emperor could now observe deep fissures stretching as far as he could see. He glanced once again up at Shadowmaster. This time he didn’t even bother shouting.
“...missed again…”
Shrieking in fury, Shadowmaster’s torso twisted in space. Kazsavor couldn’t tell what was happening as much of his body was hidden by the horizon, but as a gutteral rumbling from beyond eyesight seemed rapidly to approach, and as the very surface of the planet began wrinkling like a blanket, the silhouette of the contorted Entity’s tremendous leg revealed itself in the distance to Kazsavor, and he again charged, fear forcing him to run faster than ever before. The wrinkles of the surface reached their climax, and soon the foot ripped from the ground like a great spirit rising and began its upward ascent, chunks of earth pulled as weightless in its wake. The crater left behind defied any description Kazsavor could apply to it.
But the rumbles didn’t stop; in fact, they grew far stronger. The planet was shaking and trembling violently, and new fissures etched their way along the earth. Kazsavor narrowly jumped out of the way as one ran straight through where he had stood. Daring a glance over the edge, he could swear he saw straight down into Spherus Magna’s core. Dozens of other fissures etched their way along the earth. A cold feeling clutched his heart as he realized this must have been the sight Krevator had seen in his final moments.
He looked to space again. “Shadowmaster and Telravarn! You have shaped worlds, universes, and multiverses both literally and figuratively. But now the time has come for a new order to form, one that will tear down everything that the multiverse has known so far.”
And then--
The Kritor mask turned off
The planet stopped heaving
A portal opened
The fist descended once more
A hand seized Kazsavor
A portal closed
The fist touched down
The planet detonated.
“Your time will come when you have possessed the body of an other much as I speak through this body. Your very mask, your power reversed against you. Your greatest endgame turned on you, and you will descend into the fiery inferno that awaits you.”
Dei ex machinis.
Gods from machines. Machine gods felled by the god over all machines.
What pieces of Telravarn now rested in part of Shadowmaster’s mind glanced to his old body before it was launched and obscured from sight--much like he had seen Krevator’s do the same. The force of the second weaponized Shattering hurled Shadowmaster’s body back violently. As for Shadowmaster, he had positioned himself to block out the light of Solis Magna before, but now he cursed himself for having done so. As the gravity of the sun took over from the force of the explosion, the god’s speed began to accelerate all the more.
As the sun’s blinding light surrounded around Shadowmaster, he couldn’t help but realize the irony. As his body lit on fire, a warmth surrounded him and his life flashed before his eyes. Ethydenius, Eden, the Godly Ones, and Netorrians (whom he now knew the Agency had destroyed), the five Deities whom he had unleashed upon the worlds, those members of the Soulshredders, his legions, and even those puny mortals who had rebelled against him wherever he’d claimed mastery. All cast their condemnation upon him now.
And as for Baron Telravarn, him who had seen the destruction of countless warlords, only one sentence repeated itself in his head, something he had spoken so long ago. But as his life ebbed, he realized it was not his own voice repeating the words. Perhaps it was Krevator, perhaps it was Shadowmaster, perhaps it was Vulf… or perhaps it was one he had never heard until today. Perhaps it was Oblivion itself.
“When you have big fingers,” the voice growled, “It’s easy to break little things.”
What Went Before[]
"When you have big fingers," the janitor repeated, "it's easy to break little things."
There was a long silence after the janitor's story ended. The final sentence hung on the air, like the last note of an orchestral concert that had started slowly at first, but had grown as an avalanche. The young listener, a travelling captain, looked around at their surroundings, an abandoned space station that looked like it had sustained a battle like the ones his current storyteller had spoken off. Indeed, it looked frozen in time, like the walls themselves were buckling under some strain, near to implode--as if waiting for someone to permit it to finish what it had already started. The dust itself hovered still; nothing moved.
He realized then just how much time must have passed as he sat listening. Everything, from tales of ancient multiverse warlords to the story of V Osade to the Broken Order chronicle to this story, the Dimension War, had all been told to him by this janitor here. No doubt the old man was winded, but as the tale seemed unfinished, the young traveler waited on, in silence.
At last the quiet was broken when the old storyteller said
"So, then, my friend. What do you think? Were they gods of machines... Or machines of gods? ‘Deus ex machina,’ in an ancient tongue. Machine gods… or just machines. And who, or what, were the machines, and who, or what, were the gods… or god. But then, it was always an existential story. So, with all the knowledge now set before you… what do you think?
The young traveler pondered for a moment. The dust in the air around them, the remnants of those who had walked these halls, listened on, drawing closer when the listener inhaled to speak.
“I think… I think that it is such a tragic tale. There is nothing more beautiful and terrible than seeing men build vast empires in emptiness, building in vain, bending their backs against something they cannot hope to prevail against. Hopeless in the end. Like sandcastles against the waves. They did everything they could only for each of their empires to be swept away.”
“Indeed, you have caught a glimpse of the heart of this tale like most others could not. This is why I have always liked you… and why I allowed this vision to you. But the Kritors persisted after that. Their machine--their sandcastle, as you so beautifully put it--lived on. Perhaps it was their consciousness of Oblivion that allowed them to survive, at least for the time being.”
“You mean to say this really happened?” inquired the traveler.
“It happened here!” exclaimed the janitor, indicating the space around him. “And in the world around you! Yes, this place is the Crossroads Station I spoke of. This mess, this is of the last battle that took place here, and the final stand the Agency sustained after Baron Telravarn fell. Yes, this wasteland is the catastrophe of men who tried to defy a force greater than they could conceive. Even still the Kritor Empire means to rear its head again. Such is the world we live in now... Because of the defiance of a single king."
"Wait a moment!" the traveler exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Do you mean to say it's still happening?"
"As surely as we live and breathe--why else would the tale be unfinished?” the janitor of Crossroad Station chuckled. “Do you mean to go to them? I am not surprised."
"What do you mean? Should I not go to stop them after what you have told me?"
"No, I think you should. You are meant to. Kazsavor can afford some company in his final moments."
"You should come with me! …What did you say your name was?"
"I am Obli."
"You should come with me!"
The janitor chuckled again and gestured around him. "But don't you see this mess?"
"Nobody cares about this place, it is dead already. Nobody even remembers and the pocket universe will be destroyed soon, certainly if your tale is any indication. You're cleaning in vain."
At this, the old janitor laughed loudly. "Oh, how I will hate to see you go. Oh, the stories I could tell. Still, this mess must be taken care of before I can travel to the Broken Order Universe. But perhaps I may see you on your way out."
"Perhaps," the traveler sighed. "But I think you're making a mistake."
"Go, my friend. Do as your archetype has always done, touching other cultures and learning from them. And I will do as did through the Agency and will continue to do... Cleaning up other people's messes… and taking out the trash."
With that, there was nothing more to be said. The traveler turned, wondering how the janitor could have acted with such familiarity--even greeting him with his name, although he had never introduced himself and they had never met before. Still, that was a small business compared to what lay before him. With all the janitor had told him, everything he now knew, he was well equipped to confront the Kritor Empire and to stop them if they were as defiant as they seemed.
Let us regale the tale of Oblivion’s Game.
Fated to collide since the first of their kind took breath, three malevolent kings sought what could not be accomplished. Three sought to break their own molds, yet found themselves conforming all the more to them.
One, who sought physical immortality by welding pieces of others of himself and other multiversal conquerors to himself.
One, who sought to appease an insatiable religion and a hypocritical populace and lost himself to it.
One, who sought the impossible, to defy Oblivion although none, not even he, had done so before.
Three rival organizations: one that thrived on trust and lies; one driven by genocidal thirst ignited by its high director; one that looked to unite reality in the service of its emperor.
Fate itself had deigned to play with them. Like the playthings of reality, they were destined to collide until the variables aligned and they were unleashed like mad dogs upon each other. Universes fell as gods clashed. And the thing called Peace was forgotten.
Yet even Fate can be bored by its own game.
The devourer of gods, the natural supernatural power, Fate, allowed the cycle to finish and then he, Oblivion, unleashed itself. An emperor and a director fell, then a director and a baron. Many wolves, inspired by the irreverent precedent set by the second director, devoured each other in search of the throne and ruined their Dominion. With its leadership cannibalized, the Agency too was felled. The Dimension War was at an end.
For War can be broken too,
But for as sinister as the Warmongers were, one still had a final design. Though there were three to make war on each other, one of the three fell empires escaped the wrath of its two siblings. The Kritor Empire licked its wounds and then prepared for the final push, the last stage of its purpose.
With no rival to stop it, those who are dedicated to what is Right and True united together, a desperate attempt of the free to defy the pillar of steel. The poison of Oblivion has been injected into the Empire’s blood through the weapons of the Dominion and the Agency, and disaster may still lie in store for it. But ready once more for war, the iron lion rears its head.
And so the universes themselves tremble in anticipation of fearful struggle.
This is the multiverse we live in now.
Because of the defiance, of a single King.
Characters[]
- V Osade Universe
- Ultra Director Polemistis - (mentioned)
- Machitis - (mentioned)
- Olmak
- Head Baron Telravarn
- Baron Karrnot
- Baron Bakreth
- Baron Frentis
- Baron Gorbere
- Baron Terk (or X-2436)
- Baron Waktun
- Baron Berian
- Chief of Operations Cerevena
- Taskforce Officer Derkin
- Taskforce Officer Terrik
- Taskforce Officer Pandrin
- Taskforce Officer Udrek
- Other Taskforce Officers - (mentioned)
- Terp
- Agent Krivosh
- Pohok
- Agent Perla
- Agent Narro
- Narcus
- Agent Tegar - (mentioned)
- Corvin - (mentioned)
- Guards
- Order
- Emperor Krevator
- Emperor Kazsavor
- High Commander Karion
- High Commander Fortag
- High Commander Lorgon
- High Commander Krax
- High Commander Quokus
- High Commander Zorus
- Angonce
- Telravarn
- Kritor variants of the Agency barons
- Derkin
- Terrik
- Pandrin
- Emperor Kragator - (mentioned)
- Helryx - (mentioned)
- Sheriem - (mentioned)
- Osade
- Impeeriumi Osade Universe
- Ultimate Director Su-Polemistis
- Ultimate Director Su-Machitis
- Kragator - (mentioned)
- A V Osade Category Universe
- Ultra Director Polemistis
- Director Spetvedka
- Other Directors
- A V Osade Category Universe
- Warmaster Machitis
- Lykos Farmer
- Mayraka
- Musorik
- Other Polemistis (Consortium of Ultra Directors)
- Other Directors (Various Councils of Directors)
- Various Honor Guards
- Impeeriumi Osade Universe
- Other
- Vulf
- Callah
- Rebellion Alternate Universe
- Telravarn's sympathizers
- "Agency Dispatch"/Krevator's vision
- Krivosh/Cootol - (in a vision)
- Miserix/Polemistis - (in a vision)
- Helryx/Telravarn - (in a vision)
- Arrin/Pacer - (in a vision)
- Kelrik/Zekrim - (in a vision)
- Tobduk/Sheriem - (in a vision)
- Ervik/Likor - (in a vision)
- Order Lieutenant Kragator/Lykos Emperor Paladika - (in a vision)
- Callah/Vulf - (in a vision)
- Koram - (in a vision)
- Pravat - (in a vision)
- Artakha (Broken Order) - (in a vision)
- Karzahni (Broken Order) - (in a vision)
- Heremus (Broken Order) - (in a vision)
- The Soulshredders - (mentioned)
- The Fallen Empire - (mentioned)
- Empire of Shadows - (mentioned)
- The Dark Lord - (in stasis)
- Shadow of Ages - (mentioned)
- Millennium - (in stasis)
- Other
- The Silent Knights - (mentioned)
- Nightwatcher - (mentioned)
- Serrakaan - (in stasis)
- The Corpsian Empire - (mentioned)
- Nihiltidax - (in stasis)
- Eostra Nihiltian - (in stasis)
- The White Kingdom - (mentioned)
- The Cold One - (in stasis)
- Temporal Empire - (mentioned)
- Krataxus - (mentioned)
- Syilon Collective - (mentioned)
- Treknerrok - (in stasis)
- The Zormacht - (mentioned)
- The Initiators - (mentioned)
- Society of Guardians - (mentioned)
- Caller in Darkness - (mentioned)
- Nightwatcher - (mentioned)
- Apoplex - (mentioned)
- Enthydenius - (mentioned)
- Netorrians - (mentioned)
- Godly Ones - (mentioned)
- Eden - (mentioned)
- Godly Ones - (mentioned)
- Cootol - (mentioned)
- Barionk - (mentioned)
- Jareroden - (mentioned)
- Outsiders--Unknown
- The Janitor
- The Traveler
Trivia[]
- 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.