Devil Before the Devil

[Master Inika]

Devil Before the Devil

 

Introduction

 

The past year for Berix had been... eventful, to say the least. As the Chronicler of New Atero, the capital city of the planet Spherus Magna, it was his duty more than anyone else's to understand the strange events that had transpired on his planet.

 

Once, his home had been known as Bara Magna, and it had been a desolate, apocalyptic waste. Warriors fought in arenas over the remaining resources, a "civilized" alternative to true warfare. In those days, Berix had been a scavenger, though "thief" was what most people thought of him as. All that changed when the Skrall launched their attack, shattering the hard-preserved peace between the tribes. It seemed hopeless... until a shooting star crossed the sky, landing on the outskirts of the village of Vulcanus.

 

It was not a star at all, but a mask: the Kanohi Ignika, the Mask of Life, as Berix had come to know was its true name. The mask--alive, by some mystical force--created a body for itself. Calling himself Mata Nui, the new warrior gathered the squabbling tribes into a single united front. Mata Nui bested Tuma, the fearsome Skrall leader, in single combat.

 

Berix thought, at the time, it was a fitting end to a gripping narrative, but the defeat of Tuma had been only the beginning. Mata Nui had come from another world. Once, he was a giant, impossibly tall, containing within his enormous body a second, smaller universe. His evil enemy, Makuta Teridax, had stolen his godlike body. That was why Mata Nui had been exiled to Bara Magna. Teridax thought Mata Nui would die there.

 

Teridax, occupying the titanic form of Mata Nui, arrived on Bara Magna soon after. His head stretched into the clouds, his footsteps shook the earth. From within the artificial universe, new enemies streamed forth: yellow warriors with searing heat vision, commanded by brutish thugs with tooth-filled grins. But there were heroes, too: Toa, who fought alongside the residents of Bara Magna. With Mata Nui's help, occupying another enormous robot body, the Makuta was defeated once and for all.

 

After the battle, Bara Magna was restored to Spherus Magna, a utopian metropolis. Most people were comfortable putting the brutality of war and want behind them, and focusing on rebuilding their new lives. Not everyone, though, looked ahead so easily. In every generation, there were those whose chief concern was recording a history of the past. One of Spherus Magna's new residents, Turaga Whenua, taught Berix all about being a good Chronicler.

 

"Your purpose is to ensure those who come after know what came before," the small, gray-armored being had advised. "You are to offer facts, not opinions. A good historical record is like a good tunnel--strong and steadfast no matter what happens around it."

 

To that end, Berix had spent the better part of the past months traveling across Spherus Magna, seeking audiences with those who came from the mini-universe. The history of Bara Magna was known well enough; he himself had lived through it. What remained a mystery was what had happened in the mini-universe. How had someone as evil and power-hungry as Makuta come to rule over it in the first place? Why did he crave to rule over other beings, the way others craved food or companionship?

 

He could no longer ask Makuta himself, but in his journeyings, Berix had gleaned a most interesting fact: "Makuta" was a species. Once, there were legions of Makuta, but during the battle between the giants, there were only a small number remaining. The Makuta had organized themselves into a Brotherhood, and had in fact once served Mata Nui before defecting against him.

 

Most interestingly, Teridax had not always been the leader of that Brotherhood. As he usurped Mata Nui, he first usurped another Makuta. His name was spoken by those who remembered it with a mix of fear and respect, but never love. Even though Miserix did not participate in the coup against Mata Nui, most beings shuddered when reciting his name. Even if he were not a cruel tyrant, Miserix was not a being you could sit down and share a meal of Thornax stew with. Even before the coup, within the Brotherhood, Miserix had no friends, only servants and confidants.

 

"Miserix?" Toa Pohatu asked, when Berix inquired about him. "Sure, I know where you can find him. Why would you want to, though?"

 

Berix shrugged. "I'm the Chronicler," he said. "I write down people's stories. Miserix is about the only person on this planet who's story I haven't heard yet."

 

Apparent, in the mini-universe, "Chronicler" was a role of some importance, for Pohatu told him where to find the lonesome Makuta, though Berix could tell from his expression that Pohatu did not want him to actually go.

 

"Berix, wait," Pohatu called as the blue Agori rose to leave Pohatu's chambers. "Let me accompany you, or any of the Toa. Miserix is not a being to be approached alone."

 

Berix considered the Toa's offer. He looked down at his own body, small and weak. If a Makuta was as powerful as he had been told, perhaps seeking out Miserix alone was a bad idea.

 

"I am grateful for the offer, Toa," Berix said with a bow, "but this journey is one I must make alone."

 

Pohatu deferred to the Chronicler's instinct. Berix had interviewed many beings, some less peaceful than others. If there was one thing this job had taught him, it was that everyone had a story, and they were much more likely to give him the real story when there weren't swords or elementally-charged blasters aimed at their heads.

 

With nothing on his being but his satchel, his tablet and a writing stylus, Berix made for the Black Spike Mountains, the reputed hiding place of the elusive Makuta Miserix.

 

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Edited May 15, 2023 by Master Inika

[Master Inika]

Chapter 1

 

Berix was beginning to regret not taking up Toa Pohatu on his offer, if only because Pohatu's Mask of Speed would have made the journey much easier on his feet. A chartered Kaxium had taken him to the outskirts of the mountains, but the terrain was too rough for a chariot to go any further. The mountain range, filled with twisted spires, looked like something out of a nightmare, especially Berix's nightmares. He had been imprisoned here, once before, along with Kiina, until Mata Nui had rescued them.

 

Thinking of Kiina made him think of happier times. He had not had many of those as Chronicler. Most of the things people told him about were matters that weighted them down. Berix had studied the works of previous Chroniclers, and they were rarely happy volumes. Kodan the Chronicler had died rather gruesomely. Takua witnessed his best friend die in front of him, and he himself died soon after. True, both were resurrected, but Toa Jaller and Takanuva still carried a tense sadness to them, when you talked to them long enough. Hahli seemed by far the happiest of the Chroniclers. Kopeke, the current Matoran Chronicler, barely said anything, so it was anyone's guess what was going on his his mind.

 

Berix wondered if he would become as dark to talk to as the others. He always considered himself a happy being. Even when accused of thievery, he liked to think of himself as someone who raised the spirits of those around him.

 

Was that merely the wind howling before him, or some unseen predator?

 

It occurred to Berix that he would likely no longer be the light, carefree being he had once been.

 

---

 

Another hour of walking, and Berix could not tell if he was closer to the summit of the mountain or farther. The Black Spikes stretched toward the sky, dizzying the eyes to behold. Only the Skrall, before being dislodged from the region, knew it well enough to navigate it effectively.

 

Another howl sounded in the distance. It was a creature, then. If Berix was lucky, the creature would be just as afraid of him as he was of it. As long as Berix kept his wits about him and stayed on the path, he should be fine. With the third howl, though, Berix realized there was a mechanical undercurrent to the roar.

 

So, Berix thought, it is one of the beasts from the mini-universe. That makes this much more difficult.

 

Berix regretted not bringing his shield or his water sword. A tool would at least give him a chance at defending himself. Faster than an Agori would ever be able to doge, the tigerlike Rahi beast leapt from his hiding spot straight for Berix.

 

A blast of ice came from another hidden spot, freezing the hunter just as Berix became aware of its presence. The tiger, now frozen solid, would have fallen to the ground and shattered, or struck Berix, had his rescuer not made sure to extend his Ice powers and connect the frozen hunter in place, like a sculpture with a base coming out of the ground.

 

"Toa Kopaka," Berix said with a reverent bow. "Thank you." He knew better than to burden the Toa of Ice with too many words. Toa Kopaka was not Toa Pohatu.

 

The Toa said nothing, simply nodded. His presence no longer a secret, the two walked side by side, Kopaka's footsteps slightly faster than the Agori's, forcing Berix to speed-walk to keep up.

 

"Will the creature be okay?" he asked, after about ten minutes of silent walking. He had never met an Agori or Glatorian as stoic as this Toa.

 

"That Rahi is called a Muaka," Kopaka explained. "I have set my powers to only contain him a short while longer. Then, the ice will melt away, and he will be free to hunt again."

 

Now that the silence had been broken, Berix felt even more awkward saying nothing. "Did Pohatu send you after me?" he asked.

 

"He mentioned you would be coming this way," the Toa of Ice answered. "But I have taken to exploring this region of my own accord. I come from a region of ice, known as Ko-Wahi, and these mountains remind me most of it."

 

"You miss your home?"

 

Kopaka shot Berix a look that let the Agori know he should not ask those kind of questions. But, a moment later, his harsh expression faltered.

 

"Yes, Agori," Kopaka admitted, facing forward and continuing to walk.

 

Berix asked Kopaka if he thought Miserix did in fact reside in the Black Spike Mountains. Kopaka said no. Though he had never penetrated deep into them, he still felt confident he would have noticed something like a rogue Makuta, especially one as unstable as Miserix.

 

"Unstable?" Berix asked.

 

"If the legends are true, he was not always like that," Kopaka explained. "When Teridax first overthrew him, he ordered Miserix to be killed. Another Makuta, Krika, took pity on his former leader and spared his life, secretly imprisoning him within an island volcano instead. Before, Miserix was... aristocratic, you could say. After his millennia-long imprisonment, he came out a little unhinged. He longer cared about honor or loyalty. Nothing mattered to him anymore except getting his revenge on Teridax."

 

Berix would never have heard the being's approach, but Kopaka's acute senses detected the attack of another Muaka. Kopaka whirled around and fired another ice blast, which the catlike beast dodged. Berix began to panic as the Rahi neared, but Kopaka managed to touch the tip of his blade to the beast's body, freezing him solid.

 

Berix took a moment to catch his breath. "Do they always hunt in pairs?" he asked.

 

Kopaka didn't answer at first, instead looking intently at the frozen creature. "No," he answered. "In fact, never."

 

Like most animals from the mini-universe, the Muaka had a mask attacked to its body. Kopaka focused his telescopic lens on the mask, which was obscured by ice. Summoning his power, he removed some of the ice around that area and inspected the mask intently.

 

"This isn't good," Kopaka said under his breath.

 

"What's wrong with his mask?"

 

"It's an infected mask," Kopaka said. "In the wild, Muaka are solitary hunters. Most also aren't foolish enough to go up against a Toa. This means a Makuta's controlling this one, and I imagine the first one, too."

 

Berix's eyes went wide with dread. "But that means..." he said.

 

Kopaka kept his ice blade in his hand as he continued walking forward. "It means Miserix has been watching us."

 

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[Master Inika]

Chapter 2

 

Though his Toa defender remained vigilant the rest of the way, no more creatures harassed the pair as they continued deeper into the Black Spike Mountains. Following Pohatu's directions, Berix came upon the mouth of a cave near the summit, which plunged deep into the mountains. Taking a deep breath, the Water Agori stepped forward, before realizing he now heard only his own footsteps, not Kopaka's.

 

Turning, he saw the Toa still at the cave's entrance, leaning against the wall, with his weapon planted into the snow. The Toa's eyes were closed, but he still seemed to know Berix watched him.

 

"I assume you still wish to face Miserix alone," he said. "Didn't you tell Pohatu you didn't think he'd talk unless you sought him out alone?"

 

Berix thought long and hard how to respond. The Toa seemed to regard the other inhabitants of the mini-universe, the Matoran, as weak and helpless, almost to a condescending degree. Kopaka did not seem to look down on Berix in the same way, even if he did physically look down on him.

 

The Agori thought of the legends of previous Chroniclers. They ventured into unsafe situations, sometimes without Toa escort. And Berix had survived for over 100,000 years without Toa, against Skrall and bone hunters. While Miserix was definitely a league above desert bandits, Berix still reminded himself he was not a defenseless victim.

 

With one final nod Kopaka's way, he made sure he still had his tablet and stylus and proceeded down the cave.

 

---

 

The Black Spikes were naturally dry and cold, but the caves within were wet, with alternating gusts of warm and cool air. Berix hoped the puddles he stepped in were water, too fearful to shine his lightstone down to check. It almost felt as it Miserix was the mountain, and he had tricked Berix into stepping into his mouth. The stalactites seemed like jaws, threatening to snap shut on him.

 

Pohatu's directions had brought him to the cave entrance, but Pohatu had said nothing specific about where to go within. Berix quickly found himself lost in the mazelike tunnels, too turned around to return to the beginning even if he wanted to.

 

He did not want to, he decided. He had a job to do, a story to take down.

 

Somehow, Berix knew the moment he stepped into Miserix's private chambers. There was nothing strongly different, except the size of the space itself. The walls were still dripping with tepid liquid, without signs of habitations. Berix wondered what a being like Miserix would even find to be "homey." Should he expect to see a writing desk, a bed and a storage bin for personal belongings?

 

A pair of piercing green eyes snapped open in the distance, high above Berix. In the low light of the chamber, Berix could see glimpses of sharp, silver teeth.

 

"Identify yourself, Matoran." Miserix's voice was low and rumbly, as if Miserix were still not accustomed to using it.

 

"Berix," Berix replied. "Only, I am not a Matoran." He hoped correcting a being large enough to devour him like a snack would not backfire. "I am an Agori."

 

The green eyes narrowed as another sound came from Miserix's mouth, something like a sigh. "Yes, I see," he said. "I should have known. No Matoran would be brave or foolish enough to seek out a Makuta anyway."

 

Was that sadness Berix detected in Miserix's voice? He would have to wonder later, for the ground shook beneath him as Miserix approached from the total darkness to the slightly more well-lit area around Berix. Miserix towered taller than the tallest rock dragon, clad in spiked red and silver armor. Berix imagined such a being oppressing cities, sitting atop a stash of stolen gold.

 

"I am the Chronicler of New Atero," Berix said, standing tall though he barely cleared the Makuta's foot. "I have already taken down the stories of the heroes of Spherus Magna, the Glatorian and their Toa allies. Now, I seek to preserve the story of its greatest villain, Makuta Teridax. That search has led me to you."

 

Miserix looked down at the small thing. Even after taking a seat on the stony floor, the dragon still loomed over him like a multi-storied building.

 

"Very well, Chronicler," he said. "I will tell you my tale. You will write it down. After you, and even after I, have passed, those who walk this world will not be ignorant of the struggle of Makuta Miserix."

 

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[Master Inika]

Chapter 3

 

Berix got as comfortable as he could on the stone floor, his writing tools in his hands, as the great red dragon began his tale:

 

"There are few beings native to my universe older than I, most of them legendary. Tren Krom, if you have heard whispers of his name, predates me, but that is a boast precious few others may make. I was the first of the Makuta formed by the Great Beings, and by that virtue, their appointed leader. The task which I was to lead them in was the creation of the various beasts who would inhabit the Great Being's new creation. Some among my brethren sought to make their creations as aggressive and dangerous as possible, to strike fear into the hearts of would-be enemies of our Brotherhood, but not I. Fear, like a fire, burns brightly but briefly. Respect, in contrast, remains etched in the hearts of Matoran for eons. I brought to life great reptiles, who surely could wreak havoc on the little settlements of Matoran, but if never given a reason to, were content to keep to themselves and absorb the distant reverence of such lesser beings."

 

Berix etched into the stone tablet, in a shorthand only legible to him, Miserix's words. The Makuta's voice echoed all around him, yet the words were clear in his ears.

 

"As time passed, the duties of the Makuta only grew. Rahi creation became just one of several of our responsibilities. When strife broke out among the inferior races of our world, it was only natural that the noblest of us all, we Makuta, should step in to restore order and fidelity to Mata Nui. We did our jobs well... some would say too well... but let no chronicle accuse us of being lacking in our enforcement of peace. When a self-styled 'league' of upstart warlords sought to oppress the universe, it was the Brotherhood who stopped them. When civil war gripped the Great City of Metru Nui, it was we who put an end to it. No matter where chaos or uncertainty sprang up, it was the Makuta who appeared soon after to meet it. Oh, the Toa played their role... but while they were basking in the cheers of grateful Matoran, it was we who truly did the work of peacekeeping. It was we who did the jobs that idealism stopped the Toa from accomplishing."

 

There were many points Berix wished to ask clarification for, but knew better than to. Miserix was expressing his emotions more than concrete facts, but a good chronicle, Berix knew, contained a blending of both. There would always be time to double-check the hard facts, but Miserix might not be so open to his inner feelings later.

 

"Of course, all us Makuta knew what our power could really do. It ate away at the back of our minds, why do the Matoran give such honor to a distant Great Spirit who cared nothing for them? It was the Brotherhood who preserved the peace of their insignificant little lives, and for our sacrifices, we were treated as monsters, as unwanted boogeymen kept at bay. But it was the order established by the Great Beings, our creators. Children question and strain themselves against proper authority, while old age knows when to bow the neck in submission. While feared, we Makuta had it good. We were respected, if not loved; we were rich, clothed in nigh-supreme power, with legions at our command and great power coursing through our bodies. Only a fool, a wicked, impious fool, would have traded that for the fantasy of something better."

 

"Teridax." Berix could not help himself from whispering the name of the "fool" aloud, but the vastness of the cave amplified his voice.

 

"Yes," Miserix said. Berix could tell by the bob of his emerald eyes that the dragon nodded. "His competence blinded me to his ambition. To a Makuta, to one already given so much, ambition is a poison. This poison coursed through Teridax's veins, back when he had veins. What existed in all of us as a slight, nagging, ever-present but controllable impulse, became an obsession in him. What we, perhaps from the safety of our bedchambers, were content to merely ponder the prospect of, Teridax sought to actually accomplish."

 

"But the putting into motion of his designs, even a fool knew, could not be affected overnight. Years were needed, thousands of them, to oppose his leader so openly. Teridax, though, was as patient as he was ungrateful... while I slept soundly, surrounded by loyal attendants and given fealty by innumerable beings, my most trusted of lieutenants plotted my downfall, counting down the centuries to that fateful day..."

 

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[Master Inika]

Chapter 4

 

Miserix shifted side to side, as if considering turning around and ending the story right there. Whatever came next, Berix knew, was not something the ancient Makuta reflected on with any sort of pride.

 

"When he first called together all the Makuta, and laid out his plan," Miserix rumbled, "I thought it was surely a jest. But, as he kept speaking, I realized with terror that he was all too serious. As soon as that realization gripped me, I should have turned on him the full might of his assembled brothers." He briefly stopped speaking and took in a deep, rueful breath before continuing. "Why didn't I? Why did I give the ear of all my loyal servants to one so explicitly undercutting my authority?"

 

"I would have, it turned out, a very long time to ponder that question. Oh, I was overthrown, dragged away like a piece of armor too damaged to repair, officially to a summary execution. It was only the... pity, I suppose... of one follower, Krika, that spared me from death. But the place I was kept alive proved no less torturous than wherever the dead may go. I was consigned to a makeshift prison within a volcano on a forgotten island, only able to watch, to feel around me, the universe lurch with pain as my one-time lieutenant did all the terrible things he spoke that he would."

 

Miserix said nothing for several long moments, just stared down with his unblinking eyes at the small being before him. Berix dared not say a word. He stopped writing, though he knew what Miserix's sad, listless stare meant. As if in confirmation, Miserix spoke again, dragging his claws along the cave floor as he did, facing away from Berix.

 

"I could have stopped him," he admitted. "I should have, but I had allowed myself to grow complacent. There is nothing that Teridax did, which I did not, through inaction, allow."

 

Berix would have needed to scale a small mountain if he had wanted to put a comforting hand on Miserix's scaly shoulder. Berix wanted to do something for him, though he did not know what. He did not even know if he should, or, if as Kopeke had said in a rare mood of speech, "The Chronicler observes and records, never influences." Even if Miserix was having some sort of episode, at least Kopeke would say, it was not Berix's job to intervene.

 

"But Makuta was eventually defeated," Berix pointed out. "And, as Toa Helryx attested, you helped."

 

Miserix narrowed his eyes on the Agori. "His defeat should never have been necessary," Miserix said, "for Teridax should never have risen. Everywhere I went, in this strange new world, I was either regarded with condescending curiosity, by you and the other natives, or fear of my immense power. But I could find no fellowship with the refugees from my original universe. To all of them, I am either a pariah, guilty by association as a Makuta at all, or worse, I am looked down upon. Pitied. Too weak to have stopped Teridax. Nothing more than his first victim." Miserix spat the word as if it were the worst title a being could bear. "I had a chance to prove myself, to my universe and to the Great Spirit, and I failed. And others perished for my failure. Had I succeeded, I would have been hailed as a god."

 

Something about Miserix's words, and the smile he could faintly see in the darkness as Miserix envisioned himself enthroned, made Berix extremely afraid. Somehow, he knew, had Miserix struck down Teridax before he grew too strong, Miserix himself might have become too arrogant to hold back his own ambition. How strange, Berix imagined, that these shapeshifting beings were once tasked with protecting a universe. He personally much preferred Toa, but he had no reason to tell Miserix that.

 

"I believe I have given you the information you sought," Miserix stated. "My exploits after being freed are readily available; you have already consulted with Toa Helryx of the Order of Mata Nui."

 

The abruptness in the Makuta's voice took the Agori Chronicler by surprise. While it was true that he had all the facts he was looking for, he still felt he did not truly know Miserix.

 

"But since you are here," Miserix continued, "perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany me on a little... soul-searching quest."

 

Berix was about to decline, stepping back for the cave entrance, but the space around him was already beginning to twist and warp as Miserix teleported himself and his Agori captive out of the cave, to a destination of Miserix's choosing.

 

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[Master Inika]

Chapter 5

 

Berix implicitly knew, even before truly taking in his surroundings, that he was within the mini-universe. He had seen it, from the outside, but Toa had cordoned off all entrances. Now within, Berix could see why: black, foul-spelling rain fell from the skies, where a massive "rip" seemed to have formed in the air itself, mingling the real light of Solis Magna with the artificial light within the robot.

 

"Where are we?" he asked, panic entering into his voice. He had, somewhat naively, approached one of the most powerful, mysterious beings in the world expecting a simple interview and nothing more.

 

"This place is called Destral," Miserix said, running a claw along one of the ruined stone buildings. "My old home."

 

Berix took notice on a fragment of wall that had, somehow, remained fairly untouched by the damage inflicted on the island. Though Berix had never seen the image before, he recognized it from descriptions as the Kanohi Kraahkan, the Great Mask of Shadows. Two goatlike horns came from out of the top; deep, serpentine eyeholes dominated the center of the mask, and fanglike guards came out of the sides. The mask was inextricably linked with Makuta Teridax.

 

Miserix was not blind to the icon of evil, either. With a smile, he looked in the same direction and fired a low-level beam of laser vision, shattering the rock. Berix expected the blast to obliterate the image of the Kraahkan, but to his surprise, Miserix had merely revealed another, older icon beneath it: Miserix's own dragonlike mask.

 

"When Teridax first rose to power, I expected his foolishness and arrogance to catch up with him quickly," he said. "By the second or third century, I realized my stay on the island of Artidax was to be more... long-term. What kept me going through those changeless days and nights, with nothing to look forward to but the cries of flying Rahi klakk as I absorbed their essence to keep myself alive? It was the prospect that I might, one day, stroll the noble hallways of Destral once more." He looked down, kicking a stray piece of rubble. "I had no opportunity to return before this world met its end."

 

Were Miserix a less reflective being, should he ever turn his sights on conquering Spherus Magna, he would be a dangerous threat indeed. Still, though, Berix observed, Miserix seemed completely disinterested in anything unrelated to his original role: leading a benign, almost bureaucratic Brotherhood of Makuta.

 

"Agori," he asked, "have you ever felt... your original destiny unfulfilled?"

 

In the sanctity of his mind, honestly, Berix had not. He had spent so long being insulted as a thief that the Chronicler now felt, if anything, far beyond anything he seemed "destined" for. Privately, it struck him (and most of the other natives of Spherus Magna) as odd and a little creepy how obsessed with "destiny" most of the mini-universe residents were. It never seemed to occur to them that whatever force or power doles out these destinies may not be infallible.

 

"I remember the Great Beings," Miserix continued. "Few in my realm recall anything but their faintest whisper, but to me, they spoke directly, outlining the terms of my purpose, the resources at my disposal... and the cost of my failure."

 

Again, Berix did not feel comfortable voicing his true thoughts to a building-sized dragon who could kill him by accidentally stepping on him. But Berix, like most natives of Spherus Magna, did not look to the "Great Destroyers" with such reverence. It was they, after all, who eschewed their own leadership duties onto the Element Lords, who led Spherus Magna in the disastrous and meaningless Core War. Though Berix himself was still trying to put all the pieces together, it was that dreadful conflict, and its 100,000-year aftermath, that made Miserix's existence necessary at all.

 

"You have a second chance," Berix pointed out. Miserix shifted his neck to look down at the Agori. Berix continued: "Teridax never had that. Even if he did, he probably would not have used it. If there is a greater, guiding 'Destiny' out there, it gave you this opportunity."

 

Miserix said nothing at first, just shifted side to side, causing the ground beneath Berix to shift as well. "Perhaps," he conceded, "you are right, Agori."

 

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[Master Inika]

Chapter 6

 

Miserix had kept Berix on the island of Destral, in the ruins of the old Matoran universe, for some hours now. Berix knew better than to rush the crimson dragon. He was, in his own way, working through his issues. As Chronicler, Berix figured, it was actually a privilege to witness it.

 

The Makuta walked along a ruined Brotherhood shipyard, inspecting each vessel carefully. Berix realized, with some dread, that Miserix was appraising the craft for travel. He could teleport, why didn't he just do that again? Why would he actually want to travel through the remains of his old, broken-down universe in an equally damaged boat?

 

Finally, Miserix decided on what appeared to be a hulking transport barge. Once, it might have been a sight to behold, but now it barely looked seaworthy. Ignoring the obvious fact, Miserix began untying the ropes which had not already been undone by the cataclysm, or simply ripping them apart if they were worn enough.

 

"Coming, Agori?" he asked as he boarded. Against his better judgment, Berix followed along, hopping into the barge right as Miserix pushed off. Berix was still wrapping his head around the whole "world inside a giant robot body" thing--in the distance, he could see areas where gravity itself functioned improperly. They looked like rainstorms, only the water was "falling" upward into the sky. Thankfully, Miserix was sane enough to keep away from those reverse-rainstorms.

 

"Where are we going?" Berix finally asked. The ship itself was vast, but most of its belowdecks portions looked like a Skrall dungeon to Berix, so he stayed up with Miserix, where he felt comparatively safe.

 

"We visited one of my former homes," Miserix said. "I should like to show you another."

 

Berix felt something form in his throat, but still managed to get out a response: "Your volcano prison."

 

The great dragon smiled. "You catch on fast, Chronicler," he said. "I must, before this world collapses completely, see it one final time, on my terms."

 

Perhaps Miserix was not so sane after all. Berix personally had no desire to once again see Roxtus where he had once been imprisoned. He did not know what Miserix wished to accomplish by visiting his former prison once again.

 

The remains of the Matoran universe reminded Berix of Bara Magna, right after the Shattering. The technology surrounding him, on Destral and visible from the other islands they passed, looked otherworldly, but also far too damaged to actually use. It was much the same wandering Bara Magna in those treacherous early years. While that region had always been the most rural of Spherus Magna, even the domain of the Sand Tribe, at their height, enjoyed luxuries that were unheard of by the height of the arena system. So far, the entire Matoran universe was kept off-limits by rotating guard squads of Toa and Glatorian. No civilians were allowed to enter, for it was too dangerous.

 

An airship moved up ahead in the distance. Berix and Miserix both knew to hide themselves. Their ship was ramshackle enough to be dismissed as unoccupied. The airship was one of the Order of Mata Nui's, patrolling for illegal treasure-seekers. Fortunately, few were foolish enough to enter the collapsing universe, for most items of value had already been removed.

 

Once the airship was gone, another sea vessel appeared in the distance. Berix narrowed his eyes at the fog on he horizon, and realized there were actually multiple crafts approaching theirs.

 

"Um, Miserix?" he said.

 

"I see them," the Makuta replied. "They are the only beings to insist on staying here and not evacuating."

 

"I don't suppose turning around is an option," the Agori asked.

 

Miserix laughed. "I came here to visit Artidax," he declared. "I intend on reaching that island. Stick close to me if you want to live."

 

Without awaiting the Agori's answer, Miserix leaned forward, shifting the controls and sending the boat propelling faster toward their enemy.

 

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[Master Inika]

Chapter 7

 

The horde of tall, long-faced reptilians screeched a horrible, mechanical sound as their ramshackle fleet fired Kanoka disks and Rhotuka spinners at Miserix's barge. Fortunately, the disks had long since used up their actual powers, but their value as solid projectiles would still, if sustained long enough, threaten to sink their boat. The Rhotuka spinners were more problematic, already disabling some of the ship's own weaponry.

 

Fortunately, Berix reminded himself, he was traveling alongside a walking, talking weapons platform 40 feet tall. Though Berix knew Miserix contained a thinking mind inside his bestial head, his roar was more spine-chilling than that of their attackers. Miserix fired bolts of plasma, lightning, poison and pure darkness from his claws, supplemented by heat vision from his eyes and power scream from his powerful jaws. A few of the enemy boats were able to evade, but most of them sank quickly before such a terrible onslaught. More and more emerged from the mist, though. Their fleet was larger than Berix had expected. Miserix, though, just smiled, apparently appreciating the challenge.

 

Calling off his physical attacks, Miserix raised his claws to the sky, causing one of the enemy boats to rise up into the air. Their occupants screeched impotently as Miserix brought the craft down upon another, and neither boat returned to the surface. Amidst the chaos, one lone boat managed to speed ahead of the others, nearing Miserix and Berix's boat. Miserix simply focused his gaze upon them, and, with nothing else, that boat broke its course, returning back to the safety of the mist.

 

"Did you see that, Chronicler?" Miserix bellowed with pride. "I hope that move makes it into your chronicle! How a horde of monstrous Zyglak cowered before the might of Makuta Miserix!"

 

Berix was not sure if the dragon was being serious. Upon thinking it over, he realized, even if he wanted to, he could never truly capture the scope and awe of the conflict. Miserix summoned a cyclone and dispersed the fog, revealing the full size of the enemy fleet, about a dozen boats in all. Then, rising into the air, Miserix grew in size, greater and greater, until he would be able to crush the entire Zyglak fleet--and his own boat as well--beneath a single foot. Howling with fear, the Zyglak dispersed, some going one way, some going another.

 

Then, a moment later, Miserix was once again his (comparatively) small size, roughly the size of the building instead of an island.

 

"How did you like that, Chronicler?" he asked. "Have you ever witnessed such command over the power of illusion?"

 

"It was impressive," Berix agreed. "When we return to Spherus Magna," he said gently, "you could make a great hero."

 

The dragon, who moments ago felled enemies as lightly as a Matoran might play a game, did not respond. Sorrow flashed over his face, the sorrow of bearing immense power to elicit fear, but none to gain the true desires of one's heart.

 

"I do not plan on returning, Agori," Miserix admitted. "Worry not, I shall return you. But I have not just come to pay brief respects. I fear that, so long have I languished on that sorrowful island, I have forgotten how to live anywhere else."

 

"But, Miserix!"

 

"Do not try convincing me overwise," Miserix stated. "I have no Teridax to gain vengeance upon, and thus no fire left to fuel a life among others. Prepare yourself, for we approach Artidax, from which I hope to never leave."

 

In the distance, growing in size, Berix saw the island: black sand surrounding a volcano whose size would petrify him did he not know it were neutralized. It was a depressing enough place to visit. Berix could not imagine residing there permanently.

 

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[Master Inika]

Chapter 8

 

The grains of black sand that composed the shoreline of Artidax impaled the organic elements of Berix's feet, but he tried to ignore it. It was no worse than walking along the Bara Magna desert. Besides, with Miserix's announcement of his intention to remain on Artidax forever, the pain on his soles was far from Berix's mind.

 

"Are you insane?" Berix objected. "You can't stay here forever, it's... it's..."

 

"Unlivable?" Miserix offered. "Inhospitable? Too alien to imagine calling home? That, Agori, is how I view your 'Spherus Magna.' I do not belong among the your civilization. Perhaps I never did. These walls, the remnants of the chains that held me... they are all I know. I broke from them, liberated by the Order of Mata Nui, to defeat Teridax. That role has been filled, and for all my might and power, it was not I who delivered the killing blow."

 

Berix thought of how to respond, but no words came to mind. In some ways, Miserix seemed so impossibly ancient, a living fossil of a more elegant and aristocratic age. Berix had to remind himself that he was, in fact, older than the dragon by a matter of thousands of years. In another sense, though, Miserix did seemed older, but not in the sense of being more civilized. Rather, the dragon seemed primordial, unevolved, foundational. A remnant of an era before advancement and civilization, a blood-bound worldview of hunger and pain that Berix's technological mind could not possibly hope to do verbal battle with.

 

"Are you lost in thought, trying to think of a response, Agori?" Miserix asked, his tone scathing. "Where I come from, Chroniclers record, they do not argue."

 

Berix could do nothing but look down at his sapphire-armored feet. Miserix lumbered forward, settling himself where he once sat as a prisoner. Though the physical chains no longer bound him, mental chains kept the dragon from stepping forward a single bio. With a wave of his hand, a portal appeared behind Berix. Through it, warped and twisted by the violation of space-time, Berix saw the skyline of New Atero.

 

"Go, Agori," Miserix demanded. "Leave before I change my mind, and you find yourself a permanent resident of this forgotten realm alongside me. Go, and tell my story, if you must. Only leave me in peace, and do not burden yourself with fears and concerns beyond your inferior station."

 

The portal was already beginning to close. Berix could not say with certainty if the Makuta was serious about trapping him on Artidax too, but he found himself suddenly once again hyperaware of the dozens of little black points digging into the soft portions of his feet. Miserix might have been able to tolerate this stygian island, but Berix could not.

 

Berix stepped through the portal, but not before turning back one last time to tell the dragon:

 

"You can come back whenever you wish."

 

---

 

Berix did not remain long enough to see the Makuta's reaction. He feared the dragon would have scowled at him. In any case, the Makuta had made his view on the matter known clearly enough. It was no power of Berix's or anyone else's that kept him there, it was his alone.

 

Wandering the streets of New Atero once again, the futuristic city looked foreign and eerie to him. He smiled, realizing that too long spent wandering forgotten ruins threatens to ruin the mind of the wanderer as well. Returning to his abode, he sat down at his desk, stylus in hand, to take down the chronicle of Makuta Miserix:

 

The story of the Restoration of Spherus Magna contains many characters, most of them either heroes or villains. And yet, between those brave and noble as Ackar or Toa Tahu and those cunning and devious as Tuma or Karzahni are the few to a category all their own, who transcend any categorization imposed upon them. Makuta Miserix was one such player. Before the evil Makuta Teridax, Miserix ruled the Brotherhood of Makuta, performing their duties efficiently for thousands of years. He was betrayed, though, and his path set far beyond what could have been supposed by even the Great Beings.

 

Thought dead, consigned to an island prison, released far too late for his sanity to be regained, Miserix was a being clothed in immense power, old when his universe was young, but who forces into the mind of this Chronicler a burning question: what good is power, honor, pedigree, when there is no purpose toward which to direct it?

 

To Be Continued...

 

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