Beginning Editor's Note: I do not claim to own the Bionicle characters or the majority of these plot points. The material here is simply an edited and compiled version of original Bionicle material. Decanonized series, books, guide books, novels, comics, story serials, blogs, etc. have been transcribed in novel form and fully integrated into one chronological read. The poetic liberties of novelization and editing are all I can claim.

Feel free to discuss any questions and feedback on this project, and be sure to keep following/favoriting so you know when a new story or chapter is posted. Reviews are always welcome for reactions, questions, concerns, or general feedback.

These parts constitute material from the story years of 2009 and 2010, constituting what I've called "Phase 08: Revolution."

Enjoy!


Sequel to "Bionicle - Phase 08: Revolution - Part I: A Perfect World"

Tarduk blinked the sweat out of his eyes. Times like this, he wished he didn't have to work in full helmet and armor. But even here, so close to the free city of Atero, it was a little too dangerous to be out in the desert on your own and unprotected. His task here was routine: along with Agori from various villages, Kyry, Crotesius, Scodonius, and Kirbold, he was in Atero to help prepare Arena Magna for the coming Great Tournament. Even with care throughout the year, there was always a need to do minor repairs before Glatorian from all over descended on the place.

Arena Magna was one of the oldest single structures on Bara Magna, and part of the city of Atero. It was originally built long before the Shattering as a site for sports matches and other public events. After the disaster that struck Spherus Magna, it was abandoned for some time. When the Glatorian system came into being, it was decided to use Arena Magna as the site for an annual tournament. The stands in the arena were large enough to accommodate more than 1,000 Agori. It was normal for every resident of Tajun, Iconox, Vulcanus, and Tesara to attend at least part of the tournament. (The Zesk of the Sand Tribe were not welcome at the arena and wouldn't come anyway.)

Arena Magna was built in the center of the Skrall River and could be reached most easily by a bridge on the eastern side. However, now that the river is mainly flowing sand, and not water, it is possible to approach the Arena from other directions as well. Entry was gained through two large gates on the eastern side from the main bridge, although smaller entrances were added later to allow Agori easier access and exit during the tournament. The stadium was built entirely of stone, with six impressive pillars reaching up to the sunny desert sky in a circle around the highest stands. The only exception of the stadium's stone construction was the tournament floor, which was covered with sand.

The city of Atero was the only city where Agori from any village could visit or even live there if they chose. Despite this, its year-round population was extremely small, largely because of its location—the entire area was plagued by Bone Hunters, who didn't hesitate to raid Atero if they knew it was inhabited.

The city was busiest just before the tournament, when Agori from various villages arrived to prepare Arena Magna for use. It was important work, but not always terribly exciting. Most Agori did their duty, though, knowing the reward was a front-row seat for all the matches.

There was something, however, that fascinated Tarduk even more so than the Glatorian matches. So, of course, the Jungle Agori hadn't kept at that work for very long, not when there were ruins not far away that he could explore. Making an excuse about getting some supplies from his wagon, he had slipped out of the city and found a likely spot to dig. It was hard work, and hot work. He could have used a helper, but that wasn't doable. Kyry was much too dedicated to the work in Atero, Kirbold just wanted to get done and get back to Iconox, Scodonius was kind of a creep, and Crotesius he barely knew.

No, he decided, he digs best who digs alone. His tool hit something, buried about four feet down in the sand. Fishing it out, he found it was a square of metal, about twice the size of his hand and obviously broken off of something larger. Inscribed on it was a circle with a much smaller circle inside and at the bottom of it. Tarduk frowned. He had run across things like this before, with similar symbols. He had no idea what they meant, and neither did anyone else, so far as he knew. If they were a language—what language and spoken by whom? It was frustrating, because he had not found enough samples to even begin trying to decipher the symbols.

He turned the piece of metal over, hoping there would be another symbol on the back. Instead, he found something quite different. A map had been scratched into the metal. Some of the places on it he recognized, some he did not. At the bottom of the map was a mountain chain that looked a great deal like the Black Spike Mountains to the north. The features drawn just below the mountains seemed to bear out that it was the same range. Most of the map was areas north of the mountains, though, a region he was not familiar with. All he really knew about it was the Skrall were said to come from there.

At the top of the map, there were two more symbols, but a bit different from the ones he had found before. One was just a mesh of interconnected lines looking almost like a net or a web, with three ovals in the middle. The other was a star. What made that last interesting was that it was the only symbol that was colored on the sheet of metal.

The star was deliberately red.

A red star, thought Tarduk. Whoever heard of such a thing? It was certainly fascinating but impossible to investigate, at least on his own. By traveling northwest, he could skirt the Black Spikes and reach the northern region, but the map indicated raging rivers and other natural hazards along the way. Going up there without aid would be beyond dangerous, and no Glatorian would hire out for the job this close to the Atero tournament.

"Hey!"

Tarduk turned. Crotesius was walking over, looking a little annoyed.

"Are you going to help, or play in the sand? What's that you have?"

Tarduk showed the Vulcanus Agori what he had found. Crotesius didn't bother to take it—just looked at both sides and then shrugged. "So what? It's a piece of junk. Maybe you could use it to patch your wagon, but other than that…"

What a Vorox, muttered Tarduk to himself. Aloud however, he said, "You're probably right. I mean, that red star—what's that all about? After all, everyone knows there's nothing valuable up that way. No hidden treasure, no city, and no Water Stones, nothing."

This, of course, was a tremendous lie, and Tarduk knew that Crotesius would never believe it. In fact, he was counting on that. Rumors flew faster than grains of sand in a sandstorm about what might be to the north. In Iconox, they said the mountains were covered with valuable Exsidian. In Vulcanus, they said there were entire valleys of Water Stones, those valuable rocks that could be split open to reveal pure water inside. As for Tajun, well, they were pretty imaginative there, and the Agori of Tesara just didn't want to even talk about it.

Now Crotesius reached out to take the piece of metal and take a closer look. "You know, if you like, I could take this…um…scrap metal off your hands, maybe you'd like to trade?"

Later on, Tarduk would be unable to explain just why he said what he did. Maybe after years of digging in the sand and finding pieces of a puzzle, but no way to solve it, he had just had enough. If he didn't take a chance, he would never find any answers. "Sure, I'll trade you," he said. "You can have the piece of metal…if you go with me to find that red star, whatever it is."

"Go up there? Are you crazy?" said Crotesius.

"That's the offer," Tarduk said firmly. "We have enough time before the Tournament starts to get there and get back." He actually wasn't sure that was true, but wasn't going to tell Crotesius that. "Think about it," he continued. "What if there's something really valuable up there, something that changes everyone's life in Bara Magna? We'll—I mean, you'll be a hero."

Crotesius smiled. As a vehicle pilot in the arena, he was just one more Agori fighter in a world dominated by Glatorian. But if he did something truly great…well, Raanu wouldn't live forever, maybe he could lead Vulcanus someday.

"Okay Tarduk," Crotesius said. "I guess you can join my expedition, but we're going to need more help. See if you can recruit a few more Agori, without telling them about the star. You know…just keep them in the dark. I've just got a weird feeling about it. And we leave at dawn, before the Tournament starts."

Tarduk walked away, a grin spreading across his face. Sure, he hadn't been completely honest, but sometimes you have to take shortcuts in the pursuit of knowledge, right? Little did Tarduk know that shortcut was about to lead him right into a nightmare.

X X X

Emotions ran high at the Tournament, with each village wanting its Glatorian to win, and fights between Agori have been known to break out in the stands in the past. Excitement hung in the air of Atero for the warriors themselves, too—the Great Tournament was now less than twenty-four hours away. Still, there were those who could not—would not—stop practicing.

"I shouldn't be here," Tarix muttered to himself, blocking a swing of Strakk's axe.

The Ice Glatorian laughed. "Ha! Then I'll beat you quick tomorrow, and you can go home."

The Water Glatorian deflected the axe away, putting space between the two again. "You know what I mean…a trade caravan to my village, Tajun, was wiped out by Bone Hunters. I should be with my people."

Strakk swung again. "One good blow, and I'll knock you back there!"

This time, Tarix stopped the attack overhead by crossing his water blades. "I'm serious," he replied. Scissoring his blades just right, he caught the head of the axe between the two and threw it from Strakk's hand.

"Hey—!"

Tarix chuckled, "Now, who is going to beat who quick?"

Strakk scoffed, his icy, crystal-like shoulder plates shrugging. "What does it matter? As soon as the Skrall show up, they'll stomp all of us…just like they did last year. No one can beat them in the arena."

Tarix sheathed one of his blades and went to retrieve Strakk's axe. "Maybe not…"

"Maybe not? Certainly not!" Strakk answered, his voice raised. "You and Kiina are the only ones who have even come close to beating one. Even Malum lost to them in his hayday."

Tarix picked up the Ice warrior's weapon. "No, I meant—I haven't seen one here yet. Maybe they're not coming? An even better question is: where is Gresh? I haven't seen him since we got here." He walked back over and, holding the weapon by the flat of the blade, handed it to Strakk hilt-first. "Here. It helps if you hang on to this."

"I'll remember," Strakk assured him. "In fact, I'll remember a lot of things."

Tarix simply nodded at the challenge.

X X X

In the light of a lone torch, Gresh side-flipped and swung his shield through the empty air, slicing it clean. Then he rolled and while ducked and rolling, he put away his Thornax launcher, changed his shield into two swords, and sliced outward with them in each hand.

Night had fallen on Bara Magna, and all warriors were eager for the Great Tournament tomorrow. Gresh wasn't done training though, and he had found a secluded spot to continue his moves in privacy.

One of the most famous spots in Arena Magna was the Wall of Champions. The images and names of past tournament winners were carved there. Among the many names included were Certavus (the very first champion), Ackar, Tarix, and Vastus. Every Glatorian wished to see their name inscribed on this wall and some, like Strakk, were willing to do just about anything to win.

A tournament winner could ask for better rewards from his or her village, or from another village if their current one didn't want to pay. Since it was considered a great honor to have a champion working for one's village, Agori would generally find some way to keep a tournament winner happy.

This season, Gresh was determined to make his mark. He was already a skilled combatant, ahead of his time, but after learning to think as much as he fought in the search for the Book of Certavus, and enduring the crossing from Iconox to Vulcanus, he felt like he was a whole new person. So he was here, alone. Only Tarduk joined him, looking on amazed, but confused.

"Do you always practice your battle moves alone?" the Jungle Agori asked.

"I'm not alone," Gresh calmly answered. "You're here." He re-formed his shield and hefted its weight, moving it into different positions around his body, ready to deflect any incoming attack. "I'm not a veteran like Strakk or Tarix. They have one set of moves they let other Glatorian see in practice, and another they use in the arena."

The spry Glatorian performed an agile, hands-free backflip, landing with his shield and launcher ready. "I need to keep mine secret," he explained, next to the torch. "Anyway, why let them know what's coming?"

"Because what's coming could mean the death of them all."

Gresh jumped at the sudden sound—there was no way on Bara Magna that had come from Tarduk. The voice's pitch and inflection, the words used, and the direction of origin revealed it was someone much more sinister, hidden, and even familiar. "Who's there?" Gresh asked, shield raised and launcher aimed.

"Am I forgotten already then?" a fiery being asked, stepping into the farthest reaches of torch light. "Perhaps I lost track of how long I have been an exile…"

"Malum!" Gresh exclaimed. The former Glatorian was not alone, but surrounded by his usual company—a sizable group of Vorox. "No, you just forgot how much of a pain you were to me and my friends during our crossing. Tarduk, get back inside the city."

"But—"

"I said, inside—now!"

"What are you afraid of, Gresh? My friends?" Malum laughed, his red-and-yellow form reflecting the glow of the fire. Somehow, its glint was no longer friendly. "They won't hurt anyone…unless I ask them to."

"And we wouldn't want that to happen," Gresh said, weapons still ready to react. "You know you could face death by coming this close to a village after facing exile. Atero, though not governed by a tribe, still follows that law."

"Death would be a gift to me now, that much I would think is plain to see," Malum growled.

Gresh pointed his Thornax launcher at him. "Really? Then why don't you do it? Give me a reason. You haven't yet, so there must be something keeping you going."

"I could have my Vorox kill you where you stand, boy," Malum said, his eyes darkening in the night, "or I could simply do it in at most as much time. But I am not here to cause harm, but to help you."

"I've heard about your kind of 'help', and had enough of it myself," Gresh retorted.

Malum ignored the comment, instead saying something that, despite his integrity, was intriguing. "There is a storm coming, Glatorian—not a wind storm or a sandstorm, something you can hide from until it has passed," he claimed. "This storm will swallow you whole…you and all your friends, your villages, your people."

Gresh's weapons lowered slightly. "And are you going to help us weather this…storm? Or are you just here to talk?"

Malum turned away, glancing at the sands and the dunes which made up the dark horizon. "Ah, they said I wasn't good enough to fight with the likes of you…they said I was a killer, remember?" Before Gresh could argue, he began stalking away into the darkness. "But I will tell you this…this storm has a name. You and yours will be screaming it before too long, if you don't flee now. Run, Gresh—run fast and hard and hope they don't find you."

With that, the ex-Glatorian and his band of Vorox turned, quickly disappearing into the dark, purple-shaded sands. Gresh, frustrated, whirled and sliced the torch with the edge of his shield. Malum always set him off, though whether it was on purpose or just by nature was unknown to him. He headed back inside Atero's walls, saying to himself, "Sorry to disappoint you, Malum. It may not be true for you anymore, but I'm a Glatorian. And Glatorian don't run."