The battlefield, littered with Skrall corpses, fell into an eerie silence as Marcus and Tahu stared each other down. The heat from Tahu’s aura visibly rippled through the air, distorting the space between them like a shimmering veil. Golden light reflected off his mask and pommel, his sword burning white-hot in his grip.
Marcus swallowed hard, feeling more fear now than he had even against the Skrall. He wasn’t a Toa. He wasn’t a warrior. He was just a small Matoran. Yet here he was, standing before a legend.
Latias hovered beside him, glancing warily between the two.
“Marcus… we should face him together,” she whispered urgently.
“No,” Marcus said immediately with a raise of his hand to hold her back, not taking his eyes off Tahu. “I’m sorry, Latias… but this is between me and him.”
Latias frowned. “But—”
“Go,” he insisted firmly. “You need time to recover. This is my fight.”
She hesitated, her wings fluttering. But deep down, she knew he was right—she couldn’t handle much more fighting for now, her lungs were screaming at her to take a breather. And while every instinct told her not to leave his side, something in Marcus’s tone made her want to obey him. To trust that he could handle this.
“…Please, just be careful, Marcus. I… I can’t lose you again,” she finally said softly before turning and soaring off toward the others.
Marcus exhaled sharply, gripping his sword as the glow of the two falling moons cast long shadows over the ruins of the battlefield. He wasn’t sure if he could win. He wasn’t sure if he could even survive.
But that didn’t matter.
Because this fight was inevitable.
At the same time, Takanuva stood by, his grip tightened around the final piece of the golden armor. His Kanohi Avohkii gleamed under the shadow of the twin moons, but the fire in Tahu’s eyes burned even brighter as he held out his hand expectantly towards the Toa of Light.
“Hand me my armor, Takua.”
At first, Takanuva thought he misheard him, but his words couldn't be more clear. His former Matoran name still hung in the air like a lingering ember, its heat scorching deeper than any flame. He felt something tighten in his chest—not just offense, but disrespect. After everything, after all they had been through, after Takanuva had ascended beyond what he once was, Tahu still only saw him as the clumsy little Matoran chronicler, the one who trailed behind the real heroes, who watched instead of fought.
“Oh… your armor?” Takanuva asked sharply, his golden eyes narrowed.
Tahu tilted his head at the Toa’s question, sensing a hint of defiance. “That armor belongs to me. You know that. Hand it over, now. I won’t ask again.”
Takanuva clenched his jaw. He did know. He knew what the golden armor meant, knew what it could do. But at this moment, with the way Tahu commanded him… he couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut.
For the first time in his life as a Toa, he wondered if Tahu had ever truly seen him as an equal.
“Why do you hesitate?!” Tahu spat impatiently, his eyes burning. “Hmph… I see how it is, then. You may look like a Toa, but you really are still the same foolish little chronicler on the inside!”
Takanuva barely had a moment to react. One second, Tahu stood some distance away from him, fury burning in his eyes. The next, he was a streak of fire hurtling through the field, flames surging from his feet as he aimed to rip the golden armor piece from Takanuva’s hands by force.
“And you’re not the same hero I once followed!” Takanuva shot back as he defensively held out his staff and pulled the armor away. His voice was defiant, but there was a deep sorrow behind it.
The moment Tahu closed in, fire roaring around him, he swung his fiery sword to cut the traitor down. But to his surprise, it was met with a blinding spark, the sheer force of the impact sending a shockwave through the battlefield. When his vision cleared, he saw his blade colliding against a thin golden sword, held by none other than that Matoran who had started all of this.
The heat from Tahu’s weapon nearly overwhelmed Marcus on the spot, but he held firm. Digging his feet into the sandy earth, Marcus pushed back with everything he had. The Toa of Fire skidded back, momentarily repelled, his eyes narrowing in rage and disbelief.
Takanuva, still gripping his piece of the golden armor, made his choice in that instant. If either of them had the heart of a true Toa, it was no longer Tahu.
“Don’t make me regret this!”
With that, he hurled the piece toward Marcus. Time seemed to slow as the Matoran’s hands closed around it—his fourth piece of the legendary armor, now securely in his grasp.
Tahu’s fury ignited into an inferno. His entire body burned like a star, his voice a deep, enraged growl.
“You—!”
Marcus tightened his grip on the golden piece, breathing heavily. His eyes met Tahu’s, shooting him a cocky smile.
“Yeah,” he said with a wink. “Me.”
The fragment shimmered, as if recognizing him as its master before it melted into a viscous liquid, flowing along his arm and fusing seamlessly into the golden armor already bound to his body.
Marcus’s heart pounded as Delta’s voice echoed in his mind:.
“Another piece... our power grows, Marcus... Can you feel it?”
Marcus’s muscle tissue tensed as the surge of energy coursed through him, greater than anything he had felt before. For a moment, his senses sharpened to an unsettling degree. The world around him seemed to slow, the crackling flames and the clashing of titans becoming distant, muted beneath the storm roaring inside him.
Four pieces. He had four now.
‘Hell yeah, I can feel it,’ he thought, cracking his fist.
Tahu staggered back, his red armor flickering in the light of his burning sword as he took in what had just happened. The flames around him flared higher, driven by his growing fury.
“You dare claim what was meant for me?!” Tahu snarled, his voice crackling like the flames that embodied his sword.
Marcus clenched his fists, his breath steady despite the power raging through him. The golden armor hummed against his body, but it was different this time. The more pieces he claimed, the more he could feel Delta blending with him, stronger and clearer, the lines between them beginning to blur.
“I didn’t claim anything,” he said, cracking his neck. “I’m just keeping it out of the wrong hands.”
Tahu’s flames seethed brighter, casting long, jagged shadows across the battlefield.
“There is no wrong,” he growled. “There is only destiny, and you’re standing in the way of mine!”
“Then come and take it,” Marcus said, raising his blade. As the golden energy surged through him, his sword began to change by Delta’s will. The once thin and sleek weapon expanded, widening into a fearsome broadsword. Its edges became jagged, crackling with raw energy—resembling both the chaotic strikes of lightning and the flickering tongues of fire. The blade pulsed with a molten glow, shifting unpredictably between radiant gold and searing neon green, as if forged from the very forces of creation itself.
Marcus felt the weight of it—not just in his hands, but in his soul. The power of four pieces of the golden armor was his to wield, but it was also something alive, something volatile. Delta’s voice resonated through him.
"As your power evolves, so too will your burdens. Wield them well, or they may break you."
Tahu’s eyes locked onto the transformed blade, his grip on his flame sword tightening. The sight of Marcus standing there—golden, radiant, more powerful than any mere Matoran should be—only deepened his fury.
“You’re not destined for that power!” Tahu yelled, as flames curled around him, his rage manifesting into heat that distorted the air.
Marcus lifted his new blade, the energy within it coursing like a living storm as he siphoned his lightning-charged plasma energy into it. The ground beneath him cracked from the new aura radiating from his body.
“Destiny this, destiny that,” Marcus scoffed, scowling with conviction as he stared down the raging Toa. “I don’t know if destiny is real or not… but if it is, I’m not letting someone like you ever have any say over what I do with mine.”
A long and tense silence stretched between them—then, in a flash of fire and gold, they charged.
As Marcus and Tahu’s swords met in rapid, thunderous strikes, the sheer force of their duel sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Sparks of green lightning and roaring flames illuminated the sky as the two combatants moved with such speed that even their audience struggled to keep up.
Off to the side, Latias hovered anxiously, her keen eyes darting between the two. She could barely track their movements; their blinding speeds and devastating blows left behind only brief afterimages of their forms. Her heart pounded with worry as she could only watch and wait for the outcome. Marcus had quickly become strong in his own right, but Tahu was a hardened Toa with an explosive temper, a warrior who had fought and won battles that shaped history itself.
Jaclyn crossed his arms, analyzing the fight with quiet intensity. “I’m still a bit lost… Why is this Tahu going after Marcus? If he’s a Toa, isn’t he supposed to be on our side?”
Cobalt narrowed his eyes, ears twitching. “He’s not himself.”
Nearby, the remaining Toa Mahri and Toa Gali stood in tense silence, watching their longtime leader fight with unrelenting fury. Hahli’s fists clenched at her sides, her heart torn.
“This… this isn’t like him,” she murmured. “The Toa Tahu I know wouldn’t do this. Not without reason.”
“I don’t see any reason in him anymore,” Hewkii countered, gripping his spear. “I just see a Toa ready to tear apart someone half his size.”
Kongu frowned, unease flickering in his eyes. “Hm… that fire-spitter’s never been calm-easy, but this is like he’s storm-crazed!”
Nuparu adjusted his grip on his shield. “It doesn’t matter what’s gotten into him—we need to stop this before one of them gets killed!”
They were all, however, equally hesitant to step in as Toa Gali remained silent. Unlike the others, she didn’t just see her brother’s rage—she felt it, an overwhelming storm of anger and pain radiating from him like an unrelenting heatwave. Something was feeding his fury, pushing him beyond reason. She stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Tahu…”
The ground beneath them cracked with every impact of the two warriors' blades, the heat of their battle so intense that even from a distance, those watching could feel it. The uncertainty in the air was suffocating; no one knew exactly who to root for, nor could they shake the growing fear that by the time this was over, there might not be a victor at all.
Marcus swung his massive golden broadsword with all his might, aiming straight for Tahu’s torso. But before the strike could land, a shimmering red energy flared to life around Tahu—a nearly invisible pink barrier, a wall of pure defense. Marcus’s blade struck the shield with a sharp clang, the impact sending a jarring vibration up his arms, but Tahu didn’t even flinch.
The Toa of Fire smirked. “You’ll have to do better than that, little Matoran.”
Marcus hissed in frustration. “Oh, come on! That’s not fair!”
Tahu chuckled confidently. “The perks of being a Toa!”
"All power has its limits,” Delta’s voice echoed in Marcus’s mind. “That’s his Kanohi Hau, Mask of Shielding. But he can’t keep that shield up forever, so just keep pressing him if you have to. Whittle him down, and eventually, his mask power will start to wane."
Marcus exhaled sharply, shaking out his arms. “Alright, let’s test that theory.”
Without hesitation, he lunged forward, feinting left before pivoting into a powerful upward slash. Again, the shimmering shield flared, stopping the attack yet again. But Marcus wasn’t discouraged this time—he immediately followed with another strike, and another, forcing Tahu to keep activating his mask’s protection.
Each time the Hau’s barrier flickered, Marcus could see it wasn’t as instantaneous as before. It’s working.
“Persistent little guy, aren’t you?” Tahu scowled, clearly becoming annoyed.
Marcus grinned. “You have no idea.”
With renewed confidence, he kept up the assault, determined to break through.
Tahu struck back relentlessly, each one backed by a force so intense that even with the strength of his Pakari, Marcus felt his arms shake with every block. Flames erupted from every swing of Tahu’s sword, scorching the air between them. As Marcus matched him strike for strike, Tahu’s blazing eyes flickered toward something on the ground nearby.
“Well, would you look at that?” he mused with a smirk. “The fallen hero.”
Marcus followed Tahu’s gaze and felt his heart clench. Matoro’s body lay still where Latias had gently set him down, his mask forever frozen in silence.
“He was a hero. More than you are. Toa Matoro died protecting Latias,” Marcus said in offense, his voice firm but strained as his fists clenched around his sword’s grip.
“That was his mistake,” Tahu scoffed. He turned his gaze back to Marcus, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “But it’s not like anything of value was lost. After all, he was just a Toa of Ice.”
Marcus felt something inside him snap, his stance lowering as his fury boiled over. But Delta’s voice reached out to him.
"Easy, he’s trying to break your focus. If you lose control, you could lose the fight."
Marcus inhaled sharply, forcing himself to steady his thoughts. Tahu wanted him to get angry, to act on emotion instead of skill. He couldn’t afford to play into it. Instead, he exhaled and met Tahu’s next strike with calculated precision, deflecting the blow rather than absorbing its force head-on.
Tahu growled in frustration. “Fight me properly, coward!”
"Stay in control," Delta urged.
Marcus adjusted his stance, his mind clearing. Tahu’s rage made him powerful, but it also made him reckless. And reckless opponents could be beaten.
Tahu’s smirk faded as he watched Marcus slow his breathing, regaining his composure. The fire in Marcus’s eyes dimmed—not gone, but controlled. Tahu’s grip on his sword tightened.
“You have the gall to hold back against me?” Tahu growled. “You think this is a game? You think you can play at being a Toa, when you’re just a Matoran with stolen power? MY power?!”
Marcus said nothing, only raising his sword again, stance firm.
Tahu’s fury boiled over. “If you think you’re so strong, then fight me with everything you’ve got!” He said as a sickly red glow pulsed from his palm.
Before Marcus could understand what had happened, a wave of invisible energy surged over him. His heartlight flickered red, and suddenly… it was all gone. Every thought, every restraint, every ounce of control had been ripped away.
Only a raw, all-consuming fury took its place.
Marcus’s vision turned red. His heart pounded in his chest, but not with fear—only rage. His jaw clenched so hard they ached. His fingers curled into fists, his body shaking with unrelenting hatred.
“That’s more like it!” Tahu sneered as he felt the power of the Kraata of Anger take hold.
“You… FUCKING… BASTARD!!!”
With an animalistic roar, Marcus lunged forward, swinging his massive golden sword with reckless abandon. Tahu met him head-on, their blades colliding in a blinding flare of fire and plasma.
Gone was Marcus’s strategy. Gone was his focus. He was a force of destruction now, attacking with sheer, unrelenting aggression. His strikes came fast and brutal, each one intended to kill.
The others watching—Latias, Cobalt, Jaclyn, the Toa— all felt a shiver of unease. This was not the Marcus they knew.
And Tahu laughed.
“Now this is a fight! Come at me!”
The battle between Marcus and Tahu escalated to a new, dangerous level. As their swords clashed again, Tahu grinned with malicious satisfaction, clearly feeding off the energy of their fight. He raised his arms in a sweeping motion, calling on the full fury of his Kraata power of Cyclone.
"I’ll send you to Karzahni! Feel the wrath of my flames!"
Suddenly, the wind around them began to stir violently, picking up speed as a cyclone of fire erupted from the ground beneath them. Tahu’s eyes gleamed with madness as he forced the fire into a rapidly spinning vortex, a swirling mass of heat and destruction that began pulling everything in its path toward the center.
Marcus felt his body pulled forward, and despite his attempts to dig his heels into the ground, the force of the cyclone yanked him helplessly into it. The heat of the flames scorched his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his footing, but the wind was relentless. He could feel the pull of the vortex growing stronger, pulling him closer to the center, where the inferno threatened to consume him whole.
“Delta!” Marcus called out desperately, struggling against the crushing pull of the cyclone as well as the anger consuming his thoughts. “Be fucking useful for once, dammit!”
“Use your Gravity, Marcus,” Delta's voice responded, calm but insistent. “Ground yourself. Think of Latias. Calm… calm...”
Understanding what Delta meant, Marcus closed his eyes and focused his energy, concentrating on imagining that beautiful feathered dragon watching him from a distance. His golden armor shifted, glowing brighter as he adjusted his weight. Slowly, he pushed back against the force of the cyclone, using his gravity manipulation to pull himself down and anchor himself to the ground as the anger within him finally dispelled. The vortex continued to swirl violently, but now Marcus was firmly rooted in place as he did his best to ignore it. His feet felt heavier, more connected to the earth, while the fire still raged around him—but no longer within him.
Tahu, seeing that his foe was no longer being tossed about the firestorm, let out an angry snarl. He gathered the full intensity of his fire powers, raising his sword high above his head. “Let’s see how long you last in this!”
With a single downward motion, Tahu directed all of his energy into the vortex, feeding it with massive amounts of fire. The firestorm exploded with terrifying force, transforming into a massive, whirling fire tornado that screamed across the battlefield. The white-hot flames twisted and writhed, growing higher and brighter by the second, an inferno that could melt anything in its path.
“Marcus!” cried Latias, certain that he would be burnt to a crisp.
* * *
High above the battlefield, beyond the reach of mortal struggles, Mata Nui observed. His vast awareness stretched across the land, but his focus narrowed upon a single, raging inferno—a spiraling tower of fire that tore through the battlefield like a blazing pillar of wrath. At its core, a lone figure was trapped, struggling against the searing heat.
Mata Nui’s gaze shifted to the one responsible. He could feel Toa Tahu’s presence, burning hotter than ever—too hot, in fact. But a darkness twisted within his spirit, tangled with the power he wielded. Tahu was no longer the hero Mata Nui had once entrusted, nor the noble protector who had carried the weight of his people’s survival.
A quiet disappointment settled within the Great Spirit.
‘This is not the destiny I had hoped for you, Tahu.’
And yet, destiny was ever-changing. Even now, Mata Nui sensed another presence—a tiny but defiant spark standing against the inferno. An underdog warrior clad in gold, fighting for survival against impossible odds.
Mata Nui blocked a punch from Makuta and watched above as the moons fell ever closer, waiting to see what destiny had in store for them all.
* * *
Marcus watched as the wall of fire closed in on him, the heat unbearable, the burning flames threatening to scorch him alive. His heart raced, but Delta’s voice rang out again, steady and sharp.
“Remember, plasma is….”
Marcus’s mind cleared for a moment, the realization hitting him like a shockwave.
“...Hotter than fire.”
He raised his golden sword high above his head, channeling all of his energy into the plasma coursing through him. His weapon crackled with intensity as the temperature around him surged, his body glowing with raw power.
Marcus thrust his sword forward, unleashing a concentrated beam of plasma directly into the tornado. The beam of pure energy sliced through the swirling inferno like a knife through butter, sending a shockwave of energy that rippled outward and dispelled the fire cyclone in an instant.
Tahu staggered back, caught off guard by the sheer force of Marcus’s plasma beam.
“No typical Matoran could ever have this kind of power…” he wondered, the faintest hint of fear in his eyes. “...Just what is he?”
Marcus stood there, breathing heavily, his armor charred and glowing with heat, but his face set with unwavering determination. The battlefield around them was silent, save for the crackling embers of Tahu’s failed firestorm.
But as the smoke cleared, Marcus’s eyes narrowed. He had learned something crucial in that moment: no matter how powerful Tahu seemed, he had the means to overcome him. The Toa of Fire had only just now seen his plasma abilities first-hand.
As the fierce battle between Marcus and Tahu continued before the spectators, Latias hovered anxiously, grinding her claws together.
"How long?" she thought aloud with worry. “How long can he last for?”
She felt a metal hand rest on her shoulder.
“Marcus is still standing,” Gali reassured her. “Have faith.”
Takanuva, who had been gripping his staff tightly, finally spoke, his voice grave. “Our brother’s lost himself… and I should have stopped this before it got this far.”
Latias turned to him. “So do you believe us now? About our run-in with him before?”
Takanuva exhaled sharply, eyes still locked on his former idol. “I should have realized something was wrong the moment I saw him. I wanted to believe he was still the same hero we looked up to… but that’s not him anymore.” His gaze hardened. “I still have to believe Tahu can be saved. But if Marcus doesn’t stop him here… I don’t think anyone will.”
As if on cue, Tahu unleashed a devastating wave of fire, the battlefield erupting in flames. Latias flinched but refused to look away.
Jaclyn glanced at Cobalt. “We’re just going to sit here and watch?”
Cobalt shook his head, frowning. “If we jump in to help, we’re just giving Tahu more targets. Marcus told Latias to stay out of this for a reason.”
Latias clutched her clawed hands together, her heart pounding.
‘Marcus… please win.’
As their battle raged on, Tahu suddenly planted his feet, his crimson armor radiating with an eerie, unnatural energy. Marcus prepared for another fire-based attack, but instead, the air around him shifted. The battlefield darkened unnaturally, shadows stretching and twisting, swallowing the dim light that remained. The golden glow of Marcus’s armor flickered, struggling against the encroaching abyss.
Then it struck.
A chilling sensation, deeper than any physical wound, sank into Marcus’s mind. His pulse quickened and his breathing grew shallow as his thoughts became clouded with doubt. Every mistake he’d made, every moment of weakness, replayed in his mind. The fear crept in like a living thing, slithering into his core.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Tahu said with cruel amusement. “The weight of your insignificance.”
Marcus clenched his fists, trying to force himself to move, but his body refused. It was as if invisible chains had wrapped around him, tightening with every breath.
“You were never meant to be here,” Tahu continued, stepping forward. “A Matoran playing hero… do you really think you can hold a candle against me?” His eyes glowed with an unnatural darkness, and with a wave of his hand, the shadows deepened, the fear intensifying tenfold. “You can put an end to all of this… I will leave you and your friends alone… just give me my armor. It should be an easy decision.”
Marcus dropped to one knee, his sword shaking in his grip. His heart pounded against his chest, each beat echoing the doubt taking hold of him. He could barely hear Delta’s voice through the storm in his mind.
"Marcus! This isn’t real—it's his power! Fight it!"
Tahu’s eyes glowed with a sinister light as he raised his hand, his Kraata-infused power surging forth. A wave of suffocating darkness enveloped Marcus, sinking into his mind like an inescapable abyss. His golden armor dulled, its light struggling against the overwhelming pressures of Fear and Darkness. His breath quivered as the battlefield around him twisted and warped, fading into a nightmarish illusion.
Suddenly, Marcus was no longer standing in the fight—he was all alone. The sky above him was pure white, the ground beneath his feet cracked and lifeless like blackened charcoal. Around him lay the scattered remains of his allies, their bodies motionless, their eyes empty. Latias was among them, her feathers dulled, her vibrant red now a sickly gray. Cobalt and Jaclyn lay nearby, bloodied and lifeless. The Toa were obsidian statues of failure, frozen in defeat as a massive black tower loomed over them all.
A cruel laugh echoed through the void as Tahu’s voice slithered into his mind.
“You were never meant to stand among us,” he mocked. “You are not a Toa, not a warrior, and not a hero. You were powerless before, and you are just as powerless now.”
Marcus gritted his teeth, trying to move, but the illusion held him in place, forcing him to bear witness to the nightmares. He clenched his fists, trying to summon his power, but nothing came—his golden armor felt hollow, empty, as if it had abandoned him completely.
Then, he heard it.
A voice, gentle yet firm, cutting through the suffocating darkness.
"Marcus!”
Latias’s Dragon Cheer rang through the void, clear as day.
"Don’t listen to him!"
Then another voice. "Get up, Master! Win!"
"Don’t let him get in your head!" said another.
The illusion wavered, cracks forming in the darkness. The voices of the Toa Mahri joined in, each calling out to him, their belief in him breaking through Tahu’s control.
Marcus gasped as a surge of light ignited within his chest, growing stronger with each voice that called to him. His armor flickered, then burned brightly once more, the golden glow pushing back against the horrors.
He shut his eyes and focused, calling upon the golden energy within him. The golden armor pulsed, resisting the oppressive darkness, and suddenly, a burst of radiant light erupted from his body, pushing back the encroaching fear.
Then he heard Delta.
“Kick his fucking ass.”
Tahu’s illusion shattered.
The battlefield returned, and Marcus stood once more, his sword clenched tightly in his hand, eyes blazing with renewed determination. He locked eyes with Tahu, who scowled in frustration.
"You’re wrong," Marcus said, his voice steady. "I’m not powerless. I have them.”
He looked to Latias and the others.
“And I will stop you."
Tahu scowled, clearly displeased. “So, you do have some fight in you after all.”
Marcus gripped his sword tighter. “Yeah, and you’ll have to do better than all these cheap tricks you’ve been pulling.”
“My pleasure,” Tahu replied. And with that, he lunged, the battle raging on once more. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity, and before Marcus could react, he unleashed his heat vision, a powerful beam of concentrated energy that erupted from his eyes, aiming directly at Marcus.
With a sharp, decisive motion, the Matoran pointed his golden sword at Tahu, redirecting the plasma coursing through him. A beam of pure energy shot out of the tip, colliding with Tahu's heat vision in a brilliant explosion of light. The two beams collided in the air, crackling and sizzling in a stalemate.
Tahu’s face twisted with fury, and he gritted his teeth as he pushed harder, his body glowing with the energy of his anger.
“I will not lose to you!” Marcus yelled out with conviction in his voice.
Tahu smirked, his eyes alight with dark fire.
“You cannot win against me!”
They broke the stalemate, both preparing their final gambit with everything they had left. Their swords began to glow with the intensity of their power, the flames of Tahu’s sword scorching the air, while the jagged edges of Marcus’s golden broadsword flickered like lightning-bolts.
Tahu used his firepower to rocket himself forward from his feet, propelling himself toward Marcus with incredible speed as the heat from his flames left scorch marks in the earth behind him.
Marcus mirrored Tahu’s move, his own feet launching him off the ground with plasma energy as he surged forward to meet his opponent.
They each aimed their swords towards the other, ready to finish this fight once and for all.
“RAAAAHH!!!”
The two clashed in midair, their elemental powers colliding with such force that the earth beneath them cracked, sending shockwaves through the entire desert.
A hush fell over the battlefield as the two opponents stood inches apart, their swords thrust forward. The dust swirled, the ground trembled, and every onlooker held their breath, unable to tell who had landed the winning blow.
But then, the Toa of Fire let out a sudden, mocking chuckle.
Marcus looked down at his blade, heart sank as the realization hit him.
His sword had touched Tahu’s heartlight dead-on, with no Shielding power in his way… but even then, he hadn’t been wounded. In fact, there wasn’t even so much as a scratch on him.
The towering Toa of Fire stood tall, unharmed, the glowing golden blade of Marcus’s sword now resting uselessly against his armor. A cruel smile curled across Tahu’s mask as he looked at the Matoran’s expression with amusement in his eyes.
“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times!” Tahu’s voice rang out with condescension. “A Matoran, standing against a Toa? Give me a break. For the last time, you can’t ever hope to beat me!”
Marcus stood frozen, his sword shaking visible in his hand, the shock of the moment paralyzing him. Even with all the powers Marcus had gained today, how could Tahu be so impervious to everything he had thrown at him? His chest heaved, his breath ragged. He had given everything to this fight—every ounce of power, every last drop of energy—but it had been futile.
“I… I don’t understand,” he whispered, “I-I thought…”
“You thought what, that you were the main character of this chronicle?!” Tahu laughed. “I’ve been trying to warn you, but it’s like you’re completely incapable of listening! So allow me to enlighten you, Marcus.” His eyes narrowed as he touched his heartlight, which emitted a black-and-gold energy. “This is the Kraata power of Invulnerability. The moment I killed that Rahkshi and took this power, your fate was sealed. I can't be killed, and this battle was decided before it even started.”
Marcus’s heart raced in his chest, panic setting in as his thoughts scrambled. “No... that can’t be!” he shouted, trying to force the words past the lump in his throat. “This isn’t fair! This isn’t how it’s supposed to end!”
Tahu only laughed again.
“Fair? You really think there’s such a thing as fairness in this world? You’re either destined for greatness, or you’re not.”
Tahu's words hit Marcus hard, his mind racing as his thoughts coped with the truth of the situation. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he fought, maybe he really was nothing more than an insect to a Toa like Tahu. He would never be strong enough. He had hoped, truly believed that he could be the one who would save the day. But now, faced with Tahu’s impossible power, those hopes crumbled, one by one.
Latias, Cobalt, and the Toa Mahri watched from a distance, their faces filled with confusion and growing fear.
As Marcus stood frozen, the weight of Tahu’s words pressing down on him, a sudden flicker of motion caught his eye.
Without warning, Jaclyn had activated her Teleport, disappearing in an instant and reappearing right behind Tahu. Before he even knew she was there, she used Thief to detach the golden pommel from the hilt of Tahu’s sword, snatching it from his grasp as effortlessly as plucking fruit from a tree.
Tahu’s eyes snapped wide open in shock, his reflexes far too slow to prevent the theft. “What?!”
But Jaclyn was already tossing the pommel toward Marcus, the small but powerful object gleaming in the air as it flew toward him. Marcus’s instincts kicked in, and without thinking, he reached out, snatching it from midair just as the energy surged through him.
For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stop, Matoro’s dying words resounding in his memory.
“You’re destined for great things.”
A powerful surge of golden energy coursed through Marcus’s body as the pommel merged with the other pieces of armor, a new wave of heat and strength rushing through him. The golden armor shimmered and reformed, becoming even more intricate, responding to the energy now flowing through Marcus’s veins.
Tahu’s eyes flickered with disbelief and rage as he glanced down at his now-empty sword hilt, realizing what had just happened.
“NO-!” Tahu began, seething with fury.
But Marcus didn’t wait for Tahu to finish his thought. His fingers stretched as he reached out as far as he could, the golden energy swirling around him, his mind sharp with focus. He knew that even if he couldn’t kill Tahu, not with the invulnerability that had rendered the Toa practically untouchable. But he didn’t need to. He never did. He never wanted to kill. All he needed was one final piece to this puzzle. The final piece that would change everything.
Without hesitation, Marcus reached for Tahu’s golden mask.
As a single fingertip brushed against the surface, a strange, magnetic pull surged through him. The moment he made contact, his fingers absorbed the Kanohi’s golden essence; the energy of the final piece pumped through his veins, merging with the five others that now powered his form. The golden mask itself melted in his grip, becoming a part of him as it fused seamlessly into his armor.
Tahu's eyes widened in horror, his face contorting with rage as he realized what had just happened.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" he roared, his voice shaking with fury.
But the final piece, his last source of limitless power, was gone. He weakly reached out in desperation, but he fell to his knees, his strength fading away by the second.
“You’ve… doomed us all…”
Marcus, feeling the immense surge of energy coursing through his body, let the golden armor wrap him completely. A strange sensation began to pulse within him, but it was unlike anything he had felt before. The very fabric of space, time, the entire universe seemed to ripple around him.
His vision began to blur and then… nothing.
Only an empty void that swallowed him whole.
He felt weightless. Distant. The sounds of the battlefield—the clashing of the two giant robots, the distant roars of Skrall and Rahkshi, the shouts of his friends—faded into pure silence.
For a moment, Marcus remained suspended in that void, as if all of existence had paused. No thoughts. No movement. No feeling. Just pure, endless darkness.
And within the depths of that blackness… something ancient and terrible began to stir.
