Chapter Text
Alit only by the glow of the shattered moon peering through the open roof, the man stomped his way up the metal staircase. The clacking of his rubber heals against the metal was the loudest sound in the large circular room, offset only by the slight hum of the seven glowing gemstones lying in wait on the mechanical altar at the top of the stairs. Jutting out of the altar like spider legs wrapping its pray in silk webbing were eight mechanical arms attached to large circular pane of glass. The glass peered over the edge of the altar towards the large hole in the metal flooring where dark brown earth was free; it took ages to find this location, but digging a hole straight down would bring you directly to the centre of the world.
The man had no robots with him, no aides, not even the single person he listened to—it was only him, the moon, and the gems alone in his lair. The crisp night air seemed to plea with the man— to beg him to forgo his advancements and to free the gemstones from their sacrificial altar—but he could hear nothing but the blood ringing his veins, and smell nothing but the relaxing scent of his moustache wax.
Ivo Robotnik, PhD, reached the altar and eyed the seven gemstones with fervorous glee. He had no need for his goggles to see in the dark, for the glow from these mythical stones was more than enough to light the path. His gloved fingers reached out towards the gemstones, but didn’t dare touch them directly. He glowered in amusement at his surefire victory. Walking behind the altar, he recounted all he knew about these stones.
The Chaos Emeralds.
Seven ancient gems of unknown origin, each possessing unlimited power. A single emerald could warp time and space to the wielder’s will, could preform nothing less than miracles. But all seven emeralds together had the power to destroy planets, birth stars, and even control gods.
A destroyed planet would do him no good, for he required to planet to live on—and he required the planet remaining whole in order to conquer it himself. And he had no need to birth stars, certainly not when the process would most certainty wipe out all life on the planet, including him. (Robotnik was a man of many titles and many farcical and fantastic claims, but ‘suicidal’ was not one of them.) Controlling gods, however… that was what he desired.
In another world, he would seek his god through a large orbital weapon which would blast the Chaos Emerald’s negative chaos energy right into the heart of the planet, awakening a slumbering god and breaking the world apart. But this Robotnik had no need for orbital weapons, had no need for flashy showmanship that only lured irritating rodents to his location. His altar, based on the designs found on Angel Island, would awaken this god without alerting any hypothetical heroes.
Dark Gaia.
A primordial organism which has existed since the dawn of time. Darkness and night and destruction incarnate. This was the creature Robotnik sought to control. He sought to awaken the king of monsters before the proper time, to force it to obey him and carry out his will. No one—not even pesky G.U.N.—could stop him if he fully controlled dark energy itself.
“It’s almost time,” he muttered to the trapped stones. “This altar will reverse the polarity of the chaos energy produced by the emeralds. I will use this ‘negative’ chaos energy to send targeted beams of energy into the planet’s core, awakening the beast that lies within. This altar, brimming with negative chaos energy, will draw the attend of Dark Gaia—” he whispered the name, like saying it was a taboo that damned the speaker—“who will fall right into my trap. This entire lair is fitted to produce a high energy field that will entrap the beast, and will allow for me to control its power, so long as it remains inside the field.”
Robotnik straightened and brushed dust off his non-existent lapels. “Of course, there are risks to this plan—as there are to any—but I fully believe that this was not fail! After all, I am a genius—and my ingenuity has never failed me before! This plan will work, and I will have the power to force all inhabitants on this planet—mobian, human, even chao—to bend to my will, lest they face my destruction. Then, I will conquer this planet and create my very own world: Robotnikland! That will show them!”
Grinning to himself, for there was no living creature around to witness his glory, Robotnik jabbed his finger down onto the big red button on the control panel at the back of the altar. He cackled as the emeralds floated into the air; he lowered his goggles over his eyes as sparks of energy flickered off each emerald as the machine whirled loudly to life. Robotnik watched in glee as small controlled beams of energy begun to build up in front of each emerald.
They coalesced into one bright beam of energy flicking with unknown power. Lightning arched. The silence that had once only been broken by his steps was shattered by the whirling of the machine, the cackling of power, and the whoosh of the energy as it fired down into the deepest crevasses of the planet.
A hurricane of wind rushed back through the shattered hole made by the beam, throwing Robotnik off the altar and harshly slamming him against the cold metal stairs.
Robotnik awoke not to the snarls and growls of a god of destruction entrapped, but to the soft hum of the Chaos Emeralds. He wasn’t dead, which meant that whatever happened—good or bad—couldn’t have been disastrous. Slowly, he sat up, tenderly rubbing the back of his head right where it had hit against the stairs. Luckily, he had a thick skull; any thinner, and he probably would have died.
There was no god trapped, no hero standing victoriously above him, as he slowly got to his feet. Rather, a small dog-like creature with burgundy and white fur sat on the edge of the altar. The thing’s bronze eyes stared unblinking, unimpressed at the man. Behind it, the seven Chaos Emeralds gently rested on the altar, their glow as bright as ever.
The two stared at each other for one eternal moment, as if the world had stopped turning. The creature’s ear flicked once, and the world began to turn again.
“Who are you?” the man demanded, his voice gruff. He cleared his throat. “How did you get in here? Where’s my god?”
“You were trying to control Dark Gaia,” the creature said, as if answering an unvoiced question. “You tried to wake Dark Gaia before it was time, nearly dooming your world.”
“Hush, you!” Robotnik snapped. “Get off my machine. Get out of here. I have no time for little mobians to intervene. I am trying to build an empire, not babysit!”
“If you had summoned Dark Gaia, then you would have destroyed your planet,” the creature said. “Dark Gaia’s powers are not something you can control—not something anyone can control. It’s my job to stop Dark Gaia and to protect your world. I cannot have someone like you trying to destroy it.”
Although the little creature could be easily crushed beneath his boot, being no larger than the size of a human infant, Robotnik felt a chill run down his back. He had seen many mobians throughout his life, but none that ever looked like this one… was it a dog? No, it couldn’t be—it had wings.
“What are you?” he asked. “How do you know about Dark Gaia?”
The creature smiled at him with too human-esque teeth. “My name is Light Gaia,” he said. “I am light, day, and rebirth incarnate. And I have battled Dark Gaia since the dawn of time.”
“Light Gaia?” Robotnik repeated. “But, that’s impossible! Yes, the Gaia Manuscripts mentioned ‘light shall put out darkness to rout’ but I never thought it would mean a… physical being. Impossible! Yes, this must be a trick—you must be an agent of G.U.N. sent to intervene and distract me from my goal! Well, I won’t have it!”
The creature—this Light Gaia—flew right in front of Robotnik’s face, his wings whirling like an insect’s. Yes, whatever this creature may be… he certainly wasn’t a normal mobian. Part-dog… part-bug? Not Light Gaia, though, that was impossible.
“No,” Light Gaia said, “what I won’t have is you trying to disrupt our cycle. It is my job—my responsibility—to stop Dark Gaia whenever we awake. If you hadn’t awaken me with all that positive chaos energy, then Dark Gaia would have destroyed your world, and I don’t know if I would have been able to stop him.”
The creature reached out with his white paws to touch Robotnik’s face, but the man tried to swat him away. Undeterred, he continued, “To prevent you from doing this again, I will give you a punishment. Human man, you will find yourself reborn everyday as a good person, someone who sees the light in others, and someone who helps against darkness and destruction.”
As he spoke, green energy passed from the creature’s bauble necklace through his arms and hands, and into Robotnik’s face. It was warm, too warm—as if he had been standing beneath the sun for hours, his skin peeling and burning. He screamed, and the pain disappeared as if a merciful god took pity on him.
“It’s done now,” the god said. He flew back a little to give the man space, observing him carefully.
Collapsing to his knees, Robotnik could do nothing but heave in pain as his entire body turned to lead and pleaded with him to rest. Straining to look up at the floating god, he could barely grit out, “What did you do?”
“Light and darkness have always been opposites to each other, and now a dark man like you shall come into the light,” Light Gaia said. “I can only hope that you will learn from your light, and become a man that will be as warmly welcomed as dawn is in the morning.”
Light Gaia watched as the man crumpled onto the stairs, his body taxed far beyond what he could handle. The day incarnate checked that he was still alive, the man’s eyes barely open to see the concerned face of the god that had cursed him. Satisfied, the light faded back into dormancy.
That was the last time Ivo Robotnik would ever see the light of day.