Chapter Six

The whirling tornado at last died down, dwindling away into mere breezes that gently flew through the upside down Le-Metru. Before long, they became indistinguishable from the small wisps of air that had entered through the open ceiling. But the damage had already been done, the already unstable foundation of the city shaken further by the winds. The buildings gently swayed like towering trees, looming overhead and casting a dark shadow.

To Orkahm, it was oddly reminiscent of the strong trees of Le-Koro. While anyone else may have been threatened by the unstable stalactites, Orkahm found some comfort in the disorder that nature brought, and the humble accommodations he had been able to make for himself.

Even when nature proved to be a threat, Orkahm found a way to make it into a home.

“Looks like we got inside just in time,” Gresh remarked, rubbing his head. He looked around the barren room. “What is this place?”

Orkahm hummed with curiosity as he examined the room. “It's an old Kanoka stronghold, I think. Nuhrii and I stocked up on some disks from another one closer to the Tower.”

Gresh lit up. “Well, let's stock up, then! Can't hurt to have some on hand.”

Poking around the room, Orkahm shook his head. “Can't. Looks like someone quick-beat us to it.”

“One of the salvage teams, maybe?”

As Orkahm looked closer, he noticed more and more oddities about the building they resided in. The door they had entered through seemed to have been pried open by force, not by any traditional salvage tool. The floor was dotted with small dents, in a similar pattern to footprints.

“No,” Orkahm said, as realization washed over him. “It was the Vahki.”

Gresh’s eyes widened. “Well, glad they're taken care of, then.”

“Yeah,” Orkahm replied, before turning his gaze back out the window. “That wind is strong. Haven’t even seen Toa Lewa make a gust that bad. And Kongu would have his work cut out for him, trying to brave that storm.”

Gresh narrowed his eyes, before shaking his head. “Kongu, Lewa… I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure to meet them yet. Ackar’s had Tahu to talk with, and those two are great together. They get a lot done, and they’ve learned a bit from each other’s stories. Gali and Kiina are pretty different, but they seem to enjoy each other’s company…” He trailed off for a second, reminiscing on his times listening in on his teammate’s meetings with the Toa Nuva. “I wish I got to talk with an air Toa. Maybe one of them could’ve given me some advice.”

Orkahm nodded slowly, sympathising with Gresh’s plight. “Well, there’s still Iruini! I don’t close-know him, but he seems to be brave-Toa!”

“I actually just missed him!” Gresh chuckled, somewhat amused by his own misfortune. “We were supposed to have a sparring match a few days ago, but I had to–”

Suddenly, a crack opened in the floor that hung above the pair, interrupting them. Gresh was quick to grab Orkahm and duck out of the way, just as the building’s floor shattered into pieces beneath a hulking figure. Sliding across the floor, the Glatorian set down Orkahm, and turned back. Before him, there stood a hulking crimson Rahkshi, digging its staff into the ceiling.

“Turahk,” Orkahm said, as though the name were a curse. “One of the Rahkshi, they attacked strong-tree Le-Koro on the island.”

Gresh grimaced, and split his shield into twin blades. “I’m not sure how kindly you take to pests back in Le-Koro,” he said, drawing back his blades, “but I’ll be happy to demonstrate a Tesara welcome.”

At once, Gresh swung forward, flailing wildly to overwhelm the Rahkshi. But Turahk was unfazed, striking back with a blast of fear energy that shook Gresh to the core. The Glatorian did his best to fight it, but he could hardly stand.

Dodging out of the way of their battle, Orkahm took notice of the satchel that had fallen to the side. Sneaking over on all fours, he cautiously flipped it open, and examined the interior. Within the satchel, there was a bundle of spiky fruits, golden in color with a black band around each.

“Ew, overripe fruit,” the Matoran sighed. “That’s no help. Unless we want to kill the Rahkshi’s sniff-smell.” With a groan, he dismissively tossed it over his shoulder, hoping to scour the bag for anything more helpful.

As Gresh trembled, blades locked against the Rahkshi’s staff, he spotted a flying Thornax fruit out of the corner of his eye. Thinking fast, he jumped backwards, just as the fruit collided with the head of the Rahkshi, and immediately exploded. He slammed hard into the wall, propelled by the blast, but aside from some bruises, he was mostly unharmed.

The Turahk, on the other hand, bore the brunt of the explosion, ripping apart its armor in a ball of flame.

Orkahm heard the explosion and watched as the building shuddered. Turning around, he saw Gresh lying on the floor, just beside a mostly limbless Rahkshi. The one mechanical leg that the suit still had flopped around limp, desperately trying to move. One of its eyes had shattered, giving a glimpse at the Kraata inside.

Gresh panted, slowly recovering from the attack, and turned to Orkahm. “How… how did you know about the Thornax?” he asked, breathing heavily between each word.

Orkahm looked clueless, before glancing to the satchel. “The fruit?” He shrugged. “I was toss-leaving it. What happened?”

Gresh sighed in relief. “Those are explosive. Be a bit more careful next time.”

“Indeed,” came a robotic voice from behind them, “you must be more careful”.

The two turned in unison, jumping back as an azure and white armored Rahkshi crawled in through the window. Unlike the previous Rahkshi they had encountered, there was no dramatics to this one’s entrance, it came in as though it were always expected.

“Another one,” Gresh sighed.

Strangely, the Rahkshi did not attack, instead looking to the fallen Turahk with a demeanor that seemed to convey sadness, as though a Rahkshi were capable of such an emotion. “Invader,” the Rahkshi spoke, in the language of the Matoran.

Orkahm seemed visibly shaken by the words, startled that a Rahkshi could be talking. Gresh was taken aback too, but stood his ground. “I don’t want any more trouble,” he warned. “Just walk away, and leave the Matoran alone.”

The Rahkshi snarled in curiosity. It leaned over slightly, taking note of the Matoran standing next to him. “You… protect it?” the Rahkshi asked.

After hearing the Rahkshi call him ‘it’, Orkahm silently began reaching for another Thornax fruit.

“I have,” Gresh continued, “it’s my duty.”

“Duty,” the Rahkshi pondered. Then, its hands tightened around its staff. “My duty… your death.”

“Hey!” Orkahm shouted, winding back his arm with a Thornax fruit in hand. “Attack him, you beast, and I’ll fruit-blast you to pieces!”

The Rahkshi cocked its head to the side. “I am no beast. I am called Barahk.”

“I don’t care,” Orkahm shot back. “Maybe you’re quick-smarter than the average Rahkshi, but you’re still Makutaspawn.”

Gresh leapt backwards just as Orkahm chucked the Thornax fruit through the air. It barreled towards its target, only to slow to a halt, floating in midair just before it reached its face. Barahk’s eyes glowed as it beheld the fruit, before grabbing it, and sending it flying back. The pair ducked low, just as the wall behind them exploded to pieces. All Gresh could do was retrieve the satchel in one hand, holding Orkahm in the other as the two were flung into the adjacent wall.

Slumped down against the wall, Gresh did what he could to rise, but found no energy to do so. Orkahm, on the other hand, began to move forward, only to halt at the Rahkshi’s approach.

“Makuta…” Barahk said, in an almost wistful tone. “The city belongs to Makuta. You are invaders. He orders your death.”

Orkahm lunged forward, only to be halted by a flick of the Rahkshi’s wrist. Within an instant, an invisible force of energy sent him flying upwards into the tunnels.

“Orkahm!” Gresh groaned, raising up one of his blades, only for Barahk to grab it, forcing it back. With its other hand, it grabbed Gresh by the face and leaned in. Its face panels opened up, and the purple Kraata within hissed viciously. It didn’t seem to attack, only staring Gresh in the eyes.

Gresh stared back, confused. The Kraata was unsettling to look at, but it wasn’t doing any harm.

“Mask…” Barahk said, seemingly confused.

“Helmet,” Gresh grunted.

“Helmet,” repeated Barahk, closing its faceplate. “You cannot serve Makuta.”

Instantaneously, Gresh shot up into the air, crashing into the underground tunnels.

After watching with glee as the two vanished into the darkness, Barahk knelt down beside its fallen ally. “Come, brother,” it muttered in the Rahkshi’s tongue, holding a hand out for the Kraata to come forward. “Let me repair your broken body.”

As it held the Kraata in its arms, Barahk stood up, ready to depart, but a sudden sound gave it pause. Through the window of the building, the green armored Lerahk entered, frantically chattering a warning to its leader.

“Invaders,” Barahk said aloud, repeating the Rahkshi’s warning in the Matoran tongue. Slowly, it approached the window of the building, and beheld it. A pillar of fire was erupting in the sky above Ta-Metru, flowing out like a volcano down onto the streets below.

It would be nothing but a minor inconvenience for the plan, of course, but if the intruders were capable of something like this, then it would be best to intervene sooner rather than later.

So Barahk did just that.

✴        ✴        ✴

Ta-Metru was burning.

In Metru Nui’s prime, an overwhelming heat would’ve been commonplace, the kind of temperatures only tolerable by Ta-Matoran. But the fiery storm that was coalescing over the dilapidated city now was too much even for Nuhrii to handle.

As he and Ackar took cover inside a downed metal vat, he looked around at the fiery rain that pattered the ground, rapidly melting through the ice and metal. The fire was washing over the city in a baptismal inferno, and soon, there would be nothing left.

“We need to get out of here,” Ackar muttered, his eyes not leaving the fire outside. “Pretty soon, it’ll–”

“No,” Nuhrii interjected. “It was you trying to get us out of here that started this mess. If you hadn’t come here, trying to drag us away, the city would still be standing.”

Ackar turned to him. “You know that’s not fair. You would’ve been stuck here with the Rahkshi, and–”

“And we would have handled it!” Nuhrii barked, swatting at Ackar with his fist. “Toa, Glatorian, you’re all the same! Always dragging us around and putting us in danger! Well, no more! We have our home again! We don’t need you!”

Ackar opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Looking out on the city consumed by fire, he found it difficult to argue with Nuhrii’s assessment. He had destroyed this place.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I–”

He stopped, as a metal clang echoed from behind him. Wary of the source of the sound, he backed away into the opening of the metal container, drawing his sword as he did. Nuhrii slowly followed suit, but never took his eyes away from Ackar.

As they backed up to the bottom of the metallic vat, the pair listened sharply. Another metal clang resounded, then another, slowly picking up in frequency. It soon became apparent that these were not mere sounds, but footsteps.

“Another Rahkshi?” Nuhrii asked. “Not much more damage they could do.”

Ackar shushed him, his eyes trained on the opening.

Slowly, the head of another Rahkshi peeked through the fissure, peering from over the top of the container. Its two claws slowly gripped the edge, climbing down to stand guard at the outside of the vat, before standing tall, blocking the exit.

“Back away,” Ackar warned it, holding forward his flame sword. “We don’t want a fight. We just want to leave.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nuhrii groaned under his breath.

The Rahkshi hummed with curiosity. “More invaders,” it sighed. “No time.”

Ackar’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know they could talk,” he muttered.

Nuhrii shook his head. “They’re not supposed to.”

Without another word, the Rahkshi flicked its wrist dismissively in their direction, before turning away.

Nothing could have prepared Ackar for what happened next. He gripped tightly onto the hilt of his sword, preparing for an attack from the Rahkhsi, but none came. Instead, he felt himself thrown off balance as the vat slowly rose up into the air, and a field of purple energy surrounded it.

Ackar stammered, unsure of what to make of what was happening. He made his way over to the exit of the container, but as he peered out of the opening, it was too late to take action. The city streets were growing farther and farther away, and a fall from this height would prove deadly.

As Nuhrii held onto the side of the container for safety, a realization slowly dawned on him, as the knowledge of the Rahkshi breeds he had learned from Tehutti rushed back into his mind.

“Gravity,” he said, “the Rahkshi’s power is–”

Without warning, the vat suddenly dropped, plummeting downwards at incredible speeds. But they were not plummeting to the floor of Metru Nui, no, gravity had resumed its normal effect for them. They were falling a much further distance down to the sea of protodermis below.

Nuhrii crashed into Ackar as he fell to the back of the container, helpless to do anything but watch and scream as the city he had taken refuge in was ripped away from him, shrinking away in the distance.

✴        ✴        ✴

The sea of protodermis was at peace, a rare constant among the ruins of Metru Nui. For those in the city, it was the sky, watching overhead and never changing. For those down below, it was the sea, a pool of liquid holding unlimited secrets.

Whenua walked along a pile of scrap that acted like a beach, looking out upon a pool of water that acted like an ocean. For how much of Metru Nui’s ruins had been uncomfortably familiar, this was something he was happy to notice a difference in. The artificial coast was just one of the ways that the city had changed since Makuta’s fall, forced to adapt to its new state.

Looking over to his side, he spotted Tehutti and Ehrye, walking at their own pace down the beach. While he was hoping for some solitude, he knew that the two Matoran only meant to comfort him with their presence, so he accepted their company.

They mean well, the Turaga reminded himself. I shouldn’t have snapped at them. They couldn’t understand what this city put us through.

He looked back up to the city, carefully examining the maze of ruined streets that waited above. His old home, Onu-Metru, had taken the brunt of the fall, becoming a caved in ruin of buildings fallen upon buildings. Ta-Metru had become a victim of a molten protodermis leak, Le-Metru was tormented by windstorms, and the other districts all had their own myriad of problems. Whenua only hoped that the Glatorian and Matoran were staying safe up in the city.

He scanned the streets carefully, hoping to spot any movement. But while he didn’t see any sign of the Matoran or Glatorian, he did spot something very unusual. There were two objects diving through the air, falling to the ground from the city above.

Confused, he narrowed his eyes, trying to parse what he could see through the limited starlight seeping in. The distinctive shape of two figures flying towards the ground slowly became apparent, and the Turaga’s eyes went wide with shock.

“Rahkshi!” he exclaimed, stumbling to his feet and running towards the Matoran as fast as he could. “Take cover!”

Tehutti and Ehrye looked up and saw them, a Vohrak and a Kuhrak diving down from the city, their crimson eyes locked onto each of them. They scampered to their feet, rushing over to the rubble and digging through to find something to defend themselves with.

As Whenua looked back, the two Rahkshi were closing in, skimming across the waters of the protodermis sea. At last, the two touched down on the coast, each slamming their staffs into the ground. The Kuhrak was the first to move, gripping its staff tightly as it slowly marched towards the Turaga.

Whenua didn’t move an inch. “I don’t know why you’re here, beast,” he said through gritted teeth. “But if you harm one mask on their heads, you will answer to me.”

The Rahkshi hissed in reply, unfazed by the threat. It raised its staff up, preparing to strike at the Turaga.

But out of nowhere, the Rahkshi’s attack was interrupted by a mechanical fist striking it in the face with a fierce uppercut. Kuhrak was left dazed, before another fist struck its chin, dislodging the head from the suit of armor. With nothing holding it in place, the Kraata that controlled it was sent flying out, leaving the armor to collapse lifelessly to its knees.

Both Whenua and the Vohrak turned their heads in confusion. Standing behind the Turaga was a mechanical suit of armor, one that had clearly been pieced together with scrap parts and spare metal. It seemed to resemble the Boxor machines, and was undoubtedly made with some of the same pieces, but it was far more spindly, standing up on two thin legs and letting its massive fists drag close to the ground.

In the cockpit of the strange machine was Berix, who looked incredibly proud of himself. He turned to give a smug wink to Tehutti and Ehrye, who were watching his advances with awe, before turning back to face the Vohrak.

“Alright, Rahkshi,” the Agori said, marching the machine forward. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The Vohrak didn’t stay for long. After blocking one punch from Berix’s machine, it darted off to the side, scooping the fallen Kraata off of the ground, before rocketing back up towards the city.

Berix shrugged. “Well, that was easier than I thought!”

Whena shook his head. “On the contrary. I fear we’re far from done.”

Tehutti pondered these words, doing what he could to reconcile them with his knowledge of the Archives. “Why would a Rahkshi still be here?” he asked. “I thought Tahu destroyed the last of them.”

“I don’t know,” the Turaga replied. “What I do know is that it didn’t behave like a wild Rahkshi. This one has a master, and it seems that whoever that is just called it home.” He turned to Berix, and eyed up the machine. “What is this?”

Berix hit a button on the console, and the windshield opened up, letting him step down. “It’s a… I don’t quite have a name for it. But I made it with some parts that were lying around.”

Tehutti scoffed. “It looks like you tried to put together a Boxor with the instructions upside down.”

“I’m sorry,” Berix continued, ignoring the Onu-Matoran’s remark. “I know you said not to, but–”

“Never mind that,” Whenua retorted, slowly examining the machine. The engineering was far different from Nuparu’s, but it made for a powerful creation. “You built this… all by yourself?”

Berix stammered, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, yeah. I’ve seen a lot of broken machines, and after a while, you start seeing how they’re supposed to go together. And once you figure that out, you figure out how to make something new from the pieces of something old.”

Whenua let the words sink in for a moment, and the feeling of dread that had accompanied him into the city seemed to dwindle, if only for a moment.

“What happens now?” Ehrye asked.

The Turaga paused for a second. For as much as he had tried to keep the Matoran safe, it seemed that they had found themselves in harm’s way once more. If he couldn’t protect them, then he could at least help them protect themselves.

“As I feared, there’s something more sinister waiting for us in the city,” he said. “I fear that our friends may be in much more danger than I had thought.” He turned to Berix, and slightly smiled. “This machine you’ve put together could come to aid us, just as it did against those Rahkshi.”

Ehrye looked at the Turaga with curiosity, before he spotted something in the corner of his eye. Turning to face it, he looked upwards, and gasped. “Turaga, look!”

Whenua looked over to where the Matoran was pointing. Something else was falling from the city, but this time, it was no Rahkshi. This time, a large metal vat was falling through the air, before collapsing into the sea with a massive crash.

✴        ✴        ✴

The peaceful sea of protodermis was now restless, disturbed by a crashing metal object falling from Ta-Metru. Waves began to form, creating an uneven surface over the silvery lake. As the downed metal container drifted to the depths and collapsed to the dome below, the ocean slowly returned to its state of stillness, only to be disturbed once again as Ackar broke through the waves.

Panting and shivering, Ackar groaned as he held Nuhrii’s unconscious body above the surface. Darting his head around, he spotted an old transport floating on the waves. It was damaged, but it floated, which was all he needed. Breathlessly, Ackar began kicking to tread water, and leaned over to bring the Matoran to dry land.

Before long, Ackar hoisted Nuhrii onto the vessel, finding a small cargo hatch on the side to take refuge in. Once the Matoran was safe, he climbed in next to him, collapsing to the floor in an instant. Discarded tools and scrap metal clattered to the side as he cleared a space for himself. He was cold and exhausted, but he was alive. They were both alive.

Nuhrii coughed, jolting awake at last. Standing up, he rushed around to get a glimpse at his surroundings. The cargo bay they were in was filled with tools and Kanohi masks, many of them scattered around on the floor. By the looks of it, this transport was once meant to haul supplies to Matoran mask makers.

Up above, the Great Furnace churned on, depositing molten protodermis into the city streets. The artificial gravity had kept the city working, but now, it had spelled its own demise. The ice and metal were slowly being consumed by an all encompassing inferno, slowly sinking down into the pit of magma the city had become.

Nuhrii’s hands clenched in fists of rage. Once more, the village of fire was being destroyed. As his yellow eyes stared deep into the crimson magma, a fire sparked deep within him.

“My home,” he muttered. “You Toa… always bringing your battles to my home…”

Ackar sat up. Looking to the south, he spotted the gap in the metallic hull that he and his fellow Glatorian had entered through, and pointed to it. “There. If we can make it there, we can get–”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Nuhrii erupted. “This was supposed to be home! I’ve had to leave home behind before, I’m not going to do it again!”

“Nuhrii, listen,” Ackar said, slowly rising to his feet. “The Rahkshi did this. We still can stop them, if we just… If we work together.”

Nuhrii paid no attention to Ackar’s words. Leaning over, he found a bladed tool on the ground, and picked it up. The tool was large and unwieldy, requiring two hands to wield and sporting a buzzsaw on one end. It was almost too long for him to carry, but he hoisted it over his shoulder with little issue. Cautiously, Ackar reached for the sword holstered on his back.

Turning to face Ackar, Nuhrii’s mask was now completely covered in a dark, rusty substance. His once bright yellow eyes flashed crimson red, scowling at Ackar. His hand gripped tight onto his weapon, and turned it upright. “Twice now, my home has been destroyed,” he snarled. “Rahkshi, Toa, Glatorian, it doesn’t matter. This time, I will avenge it.”

Before Ackar could reply, Nuhrii swung the tool with all his might, just narrowly missing its target. Ackar ducked down, and instinctively reached for his sword, before stopping himself. Nuhrii may have been seeking blood, but Ackar wasn’t.

“Nuhrii, stop!” shouted Ackar, “this isn’t you!”

“Shut up,” Nuhrii hissed, winding up for another attack, “you don’t know me.”

Ackar leapt back, ducking out of the way as Nuhrii wildly swung his weapon. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said solemnly, even as the tool slammed into the metal floor of the ship. “I’m sorry about the Furnace, but the city was already unstable–”

With a roar, Nuhrii charged forward, throwing the tool ahead of him. “You don’t understand! You never understand!” He swung ahead, just scraping the top of Ackar’s helmet as the Glatorian dodged to the side. “Metru Nui is where we belong! It’s our destiny!” He seethed. “It’s my destiny.”

Ackar paused for just a moment, before throwing his sword to the side, letting it clatter to the ground. “I’m sorry about your home,” he said. “I never meant to destroy it.”

“Lies,” Nuhrii hissed, readying his tool.

“I mean it. My carelessness destroyed something you love. I’m… I’m not as strong as I used to be. But you, Nuhrii, you are strong.” He extended an open hand to Nuhrii. “I can’t say that I fully understand what that mask is doing to you. But I know you’re a strong enough warrior to overcome it.”

The only reply was a ferocious growl as Nuhrii swung once more, putting all of his strength into each attack. His chest heaved with each motion, his energy clearly waning. “You… don’t… know me!”

Reaching into his bag, Ackar slowly pulled out the botched mask that Nuhrii had discarded. “I know you used to be a mask maker on Metru Nui, and then a member of the Ta-Koro Guard on Mata Nui. I know that you’re stuck between the two, not sure which is the real you.”

Anger swelled in Nuhrii’s chest like a fire the more Ackar spoke.

“And… I know you’re afraid that your mixed up identities will alienate you from your friends,” Ackar continued. “I know that you’re acting cold, isolating yourself, because you’re afraid that neither of your identities are enough to protect your friends.”

With another roar, Nuhrii swung at Ackar. But this time, Ackar didn’t move. He simply raised up his hand, and caught the handle as it fell, his shoulder shifting slightly out of its socket as he did. He grunted, bearing the discomfort as he pressed back on the tool.

Nuhrii glared at him, his eyes reflecting off of the tool’s blade. “Why are you saying this?! What gives you the right?!”

“Because,” Ackar replied plainly, “that’s what happened to me.”

As Ackar held back Nuhrii’s advance, he noticed that the tool suddenly felt lighter, as Nuhrii was no longer pushing against him nearly as hard. But he still said nothing.

“It was hard for me to accept help, too,” Ackar continued, hoping that his plan would work. “I thought that I was past my time, good for nothing but retirement. It took someone seeking my training to show me that I was wrong. I taught him how to fight with honor, and in return, he showed me that I still had a purpose. He showed me I could be more than a warrior, but a leader.”

Nuhrii scowled, but the crimson hue over his eyes was slowly fading. He looked at Ackar more with confusion now than anger. “What purpose could I serve in a new world?”

Ackar shrugged. “Any purpose you like. Any destiny you want. Mata Nui gave you that freedom. And he gave it to me, as well.”

With a soft tremble, Nuhrii’s hands let go of the tool, and it clattered to the floor of the transport.

Cautiously, Ackar stepped away, giving the Matoran his space.

Nuhrii was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his heaving breaths. Suddenly, he let out a pained scream, and reached for the mask on his face. Shaking with every motion, he dug his fingers behind his mask, and with one final yell, he tore it off of his face, and flung it to the side. As the mask slid off the floor and dropped into the sea below, Nuhrii collapsed, only to be caught by Ackar.

Thinking fast, Ackar placed the botched Kanohi on Nuhrii’’s face. The Matoran’s eyes were shut, but his heartlight flashed bright, and his chest moved calmly with each breath. Despite the mask’s misshapen features, it still functioned. He watched on expectantly, until Nuhrii placed his hand on his rescuer’s.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly.

Ackar smiled. “I’m glad I could help, friend.”