Chapter Four

Once, Toa Dume was one of the greatest heroes known to the Matoran. Leader of his own Toa team, he fought against Dark Hunters, Rahkshi, Rahi beasts, and countless other threats in his quest for peace. When it came time, Dume took on the role of Turaga, leading Metru Nui as his protege, Lhikan, took on the role of leading his own team, the Toa Mangai.

How quickly this legacy was tarnished. Within recent years, the Makuta of Metru Nui took the place of Turaga Dume, naming the Toa Metru as criminals under the good name of Dume’s rule. The city was left in ruins, the Matoran sealed away, and Turaga Dume himself was lost to the Visorak horde.

Now, as the six Toa Hordika at last stood face to face with the real Turaga Dume, they heard his voice brand them as enemies for the second time in recent memory. Somehow, it was just as painful the second time around.

“Wait, Turaga Dume, we’re here to rescue you!” Matau tried to explain.

“He’s right,” added Nokama, “we’re Toa!”

But the Turaga shook his head, maintaining his grip on his weapon. “No, you are Toa Hordika. And the Toa of this city would know better than to fall prey to such monsters as the Visorak.”

Nuju scoffed. “Try telling that to Vakama.”

Vakama, at last freed from his paralysis, ignored the jab. “Turaga Dume, please, let me explain what has happened. I assure you, it will all make sense in time.”

The Turaga pondered this for a moment, before lowering his weapon ever so slightly. “Speak, Hordika,” he said. “And be quick.”

Vakama did his best to explain. Over the next few minutes, he relayed to the Turaga everything that had happened to the Toa in the past few months. From Lhikan delivering the Toa stones, to stopping the Morbuzakh, all the way to Makuta’s betrayal and the return to Metru Nui. It brought Vakama some humiliation to share his most recent string of mistakes, but the story needed to be told, so he ensured that it was told right.

When he had finished speaking at last, Dume seemed lost in thought.

“It is… fortunate for you, that I have recognized your voices,” he said at last. “And that I have visited the surface since awakening. Had I not, I would have never believed you.”

The six Toa breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“This story answers many of the questions I had,” Dume continued. “To wake from my sleep and observe the city above… I did not think I’d awakened at all.

“But what is the state of the rest of the universe?” the Turaga asked. “Have we heard from Ankut Nui, or any of the Matoran realms in the south?”

Vakama seemed confused. “It was about eighteen months ago, the Sea Gates had been sealed. We assumed this was by your hand, but perhaps Makuta had already forced you into submission.”

“I ordered no such thing,” Dume sighed. “This was the work of the imposter. Communication with the other Turaga is important in these times, when enemies of the Matoran close in on every side.”

A heavy silence filled the room. It felt obvious, in retrospect, that Dume would never order such a thing. But Vakama and the others had only been Matoran when Makuta had taken over. Still, it didn’t prevent the Toa of Fire from feeling like a failure once again.

“All these years, I waited for the city to be attacked again,” Dume mumbled. “To think it was by Makuta’s hand…” He looked back to his own Matoran pod, glancing at his own reflection in the metal. “I never got to tell Lhikan goodbye…”

The tunnels began to shake once more, rumbling filling the air like thunder. Whenua turned back, watching as the tremors grew closer and closer, coming from the direction they had come. He reasoned that either Onewa’s spinner had disrupted the stability of the hall, or the Visorak had broken through.

“We’ll have to heart-tell each other goodbye if we don’t get out of here, now!” cried Matau.

“Quick!” urged Nokama, grabbing the Toa of Air’s arm, “Let’s see if we can get into the storage vault we used before!”

Without so much as a second thought, the Toa Hordika took off running, anxiously retracing their steps to the prison they had once escaped from. Turaga Dume did his best to keep pace with them, but found himself falling behind.

He grumbled. “If you Toa hadn’t defeated my Chute Lurker, we could have made good use of it.”

“That thing was with you?” came Vakama’s reply.

“They have developed a rivalry with the Visorak already, but Chute Spiders are with Makuta, brought here with the Morbuzakh to capture Matoran.” The Turaga grunted as he struggled to keep up with the Toa. “This one thought I was the Makuta, and I was happy to maintain the ruse. We waited together, watching to see who would come for the real Dume’s body.”

“How did you escape in the first place?” asked Nokama, leading the charge.

“I… don’t know,” Dume explained. “I think my pod must have malfunctioned. The serum it was injecting stopped flowing and I woke up.”

“First you and the Matoran were subjugated and put to sleep,” noted Vakama. “Now the Visorak have come to do the same with the Rahi. But why?”

Whenua hummed with the answer. “In the Archives, we believe that Rahi are responsible for the health of the universe. They help the Matoran in their labor and nurture the world’s nature. If the Visorak have conquered other lands, they are systematically undermining that health.”

Onewa groaned. “Even asleep, Makuta finds a way to enforce his will.”

Up ahead, a portion of the tunnel caved in, rock and metal crashing to the ground. Nokama skidded to a halt mere inches away from the crash, with the others stopping behind her.

“This way!” called Onewa, pointing to a detour in the tunnels. The group continued running once more, dodging out of the way of falling debris.

“So, the Dark Hunters got their base in our city after all,” Dume mused. “And after hundreds of lives were spent trying to prevent it from happening.”

Vakama slowed down, tuning his ear to the tunnel walls. “We’re close. It was over this way.”

As the Toa at last made distance from the sounds of trembling earth, something else echoed throughout the halls. A distant roar reverberated, followed by the sound of the Visorak’s Rhotuka spinners flying. Pained cries followed, ones that clearly belonged to Rahi.

“Loud-sounds like a battle,” Matau noted.

An anxious expression painted Whenua’s face, and he charged forward to the lead of the line. When he arrived at the doorway, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Not a battle, Matau,” he muttered.

The others came and beheld it. A scene of carnage was unfolding within the room where they had found the Vahki transport not long ago. A Lohrak hissed viciously as it whipped around to safety, zooming past a herd of Kikinalo. From beneath the earth, a massive wormlike troller emerged, crust and rock tumbling aside as it slammed into the floor.

These Rahi, from various different regions and natures, all shared a common enemy in the Visorak. From all sides of the room, the spiders advanced forward, spinners firing all across as they worked to capture the creatures. The circle of the horde was growing tighter by the minute, forcing the disparate Rahi closer together.

“It’s a fight for survival,” Whenua said.