Chapter One: “Breaking Point”

Kazi shoved open the door to the tent with a huff, storming inside without warning. Standing around the table set up inside were Dalu, Piruk, Balta, and Garan, the other members of the Voya Nui Resistance. Together, they had fought for their freedom against the evil Piraka, even without the aid of Toa for a time.

However, one of their members was missing.

The Ko-Matoran was visibly fuming, his fists clenched in rage. “You all heard?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, the news had traveled quickly to each one of the Matoran present. From the jungle of Bota Magna, word had made its way from the reports of the Toa Nuva, to the scattered Matoran traveling back to the camps in Bara Magna, all the way back to the Matoran currently present. It was harrowing news, albeit unverified. But even the possibility of it being true sent a chill down every Matoran’s spine.

Velika, their fellow Matoran and brother in arms, was a Great Being in disguise. One of the beings who had created the universe the Matoran once inhabited, and likely even created the Matoran themselves.

“Kazi, I know what you’re going to say,” Garan said, keeping a calm tone. “But please, let’s talk this out first. The rumors may not even be–”

“They’re real,” Piruk interjected. “Who would lie about that?”

“You’re wrong,” Kazi said, taking a seat at the table, “you don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“Then say it already,” Dalu groaned. “This back and forth is getting us nowhere.”

Balta placed a hand on her shoulder. “What she means is, we should figure out how we're going to address this, even if the rumors are false.”

Kazi nodded. “Sure, I agree. Although I don’t really know what there is to discuss. Velika lied to us, and now we have no idea where he is or what he wants.” He paused. “We need to prepare for a fight.”

Much to his surprise, the others did not immediately nod their agreement. Instead, four pairs of nervous eyes darted across the table, as the other Matoran silently debated who should speak next. Getting tired of the wait, Dalu stood up.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” she said, “but like you said, we don’t even know what Velika wants with us.”

“She raises a good point,” Garan suggested. “Since he allegedly appeared in Bota Magna a week ago, he hasn’t made any moves toward our camp. No demands, nothing.”

A scoff came from Kazi’s direction. “Am I to assume you didn’t hear about the murders? First Karzahni, Tren Krom, Artakha… Why should we trust someone who’s not afraid to kill to get his way?”

Piruk gulped. For as long as any Matoran could remember, the Great Beings were revered as well intentioned, benevolent creators of their universe. One turning evil was hard to reconcile, to say the least. “I mean, if he is a Great Being, maybe he was just watching out for us?” he suggested. “Maybe he was trying to keep us safe.”

Garan sighed, placing both hands on the table. “The murders are… concerning, to say the least. But if it’s true that he killed that tyrant Karzahni, we should at least be a little grateful.”

“Agreed,” said Balta. “I haven’t forgotten what that monster did to us. Good riddance.”

At the edge of the table, Kazi sat in disbelief. “Look, I know I never got along well with Velika,” he said at last. “But this is ridiculous. They say he killed Artakha too, you know.”

“Artakha? What does he have to do with anything?” Dalu demanded, slamming a fist on the table as she stood up. “Where was Artakha when the Piraka struck, or when Makuta took over? I never saw him there with us. Do you know who I did see?”

“Velika has been there for us the whole time, you’re right,” continued Piruk. “If he is what they say… I'm glad he chose us as his friends.”

“I’m not suggesting we ignore the accusations,” Garan said, “only that we hear him out.”

The Ko-Matoran shot up to his feet, practically shaking with anger. “I can’t believe you all,” he said, turning to storm out from the tent.

It was easy for Turaga Dume to reflect on how much time he had lost, as he overlooked the camp. Despite all the years that had passed, it did not seem so long ago that he had been the Turaga of Metru Nui, guiding the Matoran of the city of legends with a careful hand.

So much had changed, so quickly. When he awoke from the slumber Makuta had placed him under, he found a city quite different from the one he had known, overrun and destroyed. The next thousand years were filled with conflict, as the Toa fought to wrestle the universe from the clutches of the master of shadows.

Now, he stood in the world of his creators, watching as the Matoran now lived side by side with those the Great Beings left behind. It was a strange sensation, to be shoved into this new world, but he had done his best to adjust.

Still, he couldn’t but wonder if he could have prevented all the suffering that led up to this moment. And for a split second, he wondered if Mata Nui ever felt the same way.

How I would appreciate his guidance now, the Turaga reflected, thinking back to the now dormant Great Spirit of his universe. He brought us here, freed us from Makuta. There are some large footprints to fill.

“Dume? Is that you?” came a voice from above him, interrupting his thoughts..

A smile came to the Turaga’s face as he looked up to see a familiar face towering over him, blocking the twilight sun from his eyes. “Mazruu,” he hummed in recognition. “How long has it been?”

It was as though the figure had leapt out from Dume’s very memory. Toa Mazruu had fought alongside Dume in many battles, before their team went their separate ways. Many of their number had gone on to become Turaga, while others were slain during the Reign of Shadows. To Dume’s surprise, it seemed one of his friends had survived.

“Far too long, brother,” chuckled Mazruu. “You’ve gotten old.”

Dume allowed himself to chuckle, a welcome feeling after the tension of the past few days. “It had to happen some time.” For just a moment, the two were lost in memories, thousands of years left untold in their silence.

“Where have you been?” The Turaga finally asked the obvious question that had been weighing on his mind. “I’ve never seen you around the camp.”

“Not everyone made it to your settlement here,” the Toa responded, smirking underneath his Mask of Plant Control. “I spent some time evacuating my village, and more time still to find you all here. When I heard you had survived the fall and were now on the Elder’s Council of New Atero, I knew I had to come see.”

“And here you’ve found me,” Dume mused. “I wish I had better news to welcome you with. But as I’m sure you’ve noticed, we have been in quite the state of disarray.”

Mazruu’s expression dropped. “I’ve noticed, yes…” His voice became a hurried whisper. “Have you heard the rumors?”

Dume sighed. “Of the Great Being? One who hid within our universe, now loose and murdering beings of mass power?” He made no attempt to quiet his voice, nor disguise his skepticism. “Yes, I’ve heard all about such stories. Frankly, I’ve heard more believable tales around Matoran campfires.”

The Toa clearly looked disturbed, but let out a polite chuckle. “It does seem a bit out of the ordinary, yes. But still, shouldn’t you have some Toa to defend you?”

Dume frowned. “The Toa Magna have been protecting us quite well.”

“Who?” Mazruu cocked his head, inquisitively. “Oh yes, the Glatorian. I’m sure you’re in safe hands with them.”

“We are, rest assured,” the Turaga said. “Besides, Takanuva should return soon, and there are still many others out on missions. But you are always welcome to stay.”

“I’d love to,” Mazruu sighed, “but I am needed elsewhere. There are others from our old universe, still looking for a home.”

Dume nodded. “I suppose this is goodbye, then.”

“For now, old friend. But I pray we meet again.”

The Turaga smiled, and raised his fist to clank it with the Toa, but paused. His expression slowly dropped as he looked away. “If the rumors were true, somehow,” he said quietly, “what would you do?”

Mazruu exhaled softly. “Without the Great Spirit, we are without guidance. Personally, I’d be glad to have their wisdom.”

The Turaga paused. “Even after everything they say he’s done?”

“It’s as you said, so long ago,” the Toa mused. “Who are we to question the vision of the Great Beings?”

“This can’t be what the Great Beings envisioned,” mumbled Gresh, speaking between bites of his food. “The war was supposed to be over. Now it seems like we’re on the verge of another one.”

Kiina nodded, sitting beside him on the cliff overlooking the settlement. Since assuming responsibility for the united camp, the two of them had taken to visiting the spot in their free time, finding it to be a nice place to escape one’s worries. But as of late, it seemed their worries followed even there.

“You know how I feel about the Great Beings,” noted Kiina, “but I was willing to give them a chance. Mata Nui wanted us to find them, that was the least we could do. But with everyone so divided… what could they even do?”

Gazing down at the camp, it was hard for Gresh to offer a counter argument.. It was a remarkable feat, uniting Matoran, Agori, Toa, and the various other species populating both Spherus Magna and the former Matoran Universe. Even more remarkable still that peace had been maintained for so long. But upon closer inspection, it became obvious just how tenuous that peace was.

The new world Mata Nui had created was lush and filled with resources, a far cry from the parched wasteland of Bara Magna. But even without the risk of starvation, conflict still arose amidst the united camp. To many of the Magnans, the Matoran were simply a reminder of the scars the Great Beings had left on the world, and they were far from eager to accept them.

But a recent string of incidents had made the alliance even more fragile. A handful of powerful beings were being slaughtered left and right, with a Toa being blamed as the primary suspect. A prison break unleashed so many prisoners from the Matoran universe once more, even the Matoran began growing suspicious of their Magnan neighbors.

At last, tensions came to a head, when the Toa Nuva departed for Bota Magna in pursuit of the murderer. They had yet to return from the north, but travelers who had passed by were quick to spread the news of a Great Being sowing the recent chaos, supposedly inhabiting the body of a Matoran.

The result was a camp even more divided. Before long, conflicts began breaking out between the disparate groups, as everyone became a suspect. Gresh and Kiina did their best to break up these fights, alongside Ackar, but with all the other Toa away on missions, they quickly found themselves spread thin to quell the unrest.

“It’s Atero all over again,” the emerald Glatorian finally said. “That’s how it was done then, that’s how they’re doing it now. First they divide us, then they attack.”

Kiina set down her plate of food by her feet, and looked out to the camp alongside Gresh. It was true, the last time Bara Magna had been at war, it was started by the Skrall’s attack on Atero, slowly straining relationships between tribes before attacking the united capital. It was hard to deny that things seemed to be heading in a similar direction.

“What is that?”

Kiina gazed at the horizon. In the distance, a swarm of ebony armored figures grew closer by the second, blazing across the sands in a motorized chariot. She recognized them in a heartbeat.

Gresh tightened his fists. “Let’s get Ackar.”

Slamming his fist on the table in front of him, Ackar growled fiercely. “This is absurd. You can’t possibly continue this.”

The Steltian running the stand smiled calmly. “I understand your frustration, Glatorian, but my customers agree to it. Thirty widgets for Madu fruit may seem steep, but any Matoran would prefer it to starvation.”

“You’re taking advantage of them while they’re vulnerable,” the Glatorian said.

“Maybe,” the Steltian replied. “Such is the way of business. I thought Bara Magna was used to this brand of ruthlessness?”

Ackar scowled. “Many of us are. I fought hard to put an end to it.”

With a sleazy grin, the businessman leaned forward. “Then perhaps you should stick to being a Glatorian, hmm? Stop playing at Toa, it doesn’t suit you.”

His heart skipping a beat, Ackar nearly brought a fist up in anger, but caught himself just in time. “This isn’t over,” he said, pointing sternly at the Steltian. Before the trader could reply, he had already stormed off.

Marching angrily through the various stands and tents that made up the united camp, Ackar’s doubts hung over his head. It was Mata Nui who had named him a Toa, but it took the Matoran’s acceptance for Ackar to finally come to feel comfortable in the role. But putting it into practice, standing up against the local slumlords reigning in the camp, he found much more pushback.

“Toa Ackar,” a voice behind him said. “You seem frustrated.”

Whirling around, the crimson warrior looked down to see two friendly faces. “Turaga Vakama,” he said, “and Turaga Dume. It’s good to see you both.”

“The feeling is mutual,” said Dume. “But the trouble you are having is apparent.”

“I hadn’t anticipated pushback,” said Ackar. “It was hard enough getting the Bara Magna tribes to work together. This is going to be a lot more difficult.”

“So much distrust,” Vakama sighed. “It will take some work to form this place into a new home.”

“Is it so different from Metru Nui?” remarked Turaga Dume. “There will always be conflict. That’s why we have the aid of Toa.”

Ackar chuckled. “I appreciate the encouragement, wise ones. Still, I wish I had the aid of the Toa Nuva.”

Vakama smiled. “Their absence is unfortunate, no doubt. And yet, the Toa Magna have been invaluable.”

“The title still feels strange,” sighed the Glatorian.

“Mata Nui bestowed it upon you,” Dume said. “The Matoran have accepted you as Toa. I can think of no one more worthy of the name.”

Ackar looked off into the distance. Part of him had suspected all along the burden he would be taking on when he agreed to aid in Mata Nui’s last request, but the true extent of what would be asked of him still seemed daunting.

His musings were cut short as he recognized the crowd of dark riders on the horizon. Rising to his full height, he turned to the two Turaga. “Get everyone to safety,” he said.

Before the Turaga could respond, Gresh and Kiina weaved past them, rushing to meet Ackar. The warning they came to deliver was one Ackar had already come to realize.

The Skrall were coming.

Stronius stood at the bow of the chariot leading the Skrall armada, watching his target with battle hungry eyes. At long last, another battle awaited him, and he could hardly wait to begin.

As the chariot drew closer to the camp, Stronius recognized the two warriors standing on the outskirts. One clad in emerald, the other in red, they had been two of the leading Glatorian in the battle for Roxtus, granted elemental powers by Mata Nui. It was tempting to launch straight into an attack, but he resisted the violent urge, and commanded the chariot driver to slow to a halt.

At last, he and Branar hopped out of their wagon, coming up to meet their opponents.

“This is new,” Gresh quipped. “Trying at diplomacy?”

“We’re giving you a chance to surrender,” Branar spat. “If I hadn’t been able to convince Stronius, you wouldn’t even get that.”

Ackar skeptically eyed up the bulky elite Skrall, and scoffed. “So, Stronius is your commander now. That seems a bit like trusting a Sand Dragon with a lizard egg, no?”

Stronius growled, and raised a fist into the air. “Your petty insults mean nothing to me, Glatorian.”

“It’s Toa, now,” Gresh retorted, drawing his twin blades.

Branar scoffed. “That's it, then? No moral grandstanding? No attempt at working things out peacefully? I thought that's what you Glatorian fought for.”

Flames danced around Ackar's sword as he stared down the Skrall. “It is. But we don't negotiate with Skrall.”

“What a relief,” Stronius muttered.

The Skrall leader took two steps forward, and brought his fist crashing into the ground. Within an instant a shockwave rumbled through the earth, toppling Gresh and Ackar to the dirt.

Before anyone could react, Stronius lifted his hand, and a hole opened up in the earth beneath him, swallowing him whole. Behind where he once stood, Branar raised his sword, and shouted a war cry.

By the time the two Toa Magna got up to their feet, the legion of chariots advanced, roaring to life as they moved forward into the city. Ackar was quick to fire off a barrage of flame at the oncoming caravan, only to be interrupted by a wall of rock raised by Branar.

“Times are changing, Toa,” Branar spat. With a swing of his blade, the wall crumbled into a mound of rocks, battering Ackar’s armor. “So are the Skrall.”