Chapter Twenty-Seven: Death of a Universe

Teridax studied the three shadow Takanuva who blocked his path. They had been sent by the Makuta Teridax of this universe — the one who controlled the giant robot inside of which millions lived — to kill him and his companion, Mazeka. It was a good plan. After all, one Takanuva would be a challenge — three corrupted ones were deadly.

Teridax had multiple powers of his own to choose from. In his time and in his universe, he had been a great warrior. No doubt Makuta expected him to pit his energies against those of the Takanuva in an apocalyptic final battle and, outnumbered, die horribly after a few minutes. Mazeka would most likely not even last that long, though the Matoran would make sure his killers remembered the fight.

Ah, Makuta, thought Teridax. We are the same being in different universes, but I am not you. You’re a plotter… a schemer… not wanting to get your claws dirty, if you can avoid it. You would think of all sorts of ways to fight the Takanuva from a distance… all of which would fail.

Teridax unlimbered his war hammer. You would never think of doing this.

He charged. Before the startled shadow Toa could react, Teridax had swung his hammer, striking one Toa in the face and shattering his mask to pieces. Whirling, he landed another hammer blow to the chest armor of a second Toa, cracking it down the center. Mazeka moved in then, catching the third Takanuva with a scissor kick and sending him to the ground. Teridax made sure he would never be getting up.

The now mask-less Toa staggered forward, firing shadow energy from his hands at random. One blast caught Teridax in the shoulder, badly damaging his armor. The warrior from another dimension did not have the luxury to feel pain just then, or worry about the antidermis escaping through the gap. He landed a side kick in the Toa’s middle, while swinging his hammer again to stop the charge of the other Takanuva. The latter, still in the fight despite badly damaged armor, created a swirling fog of darkness to conceal his movements.

“Let me,” whispered Mazeka.

The Matoran stood completely still, reaching out with all his senses. He knew that at any moment, the shadow Takanuva could strike and kill them both. But he could not dwell on that fear, not if he hoped to survive this battle.

There! The slightest scrape of boot on rock, about three feet behind him and to the left. Mazeka leapt, whirled in mid-air, and lashed out with a kick. His foot connected with the Toa’s mask, knocking it askew but not dislodging it. Even as his momentum carried him forward, Mazeka landed a second blow to the shadow Toa’s neck. Enraged, the Toa hurled tendrils of darkness that began to strangle the Matoran.

“Your friend is doomed,” the evil Takanuva said, smiling. “You’ll just beat him by a few —”

There was a sickening crunch. The shadow Toa’s face went blank. He staggered forward one step and then collapsed, revealing in the process just how much damage a war hammer in the hands of an expert could do. The tendrils dispersed and Mazeka scrambled to his feet.

“Where’s the third one?” asked the Matoran, as the darkness dispersed around them.

“There,” said Teridax, pointing to the north. “And there,” he added, gesturing toward the west. “Oh, and there’s some over there,” he finished, casually glancing to the east. “His mask was shattered. I thought he might like to join it.”

Mazeka chuckled. “You know, Toa wouldn’t approve of this… they don’t kill.”

Teridax shrugged. “Very noble… but considering the state of this universe, maybe they should have bent the rules a little more.”

“Try telling them —” Mazeka began.

Teridax held up a hand to stop him. “Wait. Something’s… something’s wrong. Quick, grab my hand!”

Mazeka did as he was told, even as Teridax began to teleport. The world blurred and vanished around them. When it reappeared, they were standing back on the ridge above the abandoned village. A violent tremor was shaking the ground and Mazeka could barely keep his feet.

“As I hoped,” said Teridax, wearily. “We escaped the worst of it.”

“The worst of what?” demanded Mazeka. “What just happened?”

“Your Makuta… has fallen,” said Teridax. “We need to keep moving, but first… first, we had better find some way to patch my wound. I prefer to walk out of this universe, not float.”

✴        ✴        ✴

The last of Kalmah and Mantax’s troops landed and joined Pridak’s charge. Makuta’s forces had massed to defend the breach in the wall, but they could not stand against the combined might of the Toa Hagah and the Barraki. Pridak’s legions crushed the opposition, and he and his troops leapt over the rubble of the wall to stand in Metru Nui. “At last!” he cried, and planted his sword in the ground. “The City of Legends belongs to the Barraki!”

That was when the world ended. Pridak felt himself lifted into the air, and began to fall towards the sky, as if the world had turned on its axis. He saw the Silver Sea become a wall of water and rush towards him, blowing the city wall to pieces and slamming into Metru Nui. The flood hurled him down the streets of Le-Metru and smashed him into the Moto-Hub. Pridak felt his breathing helmet shatter, just before he was dashed against another building and carried away by the tides. He watched as the scattered remnants of his ships and soldiers floated by him, and lost consciousness.

✴        ✴        ✴

Taipu was used to the darkness. He was, after all, an Onu-Matoran, who had spent most of his life in the Metru Nui Archives or deep in mines. Of course, it was one thing to choose to live in the dark, and another to have all light suddenly extinguished around you.

He took stock of the situation. He was lying face down on the floor of an upper level of the Archives. The air was filled with dust. The lightstones were all shattered. Something extremely heavy was on top of him, making it impossible to get up and quite difficult to breathe. All of this was the result of a massive quake that had just struck Metru Nui, followed shortly after by a not quite as devastating aftershock.

Taipu tried to yell for help, but could only manage a hoarse whisper. This wasn’t a very good way to die, he decided. But it seemed to be one he had gotten stuck with.

Then he heard something. Someone was digging nearby. Maybe they would find him? He tried to yell again, but wound up choking on dust.

There were more sounds. He could hear voices now, familiar ones. Someone was yelling for others to keep digging. The terrible weight on his back was suddenly gone. Taipu felt two strong hands grabbing his wrists and pulling him out from under the rubble.

He looked up to see Tamaru and Macku were his rescuers. Not far away, Kopeke was helping other Onu-Matoran who had been caught in the quake. Macku propped Taipu up against a wall and dusted off his armor. “Are you all right?” she asked.

Taipu nodded. “What happened?”

Macku pointed up. Taipu looked and saw a massive hole, and beyond that, blue sky like he remembered from the island of Mata Nui. It had only been recently that Taipu and the other Matoran had learned their “universe” was the inside of a giant robot. Now someone had evidently punched a big hole in the robot’s head.

“I think Makuta ran into someone tougher than he was,” Macku explained. “Pretty sure the robot’s dead, and my guess is so is he. We’re going to need to get everyone out of here and hope there’s someplace outside we can live. But in the meantime… well, there are a lot more people trapped like you were.”

Taipu got to his feet. “Then I’ll help.”

“You need to rest,” said Macku sternly.

“I didn’t rest at Kini-Nui when those Rahi attacked,” Taipu replied. He looked around at Tamaru and Kopeke hard at work. “I don’t know where Hafu and Kapura are… but it looks to me like the Chronicler’s Company lives again.”

Macku smiled. “All right, then, old friend. Let’s get to work.”

✴        ✴        ✴

A cliff hawk soared over the plains of Spherus Magna, its red and yellow feathers radiant in the sun. Its screech echoed through the sky, down into the rolling grasses and plentiful trees - and the massive wall of metal and stone that lay across the hills. The titanic corpse sprawled across mountains and fields, silent and still. Except…

Steam rose from a large, round panel in the wall. A tremendous noise echoed from within, the sound of tools meeting metal and stone, and forcing them to yield. A crackling energy sent sparks flying from the seal, and then the panel exploded outwards, crushing swaths of grass and earth beneath it.

The Turaga Nui stepped out of the hatch and onto the cool, soft grass. Its tools were still blazing with energy, but they were rapidly cooling, and the light was fading from its eyes. “Our destiny… is done,” it declared. Then the Turaga Nui shimmered and vanished, leaving six Turaga in its place.

“That was… amazing,” said Nokama, giddy with the rush of power. “Imagine what good we could do with this power!”

“I already have,” said Matau, grinning wildly. “Mind-picture it now: not Toa-heroes, but Turaga-heroes, saving the Matoran from dark-troubles!”

“We certainly could have used that in the past,” said Whenua, and playfully glared at Nuju. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, hm?”

Nuju did not reply, but instead watched a red and yellow bird flying above, and mimicked its call.

Onewa nodded solemnly. “I think you may be overlooking something rather important, brothers: we are standing outside the known universe.” He turned. “Vakama, what can we expect from this new world?”

Vakama shook his head, and smiled. “My visions have shown me nothing. But I feel hope… hope for a better and brighter future than before.”

Two Onu-Matoran helped Dume from the tunnel, and he smiled as he looked at his fellow Turaga. “Well done, my brethren,” he said. “You have fulfilled the prophecy, and brought our people to Paradise. Now,” he said, and gestured to the tunnel behind him, “the true task begins.”

From deep within the tunnels of the Great Barrier, thousands of Matoran stepped, blinking, into the light of a new world. The Matoran of Metru Nui, Karzahni, and Karda Nui all stood dazed as they wondered what the universe would ask of them. Macku led the crowd, and was the first to jump down and touch her feet to the foreign grass and the cool, dark dirt.

Vakama watched, smiling, as the Matoran spilled out into the meadow. When most had emerged, he bid them gather round. The other Turaga nodded. Whenua laid his drill on the ground and carved a circle of earth, while Onewa stepped forth with a collection of stones: some large, some small, and one jagged and black. Vakama took them in his hands and smiled at them.

“In the time,” he began, “before time…”