Fiery Revelations (S2EP15)

There’s nothing more humbling, devastatingly sobering, than discovering that the one person you trusted, the one you believed you knew and understood better than anyone else in Mayhaos, was never who you thought they were.
 
But let's begin from the start.
 
Today's mission was nothing short of ambitious: dismantling the cult strongholds scattered within Zynii. Not just one, or two... but all of them. Arthom's dealings with the Gleam Boys had earned us access to their specialised gleam pod technology, which could deploy our teams at expeditious rates. Naturally, I chose to target the Enkelados cult; after all, his hubris and impassioned rage serves as an antithesis to Foo’s teachings of balance and serenity. Bringing down his followers wasn’t just a strategic move - it was a necessity. Every act of violence and hatred his followers commit under the name of their titanic god disrupts harmony, tipping the scales further into chaos. By taking down their stronghold, I wasn’t just stopping the spread of such fiery and destructive ideology; I was restoring balance, enacting karmic retribution. Foo’s way of calm must endure, and if that meant tempering fire with air, then so be it. This would be a full-circle moment - an act of retribution that was long overdue.
 
Joining me was Gurval, G - a lively Mokuna who works as a security guard with whom Gurval already shared an easy rapport with - and a handful of Gleam Boys, including their Dwarfish leader. However, I knew even before our team had approached the stronghold that it would be Gurval and I completing the mission on our own. Only he could understand my unwavering commitment to pacifism, my insistence on diplomacy above all else without judgement. The others, I feared, would resort immediately to violence, reducing us to nothing more than a reflection of the ruthless Enkelados cult we sought to dismantle. If we abandoned reason and negotiation in favour of brute force, what difference would there be between us and them?
 
The Enkelados stronghold defied my expectations. Rather than a grand temple or ominous fortress of flame, it was a discreet structure nestled seamlessly within the chaos of Zynii’s bustling streets. To any passerby, it appeared as nothing more than another unremarkable warehouse - I could see how they were able to engage in their corrupt activities without detection. Gurval, ever the pragmatist, wasted no time. He rapped his knuckles against the door three times, only to be greeted with silence. With the same nonchalance as one might swat a fly, he drove his prosthetic arm into the wood. The door splintered open, revealing a candlelit chamber within.
 
We stepped inside. A long, elliptical table dominated the centre of the room, around which sat cloaked figures engaged in hushed discussion. Their voices fell silent at our arrival, wary gazes flickering between us. I raised my hands in a gesture of peace and stepped forward. I had rehearsed my words countless times on the way to the stronghold, yet now that the moment had come, my nerves overtook me once more - it's ironic how much I advocate for the power of words, despite not being able to wield its strength as effectively than I can with my fists! So alas, my voice faltered, my words emerging from my throat dry and dead as dust:
 
"STOP! *cough* We urge you to stop, cease your activities in Zynni! Um, please disband, leave this place and put an end to your misguided devotion to the fallen Titan... Erm... The ways of Enkelados will only lead to destruction..."
 
My words barely had time to settle before the air split with a violent crack. A jagged bolt of lightning hurtled towards me, and by sheer instinct, I rebuffed the energy away by swiftly manipulating the air around me with my Chi. The conference table, unfortunate collateral to the rebounding bolt, burst into electric flames. The cultists scrambled, hastily loading their weapons, but I barely registered them. My focus was drawn instead to the energy pulsing behind me - a raw, corrupted surge that sent a shiver through my entire being, the sheer intensity raising every lilac hair on my body. The unmistakable defilement of Chi and arcane magic was all too familiar... My stomach twisted. That wasn’t the cultists.
 
It was Gurval.
 
He stepped forward, his usual dopey energy replaced by something far colder. His voice was low and calculated, an insidious layer of quiet rage sitting just beneath the surface. "What do you think you're doing...?" He pursed his reptilian lips in a scowl, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth that lined his jaw like daggers. "It appears you sit here... doing nothing."
 
The cultist who stood closest to us, an elderly Dwarf engulfed by the thick silver threads of his beard, glowered, though such bravado did nothing to hide the shaking in his voice: "How dare you barge into this place, disrupt our work and demand we abandon our cause? You speak as if you hold power over us, yet you know nothing of what we do here to serve our Lord, Enkelados. We are collecting and bringing forth more followers - creating a mighty legion that will be ready to serve and embrace our Lord's return."
 
Gurval chuckled, amusement flickering in his beady eyes as they flitted from one cultist to another - mere flies, easy to swat away, against the enormity of this blood-red aura. “Do you think you are more valuable here, than in Diomeda? You are dwarves killing Victri, Solen, starting gang wars and sowing chaos within these streets. What you fail to realise is that hatred is born from sentimentality."
 
Gurval continued, his voice a blade slicing through the tension that stretched thick in the chamber. “We don't need your meddling. The innate evil within his destined followers will answer Enkelados' call and find him - with or without intervention. In sowing hate, you are worthless.”
 
His voice was booming now, sending my body trembling. The cultists, who had moments ago been prepared to fight to the death, now sat rigid, their gazes locked onto him. "WE do not need you. If you would like to prove yourself useful, take a boat and go to Diomeda.”
 
I expected them to resist, to fight back in some way. But instead, the hooded Dwarves exchanged uneasy glances before hurridly gathering their belongings and the charred remnants of documents and blueprints they could salvage from the table. Heads low, they filed past us, slipping into the streets of Zynii without anoher word.
 
I stood frozen, struggling to process what I had just witnessed. Gurval had not intimidated them - he had commanded them. And they had obeyed as if he were something far greater than a mere misfit. My throat felt parched as I swallowed and forced a grin that didn’t reach my eyes, desperately clinging to some semblance of reason that rationalised what I couldn't fathom understanding, accepting.
 
“Wow, Gurval! That was amazing ACTING - pretending to be an Enkelados follower and compelling them to leave through guilt and manipulation? How clever, you’re the best! AND there was no casualties!”
 
But even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. Because deep down, I already knew the truth.
 
This wasn’t an act.
 
I didn’t know Gurval at all.