The Mufarikha agent and his Iku-infused golems stood as a physical manifestation of bad writing. They were loud, unoriginal, and designed only to obstruct the heroes.
Bura Busara stepped forward, his yellow robes settling around him like a coat of arms. He raised his hand, gesturing his team to hold their positions.
"A truly lazy reveal," Bura said, addressing the golden-masked agent with the voice of a professor grading a remedial essay. "You are not the New Narrative. You are a generic obstacle with a Masquerade (cataphract), sent to enforce the author's failed plot line. I recognize the trope."
The agent's synthesized voice buzzed with manufactured rage. "Your time for critique is over, old man. The narrative requires bloodshed! Iku demands entropy!"
"No," Bura corrected, his own voice growing sharper, channeling the fundamental Ase of language—Nommo. "Iku demands unnecessity. This battle is irrelevant. And irrelevant scenes are deleted."
As the agent screamed and pointed toward the team, the two rock golems lumbered forward, their forms oozing the corrosive blue-black of Iku.
The Dual Conflict
Bura and the Agent engaged in a metaphysical duel, while the team handled the physical threat:
On the Physical Front:
The golems were slow but destructive, swinging massive scrap-metal arms.
Libaax (King of Beasts) met the first golem head-on, his Orange Aura blazing, he invoked the Essence of the gorilla with his Akin class and embodied it with his flesh through his Negusa Nagast Unique class. He didn't fight to defeat it, but to restrain it, pinning its arm against the cavern wall with pure primal force.
Nefre Dolo (The Builder) shouted precise instruction over the roar: "Its stability relies on the Iku flowing through the top joint! Sever the material connection to the power source!" Libaax roared and twisted the arm, forcing the metal to bend precisely where Nefre indicated.
Kemau Nqobile (Resonance Judge) focused his Violet Aura on the second golem. He released a sustained, high-pitched frequency that didn't shatter the rock, but precisely countered the entropic resonance of the Iku, causing the golem's form to shiver and stall, its movements becoming clumsy and predictable.
On the Narrative Front: Bura stood unflinching, focusing all his Nommo on the masked agent.
"Your Masquerade is a lie," Bura declared, his voice cutting through the din. "It is described as sleek, gold, and impenetrable, but the truth is it is cheap, plated prop work."
As Bura spoke, the golden sheen on the agent's Masquerade suddenly dulled. The edges rounded. The material wrinkled, warping from futuristic plating into common, lead-plated scrap. The agent screamed, momentarily stripped of his visual authority.
"Your dialogue is a cliché!" Bura pressed, the force of his assertion slamming the agent backward. "You speak of a 'final coffin'—a tired metaphor. I am rewriting your speech to be accurate."
The agent tried to scream a threat, but his voice broke, morphing from synthesized menace into a weak, reedy plea: "I... I must fulfill my function! I am the necessary conflict!"
"You are unnecessary filler," Bura spat, delivering the final, crushing blow of editorial authority. "Your arc is concluded. I am writing your exit now."
Bura raised his staff. He didn't fire energy; he performed a narrative deletion.
"The Agent of Entropy loses his footing and realizes he has forgotten a crucial appointment elsewhere, forcing an immediate, humiliating retreat!"
The Mufarikha agent, now encased in rusted, pathetic armor, let out a sound of profound structural agony. He stumbled, genuinely looking over his shoulder as if he had missed a meeting. He turned, abandoning the golems, and vanished into a side tunnel.
The Editorial Mandate
With their power source gone, the Iku-infused golems immediately collapsed into inert piles of dusty rock and scrap metal.
Bura lowered his staff, breathing hard. A metaphysical fight required far more energy than a physical one.
"That," Bura said, wiping sweat from his brow, "is how you deal with badly written antagonists. You delete their motivation."
Baba Zaki, the merchant, was shaking uncontrollably, having witnessed reality warp around a single man's voice. He slowly pushed the crates of Obuasiite crystals and Saffirine pigment across the counter.
"The price," Baba Zaki stammered, his eyes wide. "Is your victory. Take them. But Griot... that man will be back with a better chapter."
"Then we will be ready with a better climax," Bura promised.
Nefre Dolo quickly began inventorying the materials, her pragmatic focus returning. "The Obuasiite is perfect. The pigment is potent. We have the resources, but we need time to set up the Geo-Ase Anchoring before the Kifofirists react to this defeat."
Libaax retrieved the materials, his King of Beasts aura now mingled with awe at Bura's power. "We have what we came for. Now we run the corrected script: we go to the Osu."