Chapter 5: Council of Betrayal

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5

After passing through layers of security, we reached the core chamber.

The heart of the headquarters was a repurposed courtroom—high ceilings, bulletproof glass, and rows of digital screens lining the walls. The city’s flag hung behind the main table, faded stars barely visible.

Here sat all the core members of the Ability Association and Defense Team.

Faces familiar and not, all gathered around a long table. Coffee cups, water bottles, and stacks of digital reports cluttered every surface. The air smelled of too many people and not enough trust.

I was placed in a strange spot:

A single chair, far from the main table, spotlighted by a harsh LED. It felt more like an interrogation than a meeting—a classic American grilling.

The position usually reserved for the accused.

There was no mistaking the message: today, I was on trial.

"Alright, Marcus. Let’s hear your side. What really went down out there?"

A middle-aged man said arrogantly.

His name was Leonard, president of the Ability Association.

Leonard wore a suit two sizes too large, shoulders hunched under the weight of his new responsibilities. His thinning hair was slicked back, and he tapped a pen on his notepad with military precision.

Twenty-four years ago,

When the demons descended and destroyed one human city after another,

Leonard was trapped under the rubble. I was the one who saved him.

I’d pulled him from the remains of a collapsed library. He’d been just a scared kid, coughing up dust, eyes wide as saucers.

I thought he had leadership potential, so I recommended him to the Association.

He was smart, a quick study. I vouched for him, taught him what I could. Maybe that was my first mistake.

After years of struggle,

He finally became president.

Four years ago,

On the night he took office, he called to tell me I was the person he was most grateful to in his life.

His voice shook as he said it. I remembered feeling proud, hopeful for the future.

But now, just four years later,

The man before me felt like a stranger.

He was no longer the Leonard I once knew.

Ambition had hardened his eyes. He glanced at me as if I were just another item on his agenda.

I cleared my throat and began, "Last night, a hundred thousand demons invaded. I don’t know why, but I saw no reinforcements."

Before I could finish,

An angry shout cut me off.

Leonard’s face was red with rage and embarrassment.

"Nonsense! Are you saying we couldn’t even detect a hundred thousand demons?"

He slammed his palm on the table, coffee sloshing dangerously close to his laptop.

Derek shot me a disdainful glance. "If you’re going to make things up, at least make it believable. Do you think we’re fools, or that the Defense Team and Ability Association are all incompetent?"

His words dripped with contempt. I could feel the energy in the room shift—the crowd wanted blood.

At this, everyone around erupted in anger.

The noise rose, echoing off marble and glass. Accusations flew across the table.

Derek’s words instantly inflamed the room.

Chairs scraped, fists pounded. The tension was suffocating.

"We want the truth!"

"Someone here is lying!"

A voice shouted.

Derek curled his lips and signaled for the staff to pull up the surveillance footage.

He snapped his fingers, and a tech in a faded Metallica t-shirt scrambled to comply, tapping furiously at his tablet.

Over a hundred screens lit up.

The walls became a mosaic of city streets, alleys, and empty highways—static flickering in some feeds.

Most showed nothing but calm and quiet.

Only a few showed some low-level demons.

Tiny figures darting in and out of shadows—hardly the army I’d described.

"What do you have to say now?"

Derek’s voice was smug, practically savoring the moment.

"Just because we’re not at the border doesn’t mean we know nothing!"

Leonard chimed in, sounding more politician than leader.

"Ten demons became a hundred thousand in your story. Have you been exaggerating your achievements all these years?"

Accusation hung in the air, heavy as the summer heat outside.

Derek and Leonard looked on with smug satisfaction.

Their smiles were thin, hollow. I realized they’d been waiting for this—hoping I’d slip.

I thought of an old saying:

Where there are people, there’s drama; where there’s drama, there’s backstabbing.

My grandma used to say that around the kitchen table, cigarette smoke curling between her fingers.

Leonard was no longer the Leonard of the past.

The Ability Association was no longer what it once was.

After fighting alone for twenty-four years,

I suddenly felt very tired.

The exhaustion went bone-deep, like the weariness of a soldier after too many tours. I ran my thumb along the edge of my badge, feeling its cold weight.

I had a recording device with me,

But there was no point in taking it out.

They would never believe me.

No matter what evidence I brought, their minds were already made up. I slipped the recorder back into my jacket pocket, resisting the urge to throw it at their feet.