I'm waiting. But all I can see is the white wall surrounding the bathhouse and living quarters of the palace. Pretty sure that curfew time is on the schedule, yet some peers and servants are still busy running around for something, especially around the bathhouse. I don't have a good hunch since busy days at the hospital always mean a calamity and tragedy happening all at the same time. I trust this so-called gut feeling because they're mostly correct about some uncertainties. People called me paranoid, I don't blame them. At the same time, the wind blows gently, which triggers a detail that Banaspati mentioned regarding a colleague that I'm meeting for the first time. He said that his calling is Taksaka, certainly a famous dragon from the Hindu tales Mahabharata the big war of Pandhawa against a hundred sons of Drestrarastra and Gendhari. Wind is one of the main powers Taksaka has, maybe this Taksaka also has the same quirk. Does that mean the callsigns are somehow based on individual abilities and characteristics?

  "How long have you been waiting for!?"

  A familiar voice shouted. Two horses are approaching, on one of them is the caretaker and on the other is a new face I have never met- uhh.. somehow he looks familiar. Pretty sure I have seen him somewhere at school or during my missions. The stranger pulled up on my right side. He locks his gaze upon my eyes, I do have a feeling he knows me from a certain activity. His uniform is a bit different from Herjuna and me, so it's only reasonable if he's from another regiment. White Napoleonic attire with a red accent, surely it is something of a Dhaeng. However the eyes, they're blueish just like all the Dutch look yet something still feels local in his face.

  "Not long, but I don't think you should be shouting at these hours"

  "Nobody cares. Anyway, this is Second Sergeant Joseph Pierre Tendean, calling Taksaka. Secret Service's Interpreter"

  Tendean is certainly a surname from a neighbouring island. He is way too foreign for this land, pale with blue eyes, locals would say they're an abomination but damn girls would be lost in that deep sea ocean.

  "I remember seeing your damned face around HIS," the gentleman reach out for a handshake

  "I don't think we had a half-and-half teacher registered back then. Espionage mission?" I shook his hand

  "Sharp. I admit"

  "Mind if I ask what's the other half?"

  "Dutch-born French"

  Hence the weird R noises. Had never encountered a Frenchie so far, I suppose it's going to be unique and stuff. An interpreter? Does the Secret Service really need that kind of thing? Did not expect that they would attend diplomatic matters alongside other races. But even if they do, many Company higher-ups can speak like a local nowadays, not perfect but the language barrier isn't as heavy as it used to be.

  "Keep that in mind, you'll thank me later" Herjuna added.

  "What would he do anyway... commit a war crime?" I joked.

  "Who knows..." the man replied, yet I could not tell if he was joking or not

  Of course, I did expect him to have quite a tough personality moulded by immense pressure, the same force that pushed him to mature faster than average boys. It's surely common amongst military men to have such traits, but in my opinion, Joseph's case is one of the main reasons he has a lower rank than Banaspati despite looking wiser. I guess it runs in the blood, I heard that the French are not that good at invading and defending, basically no walk just talk. It's not that I'm arguing about his skills and professional judgement in the field, maybe he's weak in the bigger picture. So no one even approached him with any good news regarding his side badge.

  "If you guys are done with the formality, I will give you the brief for tonight"

  "Yes, dear... Be my guest"

  The white-haired man rolled his eyes before opening a speech.

  "First of all, I thank Airlangga for coming tonight. However, I'd also like to apologize because there's a factor that the intel failed to predict, making this mission a top secret and extremely dangerous. Of course, if you'd like to back down I am fine with it, but if you still want to be a part of tonight's operation I solemnly swear on my life and duty to keep you alive," Banaspati explained to me while giving some small eye twitches, hinting at something.

  I get it, he wants me to not easily trust any colleague at this moment. The two gentlemen looked at me with serious gaze. I honestly do not know what to expect, but I believe something like Bram will come up as the centrepiece of their operation. Despite the danger this is the only way I learn the truth of all this mess and things or two about my birth mother. It's not something boggling, yes or no, the cost might be big but surely these two would come home with the same news? Maybe not, maybe yes, what's the different with the regular workdays anyway. Danger always lurks around and death isn't something you could avoid or foresee, if I get hurt they'll patch me up as simple as that.

  "How dire is the situation?" I asked.

  "Ever heard of General Harting? The one that brokered the Giyanti agreement," Taksaka shared some intel.

  That man was long gone many years ago. If he's coming back of course he would be under the influence of drugs or another kind of boosters. I have zero psychic power aside from rewinding time for a split second before my 'death'. In a way, I am immortal until time itself decides that my duty has been fulfilled. Ah, should I be worried or not? If anything I would only be a burden for my seniors, but they somehow need me to figure things out.

  "I will join in this operation," with a heavy heart I announced my participation.

  "We will take a detour, so we'll arrive from the direction of the guerilla base at Selarong Cave. There are plenty of sugarcane carriages and the sound of the locomotives masks our movements. Hide in the carriage and they'll take us to the refinery, find out what's happening, and eliminate threats,"

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  "No weapon is hot until I say so. Minimize casualties, this place is our main economy. Even if the Company monopolizes the whole plant doesn't mean we can crush them down like the coffee plantation in Ambarawa. All clear?" the First Sergeant continued.

  I guess the ghosts do not have a detailed plan in mind, in conclusion all of us do not know what to expect aside from the general knowledge of Krakens. We ride towards the guerrilla camp, then halfway turn to the west towards the sugarcane fields. Road as dark as it could be yet these two have nothing to complain about as they lead their horses with their instinct. It must be a habit that builds up over time after countless missions of establishing order in the middle of the dark without any spotlight or credit for the work, literal and figurative. Makes me wonder what kind of limit would it take for these units to be incapacitated. Even if it's the sky then it must be somewhat a higher being that could stop them, religiously speaking. As we ride countless thoughts are formed to keep me steered away from the thoughts of death. Even with the time on my side, it's still a mind-boggling topic to think about, I wonder how Herjuna handles distractions in his mind. How many people died in his hands? Ah, for once I could not stop thinking about it.

  "Something on your mind?" Joseph, the one who was riding behind me asked.

  "Just some minor worries," I replied.

  "Say it," the blue-eyed man insisted

  "Death, I suppose"

  "You should not be afraid of this minor thing, Airlangga. We're all going to die anyway, if not tonight then tomorrow, if not tomorrow then the next days after it. In this darkness, the wick is burning constantly and only exposes itself around the fire. Even if you're dying tonight the only thing you can do is accept, but when there's a chance to survive... you'd better make the most of it. Hell, you've been to the front line. Just ask yourself where did that man go in you," the frontman gave his advice.

  "I'll keep that in mind," I agreed instantly because Herjuna did make sense.

  "I brought you along for no reason. I trust you and you shall prove yourself worthy of a soldier in the Secret Service. It's not only about finding your real purpose in the bigger picture, it's about what impact would you bring even after you leave this world. So stop pondering things you couldn't change," he continued.

  I stay silent, because of the moral talk that actually hits me in the heart. Death is imminent, you can't figure out when but when it's close you would know it anyway. I appreciate that he doesn't use some sweet talking into someone's heart, just pure blatant truth that would make anyone think twice before reconsidering the path they took. We're grown men anyway, it would only make you look like an indecisive coward if you don't have a principal base in every thought. In the darkness we ride, in the darkness, I think out loud about the bigger picture. Past the Southern Courtyard and past the Nirbaya Gate, we head towards the residence of the late Prince Puger and the Southern Watchtower. During this time, some sages would stand and meditate on top of the tower, protecting a royal family or what was left of them. The road is silent as people are mostly resting and waiting for the next day to start. Past the watch tower, we head straight towards the forest. The darkness is unsettling, yet the place is bustling with spirits. Light orbs emerge as Banaspati's horse runs across the woods as if they're lighting up the way for the man to pass. What good deeds did this man do to deserve this kind of treatment from other beings? Maybe it's better to be left unanswered.

  Ten to twenty minutes later. We stopped near a sugarcane field. You could not see anything because they're planted next to each other without huge gaps. The only path is through the walkway in between sugar blocks. We stopped as we saw some thick smoke in the high sky, a locomotive must be in the vicinity. Herjuna hops down followed by Joseph and I. The wind man reached out for his pocket watch, a fancy stuff for a soldier to carry but with his French background I believe anything is possible for him.

  "We walk from here. The smoke might be close but if we don't catch up in time we need to walk all the way to the refinery. Keep the pace up, and hope that they're warming the engine," The white-haired man put on his wooden mask on his face before marching towards the smoke.

  I followed the man catching a train in front of me. In this monopolized economy nighttime is not an excuse to turn the production switch off as dozens of sugarcanes are ready and waiting to be transported to the mill before getting refined. Some workers noticed our presence but they were terrified before they had a chance to spill something out of their mouths. Herjuna put a finger on his mask's glaring mouth before climbing onto a sugarcane carriage followed by his colleague. I hop on the train and load a clip onto the rifle. Probably should have carried more than five clips, but would it actually matter if we're fighting something that could not be explained by regular physics? I don't see a lot of pressure coming from my seniors, maybe it's because one of their expressions is hidden by a mask. But still, the silence hides a loud storm in the air alongside the steam whistle of the locomotives when it depart the field. The sugar train goes slow before accelerating into a standard its standard velocity for a short gauge 8-ton rail track.

  I read something about the sugar factory, they produce more things than just sugar because essentially sugarcane is quite on the insane pant of the taxonomy. You'd be surprised that sometimes any sugar refinery also produces rubbing alcohol and Brenn-spiritus, an organic fuel. Another thing that makes me nervous is that one flick of Herjuna's fire might destroy the whole thing. On top of that,t he's paired with a wind bender, A . WIND. BENDER. If anything fire would spread like hell and fuck it, I might have just figured out their entire 'improvisation' plan. They're not stupid but they're just batshit crazy thinking that the Kraton would not get mad about this incident. For the entirety of this ride, I cannot believe how many residues from the factory's production are flammable and explosive upon contact with fire.

  We arrived at the mill, there's plenty of guards so we needed to sneak around. If correct then there should be some weird people with weird attire no? I mean don't pagan people have extravagant clothing when it comes to ritual? All I see is soldiers roaming around the sugar production chain with guns and hand grenades. What if they want to tear the whole place down if something happens? Leave zero traces of Harting?

  "Let's head through the sugar route first," leader man said.

  The mill split the sugarcane extract down into two paths. One is heading to the distillery and the other would enter the other production chain. We follow the pipe towards the refinery. More and more guards, but surely no huge effort was spent in the process. Through the cauldron, filter, and the racks cool down crystalized sugar. So far nothing is wrong with the factory itself. I guess there's not much space that you could use as a storage of something inside. The last part of this place to be searched is the warehouse and silo. I don't like this place. As we entered the dimly lit warehouse, we spotted a figure. Horns on the head just like those demon portrayals in European paintings. Skin appears reddish and somehow bleeds something that would feel as hot as molten steel. The eyes glow yellow as if his core human is no longer biologically composed. The 'man' is busy playing chess with his own self. I saw some hesitation in Herjuna, he complained a lot after he fought Bram so maybe this time he's trying to be twice as careful in picking his next fight.

  "Turn around it's too danger-" the leader man ordered

  "Show yourself!!" The creature ordered.

  I guess it's too late now.

  "Corporate scum... long time no see. Motherland is crippling so bad that they wake you up from your eternal rest?" Herjuna being the guy he is, taunts the traitor. He showed himself followed by Taksaka before me.

  General Harting took a good look at Herjuna, the cigar in his mouth flickered as he inhaled the smoke. The Dutch knows that the man standing before him is somehow a good caliber of a soldier. Should he kill this inlander in front of him truly be a waste for him and the local rebels.

  "Hmm... so the legend is true. A man with a red Cakil mask, the one who breathes fire that engulfs the light. Such a pleasant surprise... your given name and the characteristics that you have clearly pictured you as two sides if a coin"

  "Your point?" the anxiety rose as the man took out and lit up a cigarette.

  "Unwavering spirit, will of steel, but why be a Cakil when you can be a knight in shining armor? Join us, we can always use some strong discipline inside our corps. We will pay you a huge amount of currency, fame, and glory"

  "Even in the end Cakil was killed by his own arrow, he stood loyal to his beliefs. Besides, don't have the commodity that I've been looking for" the leader man continued.

  "A trade request? We will gladly facilitate your need. Isn't it what we, the Company, always do? Name your price, warrior"

  "Deliverance"

  The living corpse placed a queen piece he held onto its next move.

  "A rare find indeed. But if your sins are unforgivable, why not just wreck havoc around the earth? What makes you different than us anyway? Why fight among these incompetent people when you can have everything with us"

  "You're dead"

  That is... rude... even for dead people.

  "Sharp tongue is but merely a mask to veil someone's imperfections"

  "Giyanti is surely a huge failure. You split the kingdom only for the lower half to be stronger than ever. The Queen laid Her gaze on us, not the scumbags Surakartan. You thought you would find the Apple on the upper half? What a joke..."

  Two kings before, the Sultanate was in unison with Surakarta. But the Dutch took part in our coronation and appointed someone as filthy as Pakubuwono the 3rd. It was supposed to be Prince Sambernyowo, his late father, but the Dutch love to appoint a dumb inexperienced Prince to ascend as they're easier to manipulate. Riot arose between the Royals, so they decided to split the Kingdom into 2 separate entities; North and South, Red and Blue. Two kingdoms, two Kings, two principles, both hate each other. As far the hatred goes, our King would never go far beyond spitting bad words about the Northern Kingdom. Harting brokered the deal because essentially the Company needs to get hold of Java, but they fear Prince Sambernyowo. The clash between heirs is just the perfect momentum to split everything, after all a win is still a win and a small portion of Mataram is still a good chunk of Javanese fertile land. At least an inch closer to the Southern seas, but from there it's all about crashing into someone's political interests and sneaking a payment slip into their pockets.

  "Now, people like us are surely better at throwing fists, yes Harting?"

  "I will make sure that your head will be impaled in front of Rustenburg, Black fire... mark my words"

  "Time for another nap, grandpa"

  "Herr, sugar dust is explosive..." I tried to warn him.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Harting charged with his full velocity. But Banaspati didn't budge a single inch, he's way too calm for this kind of fight. Taksaka stepped forward in a defensive stance, his fists were stern and you could see the pressure in between his fingers. It's merely an inch before the Undead General is able to lay a finger on both of them, but Taksaka is faster. A huge surge of wind combined with huge pressure sent him flying out of the silo. All sorts of debris and dust are thrown away alongside Mr Villain. Dust? Wait-

  BOOM!

  A huge explosion.

  "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT DUST???" I protested in the middle of the continuous explosion.

  "I THOUGHT YOU WERE GIVING US IDEAS!" Banaspati replied in a high tone

  "IT WAS A WARNING!!"

  "THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T SLEEP ON COMBAT CLASSES!" The white-haired man tried to cover himself when debris was coming towards him.

  "WHAT ABOUT MINIMIZING CASUALTIES!?" I threw another question at him.

  "FUCK IT, AIRLANGGA. YOU'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE. IT'S US OR HIM! MAKE A DAMN CHOICE!"

  The explosion calms down. Pile of junk and dust alongside tons of sugar are scattered around in the air. It's raining sugar and commoners are the ones who'll pay the monetary costs of the loss caused by this event. Behind the dust and smoke curtain, Harting is back on his foot. Herjuna and I remember exactly the power of these super undead beings. One hit and you might as well say goodbye to your only chance to win. Surely this moment somehow takes me back to the moment Bram 'betrayed' me on the front lines. Bitter but it's all in the past, I just wished that we talked more about our life. Calm down, the past would only slow you down, focus on the moment. I cocked the rifle to let a bullet in.

  "Okay, this one is an idea. We need to get to the Bren-spiritus warehouse, get some bottles and use them as molotov. Burn all the field and bam! No rituals. If anything we helped with the harvest," I said in clearer manner.

  "Do you know the place?" Taksaka asked.

  "No. But sugar production isn't as sweet as the commodity, every inch of this complex is a bomb waiting to goes off by a small flick of fire. The field is the most stable option even though sugarcane leaves are easy to burn during harvest," I explained while taking an aim.

  Harting is covered in sugar dust, this would damage him a little more and buy us time to find the spiritus warehouse.

  Bang! BOOM!

  "RUN!!"

  With all the dust flying all over the place from the first explosion, it only makes sense for us to get into safety. Explosion after explosion, I just hope that the council won't be that angry about it. I mean the company has control of it for now so I suppose we're not gonna be in trouble. We hide behind the wall fence that encloses the warehouse. Everything is happening so fast, dammit, but if we don't match the tempo might as well come home in a body bag.

  "We entered through the mill, right? Let's go back and take a different path," I figured that finding the mill isn't a hard job at all.

  BOOM!

  "Holy Christ, he's still exploding. Did they give you the 'bullets'?" Taksaka asked while sprinting towards the mill.

  "I don't know! They said don't waste it because it's made in Kotagede!!"

  "Fuck sake, Airlangga! Those bullets are still being developed by the Artisans!!" Complained the white hair man.

  "How am I supposed to know!? I was just picking up my rifle and the guy gave me these bullets!"

  As long as the explosion was alive, Harting would have difficulties in catching up with us. The premise however has the alarm blaring and huge spotlights glaring all across the facility, which is really bad for the situation. As we detoured and made a different turn, three to four Dutch guards approached us with rifles filled with bullets.

  "HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

  Busted I suppose, on top of that we're clearly outnumbered as other guards are coming right in our direction.

  "What do we do now?" I whispered to Herjuna

  "Play with the script"

  One of the guards took off his wooden mask before hitting his face with the rifle's butt.

  BAM!

  The impact surges from my cheekbone to the rest of my head as if fingers were groping the inside of my head and squeezing them really hard before I finally lost my grip on being conscious.

  ————

  Ring ring...

  Should I pick it up?

  Should I pick myself up?

  Headache, all I'm hearing is some grunts, punches, and kicks. The ground feels rough and dry and some stakes are in between my body. I squirm around, trying to search for information on what is currently happening after that short break. Dutch soldiers are surrounding us, with people dressed in weird attire and ornaments. An altar was set up in front of us, it reeks of animal blood and something that smelled like a human rotting corpse. I looked to my right side, Joseph and Herjuna, tied down and beaten to a pulp by the undead man. The man spits blood while glaring at the Dutch villain dead in his eyes, the anger and the humiliation he felt boiled into an unthinkable rage inside himself. Yet he maintained a good measure to not make a stupid decision like charging at Harting's heads on.

  "Begin the ritual!" The undead commanded.

  White-haired man drops down after Harting dismissed his lessons. Blood's dripping from his nose, which could be a handful headache if the sinus gets contaminated and filled with blood. Some guards moved closer to the altar as part of the rituals, witness or sacrifice, who knows. One thing for sure is that they spared me from a rough beating Herjuna and Taksaka received. Why the special treatment though I'm equal as an enemy for them? This is weird, what is unpredictable might bring you bad news and hunch, but I'll keep it in a positive tone so God will carve away according to my liking.

  "Remember their face! Remember the mercy we gave them and remember the havoc they bring upon us! The blood of your brothers and sisters, etch it deep inside your heart. For the Orange-Nassau, For the Kingdom of Netherlands!!"

  What a speech, praising your own morals and stepping on others, don't make us laugh. Being colonized by your neighbour doesn't mean your illegal monopoly on someone's property is justified. Racist prick! I hope he rot in hell. But there's nothing much we could do with the guards watching in every corner of the sugarcane field.

  "Banaspati, no... you're insane to think that you could take him down alone," Taksaka whispered.

  Herjuna did not reply but was busy burning the rope that tied his hands down. All his efforts but not a single flick of fire came out as a result, he's tied down with a wet rope.

  "Joseph, the air is warm... help me out.." he whispered.

  "What is exactly your plan!?" In tension, the wind man whispered.

  "Sacrifice must be made to open the gates of hell"

  "What is he talking about?" I asked in worries.

  "This man is batshit crazy..."

  Taksaka closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling the airflow in this open environment. But the humidity rises around our faces, the water content makes it slightly harder for Joseph to breathe. As I spotted flickers, the rope burnt almost instantly after. Herjuna lit up Taksaka's rope but couldn't make it to my hands when he noticed a guard turned around his gaze at us. Minutes later, the guard turned his back. Another chance to free ourselves, and make a report about this mission. Although everyone would agree that the cost of this mission is way too high if we were to come back empty-handed.

  "It's all going well accordingly," Banaspati said.

  "Insane man you are, we found the altar but at what cost? The factory and our lives?" Taksaka argued.

  "Why don't you try to communicate your exact planning next time? To think that your team would be a burden means you don't trust them at all," I added.

  "Trust me it's faster this way," he lit up the rope that binds me.

  True, maybe the delivery could be smoother, but if we were to comb every field in this facility it would take the whole night and by then it would be freaking too late. That kind of mindset, however, might catch up to him sooner than he would think it'd be.

  "I will go for Harting, you two handle the guards," the crazy fireman ordered Taksaka and I.

  "NO! You need to calm down!! I get that after the cost we can't afford to come back without any results but USE YOUR FUCKING HEAD HERJUNA! This won't be the time that you seek!" Whispered the Second Sergeant with huge stress, yet I believe Herjuna wouldn't listen to any comment or command from his lower rank. Good beating might do the job but that is not our duty at this exact moment. I guess Harting was right in what he said about this crazy fireman, the story of Cakil and Arjuna. Two warriors, one a giant and the other a noble human. Arjuna being a bow-wielding knight is always portrayed as the perfect figure, reflected in his name, which makes him somewhat pursue satisfying results for his employer. But what is reflected on his mask is his coarse personality and inability to paint certain feelings in his blank canvas, like a giant in every tale of the past.

  "Even if it is I will die defending my motherland..." he said the last time before checking his resources.

  Herjuna unsheathed his kris, steel that looked blue under the bright moonlight. Before charging the villain directly he shot down the guards that are guarding the perimeter with an arrow made of his signature fire. When it hits the target, the fire does not burn them, it pierces but somehow appears as if it is slicing through the target. Was it his retraction power or the basic damage of the fire itself?

  "Give me some of your clips, hurry," Joseph asked.

  I handed him two, he gladly took them before showering it bottled water. Oh, maybe it's a holy water from the church.

  "Listen, the real reason he brought you here is to see if you could do something with this Kraken. Fire up three bullets if you can't do anything about it, and two if you have good news. Either way, I can always locate you from the sound"

  "Understood," I nodded once under Joseph's instructions.

  "Give us supporting fire. I'll get the grimoire for you"

  Crazy fireman threw his blueish dagger into Harting's direction, in a blink of an eye he suddenly stood behind the enemy with the same dagger in his hand. Both clashed in close combat with a few guns aiming at the head of Herjuna, at least they tried to since they moved as fast as human eyes could switch their gaze. I run towards a random gun,and while checking for its ammunition I scan around for any threats.

  BANG!

  One guard down!

  CLICK!

  Are you serious?? The gun is jammed just after a shot?

  Bunch of guards were attracted by the loud noise and divided their attention towards me. Taksaka assisted Banaspati in his movement from behind a wall of sugarcanes. He controls the wind in a way that slows Harting down by some meaningful percentage. Every enemy realized that we're regaining mobility, so they're in confusion about which target to pick. I switch to another random rifle belonging to a Dutch guard.

  BANG! BANG!

  Two shots are heard almost at the same time, one is from me and the other is unknown. A pagan priest fell down to the ground and the other pierced Herjuna on his shoulder. I believe that send him into a trance, calculations and predictions go scrambled inside, nerves tangled in between the mind and what your primal instincts dictate you to do. The stillness of the body but a huge chaos inside the brain. I dumped all of the lead bullets and changed them into silvers, anything so that he's staying alive. Harting charges through, grabbing the paralyzed man in the neck. Split seconds later a bullet flew through the villain's neck.

  "HERJUNA!!" Taksaka shouted.

  Dammit, is this why none of the Special Corps isn't assigned to any rifle? They move so fast and I cannot aim at anything, I would get them killed if I tried to land a random shot towards them. Yet if I stay still waiting for a random book, I'm no different than a burden for this mission.

  "Do you think a gravel would mean something to me!!?" On top of that, this guy is enraged from that wound.

  Harting did not look disturbed by Taksaka's bullet throw. The villain turned to his prey, his stern hand grabbed the mandible before pulling it out. The prey screams in pain as the villain rips his jaw off of his head and drops him to the ground. Blood gushing out, staining his white shirt and turning it red. At this point, he might lose consciousness due to the pain and excessive exposure to his own blood. But if anything he knows better to save his energy and prevent himself from taking permanent rest. He lit up his hand with fire and began to cauterize himself. He screams in agony, and I have never heard such a scream coming from Herjuna. Through that voice, I feel the heavy burden he has on his shoulder. Parentless, full of remorse, and cannot feel like a normal human being. He devoted himself to repenting and finding salvation in his dark life, but he always ends up with a huge wall of uncertainty.

  "Don't be silly..." Harting said as he grabbed his ceremonial knife.

  "Even after tonight all you can do is bow down to our divine saviour," the blasphemous man said while walking past his guards.

  Herjuna holds himself steady on his knee. He's in terrible condition yet he refuses to give up. Black fire burns his face, slowly forming a makeshift jaw for himself. An absolute unit this man is, he just keeps on rejecting his loss. His fingers tremble from the amount of pain he's constantly feeling on his face. On his last shot of victory, he makes some gestures with his trembling hands as if he's trying to unlock something deep within himself.

  "YOU WANT A MONSTER? I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A MONSTER IS!"

  "Goddammit... I guess you really left me with no choice..." said the wingman as he carefully did the same gesture, giving an 'agreement'. For a split second, a dark aura appeared within the First Sergeant.

  Huge fire burst out from the man's fists, Herjuna let his black fire engulf the sugarcane plantation, burning every single dried leaf that the fire touches. The dark smoke flies up in the air while his fire eats up any emitting lights possible. Joseph seized the moment when he made an enclosure from a thick black smoke caused by the burning sugarcanes. Black fire combined with the smoke created a blackout curtain that blinds everyone within the fog of war. The duo knows what to do even without direct communication, it's menacing in a way. Yet being surrounded by low visibility makes me a useless unit, I could only do melee combat and that is with insane reactions.

  "Weapon's hot, fire at will!" Harting ordered his men while he continued his rite.

  Gunshots can be heard. I tried to run, dodging away any bullets that were shot behind a row of sugarcanes. The more they shoot, the darker it gets, within seconds all you can hear is men screaming in front of death's door. One by one, Harting's guards are killed by some invisible danger. The darkness became haunting when the scream stopped, when it cleared a little I saw many souls floating, scared and full of remorse. The horror dimmed when Joseph decided to clear out the smoke, he then approached me just to throw a thick spell book ornamented with bones and weird arrangement of strings. I ran to a random rifle belonging to a guard, before aiming I replaced the bullets inside with the silver ones. The smoke cleared out and the first thing I see is the white-haired man drenched in his enemy's downfall, standing in front of Harting with a bayonet while catching his own breath.

  "Stop the ritual, Airlangga... leave the fighting part to your seniors," the man basked in blood said to me.

  "WORTHLESS MONKEYS!! I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!!"

  Joseph sends a strong gust of wind towards Harting, throwing him a couple of feet away from the altar. He catches up with Herjuna and the villain. I stand up, looking at the distance where a gigantic chunk of deep-sea limb stands tall, cursing every spirit in its vicinity. My dislocated ankle makes it hell for me to run so I just jump on my good leg. I picked up the grimoire from the grass-padded ground, searching for some clues in between satanic pages. I don't understand Latin that well but there are certain kinds of words I understand coming from my anatomy class with Father, there should be an explanation for stopping all of this. I slowly drowned in a mental abyss as I saw my higher-ups struggling to buy time for me. Word per word, line per line, paragraph per paragraph my eyes scan every readable inscription, yet nothing makes any sense. Maybe there's no cure for this thing-

  Hold on...

  The last page feels thicker than the others. Even if this paper was manually crafted, it shouldn't be as thick as the hardback cover. I tried to find any gap between my fingernails. With a good hold, the paper splits in half, revealing an unwanted scripture of something. Repel? That is quite a huge keyword to start, but honestly, Taksaka is more fitting for this job. His Latin is probably better than mine but I just can't ask him a survey mid-battle. The pages contain a drawing of a ritual knife, similar to the one Harting has in his hands. I can't risk making mistakes in such dire situations if anything-

  WHOOSSHHHH!!

  A huge surge of wind sent me flying a couple of meters away from the fight. I held the grimoire as tight as I could. This wind somehow carries a message, telling me to just follow my intuition on this magic situation. I am somewhat isolated but it's probably only a matter of minutes until Harting collects their heads before mine. Joseph threw me closer to the centre of the manifestations. This underworld limb is surely more ginormous compared to photos and eyewitness testimonies. Nearby the limb is planted inside a man-made crater, somehow this power feels familiar yet I have never felt so threatened at the same time. I descended before opening the grimoire for the next step and approaching the epicentral part of the crater. An altar stood proudly with some enchanted paper talismans.

  "An eye for an eye, makes the whole world go blind. But what you deem is fair, will be fair by his will,"

  I have heard about this. But where?? Dammit... so many questions but nobody can answer the whole thing.

  Focus on your objective. They begin the ritual through blood, which means by blood it shall be ended. I read through the ritual instructions, some Latin words I don't even know what they mean word per word, which is kind of useless if I were to reverse cast in using antonyms. Whatever's correct, God says in his book "Be and it is", which is literally miracles coming true. Take it by that logic, Magic is merely some projection of the mind, whatever you're conjuring you just have to think it thoroughly and in detail. I wish to end this madness, I wish for these abominations to dry and die off my own blood. Make mine poisonous so no benefit shall be given to them. Let these demon spawns burn as they touch the purest wish of humankind to strife evil in this wretched world.

  "In God's name, I beg dearly for forgiveness for the sins I have committed and the upcoming ones. In God's holy names... creature of the night..."

  I paused as I could hear them screaming.

  "Burn in the light that purifies, burn in his holy name as He's the only creator. As I told you, burn bright in this wretched world and NEVER RETURN!!"

  I slit the base of my hand deep enough for blood to drip down onto the talismans. They flow uncontrollably, forming some symbolism I don't even know what they mean. As the magic does its thing, the night sky grows brighter from the clouds that are forming. The harsh windstorm joined a couple of seconds later, any normal person would compare this to a stormy night on the faraway southern seas. Fishy smell yet it was not the usual smell originating from ordinary sea creatures, this one smelled like the blood and the carcass of a huge whale. Rot anything dirty is the fuel of all despicable things the world has. The talismans glow red, so I took a few steps back for a safety measure. Yet on my last step, the ground began to quake as a surge of blood erupted from the crater's epicentre. When gravity beats the elevation, it's raining blood. The surge slowly begins to split in the middle, revealing something that seems to be the core of the Kraken itself. I shield my vision through the heavy blood rain and the strong quake coming from the earth's core. In between the upward stream, a decapitated head belongs to a woman, ornamented with jasmines woven as a hairnet that holds her bun of hair. Curiosity led me to have a gentle hold of the cranium.

  The moment I touched the skin my hand decayed into a gangrene. It hurts... but what if it's actually the cancer that we have been looking for? A human sacrifice that was-

  Without another thought, I embraced the pain as a price of recklessness. It didn't take more than a second for the disturbance to corrupt my brain. I grunt in pain, my eyes were blurred and burnt by a ray of light that miraculously shines from within my own eyes. The pain multiply exponentially, leaving me in a blank state.

  Cold..

  Alone...

  Without answers to what sin did I commit to deserve all of this?

  "Mother loves you, Airlangga..."

  I regained my vision. Everything went back to normal. I found myself lying down while holding the lady's head in my arms. My hands are still normal and functioning, at least that is the first good news. I wonder how my colleagues are doing on the other side, the sun is rising in the east yet no one has been on my side. There's no way they leave me behind, and it's either they're still fighting for their lives or they've lost. But even if they're losing the brawl, Harting should have come for this head and redo the rituals. I ran as fast as I could with some little stinging migraine etched onto my head. Please survive, I'm coming with a piece of good news. Please stay alive as this news means nothing if I lost a good soul or two.

  "Taksaka! Banaspati!!" I shouted, yet no answer came from either of them.

  "Banaspati!!"

  No answer...

  I looked around, and in between sugarcanes, I saw someone coming. White hair with black ends, stained with coagulated blood all over his head and clothes. The jawless man, limping on his on his left foot before completely tumbling down to the ground. His makeshift jaw slowly dims out as he has no power left inside of him. Clearly Herjuna is at his limit, I kneeled to check on his trauma. The mandible only has ramus while the whole corpus is gone, on top of that he doesn't have all of his four processus. Platinum prosthetics are still intact, blood vessels cauterized and I do not see any way to 'repair' his prosthetic. The masseter is torn, but again the makeshift fire was not for no reason. What a beast.

  "Ugh..." the jawless man said. Yeah, since he doesn't have a mandible he couldn't really make a comprehensible output out of his throat. He tried his best to point something in the distance. The morning is still far away, and I know that the end of this quest is going to be a long one. He's not going to be fit and ready for a horse, the Sanctuary is his next stop anyway.

  "Jesus motherloving Christ..."

  "Taksaka!" I said in relief.

  That feeling dissipated in an instant as I noticed a torn and burnt white uniform on Joseph. The man threw a wooden mask at me.

  "Put it on him so he won't traumatize others"

  I picked up the mask. The wooden thing clicks as it gets close to the platinum processus. So the mask is magnetic, and the platinum is mixed with something, or at least some magnet is inside of the thing.

  "What happened back there?" I asked the windman.

  "Save the talk, we're heading back. I'll carry him and get any clues or evidence you left behind..."

  "Understood, Sir"