The evening sky spreads its dark shadows upon Tundun. Datu Rakta is at the moment inspecting his weapons and equipment. His long dark hair catches the beams of the moon coming through through the window of his bedroom in the Datu’s official residence.

  “Are you hunting tomorrow?” a woman with long dark hair inquired while opening the door without a warning.

  Rakta smiled and replied, “Entering a Datu's room without announcing yourself is wrong child.”

  The girl smiled and jumped hugging Rakta on his shoulder. “Hahaha, I didn’t go inside tho, I just opened the door dad.”

  "Well, you certainly did now." Rakta loosened the hugged arms and leaned in towards the girl,

  "It is already past midnight; why are you awake, moonbeam?"

  The brows of the girl furrowed, "Dad, I am sixteen already, and also… moonbeam?" she headed towards the kampilan and picked it up. "How about we have me be taught sword fighting tomorrow rather than you setting out to hunt?" suggested the girl.

  Rakta paused and reflected, “I’ll think about it, and also, are you serious?” He sat on the windowsill “You're really not the type to hold arms.”

  "Well, I just saw captain Agni this morning… old man is teasing me." She blushed red, "Told me a Datu must also be skilled in fighting and not only in reading political theories."

  Rakta chuckled, then looked into his daughter's eyes “Hahaha, his right though… as my heir, you will not only be the leader of this kingdom. You will also be its protector… as Datu, we command the Tunduvan military…”

  Rakta’s expression sterner, he put his hands on top of Mayari’s shoulders “But Mayari… keep in mind we are different from each other… being a protector doesn’t always mean waving a sword… sometimes it’s to have a humble and diplomatic manner of approaching things…”

  She slowly took away her father’s hands from her shoulder, “Just like how we bowed to those fucking Iberians…”

  Rakta sighed and said, "Language,"

  She waved it aside and turned around, “I changed my mind dad… good luck with hunting tomorrow.”

  Rakta sighed and just looked at the sky. There he wondered, Mayari was not entirely wrong. Iberia was in control of Ma-I for 320 years. And for three hundred twenty years, the four kingdoms bowed to them like a good dog.

  Ma-i was once a vast, prosperous land found on the eastern hemisphere of Teya. It is a kingdom rich and bustling with life. However, like so many empires before it, time passed and Ma-i fell victim to the greed and cruelty of its own people. Its rulers grew corrupt, and neglectful. What supposed to be a caring parent turned out to be a malevolent tyrant. Eventually, the kingdom tore itself apart in a brutal ten year civil war that left Ma-i shattered, and divided into four houses who leads their own smaller kingdoms. These four houses were once the wealthiest and most powerful families on Ma-i before its collapse. From them, the kingdoms of Puliran in the northwest, Pailah to the east, Binuangan in the southeast, and finally, Tundun to the south were established. Each kingdoms were governed by its own Datu.

  The year is 1773 after the foundation of Ma-I and 573 years after Ma-I’s collapse. An event was unfolding at Tundun, within the depths of the Nakubli forest. A starting point of a great rumbling that will shake not just Ma-I but probably the whole world of Teya.

  Two of Datu Rakta's ten guards fell simultaneously, their heads rolling to the forest ground. Blood sprayed across the mossy ground.

  “What happened?!” shouted one soldier, frantically scanning the surroundings, his heart pounding.

  “Stay calm, soldier,” Rakta commanded, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a flicker of fear. "Stay sharp, all of you."

  The remaining eight guards immediately formed a circle around their Datu to protect him, their eyes darting through the trees, searching for their attacker. Moments later, a monstrous creature emerged from beneath the earth, towering nine feet tall. Its thick green skin was rough and scaled like that of a lizard, its muscular and slimy looking shoulders and back coated with patches of moss and soil. Its blood-red eyes glared with malevolence, and saliva dripped from its jagged, sharp predatory teeth… teeth made to tear apart any kind of meat unlucky enough to be its prey.

  “A... a Berberoka…” one soldier stammered, his voice thick with dread.

  “But... what's it doing here?” the Datu murmured in confusion. “There’s no body of water here.”

  “Sir... something’s off about this one,” a soldier in a green uniform with a captain's insignia whispered.

  “I know,” Datu Rakta replied gravely. “Agni, everyone, be cautious.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the guards replied, adjusting their stances and readying for battle. Among the eight, three were baylans, mystics adept at channeling the mystical energy known as Nu. Intricate tattoos covered their arms and bodies. The baylans stepped forward, while the remaining five took their positions to support them, rifles and swords poised for action.

  The Berberoka advanced, each step shaking the ground beneath its feet. The two baylans on either side of it began chanting in unison, “Hounds of Likalibutan, hear our song! Bind our foe where they belong! With binding shackles, fierce and strong!” Their arms glow orange as golden chains emerged from their hands out of thin air, wrapping themselves around the creature's torso. Agni seized the opportunity, extending his hands as he chanted, “Oh Ynaguinid, goddess divine! Strike our foe with power and shine, Let your piercing gaze make them resign!” Four spears appeared out of nowhere behind the Berberoka and plunged deep into its back. As the spears vanished, dark purple blood burst from the creature's wounds, and it dropped to its knees.

  “Got you fiend!” the soldiers cheered, relief sweeping through them at the sight of the seemingly defeated monster.

  The two baylans began to release the chains when suddenly the Berberoka stirred.

  "Wait!" Datu Rakta called, his voice urgent as he saw the creature move.

  Everyone tensed, their eyes widening as the Berberoka slowly rose, its red eyes blazing with anger. The soldiers involuntarily took a step back.

  "HMM... HMM... HHMMAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The Berberoka's laughter rolled like thunder, resonating through the forest. Effortlessly, it shattered the chains binding it. Fear rippled through the soldiers not from the creature's laugh but from the next words that escaped its mouth. "You all... Kill I will all of you!!!"

  A soldier fell to his knees in terror. "A... a talking Berberoka?!"

  "What the hell is going on?!"

  While everyone was still reeling, trying to understand how a monster like the Berberoka could speak, a dark shadow moved swiftly, leaping onto the Berberoka's massive shoulders. The figure gripped the monster's head with both hands and roared, "BURN!" Instantly, a blazing fire engulfed the creature's head, flames licking upward with fierce intensity. Moments later, the soldiers gasped in shock and awe as they recognized the figure. Datu Rakta himself, fighting the monster face-to-face.

  "Datu Rakta!" his soldiers cried out. The remaining five soldiers took aim with their rifles and fired in unison.

  The three baylans chanted in unison, echoing Agni's earlier invocation. Twelve spears materialized and drove into the creature’s body with relentless force.

  Datu Rakta's hands continued to blaze against the Berberoka's head, flames crackling fiercely and smell of burnt flesh covered the area. "You'll pay for what you did to Lesano and Ayo!" he shouted, his voice thick with rage. As his fury intensified, so did the scorching heat of his flames. The baylans and soldiers watched in awe, marveling at their Datu's fierce move to avenge their fallen comrades and how he's protecting them. But as the Berberoka's head burned, Rakta suddenly noticed a twisted grin forming on the creature's face. Realization dawned too late, and the flames faltered as Rakta leaped back. "Tsss..." he hissed, clutching his left shoulder in pain.

  "MY LORD!" Agni cried out as he saw that Rakta's left arm was gone. He rushed forward, while the others desperately continued their assault on the monster. Agni quickly began to chant, "Kabuyaran, with love so pure,

  Heal these wounds, let us endure, Your gentle touch is the only cure." His hands glowed white as he placed them over his Datu's wound. Within seconds, the terrible gash in Rakta's shoulder started to close, the bleeding slowing under Agni's healing touch.

  The Berberoka rose once more, chewing on the severed arm of the Datu as its own burned flesh began to heal. Seeing this monstrous act, a wave of revulsion and terror swept through the remaining soldiers. Desperate and out of bullets, they drew their kampilans and charged, their faces twisted with fear and anger. Rakta tried to call them back, but it was too late. With one brutal swipe, the Berberoka's claws sliced through five soldiers, splitting their bodies in half.

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  "SON OF A BITCH!" Rakta snarled, sprinting toward the beast before Agni could stop him. With his remaining hand, he unleashed a barrage of fireballs at the Berberoka, one after another, until a tendril-like spike shot from the creature's mouth, piercing his side. He collapsed to his knees, clutching the wound as blood pooled beneath him.

  Agni frantically searched for a healer, but dread sank in, Ayo and Lesano, their only healers, had been the Berberoka’s first victims. "Shit..." he muttered, his heart heavy with helplessness. Though a captain, Agni lacked the skill to treat internal wounds.

  Rakta collapsed fully, his lips slowly turning a deep shade of purple. Agni knelt beside him, focused on tending to his Datu. But in the next moment, a piercing projectile shot out of the Berberoka's mouth, hitting one of the baylans with lethal precision, a large hole appeared in his forehead, just like the one in Rakta's side. The Berberoka moved closer to the last remaining baylan besides Rakta and Agni. The baylan tried to evade, but the creature was far too fast. With a sickening snap, the monster opened its massive jaws and bit down on the baylan's head. Agni froze, horrified by what he had just witnessed. Regret flooded him, he wished he had allowed the "Maharlika" Alita to accompany them when she had volunteered. His thoughts were interrupted when Rakta's weakened hand grasped tightly onto his uniform.

  Suddenly, Rakta's weak hand gripped Agni's uniform. "Ag... Agni... I have... a final order..." he whispered, his voice fading. "Place... a barrier around me and the monster... Seal us both inside..." Agni's eyes widened as he understood his Datu's intention.

  "No... I can't do that, my lord!"

  Rakta's grip tightened. "Soldier!" he commanded, mustering his remaining strength. "I am the only one who can stop this... This is... an order...”

  Anger and sorrow filled Agni's gaze. As the captain, it was his duty to protect his Datu, not abandon him. Tears welled up in his eyes. "I... I'm sorry, my lord... I can't. Tundun needs its Datu.”

  “Damn it... Look at me... I... won't last much longer, anyway!” Rakta choked, blood flowing from his wound. “I don't want to die from this wound... Let me die fighting... with honor…” Agni turned his gaze to the Berberoka, which approached them slowly, savoring the moment, like a cat toying with its prey. Reluctantly, Agni stood and backed away, his heart heavy. "I'm sorry, my lord..." Tears streamed down his face.

  Rakta managed a small smile. "Thank you, Agni... my friend... Please... protect Mayari..." Agni nodded and began to chant, "Lord Barangaw, your strength we seek, sever the bridge, our foes grow weak, protect my comrades, strong and sleek!"

  A vibrant, white light mixed with radiant rainbow encased Rakta and the Berberoka, sealing them inside. Rakta held the creature's leg tightly. The Berberoka's eyes widened as it realized what was about to happen.

  "Mayari, my precious child... papa loves you so much..." Datu Rakta whispered, a fierce and determined smile spreads across his face. "I'll see you in Sulad, Berberoka!" With the last of his strength, Rakta gathered every remaining ounce of Nu within his body, soul, and the cage of energy sealing him with the monster. His mouth and eyes began to glow with an intense, otherworldly light. In one final, explosive moment, Rakta's entire body erupted like a powerful bomb. The detonation shook the Nakubli forest, and its thunderous roar reached all the way to the capital of Tundun. Agni was thrown several meters back as his protective barrier shattered, only stopping when his body collided with a massive tree.

  The area was engulfed in thick smoke, and charred trees and scorched grass surrounded the scene. Wounded and battered from the blast, Agni forced himself to return to the site. He stopped dead in his tracks, his heart sinking as he took in the sight. A massive, deep crater left by the explosion. Agni fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the devastating emptiness. There was nothing left of the Datu or the Berberoka. With a choked scream, he punched the ground, the pain of loss, anger, and shame wracking his body.

  Agni leaned heavily on a stick, each step dragging him closer to Maktan. Blood and tears streaked his face, his breaths shallow as he stumbled beneath the weight of what had just unfolded. The forest blurred around him, his focus slipping with each agonizing stride. Hours passed before the trees thinned, but grief and pain clouded his judgment, pulling him off course into the shadowed depths of the forest. His legs buckled, the stick slipping from his grasp, and he collapsed, the world fading to black.

  Two days later, the pain of Nakubli’s tragedy rippled far beyond the forest’s edge, gripping the capital in a suffocating silence. The city entered a week-long period of mourning. Flags hung at half-mast, their colors muted against the somber skies, while the streets were lined with people clad in black. The air was thick with sorrow, a collective grief for the lives lost in the massacre. Yet, amidst the mourning, no one in the capital knew of Agni’s fate, his body still lying motionless in the depths of the forest.

  In the palace, where the Datu's family resided, a lone woman sat by the window, staring vacantly into the lush, verdant garden that surrounded the royal grounds. Her face was blank, her gaze unfocused, as if lost somewhere far beyond the blooming flowers and towering trees.

  The palace's main building is a majestic three-story structure. Crafted from the sturdy woods of narra and kamagong. Each floor had arched doors and windows, flanked by sturdy columns that supported balconies adorned with intricate carvings. Its roof, shaped like the proud hull of a karakoa, a warship of the people of Ma-i rose toward the sky as a reminder of their strength and legacy.

  But today, no beauty could lift the spirits of the people. Even the palace, usually vibrant and alive with life, seemed subdued, cloaked in an air of loss that weighed heavily on the heart of everyone within its walls. The massacre had left a wound, and its shadow now hung over them all.

  Besides the Datu's family, the palace also served as a hub for Tundun's high-ranking administrators and officials, where they met to make decisions regarding the land's governance. The young woman rose, adjusting her black "saya", one of the traditional garments worn by the native people of Ma-i. She then tied her long black hair behind her. Her red, weary eyes told a story of sleepless nights and aching sorrow. Two days had passed since she had received the news of her father's death, and two days had passed since she'd last found any semblance of rest.

  "Ginoong Mayari, are you ready?" a palace slave asked gently from the door.

  "Yes..." Mayari replied, her voice soft and distant.

  The slave entered quietly, her eyes falling to the table. There it was, the plate she had brought for Mayari the night before, still sitting exactly as she had left it. The food lay untouched, its aroma long faded, now a cold reminder of the silence that filled the room.

  "Have you seen my earring?" Mayari asked.

  "Your earring, my lady?"

  "Yes, the one father gave me for my last birthday. It’s been missing since last week."

  "I... I’m sorry, my lady, but I haven’t—" the slave began, but Mayari cut her off.

  "It’s fine," she said, heading for the door. "Let’s go."

  But its not fine with her… Mayari has been thinking, what if she didn’t let her temper get the better of her the last time, she’s with her father? What if she insisted to be trained by him? Mayber her father would still be alive today… these lingering questions have been festering her all night after she received the news about what happened to her father.

  The servant bows and leads Mayari toward the hall where the bodies of past Datus of Tundun lie in state for their three-day vigil. The hall’s towering, polished narra pillars gleam under a dark varnish, and the floor reflects the light from its golden marble surface. Silence envelops the room as Mayari enters, officials halting their quiet conversations to acknowledge her presence. Her eyes immediately fix on the altar where a replica of her father’s last hunting attire rests. Above the altar, a carved image of Aring Sinukuan, the god of war and death, watches over the room. Fresh flowers line the hall, offerings to the fallen Datu.

  “My condolences, Mayari,” a soldier in a blue uniform says, approaching her. Mayari only nods in response. His features mark him as a foreigner, his sharp nose resembling a bird’s beak, thin lips, green eyes, and fair skin standing out among the others.

  The soldier sighs, feigning sympathy. “Ah… such a shame that a mindless beast was what killed Rakta,” he says. “Rakta was quite useful to the Empire... Tsss, he was one of the tools that kept peace in Tundun,” he adds, oblivious to the anger rising in Mayari.

  “Tool?” Mayari whispers to herself, fury simmering beneath her voice. “How dare this fucker compare my late father to a mere tool.” The thought echoes in her mind, sharp and relentless. Her hand curls into a tight fist, her glare fixed on the man as he sips his wine, utterly unaware of her rage. Her arm tenses as she prepares to strike him, but a firm hand catches her fist mid-air, halting her.

  “Good morning, Lady Mayari.” The voice belongs to an elderly man who greets her with a gentle smile, diffusing the tension. “Ah, it’s a pleasure to see you, Governor-General Yizmael Sarmiento!” the elder says, turning to the soldier.

  “Hahaha, the pleasure is mine, Kuyo,” replies the Governor-General, shaking Kuyo’s outstretched hand warmly. Kuyo glances briefly at Mayari, concern evident in his eyes as he takes in her tense expression. With a subtle nod, he guides the Governor-General toward the other Tundun officials, leaving Mayari to gather herself.

  “It’s good that Elder Kuyo stopped you, my lady,” another voice says from behind. Mayari turns to see a young woman with long black hair, brown skin, and sharp, round eyes standing a foot shorter than her.

  “Alita, you’re here,” Mayari says.

  Alita smiles gently. “My lady, it’s best to stay calm while we’re here. Tundun can’t risk a conflict with Iberia.”

  Mayari takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “You’re right… but that fucker…” Her glare shifts to Yizmael in the distance.

  After a few minutes, the final day of Datu Rakta’s funeral vigil begins. Five women dressed in black veils move in a slow, solemn dance around an urn holding the replica of the Datu’s last garment, their steps deliberate and ceremonial, as if harvesting something unseen. An elderly woman beats a small drum, her rhythm setting the pace.

  The elder raises her hands and begins a prayer. “Oh Kaptan, our merciful god,” she intones, her voice trembling with reverence. “Hear our pleas and prayers for our departed Datu! Guide him to the feet of your most compassionate mother, bring him into the embrace of the goddess Kan-Laon!” The babaylans kneel alongside her, lifting their hands to the heavens as they chant in unison.

  "Oh mighty goddess, Lord Kan-Laon, hear our hymn as we humbly call upon. Seal Sulad’s gates, let darkness take flight, Welcome our Datu to Kalangitan’s light." As the prayers fill the hall, Mayari struggles to hold back her tears. The weight of reality crashes down on her once againe, she is now an orphan. Her mother died when she was only five, and now, eleven years later, the pain of losing a parent strikes her again. Alita places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “My lady, everything will be all right,” Alita whispers.

  And with this tragedy, the story begins. Three years after the execution of Simon Lariz, another devastating blow strikes Tundun with the death of its Datu. Yet, few realize the far-reaching consequences these events will bring. Only one understands what lies ahead.