The air inside the temple seemed to freeze, thick with damp rot and the eerie sound of scales slithering against the stone floor. Ah Rong's grip on the flashlight trembled slightly, its beam flickering over the writhing shadows of the serpents. Wherever the light passed, their scales gleamed with a strange bluish-gray hue.
"Walau eh, why do these snakes look so weird?" His voice carried a suppressed tremor of fear.
Noya held her breath, eyes locked onto the eyeless snakes on the ground. Her grandfather had once told her of a cursed breed of serpents—ones born without eyes, their sight taken from them by ancient magic. These creatures hunted by scent alone, and right now, they were slithering ever closer.
Cold sweat trickled down Lin Han's back. His gaze darted toward the deepest part of the temple, where a crumbling statue loomed over a stone altar. Time had eroded its features, but the elongated contours of its face bore a disturbingly serpentine resemblance. In front of the altar, a skeletal corpse knelt in eternal devotion, its bony fingers clutching a corroded brass plaque.
"Another damn plaque?" Lin Han muttered under his breath.
Noya stepped forward, trying to read the inscription on the plaque. But just as she reached out, a sudden gust of icy wind howled through the temple, whipping her hair into the air. The sweat on her forehead turned cold as ice.
"He had barely touched the plaque when a low hissing sound echoed in his ears." Lin Han snapped his head around. The eyeless snakes had all lifted their heads simultaneously, their bodies swaying in unison toward the statue, as if in worship.
Noya's heartbeat pounded in her chest. Her fingertips brushed against the brass, rough and uneven, with deep grooves carved into the surface. As she gripped it tightly, the flickering candle flames in the temple suddenly roared to life, bursting into crimson hues, casting the entire chamber in a blood-drenched glow.
Ah Rong sucked in a sharp breath. His flashlight wavered, and in the corner of the temple entrance, its beam landed on something—a figure standing silently in the doorway, draped in a black robe.
Beneath the folds of the robe, a faint bulge was visible at the chest, where the insignia of the Genting Group was subtly embossed into the fabric.
Lin Han's fist clenched instinctively. A memory flashed in his mind—the last time he had seen a robed figure, lifeless on the ground, clutching a similar brass plaque in his cold, dead fingers.
"Noya…" Her voice suddenly grew distant, as if carried away by an unseen force. Her fingernails scraped against the plaque, tracing an indentation in the metal—ancient Javanese script.
A flood of forgotten myths crashed into her mind: the whispers of the serpent god, the doomed gatekeeper, and… the final sacrifice.
The air thickened, the temple's temperature plummeting. Ah Rong's face had turned ghostly pale, his gaze fixed on the black-robed figure, sweat beading on his forehead.
The figure finally lifted his head. Deep wrinkles marred his face, and his eyes gleamed with a sickly green glow. His lips parted, muttering in a voice as deep as a ritual chant:
"The gate… has already been opened…"
The flickering flames inside the temple cast long, shifting shadows on the ancient stone walls, as if even the light itself feared what lurked in the darkness. A cloaked figure stood silently at the entrance, its form blending seamlessly with the shadows. The damp air carried a strange, rotten sweetness, making it difficult to breathe.
Ah Rong clenched his flashlight tightly, his palms slick with cold sweat. The beam illuminated the figure's face, revealing something that hardly resembled a living human—its skin was an eerie shade of grayish-blue, lips cracked, and sunken eyes glowing with a sinister green light.
"Lin Han, this guy... he doesn't seem human," Ah Rong muttered, his voice trembling slightly.
"Walau eh, don't tell me we've really run into a ghost." He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to stay calm.
The cloaked man remained motionless, his lifeless eyes fixed upon them, lips parting slightly as if whispering something inaudible. Noya inhaled sharply, an unnatural chill creeping up her spine, slithering through her bones like an invisible serpent.
"The gate... has already opened."
The voice was hollow, distant, as if echoing from another realm.
The temple's temperature dropped again. The murals on the walls trembled slightly, as though something long dormant was beginning to awaken. Noya's fingertips accidentally brushed against the stone wall, encountering a sticky, viscous liquid. She lifted her hand to inspect it under the dim light—it was red, with a metallic scent.
"Teh tarik spilled on my pants?" Ah Rong joked weakly, attempting to lighten the mood, but his voice was dry and strained.
"No... it's blood." Noya's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it struck them like ice-cold steel.
Lin Han's eyes darted around, scanning the walls. The murals had changed—the previously eyeless figures now bore newly formed eyes, identical to those of the cloaked man—green, eerie, inhuman.
"Don't look at the murals!" Lin Han barked, yanking Noya behind him. He felt her nails graze his wrist, leaving a faint red mark.
"Sakit kah?" Noya's breath hitched slightly, her voice nearly inaudible.
The cloaked man raised a hand, revealing a string of ancient brass bells beneath his tattered sleeve. The bells quivered, yet no sound emerged. Instead, a distant, murmuring chant filled the temple, like countless voices whispering at once.
"This isn't just a simple curse." Noya clutched the metal badge pinned to her chest, its cold surface grounding her in reality.
"Who is he?" Ah Rong's voice was laced with fear.
Lin Han's eyes narrowed as they landed on the figure's chest—there, barely visible under the cloak, was an insignia.
The emblem of the Genting Group.
A horrifying realization struck him. Genting Group was more than just a business empire. There was something deeper, something buried beneath its vast corporate facade. And now, that secret was linked to this temple, the ancient Javanese bloodline, and perhaps an even older, forbidden force.
"The gate... has already opened…"
The cloaked man spoke again, his body trembling violently this time, as if suffering from an invisible agony.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them cracked open. From the darkness, a massive, slithering shape lunged forward—a giant black python, its body far larger than any normal snake, covered in shimmering bronze-like scales. Its eyes were completely hollow.
Time seemed to freeze.
"Shit—there really is a snake god?!" Ah Rong's voice cracked as he stumbled back, his flashlight slipping from his grasp. The beam wavered wildly, casting a flickering glow onto the temple ceiling, where an enormous shadow loomed.
Lin Han's fingers tightened around his pocket, where his last remaining folding knife lay.
The cloaked man took a staggering step backward, his gaze fixed on the massive serpent. His lips quivered as he spoke his final words:
"The sacrifice... must continue."
Before anyone could react, his body began to wither at an unnatural speed—his flesh caved in, his skin shriveled, his blood drained away in mere seconds. In the blink of an eye, he had turned into nothing more than a withered husk, a dried-out corpse standing in eerie silence.
A suffocating stillness blanketed the temple.
Noya's fingers trembled as she stared at the skeletal remains. And then, a chilling realization dawned upon her—
The cloaked man hadn't been cursing them. He had been warning them.
But it was too late.
From the cracks in the temple floor, more slithering shapes began to emerge...