Badrul lay helpless on the ground. His breaths were short, his eyes half-closed. In front of him, Badang stood — his face gloomy, filled with sorrow.
"If... if only you had never appeared in my life..."
"... If only you and Tok Hussein had protected me from all those baseless accusations..."
"... Maybe I... maybe I could've lived in peace... with Nisa... and no one would've... compared me... to you...!"
His voice grew weaker, broken. His body trembled, his words gripped by old wounds that had never healed.
Badang could only stare at him — his eyes glistening with tears, yet no words could escape his lips.
Suddenly—
"DON'T YOU DARE MAKE A BULLSHIT EXCUSES TO COVER UP YOUR SINS, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"
A furious scream tore through the silence, coming from the thick underbrush.
Out of the shadows and rustling leaves stepped Samar — his face burning with anger, eyes lit with a fire he could no longer contain.
He held the sniper rifle in a death grip, his whole body stiff with barely contained rage.
he dropped the weapon clattered to the ground and moved toward Badrul, not with calm or control, but with emotions spilling over — every step louder than the last, his fury written across his face like a storm finally breaking.
Samar grabbed Badrul's collar with a fierce grip.
"How many people died because of you, huh?! The old... the children... Nisa! Don't you dare try to play the victim now, Badrul!"
Badrul simply closed his eyes. He had no strength left to respond. His heart was already shattered — and now, all that remained was a shadow of the person he used to be.
"You know..."
Samar finally broke. The tears he'd fought so hard to hold back came spilling out, no longer willing to stay hidden.
"Before Nisa died..."
Samar's voice trembled.
"... she told me... to keep believing in you."
Badrul slowly lifted his head, his eyes wide — stunned, confused, unsure what to feel.
Samar went on, his voice cracking more with each word.
"Back then... I felt so angry..."
"Why... why was it always you she looked at...?"
"Why didn't she ever see me... not even once... even though I was right there... every single day..."
"I... I tried to copy everything you did."
"The way you talked..."
"The way you smiled... the way you protected people..."
"All of it... it was just because I wanted to erase your shadow from her mind..."
"Because I wanted to take away her sadness after you left!"
"But... after all that time trying..."
"...I finally understood."
He looked straight at Badrul, who sat frozen in silence.
"She loved you not because of what you did..."
"...but because of who you truly were."
Badrul said nothing.
His eyes stared into nothing, empty and unfocused — but inside, his mind was drifting.
Memories, long buried, began to surface.
He saw it all again, those first moments with Nisa and Samar... their laughter echoing under the golden sunlight of Rock VIllage. The way everything felt so great, so happy.
Then came the cracks — quiet at first, creeping in through suspicion, tearing them apart with silence, misunderstood, and choices they couldn't take back.
And finally... the loss.
And in the middle of it all—those swirling memories, bright and broken—one voice rose above the rest. Soft, steady, like a breeze brushing through a half-open window.
"Badrul..."
"No matter what happens..."
"...I'll always be by your side."
It wasn't just a memory. It felt real. Close. Like she was still there.
Her smile came next.
The one he thought he'd forgotten.
Nisa—smiling the way she always did.
Warm. Sincere. The kind of smile that made everything feel okay.
But now... it hurt to remember.
Because she was gone.
Finally... he realized.
He hadn't lost everything because of fate... Or because of others.
He had lost it all... because of himself.
"I'm sorry..."
The words slipped out, barely more than a breath.
Tears began to fall — slowly at first, like a quiet rain.
Then all at once. Heavy. Unstoppable.
"...Forgive me..."
"Nisa..."
"Samar..."
"Badang..."
Each name cracked through him like thunder —
Not just names.
But the weight of every wound he'd left behind.
His voice trembled, caught in his throat, barely able to escape.
He gripped the earth beneath him with both hands, as if trying to claw back everything he had let slip away.
Samar slowly let go of his collar.
Badrul collapsed onto his back, still sobbing — but now, there was a trace of relief on his face, as if the weight he carried had finally begun to lift, if only a little.
Samar stood tall, his eyes turning toward the sky, where the first light of dawn stretched across the horizon in soft shades of orange.
"I forgive you..."
"But not because I want to."
"...but because Nisa asked me to keep believing in you."
His voice was calm — steady — but beneath it lay a weight of meaning too deep for words.
He turned away, walking slowly, not out of hatred, but because he needed space — space to breathe, to heal.
And as the sun rose higher, casting its golden light over the earth, the long shadow that had loomed over Rock Village finally began to fade.
The storm had passed.
…Or so they thought.
"AAAARRRGGHHH!!!"
The scream tore through the quiet morning, sharp and raw.
Badang's head snapped toward the sound.
His eyes widened.
"Samar!"
Samar was hunched over, his entire body trembling as pain surged through him.
He staggered, clutching his sides — and then, his skin began to tear, slowly, horribly, revealing the raw muscle underneath.
It was as if something inside him was trying to force its way out.
Badang sprinted toward Samar, panic rising in his chest — but once he reached him, he froze. He had no idea what to do.
Badrul lay nearby, helpless. His body was broken — missing his left leg and arm, too weak to move, too shattered to speak.
And in that critical moment — he came.
Ilyas appeared in front of Badang in the blink of an eye, his presence sharp and commanding.
"Move,"
Ilyas gently laid Samar down as his body convulsed uncontrollably. Without wasting a second, he pressed his hand firmly against the center of Samar's torso — eyes narrowed, focusing.
Moments passed. Then, slowly, Samar's body began to relax. His breathing steadied. The trembling stopped.
"Ilyas..." Badang spoke, his voice laced with worry.
"How is Samar?"
"Don't worry. He just passed out."
A wave of relief washed over Badang, and he exhaled deeply.
"But... what actually happened to him?"
Ilyas let out a long breath, his eyes momentarily glancing at Samar's unconscious form before turning back to Badang.
Then, with a serious tone, he began to explain.
"He used a pretty complex technique... one that channels Evo-Virus into non-living matter."
"That kind of technique requires extremely fine control and balance. It's like... trying to bring something lifeless to life. But because he hasn't properly trained his Evo-Virus, it ended up clogging inside him."
"Clogging?" Badang asked, his brow furrowed.
"Yes. The Evo-Virus got blocked inside his internal pathways and started damaging several vital organs."
"If I hadn't stepped in, his body would've exploded within minutes."
Badang fell silent, his throat tight.His eyes locked onto Samar, who still unconscious, still breathing --- and for a momen, the weight of what almoste happened sank deep into his chest.
"But... how did you fix him?"
"I drew out some of the clogged Evo-Virus from his system… then I manually corrected the flow — guided it back into its original path."
Ilyas stood tall, his posture calm but sharp.
His gaze shifted to Badrul, who lay broken and silent on the ground.
His eyes softened, but behind them was a storm of thought — weighing options, judging consequences.
"So... what are you going to do with him?" Ilyas asked, raising a single finger and pointing straight at Badrul.
Badang didn't answer.
His silence spoke volumes.
In his mind, the answer was clear — kill Badrul. End the threat. Bury the pain and the vengeance once and for all...
But no... after everything he'd seen — Badrul's broken body, the pain behind his eyes, the truth that had finally come out — something inside Badang began to shift.
The rage that once burned so fiercely… flickered.
"Ilyas... I think I..."
His voice faltered.
And suddenly —
His strength gave out. His knees hit the ground hard. His body folded, arms limp at his sides.
He collapsed, face-first into the earth.
"Eh, Passed out."
Ilyas shook his head slowly, unsurprised.
He stepped closer to Badrul, who lay broken on the ground — face battered, eyes dim, burdened with regret.
"I'm giving you two choices," Ilyas said, his tone firm and unwavering.
"Either you want to live and find the strength to apologize to everyone you've hurt..."
"...Or you want to die, carrying every burden and regret you've ever buried — all the way to your grave."
He knelt down beside him, locking eyes with Badrul — no anger, just truth.
"I'll say this now: I don't bluff. What I say... I'll do."
Badrul gave a faint, tired smile. His eyes shimmered, holding back the weight of tears.
"You already know… which one I'll choose."
Ilyas gave a small nod — silent, but certain.
"All right..."
"But before that, there's something I need you to tell me first."
Their voices dropped to a near whisper, as if even the wind wasn't meant to hear.
Two men — scarred in different ways, carrying shadows of their pasts — sat in the stillness, sharing more than just words.
This wasn't just a conversation. It was a reckoning.
They exchanged pieces of truth, fragments of history and knowledge.
Information that, one day, would change the course of everything.
When everything was finally done, Ilyas rose to his feet in silence.
He leaned forward, placing his palm gently on Badrul's forehead — not with force, but with care, as if offering a kind gesture to someone who'd wandered too far down a dark road.
"As a thank you for choosing to talk," he said softly,
"I'll let you rest in a better place,"
A warm light began to glow from Ilyas's hand — not blinding, but soft, like the first rays of dawn after a long, stormy night. It slowly wrapped around Badrul's body, like a lullaby made of light.
Badrul's breathing grew calm. His shoulders, once stiff with pain and regret, finally relaxed.
His eyes fluttered shut — not in fear, but in peace.
For the first time in a long while…
he looked like a man who was finally allowed to sleep without nightmares.
Badrul woke up.
But this time… he is in an unfamiliar place.
A cool breeze gently brushed through his hair, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers and something he hadn't felt in what seemed like forever — peace.
All around him stretched a vast, open field — endless green rolling into the horizon, speckled with blooming flowers in every shade imaginable.
Above, the sky was a brilliant blue, untouched by smoke or sorrow.
No screams.
No destruction.
just a quiet silence.
"Where... am I...?"
His voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the wind.
He turned slowly, eyes wide, taking in the beauty around him like it was something sacred — something unreal.
It felt too peaceful to be real. Too perfect for someone like him.
And then...
His gaze landed on a figure in the distance.
A silhouette. Familiar. Still. Waiting.
A woman.
She stood just a short distance away, smiling gently — like she had been waiting there all along — and lifted her hand to wave at him.
"Who... is that?" Badrul whispered.
His feet moved on their own, slow and uncertain, as if afraid the moment might vanish if he blinked.
His heart pounded.
With each step, her face grew clearer — and with it, a rush of emotion he couldn't hold back.
"Nisa...?"
The name escaped him like a breath he'd been holding for years.
Badrul broke into a run — faster than his body should've allowed.
Tears blurred his vision, his chest tight with emotion, breath coming in sharp gasps.
"Nisa… Nisa!"
He didn't care if this was real or just a dream. He didn't care if he'd wake up in the next second.
What mattered was that she was here — right in front of him.
He threw his arms around her, holding her tight like he'd never let go again.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
His voice cracked, broken by guilt and longing.
"I broke our promise… I failed to protect you… I caused so many people to die..."
"All of this… it's all my fault..."
His voice cracked under the weight of the truth he could no longer carry. His body shook as everything he had held in — the guilt, the grief, the shame — came pouring out, unfiltered and raw.
He wasn't crying anymore. He was unraveling.
But Nisa didn't pull away.
She held him tighter, her arms a quiet shelter from the storm inside him.
Her warmth didn't just wrap around his body — it reached into the hollow places of his soul and reminded him of what it felt like to be whole.
No anger. No blame. Just presence and love.
Slowly, she brought her hands to his face, holding him like he was something fragile.
Her fingers trembled slightly — not from hesitation, but from feeling too much at once.
She looked at him and wiped his tears with the gentleness of someone who had never stopped caring.
Not even after everything.
"Didn't I tell you before..."
Her eyes locked with Badrul's — steady, unwavering.
"No matter what happens…"
"I'll always be by your side."
Badrul met her gaze — and for the first time in what felt like forever…
He felt light.
The weight he had carried for so long — the guilt, the pain, the endless grief — didn't vanish like a dream.
But somehow, it wasn't crushing him anymore.
It was as if someone had reached inside him and taken just enough to let him breathe again.
And in that quiet, where the wind whispered through the tall grass and time felt like it had paused just for them, he reached out — slowly, like he was afraid the moment might slip away.
Their hands met.
Fingers laced together, holding tight.
Their steps were slow, but steady — moving toward the warm light glowing softly at the end of the space.
"Badrul... you can rest now," Nisa said, her voice soft, her smile carrying the kind of warmth that reaches into the bones.
There was no rush. No fear.
Only peace...
And a love that no longer cared for the rules of space or time.
Now, they would never be apart again.
Not in dreams.
Not in soul.
They were finally home — in each other.