All things that dwell in this world are born in pairs—day and night, radiance and shadow, life and death, love… and the hatred that shadows it.
The universe does not move in chaos, but in a rhythm of dualities, a sacred balance where each half leans into the other, not to conquer, but to complete. This balance is echoed within the human heart, a vessel divided by opposing truths.
Good and evil—neither ever truly dies. They linger, not as enemies, but as eternal companions, woven into every choice, every hesitation, every road taken or forsaken. No soul escapes their quiet tug-of-war.
Who among us can predict the moment when a heart bathed in light begins to flicker, swallowed by shadow? Or when the darkness that has long slept within begins to wane, undone by the tender warmth of an unseen light?
Like rivers that flow into the sea, the fate of those who dwell upon the edges of good and evil is never truly certain. The current may shift with ease, diverted by stones, divided by forks, disrupted by storms that descend unannounced along the way. In this world, the struggle between right and wrong is not merely a contest of power—but a quieter, deeper war waged within the soul.
Every heart bears wounds unseen by any eye. And from these wounds, choices must rise.
But in the end, who among us dares to define what is truly 'good'? Who can claim to know the essence of 'evil' in its entirety?
When the sky dims and its colors begin to fade, the horizon whispers in silence—that the world has never been as simple as it seems. Sometimes, good and evil trade masks, leaving mankind lost in a silence heavy with doubt.
And from within that shadow of uncertainty, an inevitable battle begins to stir.
Here, upon the ancient soil of Sundaland, the fates of two souls finally converge. Two friends who once walked in rhythm now face each other across a chasm carved by belief—belief that had grown sharp and unforgiving.
One had given everything for the truth he held sacred. The other had seen the world through new eyes—eyes that could no longer return to what once was.
Their battle is no mere clash of strength, but a testimony. A testimony to the truths buried beneath the veils of the world. And when the dust of their conflict settles, only one question shall linger in the stillness: who was right, and who was lost?
Once, this land had breathed with beauty. The Sundaland forest stood proud—trees rising like pillars to the sky, their roots coiled into the earth like ancient dragons. The canopy above filtered the sun into gentle gold, and the air was laced with the scent of rain-kissed soil and wild blossoms. Birds sang, and the leaves whispered tales.
Now, all of that is gone—silenced by the reek of iron, poison, and ash.
Roots lie torn, trees collapse one after another, as if surrendering to the weight of two futures—two destinies that had come wielding ruin.
Abu stood in the midst of the wreckage, breath heavy, hand trembling around the hilt of his sword. His face caught the pale light breaking through the clouds, revealing a sorrow too deep to mask.
"Tegar," he whispered, a prayer lost to the wind, "we once walked side by side. How… did we end up here?"
Before him, Tegar stood resolute, clutching a blade wrapped in a blue-hued aura. Ranah energy flowed from him like an untamed storm—chaotic, unbound. His eyes, once familiar, now burned with a stranger's resolve.
"Spare me your pity, Abu," he said—his voice thundered like a distant storm echoing through a hollow mountain. "I have no use for your regret. This ends. Now."
Abu shook his head slowly, denial clinging to his breath. "This fight will take us nowhere. Everything we've built—our memories, our dreams, even this land—will crumble with us!"
"I no longer fucking care …!" Tegar replied. His sword swept through the air, splitting the earth beneath them. Then, quieter—almost like sorrow bleeding into speech—he continued, "Only one of us leaves this place alive. If you still wish to see your wife and children again, then fight me… with all you've got."
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Abu stood in silence. And in that stillness, he felt time collapse—laughter lost, promises undone, the weight of what they once were.
The wind fell still.
As if the cosmos held its breath.
Two souls prepared to clash—not merely with each other, but with the fate that had entangled them.
Their gazes met one last time. No words were needed. Only resolve.
"Maximum Release—Mythic Avatar."
"Maximum Release—Mythic Avatar."
The invocation rang out from both mouths, and the world answered with tremors and fractures.
"Hydra."
"Anoman."
From the broken earth, giants emerged. On Tegar's side, Hydra rose—five serpent heads weaving through the sky, their roars shredding the air and breaking what remained of peace. On Abu's side, a maelstrom of energy sculpted into the form of Anoman—the white-furred warrior, armed with a colossal mace, stood firm, deflecting the gale with sheer might.
For a breath, the world stood silent.
And then their eyes locked—not as enemies, nor as friends, but as men who knew they had no path left but forward.
In that hush before the heavens shattered, Abu whispered within.
"Tegar… I can trap all my pain inside this blade. But if I win… I lose everything. Even you—my friend."
Then came the collision.
And the earth… remembered.