That night, the wind blew gently, carrying the damp scent of soil and wet leaves. The soft trickle of flowing water murmured faintly to Arya and Dio, like a rhythm of nature that did not want to be disturbed. They stood at the outskirts of Yogyakarta, where old trees still thickly clustered, their tendrils stretching long to the ground, casting dark shadows that danced under the moonlight. The air felt heavy, eerie, as if it held something beyond words.
"What kind of place is this, really?" Arya asked, his eyes scanning every shadowy gap with caution, following the swaying trunks and branches. Every rustle of leaves sent tension curling through his chest.
"This… this is the seventh location I suspect might be the tree demon's true body," Dio replied, his voice calm yet alert. He stepped slowly, hand resting on the kris at his waist, eyes scanning the surroundings with focus. "But it seems I was wrong again. This place is too… quiet, though the aura feels dense enough."
"Too quiet?" Arya frowned at him, puzzled.
"Yes. That demon never really stands alone," Dio explained, his tone low and firm. "It has plenty of followers—spiritual humans willing to bow before it."
"Why would they do that? Are… they brainwashed or something?" Arya asked, hesitantly but curious. Something about human loyalty to such a creature felt deeply unreasonable to him.
Dio looked at him with a flat expression, as if holding back a wave of disbelief at the question. "Brainwashed? Stop watching those weird conspiracy theories," he said sharply, though not harshly—more a warning for Arya not to get carried away with fantasy.
His eyes shifted back to the dark forest, and he continued, "They come willingly, choosing to serve that demon because… it promises what humans crave most: wealth, status, honor. But the price… is more than mere devotion. It demands a soul—not just any soul, but a valuable one, taken from the follower themselves."
Arya frowned, his body stiffening as Dio's words echoed in his mind. He paused, replaying everything he had ever heard or sensed about such beings, about promises too sweet to resist, and costs far too steep to pay.
After a few moments of silence, Dio motioned for Arya to move along the edge of a small river cutting through the dense trees. "Let's look around first. I want to make sure this isn't actually the demon's true body. We might find clearer evidence too."
Arya nodded, still feeling the weight in his chest. He followed Dio's steps, observing every crack in the bark, every shadow on the ground, every sound that might trick his senses. That night felt long, cold, and tense—as if the forest itself held its breath, waiting for something they could not see with naked eyes.
Dio stopped at the riverbank, where the water flowed quietly, its gentle babble mingling with the sigh of the night wind through the branches. He looked at Arya with a serious gaze, piercing the darkness as if trying to read what lay hidden within his pupil.
"Here… I want you to meditate," Dio said firmly, yet not harshly, "and I also want to see how far you can use that aura of yours."
Arya simply nodded, asking nothing, as if he understood that no question now could speed the process. He followed Dio's directions, sitting cross-legged at the marked spot, closing his eyes, and beginning to calm himself. The night breeze brushed his skin, carrying the damp scent of soil and leaves, as if nature itself were watching him. Dio sat not far away, his posture straight yet relaxed, eyes alert to every movement Arya made.
At first, Arya focused only on his breathing, drawing in and out softly, rhythmically, as if syncing his heartbeat with the flow of the river beside them. But as minutes passed, he began sensing subtle vibrations in the air, energy flowing between the trees, over the water's surface, even in the soil beneath him. Each breath sharpened his perception, connecting him more deeply to the surrounding energy.
The deeper Arya went into meditation, the more he felt something inexplicable, as if unseen hands were touching his mind, stirring his emotions, creating strange, profound sensations that pierced the edge of his consciousness. His breathing changed—short, ragged—as if the air around him had suddenly thickened and grown oppressively hot, scorching his throat with an invisible fire nearby.
Slowly, Dio approached. He noticed sweat forming at Arya's temples, tiny droplets sparkling in the moonlight. "Enough teasing, Nagini," Dio said, gently patting Arya's shoulder to bring him back.
Arya's eyes flew open, his body rejecting reality, his heart pounding like it wanted to escape his chest. He slowly took in his surroundings, his gaze blank for a moment, as if choking in the sudden darkness of a noonday sun. His body weakened, stiff, almost unable to move. Not far from him, atop the river's rippling surface, stood Nagini. Her red gown flowed lightly with the water's current, a thin, enigmatic smile on her lips, calm yet utterly unsettling.
"What… what kind of energy is that? Why does it hurt so much? My whole body feels like it's on fire," Arya said hoarsely, struggling to steady his ragged breath. He inhaled deeply, held it briefly, then exhaled slowly, trying to calm his trembling body. But the burning sensation crawling through him refused to fade, as if every cell inside him were aflame.
Nagini stared at him with cold, almost emotionless eyes. "None of them are here. Your guess was wrong again, Dio."
Dio furrowed his brow, frustrated, trying to contain his tension and admit his ignorance. "At least give us a hint. You seem to enjoy toying with us like this," he said, his voice trembling slightly.
Nagini smiled gently, casually. "The way to fix a tangled thread… is to repair it slowly, not by cutting or burning it, Dio," she said, her tone calm but piercing.
Arya heard that, and irritation exploded within him. He could sense that Nagini knew far more than she should, and he was certain she was deliberately letting all this happen—not just aware, but allowing it. "Do you think someone's fate is merely a game?" Arya snapped, his voice rising in frustration.
"Have you never felt fear of losing something precious?" he continued, eyes blazing at Nagini.
Arya smirked, lowering his voice to provoke her. "I forgot… a being like you wouldn't be afraid of something so trivial," he said, his words dripping with subtle mockery.
Suddenly, Nagini's eyes widened, filled with centuries of restrained anger. Arya's provocation had crossed a boundary, touching something even he did not fully understand. The air around them shifted drastically—heavy, scorching, suffocating. Arya collapsed as if the weight of the entire world pressed down on him. The pain and heat seared to his very bones, leaving him silently howling.
"Know your place, human. I am not something you can reach or comprehend. Do not provoke my wrath," Nagini said, her voice sharp, striking at Arya's courage.
Dio could only hold his breath, tense with fear. His fingers were cold, trembling, recalling punishments he had once endured for defying Nagini.
"Apologize… quickly. If not, this will not end well," Dio stammered, fearful, trying to intervene though he knew it might do little good.
But Arya, with the last of his spiritual strength, tried to withstand the pressure. He held his breath, bore the pain, endured the fire consuming him. Not long after, his body could no longer resist, and he collapsed, shivering, unconscious.
Hours later, Arya slowly regained awareness. His body was still weak, hands trembling uncontrollably, every breath heavy, as if the air itself pressed on his chest. He leaned against a rough tree trunk, feeling its texture against his skin, as if the real world only became tangible after the darkness and heat that had assaulted him hours before. "What… actually happened?" he murmured, his voice hoarse and shaking, almost unfamiliar even to himself.
Dio, sitting beside him, relaxed yet watchful, looked at Arya and covered his mouth to stifle a light chuckle, a sound like a mischievous teenager aware of a grand secret. "You're awake?" he said, trying to suppress a smile, looking at Arya as if observing a small, sweet folly.
"Just two hours of unconsciousness," Dio continued, grinning, "and that's better. I once woke up after three days—hurt terribly, didn't it?" His words carried a teasing edge, yet Arya could sense a hint of warmth behind them, like a friend reminding him in their own way.
Arya tried to piece together his memory, eyes narrowing, and it came back briefly. Nagini. He remembered her shadow standing on the river's surface, her red gown flowing with the current, the thin, soft yet terrifying smile. Now she was gone. Curiosity and fear mingled, making his heart race faster.
Dio patted his shoulder, calming yet admonishing with a soft but firm voice. "Consider this a warning… from something more terrifying than the tree demon. Also a reminder for you, Arya, not to be reckless. You must learn to respect limits, not just challenge what you do not fully understand."
They remained silent for a few minutes under the tree's shade. Arya's eyes fixed on the starless night sky, his breathing gradually calming. His weakened body still ached, but every pang reminded him of the lesson he had just received, one he would not soon forget.
After resting for a while, Dio helped Arya to his feet and gave him a ride back to the dorm on his motorcycle. Arya's steps were unsteady, every movement heavy, yet a sense of relief lingered—he could still stand, still move, still learn from that terrifying night.
That night became Arya's greatest lesson. He realized there was something darker than darkness itself, more frightening than the tree demon he had ever faced. Something that could not be conquered by courage alone. Something that had to be understood, respected, and acknowledged for its limits—something that would constantly test his resilience, patience, and wisdom at every turn.