The sky above Jakarta that afternoon was reddish orange, filled with thick smoke originating from traffic jams that never subsided. Bimo sat on the bus stop, his head bowed and his hands held tightly the edge of the bench. He tried hard not to look at the figure of an old man standing across the street. The figure was dressed in tattered, with bruises all over his body, and the most striking, a concrete iron stuck in his chest. However, no one around him glanced at him. Only Bimo. The old man is a ghost, and Bimo can see it.
"Go," Bimo murmured softly, hoping his words could drive the shadow. But as usual, it doesn't work. The ghost just stared at him blankly, trapped in his eternal suffering.
Since childhood, Bimo lived in fear. The world he saw was different from other people's world. He saw the shadows moving in the corner of the eye, whispers from empty spaces, and appearances that often made him wake up at night with cold sweat. His mother thought he had schizophrenia. The doctor gave him various kinds of drugs, but no one could eliminate his "hallucinations". Bimo learned to be quiet and pretend to be normal.
He stood up when the bus he was waiting for. He rushed in, hoping that his trip back to his small apartment would free him from today's vision. He found a chair near the window and stared out, trying to focus on people and cars.
Suddenly, his gaze changed.
The world is no longer only consisting of solid objects. Among everyone, he saw a bright red thread. Threads are thin like silk, emitting faint light, connecting one person with another person, or someone with an object in the distance. Some are strong and sparkling, some are weak and almost broken. This is a "red line". Bimo did not know where the name came from, but that's what he always mentioned. The lines of destiny that connect everything. Usually, he can ignore it, but today, the lines look clearer and more disturbing than usual.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to eliminate the vision.
The bus stopped at a red light. On the sidewalk, Bimo saw a young woman who was arguing with a man in a suit. They look like a pair of lovers who have a fight. The red line that connects them throbbed with unstable red light, almost black. But what attracts Bimo's attention is not them. Behind the man in the sucking man, stood a tall and thin dark shadow. The shape is like a human, but too tall and too thin, with the limbs that extend unnaturally. His face has no features, just dark darkness. Invisible creatures.
Bimo felt his chest tight. He rarely sees creatures like this. They are different from ordinary ghosts trapped in the world. These creatures have awareness, and they always carry an aura of evil intentions that make Bimo nausea.
Unintentionally, Bimo filled his head with the desire to see more clearly. He wanted to know what the creature was doing. When he focuses, his world changes completely. The sound on the bus disappeared, replaced by static hiss. The colors around him faded, leaving only a sparkling red line and the dark creature which now shines with a black aura.
Bimo saw the creature opening his mouth like a gap. No sound came out, but Bimo could feel the words he said, like poison that dripped directly to his mind.
"Increasing his anger," hissed the creature, his voice was like the rustling of dry leaves in the skull of Bimo. "I'm thirsty for this negative energy. For him to hit him."
The man in the suit, who unconsciously was influenced, pushed the young woman roughly. The woman staggered, her eyes widened for fear and shocked.
Anger boils in Bimo's chest. He can't stand it. He hates injustice, and he hates the evil creature that manipulates humans. Without thinking, Bimo opened the bus window and shouted, "Stop it!"
The man in suits and the woman turned to him, confused. The dark creature also turned around. His empty "face" is now fixed on Bimo. Bimo can feel hunger and evil curiosity from him.
"A person who can see?" The creature hissed, sounded surprised and happy. "Seldom..."
Bimo felt extraordinary fear, but he could not retreat. He focused all his hatred and anger at the creature. He just wanted the creature to leave.
Then, something strange happened.
Bimo's palms feel hot, very hot, like holding a burning pan. He looked down and almost shouted. The small fire is orange and gold blazing from his hand, burning without burning his skin or his arms.
"Fire?!" shouted the creature, and for the first time, there was a tone of fear in his hiss.
Bimo, which is driven by pure instincts, points the palm of his fiery at the creature. A small burst of fire, as big as a tennis ball, darted from his hand. That is not an ordinary fire; The fire is white in the core and emit bright light.
The dark creature screamed a shrill voice that broke the normal frequency, only heard by Bimo and maybe by some ghosts around him. The fire bursts on the shoulder of the creature, burning it with white light. Black smoke rises from the wound before the creature just disappeared into the shadow between the two buildings, leaving the foul odor that pierced the nose.
The bus moves again, leaving the scene. Other passengers only saw a young man opening the window and shouting, no more. They shook their heads and continued their activities.
Bimo panting, staring at his hand. The fire was extinguished, but a strong warm sensation was still left. His heart was beating fast. What just happened?
He got off at the next stop, his feet trembled. He walked without direction, his mind was chaotic. He sat in a lonely park bench, staring at his hand that still felt warm.
"Fire," he whispered to himself, his voice trembled. "I issued a fire."
Suddenly, an old man appeared and sat next to him. The man was dressed simple but neatly, and most importantly, he looked normal completely alive. Bimo was immediately alert.
"Don't worry, son," said the old man, his voice deep and soothing. "I won't hurt you."
"Who are you?" Bimo asked, ready to run.
"My name is Mr. Daru. And I've watched you for a long time, Bimo."
"You know me?"
"Yes. I know what you just experienced. I also saw the dark creature. And I saw the fire coming out of your hand." Pak Daru's words were said calmly, without doubt.
Bimo could only stare at him, not believe. This is the first time someone has discussed these things with him openly.
"How can you ...? What happened to me?" Bimo asked, his voice was full of confusion and hope.
Pak Daru sighed. "What you call a curse, Bimo, is actually a legacy. You are not a sick person. You are a warrior."
"I don't understand."
"This world is more complicated than what people realize. The creatures you see, which you call ghosts, are lost spirits. But the dark creatures, they are destroyers. They are not from this world. They eat negative energy of human anger, greed, jealousy.
Bimo listens, every word stuck in his mind like a nail.
"And that red line?" he asked.
"That is a thread of destiny. Karma braids and relationships that connect every soul and every event. Only a few people can see it. That is a gift."
"Then, the fire in my hand?"
Pak Daru looked at him directly into his eyes, his face seriously. "That is the answer, Bimo. That is your true strength. You are a fire god who was born again."
Bimo laughed bitterly, a nervous reaction. "Dewa? That's crazy."
"This is not a metaphor, Bimo," said Mr. Daru firmly. "This is a literal truth. The soul of an ancient fire god has reincarnated into you. Your job is to clean up the world of these destroyers. Your spiritual fire is the only thing that can burn them permanently, deciding their evil influence on humans and the red line of destiny."
Bimo froze. The words are too big, too impossible to digest. He was just a young man who was scared, not a god.
"Why me? I don't want this!" Bimo protest.
"It's not our choice, son. This is destiny. They, those jinns, do not work alone. They have allies in the human world."
"Human? Allies?"
Pak Daru nodded slowly, his face was gloomy. "Yes. There are people, members of the dark syndicate, who make an agreement with this jin-jin. They exchanged human lives and the stability of the planet for power and wealth. They know about you, Bimo. And now, after you show your strength, they will hunt down you."
The fear that Bimo felt on the bus was nothing compared to the cold feeling that now covered his bones. He is not just strange; He is the target.
"What should I do?" he asked, his voice was barely heard.
Pak Daru placed a warm hand on Bimo's shoulder. "You have to learn. You must control your strength. You must learn to distinguish between spirits that require help and jinn that must be destroyed. You must learn to read the red line to find threats before the threat occurs. And most importantly, you must survive."
Pak Daru stood up. "Meet me tomorrow morning at this address." He slipped a piece of paper into Bimo's hand. "You are not alone, Bimo. But your journey has just begun. Believe in your instinct. Believe in your fire."
Without more words, Mr. Daru turned around and left, disappearing behind the crowd.
Bimo sat alone on the park bench, staring at the paper in his hand. The written address is neatly there. He looked at his palm, trying to call back the sensation of the fire. Nothing happened.
He looked around. He can still see a vague red line connecting everyone, complicated threads of destiny. He could still see the shadow of an old man with concrete iron on his chest, standing across the street, staring at him.
But something has changed. His fear, while still there, is now mixed with something else, a goal. He raised his hand again, concentrating his mind, remembering the burning anger towards injustice.
A small spark, no bigger than a match, is burning for a moment at the end of his finger before going out.
Bimo clenched his fist, feeling his warmth. A hunch whispered that his old life had ended. War for the destiny of the earth, and for his own soul, has begun.