The days at the Palmerah boarding house are filled with more intense training. Experience at the Paradiso club and chase by a black car has taught Bimo that control is everything. He not only practiced lighting fire, but also maintains it in various levels of intensity for a long time, turning it from the white flame to the rays of a sharp laser destruction.
One morning, Mr. Daru did not open an exercise book or energy map. Instead, he sat in front of Bimo with a very serious expression.
"Your strength is growing, Bimo," he started. "But it's still like a child who holds a samurai sword. You can hurt, but you don't understand the weapon fully. For that, you must understand where it came from."
"You mean ... Reincarnation? Dewa API?" Bimo asked. The concept still feels too big and strange to him.
"Yes. Every god that was born again brought along with the 'core memory' of memory pieces and knowledge from the previous life stored in the soul. The memory is usually locked, only open when the successor is strong enough or in a very large danger."
"How to access it?"
"Through a very deep meditation. Through diving into yourself. It is risky. If you are not ready, you can get lost in your own mind. But you have shown extraordinary strength and endurance. I believe you are ready."
Bimo nodded, even though his heart was pounding. He wants an answer. He wanted to know why he was chosen for this.
They prepared the room. Pak Daru turned on incense and draw a circle of protection on the floor around the pillow where Bimo sat.
"Focus your mind on fire on your chest," Pak Daru's instruction, his voice was low and calm. "But this time, don't send him out. Pull inside. Let it burn all your other thoughts. Let it take you deeper."
Bimo closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He found a hotspot on his chest, which now feels like a small sun. Instead of projecting it, he imagined it enlarged, covering all his consciousness. The outside world fades: the sound of traffic, smell of incense, loud floor taste below it. Everything disappeared.
He fell.
Not physically falling, but falling into himself. He floated through a tunnel made of fire and light. The roar filled his head, like the sound of a volcano or a very large engine.
Then, suddenly, the fall stopped.
He stood in a plateau. The sky above it is red and orange, filled with ash and sparks. In front of him, a man stood his back. The man was very tall and muscular, his skin was dark sunburned, and his long hair was like a blazing fire. He wore a simple robe from burning skin in several parts.
The man turned around. His face is an older version, wiser, and more haunted than Bimo's own face. His eyes are two lights that are burning.
My son, a rumbling voice, not heard through the ear but directly in the soul of Bimo. Finally you came.
"You ... you are him?" Bimo asked, or at least, his thoughts that shape those words.
I was the one before you. I am the one who will always be in you. I am Agni, the wipe. And you are my successor.
Bimo looked around. They are not alone. In the highlands, thousands or even millions of dark creatures and non-containers moved from the gaps on earth. They are destroyers, but in a more primitive and more fierce form.
This was the opening war, Agni's voice rumbled. When they first tried to cross. I stop them. I burned the bridge between their world and your world. But they are cunning. They find another way. They do not attack with strength anymore, but with tricks. They seduce humans with false promises.
The shiny pictures in Bimo's mind. He saw ancient humans make an agreement with a shadow, accepting strength in return for loyalty. He saw the birth of the first darkness syndicate.
Your strength is not just to burn, my successor, said Agni, raised his hand. A very large and bright fireball appears, but does not destroy. It heals cracked soil, purifying toxic air. Your strength is to restore balance. To cut the yarn that has been damaged. To burn spiritual disease so that healthy ones grow and those who are sick can heal.
Agni looked directly into Bimo's soul. They are afraid of you because you are the opposite of them. They took. You give. They pollute. You purify. Remember that.
The view began to fade.
Your time is almost gone. Know that this war will not be won with a big battle. It will be won by every refining action, with every heart you save from darkness. Be wise. Be strong.
And beware of fraudsters ...
The sound and picture disappeared. Bimo was thrown back through the tunnel of light, jolted back to consciousness in a boarding house.
He was panting, sweating swiftly, his body trembled. His hand held his chest, where the hotspot was now felt ten times hotter and more alive.
Pak Daru knelt down next to him, his face is full of worries. "Bimo! Are you okay? You haven't realized for almost an hour!"
"I ... I saw it," Bimo's breath was still gasping. "I'm talking to him."
He told everything he saw and heard. Pak Daru listened solemnly, his eyes grew bigger.
"Agni," murmured Mr. Daru respectfully. "He confirmed everything. This is more than just battle. This is a war for the human soul."
"He said beware of 'fraudsters'. What does that mean?"
Mr. Daru frowned. "I'm not sure. It could be a nickname for the syndicate leader, or certain types of jinn that are specifically deceptive. We must be careful."
The new knowledge changed the way Bimo practiced. He no longer saw the fire as a weapon, but as a tool. He practiced focusing his rays on a piece of wood that had been weathered. Instead of burning it to ashes, he imagined purifying it, burning moisture and fungus that damaged it. After a while, the wood looks harder and fresher, as if it has been regenerated.
"This is amazing," Bimo whispered, checking the wood.
"That is the true power of the fire god," said Mr. Daru, was amazed. "Not destruction, but renewal through fire."
The next day, Anton arrived with the taxi. His face looked worried.
"Mr. Daru," he said, without further ado. "I heard something. From an acquaintance who works in the hospital. There is something strange."
"What's that?" asked Mr. Daru.
"There is a strange disease outbreak in the Pulo Gadung industrial area. Not a physical disease. People suddenly become very apathetic, lose the spirit of life. They only lie in bed, no longer care. Doctors are confused. But strangely, it only attacks workers in a particular factory: the textile factory 'Source of Fortune'."
Bimo and Pak Daru looked at each other. It sounds like a syndicate work.
"Thank you, Anton. This is valuable information," said Mr. Daru.
After Anton left, Mr. Daru immediately held his energy map. Bimo placed his finger in the Pulo Gadung area. He immediately pulled his finger, feeling disgusted.
"There is ... there is something big there," Bimo said, trembling. "It feels like a giant black spider that is eating all the surrounding energy. The red line around the factory ... they broke up. Like being revoked."
"That is a 'soul -eating'," said Mr. Daru in a trembling voice. "A rare high -level jinn. It does not kill, but takes up the desires, enthusiasm, and positive emotions of the victims, leaving a living empty shell. That is the perfect way to create obedient slave troops without attracting unwanted attention."
"We have to stop it," Bimo said, his determination was burning.
"Yes. And this is an opportunity to use your new lesson. Such a jinn cannot be destroyed by a direct fire burst. It's too big. You have to purify the land, break the relationship with the source."
They left with another taxi, stopped away from the factory. From a distance, the factory looks normal: large buildings, chimneys, high fences. But Bimo can see it. Thick and gloomy gray and gloomy fog enveloped the entire area, pressing and deadly. No other jinn is visible. The soul -eating is a peak predator who does not tolerate competitors.
"The jinn is underground," Bimo said, feeling the pull of the energy down. "He pulled energy from the entire factory and focused it at one point."
"Maybe the boiler room or underground tunnel," Pak Daru guided. "We have to go in."
Singing into the factory is easy. The security is minimal, and the guards they see look lethargic and not interested, the effect of the genie. They found the door to the locked basement, but Bimo carefully heats the key with the fire until it melts, opening it without sound.
The stairs decreased into the darkness. The air below feels getting heavier and cooler. The sound of the rumbling machine above faded, was replaced by a soft and creepy snack and sobs.
At the bottom, they found themselves in a vast concrete tunnel. And in the middle of the tunnel, depending on the air, is the creature.
It is a lump of throbbing and transparent energy, resembling a giant jellyfish with thousands of tentles that extends upwards, penetrating the ceiling and connected to every victim on the top floor. The center of its center is dirty gray, and Bimo can see the flashy faces of sufferers who appear and disappear in it, trapped in an eternal torture. It is a soul -eaters.
"Gosh," hissed Mr. Daru, almost no sound.
The creature did not seem to pay attention to them. It's too busy enjoying the food.
"You have to cut off the tile," whispered Mr. Daru. "Burn them with your purification fire. It will free the victims and weaken the creature."
Bimo nodded. He raised his hands. He focused all his memories of Agni, about the purpose of purification. The pure white fire burned in his hand, illuminating underground darkness.
He pointed his hand into a group of thick tentacles. He released the vast white fire flow, such as water sprayer.
When the fire touched the tiles, they did not burn. Instead, they change color from dull gray to pure white before evaporating into harmless fog. From above, shouting distant and collective relief is heard.
The soul eaters react. The center body throbbed with anger. It issued a low groan that made all the tunnels vibrate. It pulled all the remaining losses, deciding on the relationship with his victims to focus on new threats.
See! A hissing voice in their heads, full of hunger and unsatisfied hatred. You steal my food!
The creature floats closer, the time is now free to whip the air like a whip, searching.
"Bimo, be careful!" shouted Mr. Daru. "Now he will attack!"
A tentacle shot at Bimo. Bimo dodged and burned it with a burst of fire. The tentacle shrank and yawned.
But there are thousands of others. The creature released a lot of its losses at once. Bimo burned one, then two, but the third wrapped his wrist. He immediately felt a piercing cold, and a terrible apathetic feeling infiltrated his mind. What are you fighting for? It's easier to give up ...
"No!" Bimo shouted, biting his tongue until bleeding. The pain broke the spell. He burned the tentacles that wrapped him over a larger fire.
He can't continue like this. He will be overwhelmed.
Then, Agni's words echoed in her head: "Your strength is to restore balance."
Bimo realized something. He struggled to break the relationship, but the creature continued to make it. Instead of attacking his tentacles, he had to attack its center. Not to destroy, but to purify.
"Mr. Daru, I need time!" Bimo shouted, kept burning the approaching tentang.
Pak Daru nodded. From his pocket, he pulled out a small bottle of silver powder. He sprinkled it into the air, reciting a short spell. The powder is glowing with blue light, forming a temporary shield that makes the bile away for a few seconds.
"It won't last long!" Pak Daru's warning.
That is all the time that Bimo needs. He pointed his hands to the throbbing core of the soul eaters. He pulled all his strength, all his determination, all his memories of light and warmth. He was not throwing fire, but projecting the essence of his own purification.
A pure white light pillar lunged from his hand, hit the center of the creature.
The soul -eating screams not the screams of anger, but the screams of the forced transformation. The dirty gray color circles, struggling against light. The faces that were trapped in it were wrinkled in pain before finally calm and smiling with relief, one by one, disappearing forever.
The light pillar grows, wrapping all beings. His screams weakened, turning from a terrible voice to the sound of a gentle breeze, then to silence.
The light was extinguished.
Where the creature once stood, now there is only a white and throbbing white light, like the second heart. It blurted once, twice, before spreading out like an invisible shock wave, covering the entire factory and surrounding areas.
From above, the voices changed. The screams of fear and confusion are now heard, followed by the sound of tears and questions. The stolen souls have returned.
Bimo fell into his knee, fatigue. His whole body felt empty.
Pak Daru knelt next to him, holding his shoulder. "You do it, Bimo. You don't kill him. You ... restore it. You restore the stolen energy."
"Is it ... is that enough?" Bimo's breathing limp.