Back at the red line office, the atmosphere changed completely. Arya Putranto, a well known businessman who is now a prisoner, sits in the same chair that Budi has occupied. He was not tied, but a simple protective symbol drawn by Mrs. Bimo with a special limestone on the floor around her chair made him sit still, his face was pale and angry. He was awake, but could not move from his place.
Riani has regained consciousness and examined by Dr. Maya. He only experienced severe psychological fatigue and needed rest.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Bimo - who introduced her real name, Wulan - sits in the conference room with a cup of warm tea. Bimo sat in front of him, still trying to process everything that happened.
"So, from the beginning you knew?" Bimo asked.
Wulan nodded slowly. "Since you are three years old. You always point to the corner of the room and say, 'there are sad fathers, mother'. At first I thought it was the imagination of the children. But then, your grandmother came. He saw you and said, 'he inherited vision.
"Grandma too ...?"
"All women in our lineage have a few senses. Some are strong, some weak. But always there. We hide it. The world is not friendly to things like this," Wulan explained. "Your grandmother can communicate with wind and plants. I ... I can feel vibrations in words. Which is honest, which is a lie. Which is carrying evil intentions. And with concentration, I can use words to calm or protect."
"Why never told me?" Bimo's voice sounded a little injured.
"To protect you, dear," Wulan answered, her eyes were loving. "The more you know, the more you will search. And we want you to have normal childhood. But when you start working in this place, and when my 'feelings' are getting stronger, I know you have found your own way. I just pray that you are safe."
In the interrogation room, Anton and Dr. Maya tried to interrogate Arya.
"Let me go!" Hardik Arya. "You don't know what you are doing! They will come for me! And they will destroy you guys!"
"Who are they'?" asked Dr. Maya patiently. "We have captured one partner. The others will follow."
Arya laughed sarcastically. "You just expel one servant! The kuliayani is a much older. What's wise. They don't care about one human. They have hundreds like me! Our network is global! We are in government, in the company, in the hospital! We are everywhere!"
The interrogation room door opens. Bimo and Wulan entered.
"Global, you said?" Bimo said.
Arya looked at Wulan with hatred. "The old woman. You brought a shaman here?"
Wulan approached Arya. He is not angry. His face was calm. "Young man. You have allowed your greed to blind you. Listen to the voice in you. Is that peace? Or just an empty whisper that promises something that will never be given?"
Arya tried to spit, but her mouth seemed to be locked. He can't speak harshly. Wulan's soothing strength works at the subconscious level, forcing him to hear.
"They ... they promise power," murmured Arya, against his own desire to speak.
"What rewards?" Wulan insisted, his voice was soft but full of authority.
"With ... with the rewards of souls. Energy. This city ... Jakarta ... full of negative energy. Congestion. Greed. Anger. That is food for them. And we ... We direct it to them. In return, they give us strength, influence, wealth."
"Who leads now? After the 'first' disappears?" Bimo asked.
"I don't know his name! Nobody knows!" Arya shouted, now looks scared. "But he is called 'who planned in the shadows'. He who controlled everything from behind. Even 'the first' might be only a pawn for Him!"
The information makes the room feel cold. The threat they face turned out to be deeper and broader than their estimates.
"We need a list of names, Arya," Bimo said. "Everyone involved. All companies. All locations."
"I won't give you anything!" Sangkal Arya.
Wulan turned to Bimo. "Let me try."
Wulan pulled a chair and sat face to face with Arya. He took a deep breath and looked into Arya's eyes.
"Arya Putranto," he said, and his voice sounded differently - it was ranging, and full of ancient forces. "Listen to my voice. Feel the truth in my words. The shackles that bind you are made of lies. The power you get is a slow poison. You're tired. And you want to rest."
Arya tried to fight, but Wulan's gaze was too strong. Slowly, the tension on his shoulders relaxed. His hateful eyes began to be glazed.
"You want to tell everything," Wulan continued, her voice was like a soothing song. "You want this burden to be lifted. Tell us. Take out everything. And then, you will sleep. Sleep that is sound and peaceful."
Arya trembled. Tears flowed down his cheeks, but this was not tears of anger. These are tears of relief.
"There is ... a server," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "In my underground bunker in my house in Menteng. Everything is there. Names. Transactions. Ritual. Everything."
"Access?" Bimo asked.
"Drawer under my desk. There is an ankh shaped key. That is the key for bunker ... and also the access code for the server ..."
Arya keeps talking. He gives clear and specific details. After he was finished, his body limp in the chair, and he fell asleep soundly, like a child.
Bimo, Anton, and Dr. Maya looked at each other, amazed and horrified with the amount of information that the bar they got.
"Mother ..." Bimo said, didn't know what to say.
"My words only work for those who actually want to be released," said Wulan. "In his heart, he was tired and wanted to stop. I only gave him permission to surrender."
Without wasting time, Anton immediately sent a secret investigation team to Arya's house in Menteng. Within a few hours, they managed to enter the bunker and secure the server.
The data they get are very astonishing. The network is indeed global. There are dozens of important names from various countries involved, ranging from politicians, entrepreneurs, to false religious leaders. The goal is always the same: creating chaos and harvesting negative energy to strengthen their shadow entities.
"This ... This is beyond our capacity," Dr. Maya, see a long list of names. "We need help. International institutions. Interpol."
"We cannot trust anyone," Bimo said. "We don't know who can be trusted. For everything we know, Interpol can be infiltrated."
"Then what should we do?" Anton asked. "The four of us - fifth with mothers - can not handle all this."
Wulan who was sitting calmly, spoke. "You're not four."
Everyone looked at him.
"What does that mean, mother?" Bimo asked.
"Our lineage is not only both of us," said Wulan. "There is something else. Like us. Scattered, hiding, like us. Your grandmother once told me. Every time the darkness rose, the guards will also rise. Maybe ... maybe this is the time to no longer hide. Maybe this is the time to look for them."
The idea felt big and almost impossible.
"Where do we start looking for it?" asked Riani, who could stand up.
"With words," answered Wulan. "With the story. With vibration. I can help. I can feel the authenticity and strength in folklore, in strange reports that cannot be explained. We can find them."
Bimo looked at his mother, then looked at his team. They were overwhelmed, but for the first time since the underground battle, there was a glimmer of hope that was different. It is not necessary to fight alone.
"Okay," Bimo said, making a decision. "We do two things in parallel. Anton, you and Dr. Maya will process data from the Arya server. Identify priority targets that we can touch directly. The closest, most dangerous."
"And us?" asked Riani.
"We and mothers will start looking for others. Other guards."
They also divided tasks. Anton and Dr. Maya immediately drowned in a sea of data, compiling a map of the darkness network.
While Bimo, Riani, and Wulan sat around the computer, traced old archives, mystery forums, and local historical records.
"See this one," said Riani, pointing to an old blog article. "A woman in Surabaya who is said to be able to cure the outbreak with her dance. All villages survived the epidemic that should be deadly."
Wulan put his hand on the screen, as if feeling the energy from his words. He nodded. "That's real. That is a guard. Dancers who are connected to the flow of life."
"And this one," Bimo added, found newspaper reports from the 80s. "An old man in Kalimantan who can communicate with forest spirits and prevent illegal logging in his area for decades."
Wulan felt it again. "Yes. That is also one of us. Forest guard."
One by one, they made a list. Not many. There are only dozens of names that feel strong and original from the hundred reports they read.
"This is a good start," Bimo said, looking at the list. "We have to contact them. Warn them. And maybe ... invite them to work together."
"They might not want to, Bimo," Wulan said. "Many of us are taught to hide. To not attract attention."
"But Mother came," Bimo said.
"I came because you are my son," Wulan answered. "The love of a mother defeated everything. Calling the others ... it will be more difficult."
Bimo understands. Their journey is still long. Their fight has changed from physical battles to a bigger battle: to unite those who have been separated and hid for centuries.
He looked at his mother, then to the red lines of destiny that was still spinning around him, now looks more complex and connected to each other than before.
The war against the darkness entered the new phase. It's no longer about a fire god who struggles alone, but about building an army. The long -forgotten inheritance of the inheritance keepers.
And for the first time, Bimo felt that they might have the opportunity to really win this war, not just a battle.