The red line office has turned into a command center for two missions that run together. On the one hand, Anton and Dr. Maya sinks in a computer screen, mapping the dark network from Arya data server. On the other hand, Bimo, Riani, and Wulan sat around the table filled with print-out, old books, and laptops, compiled a list of potential guards.
"We have the three most promising names," Bimo said, pointing to an Indonesian map that was spread on the table. "One in Surabaya. One in Kalimantan. And one more in Bali. We must go directly to them. Phone or email will not be enough."
"We don't have time to visit everything," Riani said. "And we can't leave Jakarta for too long. The Arya network is still active, even without the leader."
"We don't need to visit everything," Wulan answered. "We send a messenger. Or we use a more direct way."
"What does that mean, mother?" Bimo asked.
Wulan looked at her son. "Your strength is growing, Bimo. You are a god god. Fire not only burns. Fire also illuminates and conveys messages. And my strength is in words. Maybe ... maybe we can combine it."
"How to combine it?" Riani asked, curious.
"A call," explained Wulan. "A message tied to fire and words, sent through the lines of destiny that you see. A call that can only be heard by those who have guardian blood."
The idea sounded crazy, but in their world, nothing is impossible.
"Can we do that?" Bimo asked.
"We must try," answered Wulan. "But it takes great strength. Perfect concentration, and a clear message."
They decided to try. Anton and Dr. Maya secured the door and made sure they would not be disturbed. Riani will stand as a guard, monitor the condition of the energy of the two of them.
Bimo and Wulan sat cross -legged on the floor, facing each other. Among them, a small bronze bowl filled with dry leaves and special incense from Wulan's bag.
"Focus on the red lines, Bimo," Wulan's instruction, his voice had begun to resonate with his strength. "Don't look as a thread. See as a road. As a river. And we will send our boat message along the river."
Bimo closed his eyes, then opened it. The world was immediately filled with a complicated fabric of the red lines that had a lofed with destiny energy. He nodded to his mother.
Wulan took a deep breath. He light the fire on the dried leaves in a bowl with an ordinary match. Thin smoke began to rise.
Then, Wulan began to speak. His voice is no longer a soft mother's voice. It is a deep, authoritative, and full of ancient forces, such as the roar of the earth delivered through humans.
"Listen," he said, and the word itself feels like a physical wave that spreads throughout the room. "Listen, O children from the forgotten lineage. The blood of the guards flows in your pulse. Listen to this call."
Bimo focused all his will on the fire in a bowl. The fire brought brighter, changed from orange to white, and then turned pale blue. He imagined the power of the fire spread into the lines of destiny, carrying every word his mother said.
"Darkness rose once again," continued Wulan, her eyes were closed, concentrating fully. "Not an ordinary shadow, but a deep and global network. They undermined the world from the inside. Big battles have begun. A fire guard has risen. Old power woke up. But he could not fight alone."
Bimo felt his strength sucked quickly. Sweating pouring on his temple. He saw the red lines around him shaking, responding to his mother's voice. Like there are shock waves that propagate through destiny threads, going in all directions.
"We call you," Wulan's voice was getting stronger, even though the volume did not increase. "O forest guard, who hears the whisper of leaves. O life dancers, who heal with movements. O water control, who feels the river pulse. O all those who are connected to the invisible. Listen to this call. Jakarta is a battleground. Gather.
Wulan said the last word with a hiss, and instantly, the fire in the bowl was extinguished, leaving a lump of smoke that was spinning before disappearing.
Wulan staggered forward, but Bimo caught him. His face was pale and tired.
"Mother, are you okay?" Bimo asked, worried.
Wulan nodded, panting. "I ... well. That ... tiring. But the message has been sent."
"Is it successful?" Riani asked, approaching.
"We will find out soon," answered Wulan.
They don't need to wait long.
Within an hour, the office phone rang. Anton who raised it.
"Hello? Red line office," he said.
The sound on the other side spoke in a hoarse and rhythmic voice, such as rustling leaves. Anton listened carefully, his eyes widened.
"Who's this?" he asked. He listened again. "Fine ... we understand. We will wait." He hung the phone slowly.
"Who is that?" asked Dr. Maya.
"He did not mention the name," Anton answered, still looking surprised. "He just said," The message has been received. I'm on my way. Wait at your hiding place. "Then he hung up."
Not long after that, the email entered their secret inbox. The contents are short.
Calls from Jakarta are heard. I heard the screams of fire and truth in words. I'll arrive tomorrow morning. Prepare running water.
River guard.
And the strangest thing is, the security monitor in front of the office suddenly static for a few seconds. When the picture returns, a strange symbol - such as a series of animal footprints - plagu in the asphalt for a few seconds before disappearing.
"They came," Bimo whispered, a mixed feeling between hope and anxiety to fill his chest. "They really came."
The next day, the red line office prepared to welcome unusual guests.
The first arrived was an old woman from Surabaya. He didn't knock on the door. He suddenly was in the room, as if he was always there. He wore a simple kebaya and sharp eyes immediately looked at Wulan.
"You say the words," he said, his voice was like a rustling silk.
"And you dance to save your village from the plague," Wulan replied, nodding respectfully.
The woman nodded. "My name is Sri. My strength is in movement. My dance can manipulate the flow of life energy, heal or hurt." He then looked at Bimo. "And you are the fire. It's been a long time since the last one rose."
The second guest arrived in a more conventional way - an online taxi stopped in front. A middle -aged man with a long -sleeved shirt and neat chino pants got out of the car. He brought a laptop bag. He looks like an accountant who is on vacation. But his eyes are calm and in expressing something else.
"River guard, I think?" welcome Bimo at the door.
The man reached out his hand to shake hands. "You can call me Danu. I can feel and control the flow of water, both physical and spiritual. Cleaning and healing." He looked around. "The message is urgent. So I came."
The third guest did not appear through the door. He appeared from a shadow in the corner of the room. A stocky old man, dark skin and wrinkled by the sun, with a gaze that can calm the storm. He wore traditional cloth from Kalimantan.
"I was contacted by the wind," he said, his voice was heavy and authoritative. "They whispered about battles and fire." He patted his chest. "I am Karna. Forest Spirit is my friend. Land is my strength. I can feel every vibration of imbalances in the earth."
"Forest guard," Bimo welcomed. "WELCOME."
Within a few hours, the office which was usually quiet was filled with guards. They look at each other, measure, feel the strength of each other.
The meeting began. Bimo and Anton explained everything they knew: from the discovery of the red line, the death of Mr. Daru, Budi's betrayal, battle against "the first", the arrest of Arya, and the terrible data of the server.
The new guards came to listen seriously. Their faces changed from curious to being concerned, and eventually became a round determination.
"This is worse than we thought," said Karna, the forest guard, after the presentation was finished. "This tissue is like mushrooms. Sourism in darkness and decomposes from the inside."
"We have to cut it to the roots," added Danu, the river guard. "But we must be careful. They are everywhere."
"Caution is those who are hiding," said Sri, the dancer of life. "We have been called to fight. We must attack."
The strategy debate took place. Each guard has different expertise and emphasis.
Bimo watched them, and for the first time, he felt not alone. He is no longer an anomaly. He is part of something bigger. A living inheritance.
"We have different strengths," Bimo said, finally spoke and led the meeting. "We must use it wisely. Anton, Dr. Maya, and Mother will remain here, coordinate intelligence and communication. They are the center of our command."
"And us?" asked Danu.
"We will form small teams," Bimo answered. "Each team is led by a native guard, accompanied by members of the red line. We will attack several priority targets simultaneously, based on Arya data. We destroy their financial operations, their rituals, and their resources."
The plan was approved. They immediately divided the tasks. Because, with its relationship to the earth, will lead the team to investigate and destroy the main ritual places detected in a rubber plantation. Danu, with his ability to clean, will lead the team to infiltrate a hospital that is suspected as a place to "harvest" negative energy from dying patients. Sri, with his dance, will go to an orphanage that becomes a place of brainwashing and recruitment of young people to be a follower.
And Bimo, with the fire, will lead the team to attack the heart of their financial operations: a shadow bank that manages all network funds.
"We move tonight," Bimo ordered. "We use a surprise. They don't know we are united."
That night, the guards left for the first time after all this time. They are no longer hiding. They are hunters now.
Bimo looked at them away, one by one, disappearing into the night of Jakarta. He then looked at the red lines of destiny. The lines look different tonight. They are no longer random. They look like they are adjusting, responding to a new power that has risen and is now moving to protect it.
War is still long. But tonight, for the first time, light begins to return the darkness with equivalent power.