I looked at the note paper in front of me, drawing an outline about my own path. There are many paths in this world - every time with a different style, strength, and end. However, the path that I am not focused is not the fog path, not a witch, not the blood path. The path I chose - or more precisely, the path I had ever pursued in last life - was ** Gatotkaca path **.
This path is not a path that was born from a foreign sect or dusty ancient book. He was rooted in myths, old stories about heroes who were able to fly, his body was steel, his voice echoed like a thunder, and his courage was a symbol of human power. In the modern world, many consider it just a legend, folklore that is only suitable for school books or puppet shows. But I know more than that - this line is real.
In my previous life, I only managed to achieve ** sequence 1 **. That too is full of blood, sweat, and sacrifice. I never knew who first revealed this path, or how the sequence recipes were found. There is a faint whisper that the Gatotkaca path is a fraction of ancient forces, heritage from the time when humans and gods were still in war in the world. But all of that is just a story - the proposal is still a mystery. 555
All I know, every sequence in this path requires the body and soul to be harder, stronger, more uncomfortable. From the lowest order, physical abilities began to be sharpened beyond ordinary human boundaries. Muscles, bones, even the skin turns into a natural fortress. Increasing sequences, that power increases: speed, endurance, and in the end, the ability to reject the laws of nature itself.
But there is one important thing that I have to record here: the world of fog, where I perform rituals and enter sequence 7, ** not a direct part of the gatotkaca path **. The world stands alone, an independent room that I don't even understand its origin. In previous life, I had heard people whispered about such spaces-a room that was not subject to ordinary reality law, space that could arise for certain people for no apparent reason.
I don't know who created the world of fog, or whether it existed since the beginning of the creation of the world. There is no record, no sect, no historical evidence can really explain it. The world of fog is only ... another world. A quiet stage, where I was given the opportunity to go further.
Maybe it's a gift.
Maybe it's a trap.
Or maybe just a cosmic oddity that happens to choose me.
What is clear, from the world of fog I returned to Sequence 7 Gatotkaca. Back to stronger, back to walk the path I had left in a previous life.
I looked at my own hand. My muscles feel more dense, stronger than what an ordinary man's body should be. My breath was deeper, as if my lungs were able to swallow the world. But this power was just the beginning - my road was still long.
And in the distance, vaguely, I felt the presence of *he *. Do not interfere, not guide, just staring. Mysterious observers who may not even be related to the world of fog or the gatotkaca path. A puzzle that doesn't have an answer.
My chest feels full, as if the air I inhaled now brought a heavier power than before. Every long breath seemed to fill my body with endless strength. I could feel my heartbeat beat calmly, stable, as if all my bloodstream moved with a perfect rhythm.
I held my hand, the joints made a soft voice, but it was not the pain that appeared-rather the certainty that my tulangku was now more sturdy, harder, harder than steel. My muscles throb, every fiber like a tense string, ready to explode with energy at any time. When I moved my body, there was a new harmony that I had never felt. My body is not just a container anymore, but a living weapon.
I stood up, felt the ground under my feet. There is something different. I not only stand on earth - I merged with him. When my body bent, channeling energy, there is a vague vibration that flows back from the ground into me, strengthening every movement. As if the Earth itself recognized my existence, giving me a little from the power of it.
Voice ... I tried to say one word in a loud tone. My voice echoed, not only heard, but stabbed the space around me. I can imagine, in a real battle, my screams can shake the opponent's heart, giving the slightest gap to win. That's just the beginning-I knew, this was just a faint shadow of Gema Guntur which would later be born from me.
But behind that power, there was something that was gnawing. Hungry. Not only an ordinary stomach hunger, but a deep thirst for energy. I can feel my body demanding more food, more rest, as if every second is used to adjust to this new shape. There was a tension in my mind, a small anger that was more easily ignited than usual, as if the coals in my body were looking for reasons to explode.
I looked at the palm of my shaking hand slowly. This strange feeling mixed with admiration, fear, and belief.
"Is this ... the beginning of my new him?" I muttered.
Faintly, I remembered. The path I chose was not a coincidence. Gatotkaca paths, steel and thunder paths, heroes whose bodies refused to be destroyed even though the world collapsed around it.
I clenched a fist more tightly.
"If this world is still the same ... then I have to change. And this time, I will not stop in the middle of the road."
The clock pointed at three in the afternoon when I closed the cellphone screen and took a deep breath. Four days have passed since I returned, since my body was bound by faint power from the Gatotkaca path. And for those four days, I lived it with strict discipline - rutinity on one side looked ordinary, but on the other hand it was full of calculations so that I did not lose control.
Morning always starts with physical exercise. I pushed my body to the limit, ran tens of kilometers, lifted improvised weights, and hit the sand sack until my hands were bruised. This exercise is not just forming muscles - my new body demands a stimulus, a stronger container in order to absorb the energy of the Gatotkaca pathway faster. Every sweat that drips is not only a sign of fatigue, but also a small step towards harmony.
After that, I turned to the weapon. I don't have access to modern equipment, so I use what is - old folding, wooden sticks, even iron pipes that I found in the warehouse of the house. My movements are stiff at the beginning, but more and more I feel a sharper reflex, instincts that make my body move before my mind could rule. In last life, I learned with difficulty that the Gatotkaca pathway was not only about steel, but also about how to flow that power through weapons. Now I started earlier.
During the day, after my body was exhausted, I returned to an ordinary human. I opened a laptop, monitor the stock market, read news, examined graphics. In my last life, I never care about this. But now, I know money is foundation. Weapons, rituals, mystical materials-all require money. And the stock market is one of my ways to secure the future. I dare not greedy; I just planted, pulling slowly, making sure no one was suspicious.
The rest, I tried to live normally. Shopping at a shop near home, greets neighbors, walking on the sidewalk like an ordinary person. I even sat in a small cafe while drinking coffee, staring at people who were busy with their world. From the outside, nothing is different. I am just a point in the ocean of humans that keep moving.
But behind it all, I realized.
Every hardened muscle, every step that is faster, every more stable heart rate - is not just a routine. That is preparation. Preparation for something that hasn't come, something I have seen destroying the world in previous life.
I felt the faint energy on my body spin more regularly than four days ago. I managed to press it, hide it, making it look like an invisible small fire. But I know, this fire will one day enlarge. The question is, can I control it, or will it be burned by him?
I looked out the window. The afternoon sky is orange, small children are still running on the road, the sound of motorbikes. The world is normal. But inside me, another world is turbulent, waiting for time to get out.
---
The next two days I changed my routine. It's no longer just a physical exercise or staring at the stock screen, but treading the narrow roads of the city to find something more vague, more hidden-mystical goods.
I know from the faint memory of my future, many of the artifacts that seem trivial actually have a traces of energy that can strengthen the path of sequences. Some appear in a private museum, some are circulating in the black market, and the rest ... sometimes tucked in an unexpected place: ** Flea Market **.
So, since morning I have stepped there. The smell of rust and dust welcomed me, mixed with the aroma of old paper and weathered cloth. Rows of stalls are crammed, filled with useless items in the eyes of ordinary people: broken wall clocks, rusty toy swords, wooden dolls, to shabby books whose pages are almost destroyed in time. I walked slowly, my fingers occasionally touched the objects, trying to feel a faint vibration that might reside in it.
However, the first day passed without results. There is no one that shows a sign of life. Everything is only old trash, even though some sellers vow their goods "have a mystical history." I smiled faintly, paying just not to attract attention, then left.
The second day, I returned with thin hopes. This time I traced a smaller kiosk, more hidden in the corner of the market. An old man offered me a broken keris, a young woman pointing to an agate necklace with a voice full of confidence. But again, I don't feel anything. As if the world was refusing to give me the initial chance.
I went home empty -handed, just carrying fatigue. But I'm not disappointed. I know, such objects are not easy to find. In the future, many people die just to get one fraction of artifacts.
After that, I decided to stop forcing myself. My body is enough to be pressed with physical exercise and vague energy that continues to adjust. If I'm too hard to myself, I can lose control.
So, I spent the remaining two days to calm the body and mind. I slept longer, letting my muscles recover. I sat on the veranda of the house, staring at the calm afternoon sky, listening to the birds and the sound of the motorbike passing by. I even brewed hot tea, something that used to feel too trivial in the middle of the war, but now it becomes luxury.
Although relaxed, my mind still spinning.
I watched each of the faint energy pulses in my body, making sure he remained under control, remained hidden. Every breath is a small exercise, every light movement is distribution.
I know ... sooner or later I have to go back to looking for those items.
But for now, I let myself enjoy the remaining peace - because I realized, this peace was just a pause before a larger storm came.