Kebo Edan moved with terrifying speed for something so massive. His legs, thick as fallen tree trunks, slammed into the earth between the twin rivers. In just two giant strides, he towered directly above Satya, his Archdemon Shadow radiating a poisonous heat.
Satya had a fraction of a second. He had to bury his exhaustion—drown it in the emotional coldness Mbah Jono had taught him.
I am only a pawn. Do what must be done.
A swirl of violet darkness gathered in his palms—this time not a smooth, stable blade, but Jagged Shadow Spikes, born of desperation.
SHHHHK!
He hurled two Shadow Spikes toward Kebo Edan's eyes and simultaneously pulled a Shadow Step behind the monster.
The spikes did nothing; they only scratched the beast's thick armor before fading. But it was enough to draw his attention.
"Filthy trick! You touched an Archdemon!" Kebo Edan roared, swinging a fist backward without looking—a blow strong enough to flatten a hill.
Satya had barely re-emerged from the shadows—he couldn't dodge. The strike missed by inches, yet the shockwave alone blasted him into the shallow river, smashing his body against the stones.
He coughed, spitting water and blood. Pain bloomed across his ribs like fire. His remaining shadow energy was nearly gone—leaving only an ordinary, broken boy.
Kebo Edan laughed—a deep, echoing snarl that shook the trees.
"The Archdemon knows every Shadow trick! You are slow, weak, and your Shadow has no core! You'll make a fine meal for Lord Buto Ijo!"
He turned away, dismissing Satya, and began tracking Mutiara.
"Now, where is that Hero Seed—"
"I'm right here!" Satya shouted, forcing himself upright, clutching the small pouch of Cucumber Seeds.
He couldn't win through strength—only cunning.
The Growth Vault. The first Sacred Seed Relic—effective on fertile or mossy soil.
The Crossroad of the Three Rivers—the most fertile, moss-rich land in the domain's border.
Satya grabbed a handful of seeds. He didn't know how to activate them, but Mbah Jono's words echoed:
"Relics respond to pure or disciplined spiritual energy."
He forced what little Shadow Energy remained into the seeds—mixing dark essence with the purity of intent.
It was madness; it could destroy them both.
"Grow!" Satya roared, hurling the seeds into the wet soil beneath Kebo Edan's feet.
They struck the ground—and in an instant, absorbed Satya's remaining shadow and spirit energy.
GRRRRRRROOOOWWWWL!
Not an explosion, but a deafening roar of growth.
The earth split open.
Thick mist of green-white surged upward, reeking of fresh cucumber—sharp and sweet at once.
From the haze erupted vines, roots, and spikes the size of limbs, writhing with unnatural speed. Within three seconds, the area around Kebo Edan became a Labyrinth of Growth.
The vines coiled around his legs, the massive thorns digging into his armor. Kebo Edan screamed—not from pain, but from the frustration of being bound.
"What is this?! Foul growth magic! Release me, cursed vines!" Satya, half-conscious and trembling, realized the truth.
The Growth Vault couldn't harm an Archdemon—but it could restrain one. He glanced down at his shadow—now just a faint smear on the ground. Barely enough.
One leap. One jump home.
Satya gathered every ounce of will—not the desire to vanish, but to return. A pure, cold discipline surged through him.
ZZZZAP!
He leapt—not toward the shadow of trees, but the shadow cast by the Growth Vault itself.
Satya burst out from another shadow far away—at the edge of the Three Rivers Crossing, on the escape path Mutiara had taken.
Behind him, Kebo Edan's furious roar shook the entire forest.
He had broken free of the vines, now withered and dead—but the delay had worked.
Satya rose unsteadily, his body trembling.
He had faced a Dark General, an Archdemon Commander, and lived.
He hadn't won—but he'd bought Mutiara time.
He turned to the flowing river, cool and swift.
The only way out.
Mutiara was right, he thought, limping onward.
The darkness within my Shadow is nothing against such cruelty. I need the Hero Seed—and she needs my Shadow.
The Crossing
He staggered along the curving bank, each step a battle.
His shadow energy was gone, his ribs aching with every breath from Kebo Edan's strike.
A kilometer downstream, behind a cluster of boulders, he found Mutiara waiting—hidden, not running.
She leapt from concealment, a silver dagger in her hand glinting faintly.
This time, she didn't aim at Satya—but at the darkness behind him.
"I know you're not him," she said calmly, though her tone stayed wary.
"A creature as strong as Kebo Edan wouldn't be fooled by an artifact. And no Archdemon would be that exhausted."
Satya collapsed onto the muddy ground.
"Thanks… for the vote of confidence. Now—mind helping me up?"
Mutiara lowered her blade and cautiously helped him to a stone.
She tore a strip from her leather garment and wrapped the bruises along his ribs.
"Why did you come back?" Satya asked weakly.
"You could've escaped."
"I'm no coward," she said sharply. "And I want answers. You said Mbah Jono sent you.
Tell me—how do you know about the Bima Glass Gate and the Four Sacred Seeds?"
So Satya told her—about Jakarta, museums, carvings, and the feeling of emptiness that had resonated with this realm.
He explained Mbah Jono's discipline: cold control versus wild emotion.
Mutiara listened intently.
"So… you are a Pure Shadow, summoned by emptiness. We, the Keepers of Balance, always believed darkness served only the Archdemons. But Mbah Jono… he saw potential in it. In you. The ability to move unseen."
"Kebo Edan will return soon," Satya said, forcing himself to stand.
"I bought you time. Now lead the way. We need to leave this domain."
Mutiara met his gaze and saw not just fear—but resolve.
The analytical mind of a student forced to become a survivor.
"Very well, Satya Dirgantara," she said at last. "You need my knowledge.
I need your invisibility. And more importantly—you need my Sacred Seeds to counter your Shadow's weakness."
By dawn, the forest was thick with silence. Kebo Edan had realized their path followed the river—and he had adapted.
He no longer tracked footprints.
He had poisoned the upstream water, turning it into spiritual acid—a trap only his generals used.
When Satya and Mutiara reached a narrow cliffside, they saw the river ahead churned into a murky green foam, steaming with a toxic mist.
"Water Demons," Mutiara hissed. "Kebo Edan sent them. That poison will drain our spirit energy—your Shadow will collapse."
From the cursed water crawled six creatures—part man, part eel, all teeth.
"We don't have time for another Shadow Step!" Mutiara shouted, pulling a pouch of crystalline salt—the second Sacred Seed: The Eternal Saltstorm.
"That salt—it'll paralyze them," Satya warned, "but Mbah Jono said the storm will blind us too!"
"This isn't about sight—it's about your Shadow!" Mutiara shouted back.
"Salt is pure. Your energy is darkness. It will burn your Shadow as you move! We must reach the cliff before they close in!"
Without hesitation, she threw the salt into the air.
FSSSSHHH!
It reacted instantly with the corrupted atmosphere—exploding into a blinding white storm.
A vortex of salt and mist howled, flaying the Water Demons' skin and melting their eyes.
"Now, Satya!" she cried, eyes shut tight.
Satya knew this was suicide for his Shadow.
He had to leap into a shadow within the storm—a storm that could dissolve his very power.
He summoned the last remnant of his energy.
The violet shadow flickered, crackling, sizzling like it was being dissolved.
Focus. Discipline. Home.
ZZZZZAAAAAP!
Agony—thousands of salt needles piercing his soul.
He burst through the fading darkness and collapsed beside Mutiara, safe atop the cliff.
His Cloak of Night was gone, replaced by cold sweat and the faintest trace of Shadow.
They had made it.
The Eternal Saltstorm had obliterated the Water Demons.
And once again—they had survived, barely buying time.
"It… worked," Satya panted.
"Yes," Mutiara said, pale-faced. "But that was a precious Relic. We have only two left."
The Temple of a Thousand Shadows
They trekked through the forest blanketed in thin layers of salt crystal.
Wherever the storm had passed, the land was scorched—trees shriveled, life erased.
Satya stared at the desolation.
"The Sacred Seeds… they leave ruin behind."
Mutiara nodded sadly.
"That is the price of Legend. Each Seed was forged to destroy Archdemons—but every use distorts the Balance of Nusantara itself.
The Cucumber Seed forces life to grow and die too quickly. The Salt Seed creates deserts. It's a cycle of decay."
She stopped beside a small waterfall, half-hidden by vines.
"The remaining Keepers forbade me from using the Seeds. Every time I do, Nusantara dies a little more.
But I ran—to find another way."
"So your goal isn't just escape," Satya said quietly. "It's to learn how to use them without breaking the Balance."
"Exactly," Mutiara replied. "That's why I came here—the Temple of a Thousand Shadows."
She parted the vines.
Behind the waterfall loomed an ancient ruin—black stone walls veined with faint violet light, humming with restrained power.
"This temple was once the spiritual armory of the Keepers of Legend. I believe within it lies a way to wield the Seeds without destruction."
They entered the cool, damp interior.
At its center stood an altar of obsidian, etched with intricate carvings—shapes of darkness, spirals of shadow, and a tome shrouded in violet mist.
"What is that?" Mutiara whispered, stepping closer.
Satya felt a deep resonance from within—the same energy that had pulled him into this realm through the Bima Glass Gate.
"That… that's what summoned me here," he murmured, reaching toward it.
"It's no ordinary relic. It's a guide—a source of Shadow itself." Mutiara's eyes widened as she recognized the unseen symbol carved beneath the mist.
The First Relic Tome—The Codex of Shadows.
A scripture never mentioned in the hero's epics—the lost manual of Shadowmancy that could save, rather than destroy.