My tactical boots, which usually gripped asphalt with perfection, now felt heavy and clumsy as they sank into the thick, slick layer of humus. We had crossed the boundary of the pine forest neatly maintained by human hands, entering a zone Mbah Gembong called the "Grey Heart." Here, the vegetation transformed into a suffocating green wall. Gargantuan trees, towering dozens of meters high, locked their branches overhead, choking out the moonlight until all that remained was a damp, oppressive darkness.
The air here wasn't just cold; it felt dense and pulsating. Every time I drew a breath, a prickly sensation tickled my lungs, as if I were inhaling ancient, electrically charged dust.
"Don't fight it, Cah Bagus," Mbah Gembong's voice broke the silence. His barefoot strides left no sound upon the dried leaves. "That breath of yours is still the breath of a city dweller filled with fear. Draw this air deep into your navel. Let Semeru recognize who is treading upon its back."
I tried to follow his instructions, though my chest felt tight. On my wrist, the Saptapala sensor continued its intermittent, low-pitched beeps—a warning that my neural synchronization was redlining. Without the daily sedative dose, the Surya Majapahit sigil on my arm remained turbulent. Its heat no longer felt like it was burning my skin; instead, it was seeping inward, attempting to fuse with my very bloodstream.
I stared around, transfixed by the alien flora. From the trunks of ancient trees, hanging moss draped down like strands of silver hair swaying in a supernatural wind. In the crevices of massive roots, giant pitcher plants with dark purple petals gaped open, emitting a sickeningly sweet aroma—the scent of nectar mingled with the stench of trapped, decaying insects.
"These trees... they feel alive, Mbah," I whispered, my hand accidentally brushing against tree bark that felt warm, almost matching a human's body temperature.
Mbah Gembong paused for a moment, glancing toward the dark forest canopy. "They are alive. They feed on the remnants of energy leaking from the crater. On this mountain, the plants are the fence, and the animals are the witnesses. If you intend harm, these roots will bind your feet before you can even beg for mercy."
Suddenly, my ears caught the sharp crack of a breaking branch from the right. My military reflexes took over instantly; I lowered my center of gravity, my right hand automatically curling into a claw, and my eyes swept the darkness.
There, behind a dense thicket of ferns, I saw a peculiar trail of destruction. A tree had been felled—not by wind, but by being torn apart. Jagged claw marks, two inches deep, ripped through the bark into the white wood beneath. These weren't ordinary leopard claws. These were the marks of something driven by an irrational hunger.
"Wiyangga?" I asked in a low voice.
Mbah Gembong approached the marks, his fingers tracing the thick, black fluid left behind. "Not the Great ones. Only the dregs of lost humans consumed by their own envy. We call them Type-D: The Scabs. They are hungry, Satria. And they can smell your fear."
Before I could respond, a figure lunged from the darkness. Its form resembled a shriveled human, skin ash-pale like burnt remains, with a jaw that had elongated and filled with jagged, messy teeth. It had no eyes—only black pits that constantly seeped a turbid fluid.
It charged at me with inhuman speed.
Without instructions from a Saptapala earpiece, my body moved on its own. The heat from the sigil on my hand exploded, providing a surge of energy that turned my movements into a blur of reddish-orange light. I spun, evading its strike, and landed with one hand touching the ground—a perfect Harimau Silat stance.
The creature shrieked, a sound like grinding metal. It attacked again. This time, I didn't dodge. I surged forward, letting Dirga's instinct take the lead. My hand struck its chest, an open-palm strike propelled by a burst of sigil energy.
BOOM!
The creature was hurled backward, slamming into a tree with enough force to shatter its bones. It didn't die instantly; it crawled on the ground, clawing at my feet with its remaining strength before its body finally evaporated into foul-smelling black smoke.
I stood tall, my breath heavy. Cold sweat poured down my forehead, but strangely, I didn't feel exhausted. It felt as if something was flowing into my body every time I struck down an opponent.
"Your movements are starting to have 'soul', Cah Bagus," Mbah Gembong nodded in approval, yet his face remained guarded. "But that skirmish left a 'scent.' The heat from your sigil is like a beacon in the dark for those hunting you."
He pointed downslope, through a gap in the mist momentarily cleared by the wind. In the distance, far below, I saw three dancing red laser dots among the pine trunks. Precise. Surgical. Lights I recognized all too well.
Saptapala Special Unit: Strike Team 01.
"They sent Team One?" My heart sank. They weren't ordinary soldiers. They were my former comrades—biologically modified humans engineered to be the organization's most efficient hunters. If they had been deployed, it meant Saptapala no longer wanted me back alive. They wanted to destroy the "Vessel" before its secrets were bared.
"We don't have much time," Mbah Gembong said, beginning to climb faster, as if his aged body were merely an illusion. "We must reach the crater zone before sunrise. There, Semeru's energy will either protect you—or destroy you. It all depends on how tightly you hold onto your dignity."
I glanced once more at the encroaching red lasers, then clenched my still-hot fist. I wasn't going back to that lab. I wouldn't let them use my brother's soul as a battery for their weapons.
"Let's go, Mbah. Let's finish this," I said.
We vanished into the density of the Grey Heart, ascending higher toward the peak of Mahameru, which now emitted a low rumble—as if welcoming the arrival of a long-lost warrior.
ANTARALA GLOSSARY [Chapter 4]
The Grey Heart: A tropical rainforest zone on the middle slopes of Semeru distorted by pillar energy radiation. This area has a unique and dangerous ecosystem where plants grow faster and animals become hyper-aggressive.
Wiyangga Type-D (The Scabs): A low-level manifestation of human sin (usually envy or greed). These creatures are physically degenerated humans—highly aggressive but possessing low intelligence.
Strike Team 01 (Saptapala): Saptapala's elite unit consisting of the most stable experimental subjects. They are equipped with tactical gear capable of piercing low-level metaphysical protections.
Giant Pitcher Plants (Nepenthes): Carnivorous plants in the Grey Heart mutated by absorbing Wiyangga residue. Their fluid is highly corrosive, and their scent can trigger mild hallucinations in ordinary humans.
Dirga's Instinct: A state where Satria's consciousness overlaps with the muscle memory and combat instincts of his brother, Dirga. This provides extraordinary physical capabilities but increases the risk of losing self-control.