The night didn't feel right.
Wira noticed it the moment he stepped out onto the street.
Bali was supposed to be loud—music, laughter, engines, drunk tourists shouting nonsense into the night. But now, something had swallowed the noise whole.
Too quiet.
Even the wind felt… wrong.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking, telling himself it was nothing. Just another weird night. Maybe a power outage somewhere. Maybe people had gone home early.
Yeah. That had to be it.
Then the smell hit him.
Sharp.
Metallic.
Fresh.
Wira stopped.
"…blood?"
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
His throat tightened. That didn't make sense. He wasn't close enough to anything—no accident, no fight, nothing.
And yet the scent grew stronger.
Closer.
Like it was calling him.
His heartbeat stuttered.
Then surged.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Too loud.
Too fast.
"What's wrong with me…?"
His fingers twitched.
His nails scraped lightly against his palm—and for a split second, they felt… different.
Harder.
Sharper.
He sucked in a breath.
Behind him, someone stumbled into the street.
A tourist. Mid-twenties. Laughing into his phone like the world still made sense.
"Bro, I swear, Bali's insane—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Because something moved in the alley ahead.
Wira turned slowly.
At first, it looked like darkness shifting.
Then it stepped forward.
And the world broke.
It wasn't human.
But it wasn't just an animal either.
Its body bent wrong, joints stretched beyond reason, skin pulled tight over something that kept trying to change underneath. Its eyes burned—bright, unnatural, alive with something ancient.
The tourist dropped his phone.
"W-what the hell is that—"
He ran.
He didn't even make it three steps.
The creature vanished.
No—moved.
Too fast to follow.
A blur.
A sound like tearing meat.
Then silence.
Wira couldn't breathe.
The smell of blood exploded in the air.
Hot.
Thick.
Overwhelming.
Something inside him responded.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Hunger.
His knees hit the ground.
Pain ripped through his spine.
His bones cracked—loud, violent, wrong.
"What—what is happening—"
His voice twisted into a growl.
His fingers dug into the asphalt.
Claws.
They were claws.
"No… no, this isn't real—"
He caught his reflection in a broken piece of glass nearby.
Golden eyes stared back at him.
Not his.
Not human.
Behind him, something shifted.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Wira turned.
The creature stood there now, closer than before, its mouth curled into something like a smile.
It studied him.
Not like prey.
Like recognition.
Then it spoke.
A whisper that didn't belong to this world.
"…Barong."
The word echoed inside his skull.
And something deep within him answered.
The creature's smile widened.
Then it lunged.
And Wira—
didn't run.