Rangkabhumi’s expression hardens. The threat isn’t just the fort—it’s Chakradwipa itself. If Galuguh is mobilizing such a force, they’re not merely attacking the border. They’re planning to invade.

  “We can’t hold this fort against an army that size,” one soldier mutters.

  Rangkabhumi turns toward the voice, his sharp gaze scanning his men. Before he can respond, he spots Bramasti approaching.

  “Bramasti!” He calls. “Ride to Senapati Kagendra in Muncar Regency. Inform him of the situation and request reinforcements.”

  Bramasti bows, then rushes to his horse. Without hesitation, he kicks into a gallop, dust billowing behind him as he speeds away.

  But his path is not north. Not towards Muncar Regency.

  Instead, he veers toward a nearby hill, a twisted grin spreading across his face.

  “Gyahahaha! This is perfect. Let him die at Galuguh’s hands. Soon, Arkadevi will be mine! She belongs to me!”

  At the hilltop stands a modest hut, one Bramasti has clearly visited before.

  The abandoned hut is small and weathered, its bamboo walls faded and brittle from years of neglect.

  Bramasti moves with familiarity, reaching beneath a bamboo couch and retrieving a hidden jug of wine.

  Stepping to the cliff’s edge, he takes a deep gulp, savoring the burn. He settles onto a broad, weathered tree stump, its surface smooth from years of exposure.

  Positioned at the cliff’s edge, it offers an unobstructed view of the fortress below.

  “Let’s see how you defend your precious border, Rangkabhumi.” He sneers. “Don’t worry—I’ll look after your wife. Just as you always asked me to. Gyahahaha!”

  From his vantage point, he notices movement in the valley.

  Soldiers rush toward Talang Asri, warning the villagers. Farmers abandon their fields, fleeing toward the village, while eager young men march toward the fortress, ready to volunteer.

  Their bravery is admirable. But against an army of thousands, it will make no difference.

  ***

  Back in Talang Asri, the village chief arrives at Rangkabhumi’s house, breathless.

  “Arkadevi! The border is in danger—Galuguh’s forces are approaching. We must evacuate!”

  Arkadevi shakes her head firmly. “There’s no way I’m leaving this place without Prabu Jayantaka’s permission,” she says.

  “Why?” The village chief looks baffled.

  “It’s the king’s decree for me to stay here. After all, I know the king will not abandon us!” she declares with confidence, her face betraying no fear.

  But as the village chief turns away, doubt creeps into her heart. It’s not just her trust in the king…

  The real reason she can’t leave…

  Because the king’s son is here with her.

  But he is not at home, and she hasn’t found him yet.

  ***

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  Not far from home, in a secluded cemetery, Adanu Raksa lounges in the grass, lazily watching his cows graze.

  The cemetery is simple, unadorned—a resting place untouched by time. No stone markers, no grand memorials—just mounds of earth, blending into the wild landscape.

  Tall grass and thick bushes sway in the breeze, creeping over the graves as if nature itself has reclaimed the land. The dense undergrowth sprawls unchecked, not eerie, but serene.

  Unlike most, he feels no fear here.

  To him, the cemetery isn’t haunted—only quiet.

  Peaceful.

  He comes here almost daily, undisturbed by the living or the dead.

  But today…

  A strange movement in the bushes catches his eye.

  “Huh?”

  The air ripples unnaturally, as if something invisible stirs within.

  Rubbing his eyes, he blinks—

  A woman bursts from the undergrowth.

  Draped in flowing white garments, she runs with urgency, glancing over her shoulder in panic.

  Adanu Raksa tilts his head. He knows everyone in Talang Asri, but he has never seen this woman before.

  “Oh! Hello there!” he calls, raising a hand in a friendly wave.

  She doesn’t answer.

  She just keeps running, glancing over her shoulder.

  Then—she stumbles.

  “Kyaa!”

  With a cry, she falls forward, landing in the grass.

  Adanu Raksa rushes over. But as he reaches for her, his breath catches.

  Her skin—

  It shimmers. Faintly transparent, as if she isn’t entirely… real.

  For a moment, he hesitates. Then, determined, he grabs her hand.

  The moment he touches her, her skin solidifies, appearing normal beneath his grip.

  Was he imagining things?

  “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. “You look exhausted. Is something chasing you?”

  The woman doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head to the sky, her expression tightening with worry.

  “No… It’s getting dark.”

  “What’s wrong?” Adanu Raksa frowns.

  Then, she finally looks at him—truly looks. Her wide, piercing eyes study his face with intensity.

  “You…” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “How can a child like you have such an overflowing spirit?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your vessel… It’s deep. Your spirit energy is abundant.”

  Adanu Raksa scratches his head. “Lady, what are you talking about?”

  She blinks, then offers a soft smile. “Nothing. You must be the son of someone great.”

  He puffs out his chest proudly. “Yeah! I’m the son of Rangkabhumi, the greatest general of Talang Asri!”

  Her smile falters. A strange emotion flickers in her gaze.

  Then, gently, she leans closer to him.

  “Um… What are you doing?” Adanu Raksa shifts awkwardly.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “But I need your help.”

  Without warning—

  A strange sensation washes over him.

  Adanu Raksa instinctively flinches. A cold shiver crawls down his spine. His fingers twitch, his breathing falters—but his body feels too heavy to resist.

  Something is being pulled from his body—something unseen.

  A pale, glowing mist drifts from his skin, drawn into her slightly parted lips.

  His limbs grow heavy. His vision blurs.

  “What’s… happening?” His voice weakens. “Why am I… so tired?”

  Darkness creeps at the edges of his mind.

  The woman, now glowing faintly, exhales with relief. Her once-weary face appears refreshed, her pallid skin now vibrant and warm.

  The woman gazes at the boy’s sleeping face, a strange heaviness settling in her chest. This child—his energy, his kindness—he had given her something precious to survive.

  She gently traces his features with her eyes, memorizing every detail—the curve of his brow, the softness of his breath, the faint traces of exhaustion lingering in his expression.

  This debt, she would not forget.

  She leans down, whispering softly—

  “My name is Indri Kesvari. Forgive me. I had to take a little of your spirit energy. But don’t worry—you will recover after a night’s sleep.”

  She presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

  Then—

  Her form shimmers, becoming weightless. She drifts into the air, her white robes billowing like mist.

  And before Adanu Raksa’s unconscious body—

  She transforms.

  With a flutter of wings, a white pigeon soars into the twilight, vanishing into the forest.

  Not long after, Arkadevi arrives. As soon as she spots Adanu Raksa lying motionless on the ground, a sharp wave of panic seizes her chest. She rushes to him, her hands trembling as she checks for breath, for warmth—

  Then, relief washes over her.

  He’s just sleeping.

  “Hey, wake up!” she calls, shaking him gently.

  Adanu Raksa stirs, his eyelids fluttering open. “Uh… Mom?”

  “Why are you sleeping here?” Her voice wavers between relief and frustration.

  He yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Huh? I don’t know. I just feel… so tired. And so sleepy.”

  Arkadevi sighs, scooping him up into her arms. He’s heavier than before—he’s growing. Still, she carries him with ease.

  “How can you sleep in the middle of a cemetery like this?” she mutters. “If Prabu Jayantaka knew about this, he’d be furious at me.”

  Adanu Raksa blinks, confused. “Huh? Why would the king be mad at you, Mom? Is he grumpy?”

  “Very,” she replies, adjusting his weight. “And he really hates naughty children. He sends his army when he gets angry.”

  “Mmkay… If he’s mad at me, he can face my dad first.”

  “You fool,” Arkadevi chuckles, shaking her head. “The king is much stronger than your father.”

  “No way!”

  She only sighs in response, holding him a little tighter.

  ***

  Meanwhile, Rangkabhumi moves through the fort, his sharp eyes scanning the state of his men. Every sword, every spear, every shield—everything must be in place before the enemy arrives.

  But the sight before him is grim.

  Barely a hundred soldiers remain. Most are young and untested—only a handful bears the scars of past battles.

  Among them, thirteen eager boys from Talang Asri clutch their makeshift weapons, determined to fight.

  A commander steps closer, lowering his voice. “This won't be enough to hold against Galuguh’s forces.”

  Rangkabhumi doesn’t flinch. “Rest assured. Senapati Kagendra will arrive with reinforcements by morning.”

  But morning comes, and Kagendra’s army does not.

  The sun climbs higher. Still no reinforcements. Still no sign of Bramasti.

  Whispers spread among the soldiers. Doubt seeps in.

  “Could it be… the King has abandoned this border?”

  “Are we fighting for nothing?”

  “Should we retreat before it’s too late?”

  Rangkabhumi’s voice cuts through the unease like a blade.

  “No! Prabu Jayantaka won’t abandon Talang Asri.” His jaw tightens. “Something must’ve happened to Bramasti.”

  He clenches his fists, then turns to one of his commanders, Panglima Jaka Wulung—known as the black hawk.

  “Jaka! Take my horse. Ride to Muncar. Deliver the message yourself.”

  “But Senopati—”

  “No arguments.” Rangkabhumi’s tone is firm. “If you leave now, you’ll reach Muncar before dark. There’s still time.”

  “But the enemy will be here by noon.”

  Rangkabhumi’s gaze burns with resolve. “Then I’ll hold them off until you return with reinforcements. Now go!”

  Jaka hesitates—then salutes, swings onto the horse, and rides off in a cloud of dust.