Rangga froze on the spot, his chest tightening as he realized the gravity of the situation before him. The threat that loomed over this night was far greater than anything he had expected. What stood in front of him was no ordinary specter, but a Kuntilanak that had reached the terrifying S-Tier rank.
According to ancient legends, this abominable spirit gained its power from consuming the essence of pure maidens and the breath of innocent infants. It was not merely a phantom with a wailing voice—it was a predator among predators.
Its body was blessed with unnatural speed, its very existence allowed it to slip through short-range dimensional gaps like a shadow stepping through a crack in reality, and its most frightening trait was its mastery over sound-based sorcery, the cursed art of enchanting, luring, and paralyzing prey through spectral voices.
A shiver ran down Rangga's spine, his teeth chattering against one another. Fear pressed down on him, but he clenched his fists tightly. His resolve hardened like steel. No matter how dire the circumstances, this had to end here. He had no other choice.
The battle began.
Shaman Rangga drew out a wavy sacred blade called a Keris and tried to push the kuntilanak back.
Magical energy clashed violently, shaking the air around them.
Blow after blow landed,
But it wasn't enough.
The kuntilanak was too strong.
The bodyguards attempted to assist, but their efforts were meaningless.
"This thing is spiritual! Physical strength alone won't work!" Rangga shouted.
"You need to use Entra or Vita! Only magical energy can hurt it!"
Unfortunately, most of the bodyguards were ordinary humans with no magical affinity.
David and Vianna both actually had magical energy—especially Vita—
But neither stepped forward.
David stayed back, not wanting to reveal his power.
Vianna was frozen in fear—she had always been terrified of ghosts.
Rangga's gaze drifted toward David, who had remained completely motionless throughout the chaos. The boy's expression was strangely calm, almost unsettlingly so. A faint smile played on his lips, as though he was already aware that things were unfolding exactly as they should.
David simply gave a small nod, then his eyes shifting toward the main building. On top of the roof, several shadowy figures stood silently in the darkness. Their presence was heavy, their outlines faint, yet their existence undeniable.
One of those figures radiated an aura of dark, violet energy—an oppressive miasma that carried with it the weight of death and despair. And yet, despite their overwhelming presence, the figures did nothing. They stood still, gazes locked on David, as though they would not move unless the moment truly demanded it.
Al tilted his head upward. His sharp senses caught the unusual flow of energy coming from above, pressing against his awareness like a whisper in the void. But when his eyes searched the roof, the figures had already vanished without a trace. Despite that, a knowing smile curved across Al's face. He understood perfectly well—those terrifying beings had not disappeared. They were still there, watching David from the shadows.
Will they make a move? Al wondered silently, his curiosity tinged with anticipation.
The battle raged on below.
Dedy, a martial artist who had climbed all the way to the upper stage of the Practitioner Level Martial Artist Class, surged forward to aid Rangga. With a deep breath, he infused his fists with surging Vita, the energy flaring around his knuckles like a faint burning glow.
His strikes connected, their force reverberating against the Kuntilanak's form. Each punch disrupted its rhythm, forcing the creature back slightly, its shrill screeches echoing through the night.
But as strong as Dedy's attacks were, they were not decisive. None of his blows could deliver fatal damage. The ghostly entity was simply too powerful. The gap between them was like a gulf that no ordinary effort could bridge.
The Kuntilanak only laughed, toying with its enemies—
Its eyes locked on Nayala, the real target of the night.
Dedy glanced toward Al, hoping the young master would help.
But Al... just sat and watched.
Finally, when both Rangga and Dedy were cornered—
The Kuntilanak launched a deadly strike, aiming to kill them both.
Then...
It froze.
Its movement stopped mid-air.
The kuntilanak turned to look at Al.
"I didn't want to interfere. But this isn't your realm," a voice echoed in the spirit's mind—Al's voice.
"Return to your world. Stop meddling in human affairs... or you'll be destroyed tonight."
But rather than retreat, the kuntilanak went berserk.
It let out a terrifying roar,
A sound that pierced eardrums and made everyone cover their ears in agony.
And then—
BOOM!
The kuntilanak exploded.
Silence followed.
Everyone stood still, stuthrown
From behind the explosion, they saw Rangga—still standing—
His Keris raised high.
A cheer erupted.
Everyone believed Rangga had defeated the creature.
Rangga was gasping for breath.
He himself didn't understand what just happened.
He had been about to strike...
But before he could—
The kuntilanak blew up.
Far away, Al casually spun a small pebble on his finger.
No one noticed it was he who had infused it with magical energy—and thrown it with pinpoint accuracy—
Right into the creature's spiritual core.
I told you to go home instead of wandering around other dimensions, Al muttered inwardly.
But you chose death. Huff, what a foolish creature.
His gaze drifted to Nayala—
Still lying unconscious in her mother's arms, surrounded by concerned faces.
Al's eyes briefly turned golden.
He blinked, startled.
There was still magical interference in Nayala's body.
Mind manipulation, he realized.
No wonder she's been acting strangely lately...
At least the real threat is gone now.
A quick flashback played—
Nayala had tried to pluck Al's hair for the ritual.
But Al had been faster.
He cast an illusion, snipped some of her hair instead,
And made her believe she had succeeded.
Back to the present.
The power returned.
People cheered.
They praised Dedy and Rangga.
"Fantastic!"
"They saved us!"
No one knew the truth.
Al just smiled.
Finally... I can sleep well tonight.
---
Meanwhile...
Daraka—the dark shaman hired by Rudi—was vomiting blood.
His spiritual energy had been shredded.
His furious voice hissed in disbelief.
"Failed again…? Impossible! How could it be destroyed so easily? That Kuntilanak—one I cultivated for years—was shattered just like that?"
The bitterness and rage behind the words carried the weight of obsession.
He glared at Rudi, who looked terrified.
"Get out of my sight!
Who the hell did you make me curse?!
I nearly died tonight because of that boy!
I want nothing to do with you. Go!"
Rudi nodded quickly and backed away.
But Daraka clawed at the earth and swore:
"Al… who was it that aided that child? No… it doesn't matter. Whoever it is, I will kill him, and I will slaughter his protectors as well. No matter what it takes. No matter what price I must pay… I will make it happen."
Darkness crept across the forest...
And one thing was clear:
This was only the beginning.
---
The once-grand party now lay in ruins.
Tables that had once held crystal glasses and gourmet dishes were overturned or abandoned.
Guests were being escorted out slowly.
Some servants sat trembling in the corners, still in shock.
The guards remained alert—but their eyes, once sharp, now carried fear.
In the middle of it all—
Al stood quietly, watching the chaos gradually settle.
He looked up at the sky, now clear again.
The moon glowed bright,
As if indifferent to everything below.
All is calm now.
From a distance, Al spotted three figures standing atop a tall tree branch.
Their silhouettes were clear under the moonlight:
Two women—one with shoulder-length hair, one with long flowing locks—
And one tall man.
All in black uniforms.
Their faces hidden in shadow.
Their presence calm and powerful,
As if gravity didn't apply to them.
They made no move.
They just... watched.
One of them locked eyes with Al.
No hostility.
No pressure.
No threat.
Only a gaze full of meaning.
Was it... allyship?
Or... observation?
Al nodded slightly.
And smiled.
The three vanished—
No sound. No trace.
Like leaves caught in the cold night breeze...
Swept into the trees and gone.
Silence returned.
Al lowered his gaze.
Someone was approaching.
A middle-aged man in formal clothing—Rangga, the family shaman—stepped up beside him.
His face calm, but his aura filled with confusion and awe.
Without saying much, Rangga passed by Al, gently patting him on the shoulder.
A simple gesture.
But it felt heavy.
"You're Al... right?" he muttered, not even making eye contact.
"So you're still alive…"
Then he walked away.
Al froze.
Still alive?
What was that supposed to mean?
But that wasn't the only strange thing.
When Rangga's hand touched his shoulder,
Al felt something.
A wave of energy—dark and heavy.
Not unfamiliar.
It felt...
Like something that once brushed against his own power, long ago.
Somewhere.
He couldn't recall.
But he didn't seek the answer.
Not tonight.
Tonight had been long enough.
He took a deep breath, looked up at the night sky once more,
Then turned and walked out of the ruined garden.
Behind him,
The world of nobles was already beginning to piece together their illusions again.
And Al walked away.
With light steps—
But a heart that had grown heavier
with the weight of new questions just beginning to rise.
---
Elsewhere... far from the Virellano estate—
In a remote underground chamber, lit only by blue fire in a stone bowl,
Several hooded figures sat in a circle.
None of their faces were visible.
In the center,
A red-black magic circle pulsed with ominous light,
Revealing a silhouette—
A horned creature with blood-red glowing eyes.
"They'll gather...?"
"Good. They're the perfect vessels."
"This ritual will be complete with them."
"Just a little longer... until the world weakens... and the gate opens."
One of them raised a black pendant—
Etched with ancient runes that spun on their own.
"Our king will rise. And when he does..."
"None of them will be able to stop him."
The blue fire flared higher.
And the long-sealed demonic shadow—
Began to stir.
---