Midnight had reached its zenith in the Kingdom of Norvane. Inside the formidable walls of Castle Graymore, the mana-lamps had been extinguished, leaving behind a thick, suffocating darkness within the cold stone corridors. The faint, rhythmic snoring of the guards and the mechanical ticking of the grandfather clock in the main hall were the only melodies indicating that the castle's inhabitants were lost in their respective dreams.
In one of the rooms in the west wing tower, Razzaq Graymore stood before a wide-open window. The night wind, biting and sharp, pierced through his skin, yet the seven-year-old boy did not shiver. His silver-gray eyes stared intently toward the northern horizon, where the silhouette of the Hollow Forest loomed like a sleeping black giant, waiting for prey foolish enough to enter its depths.
Seven years I have restrained myself, allowing this vessel to grow slowly under their watchful eyes, Razzaq thought. He felt the warm, rhythmic pulse of the World Diamond Essence (Mustika Intan Jagat) deep within his chest. The time had come. The foundation of this "bottle" was finally strong enough to contain the first sparks of the true fire.
Without wasting a moment, Razzaq whispered a soft, guttural incantation: "The Sleep-Inducing Art (Ajian Panyirepan)."
This was a high-tier Nusantara occult technique. Within a specific radius, the guards stationed beneath his tower suddenly felt an overwhelming, unnatural lethargy. Their eyelids grew heavy, and within seconds, they slumped into a standing slumber, trapped in a mystical hypnosis that would not let them wake until the first rays of the morning sun touched their skin.
Razzaq stepped onto the window ledge of the second floor.
"Wind-Step Art (Saipi Angin)!" he hissed.
Instantly, his body weight seemed to evaporate. However, as his feet attempted to tread upon the air to glide, he felt a strange, jarring imbalance. The body of a seven-year-old boy possessed a center of gravity entirely different from his original body—which had been stooped and heavy yet grounded. His short legs lacked the reach he had instinctively calculated in his mind.
Damn it! Razzaq nearly tumbled headfirst as he landed on the roof of the armory. He stumbled several steps, his small hands flailing in the air before he finally managed to regain his balance.
I forgot... I am no longer Ki Bungkuk Jagad, whose feet were one with the earth. This body is still far too light and short, he grumbled internally, feeling a bit ridiculous for almost falling simply because he miscalculated the length of his own tiny legs. However, after a few small, test leaps to adjust his rhythm, his movements returned to a state of fluid grace. He sprinted across the castle perimeter like a shadow untouched by moonlight.
The distance between the castle and the Hollow Forest, which should have taken an hour on foot, was covered in less than ten minutes. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the woods, the atmosphere shifted violently. The sound of crickets ceased, replaced by a haunting, heavy silence. The mana here was incredibly unstable—swirling like an invisible hurricane, creating a thin, violet mist that obstructed normal vision.
To Razzaq, however, this was a playground. He didn't need eyes to see; he used the vibrations of his soul. He pressed deeper into the heart of the forest, heading toward a place he identified as the Grey Valley. There, he found a ruined, ancient stone altar surrounded by dead trees whose branches twisted like the hands of grasping ghosts.
"The Earth-Nadi here is potent. Coarse, but pure," Razzaq remarked.
He began his preparations. Lacking traditional offerings like incense or sacred flowers, Razzaq plucked several petals of Shadow-Bloom growing around the altar—a rare plant that thrived on dark mana. He crushed the petals in his palm, mixing them with a single drop of blood from a small bite on his index finger.
Razzaq sat cross-legged in the center of the altar. He began to recite a mantra in an ancient Nusantara tongue that sounded like the low, distant rumble of thunder.
"Ingsun amatek ajiku... World Diamond Essence, open thy gates!"
Instantly, the clear sky above the Hollow Forest was blotted out by black clouds that swirled into a massive vortex. There was no loud thunder, only bolts of pitch-black lightning that struck vertically, hitting the area around the altar without the sound of an explosion. The air pressure suddenly became immense, as if gravity in that spot had increased tenfold.
This ritual triggered a response from the forest's denizens. From the darkness of the thickets, a pair of blood-red eyes ignited. A massive wolf with dull silver fur and fangs radiating a blue mana aura emerged with a low, guttural growl. This was a Silver-Fang Grimwolf, a peak predator of the Hollow Forest equivalent to a Rank 4 Knight.
The Grimwolf sensed the threat emanating from the small figure in the center of the altar. It did not hesitate. With a single explosive burst of speed, it leaped through the air, its fangs aimed directly at Razzaq's throat.
Razzaq did not open his eyes. He slowly raised his right hand.
"The Fire-Palm Art (Ajian Tapak Geni)!"
As the Grimwolf's claws were inches from his face, Razzaq's tiny hand struck the air before him. There was no gout of flame, but a wave of highly concentrated heat exploded from his palm. The effect was instantaneous. The Grimwolf was halted mid-air, all the mana within its body suddenly destabilizing and incinerating from the inside out.
Auuuuuuu!
The giant wolf was thrown backward, smashing into a massive tree until it toppled. Its silver fur was now charred black, and it trembled violently. Every mana circuit within its body had been scorched by the pure essence of Tapak Geni—a power that made no sense for a boy labeled as manaless.
But the disturbance was far from over. From the ground beneath the altar, a black mist rose, coalescing into a tall, faceless figure—the Ancient Spirit of the Hollow Forest. This spirit was the guardian of the territory, having existed for thousands of years. It felt encroached upon by the unfamiliar black lightning.
"Small human... this place... is mine..." the spirit's voice sounded like the grinding of stones, heavy and laden with mental pressure.
Razzaq finally opened his eyes. This time, they were no longer silver-gray; they were a solid, void-like black without pupils. The aura of Ki Bungkuk Jagad was unleashed in its entirety. "Yours? Before my soul, even this forest is nothing more than grass I can trample upon."
The spirit attempted to attack with tree roots bursting from the earth, but Razzaq merely released a high-level Spiritual Shout (Gertakan Batin).
"Kneel, or I shall cast your soul into the depths of the ocean of darkness!"
The sheer weight of Razzaq's will hit the spirit like a tsunami. The guardian spirit suddenly crumbled, its shadow-knees slamming into the dirt. It trembled. It had just realized that the creature before it was not a human child, but a primordial entity whose power transcended the logic of the Asyama world.
"Mercy... Great Lord..." the spirit whispered in terror.
"I have no need for your loyalty. I do not need you as a subordinate. I simply want my training tonight to be undisturbed by vermin like you," Razzaq said coldly. "Now, seal this territory. Do not let a single living creature or mana-knight approach until I am finished."
The guardian spirit immediately vanished, creating a dome of shadows around the valley to obey Razzaq's command.
With the perimeter secured, Razzaq resumed his ritual. He refocused his energy into the World Diamond Essence. For the next three hours, he tempered his soul pathways. He merged the wild Mana of the Hollow Forest with the Ancestral Breath of Nusantara. The result was a new kind of energy—far more stable and lethal than anything he had possessed since his rebirth.
At the conclusion of the ritual, Razzaq stood up. His body felt significantly lighter, and he could feel his strength had returned to about five percent—a small amount for Ki Bungkuk Jagad, but more than enough to slaughter a platoon of high-tier knights if necessary.
He looked at the carcass of the Silver-Fang Grimwolf lying nearby. Razzaq knew he had to be cautious. He could not leave any traces that could be tracked by the Graymore knights who frequently patrolled the forest outskirts. He approached the carcass and recited a cleansing technique.
"The Dissolution Art (Ajian Penglarung)."
In an instant, the wolf's corpse disintegrated into fine dust and was blown away by the wind, as if it had never existed. The earth, which had been scorched by the black lightning, also returned to its normal state. Razzaq ensured not a single trace remained to reveal his presence tonight.
As dawn approached, Razzaq headed back toward Castle Graymore using the Wind-Step Art. This time, his movements were far more precise. He no longer stumbled; he had finally synchronized with his new body. He leaped back through his bedroom window with absolute silence, just as the first sun of Norvane touched the tops of the towers.
However, he realized his body was covered in the sharp scent of forest earth and sweat. Clara would be arriving soon to wake him, and the maid possessed an incredibly keen nose.
"Almost forgot," Razzaq murmured. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly while wiping his hand from his head to his feet. "The Purifying Breeze (Ajian Bayu Reres)!"
A stream of cool, incredibly pure air enveloped his body. In an instant, all dirt, dust, and the scent of the forest on his skin and clothes vanished, dissolved by the cleansing wind energy. Razzaq now looked clean and fresh, as if he had just finished a bath.
Just as he laid down in bed and closed his eyes, the door opened.
"Young Master Razzaq! Good morning! Oh, you're awake earlier than usual today?" Clara entered with her signature cheerful smile, carrying a tray of breakfast.
Razzaq stretched slowly, putting on a perfect sleepy face. "Morning, Clara..."
Clara approached, looking at Razzaq with wonder. "Strange... why does the Young Master feel so... fresh today? Like there's a different aura. Is it because you slept well?"
Razzaq only offered a faint smile. "Perhaps."
Beneath his blanket, Razzaq clenched his fist. The first stage of his recovery was a success. He had shown his fangs to the forest, and soon, he would show all of Norvane that the "Hollow Vessel" they despised was a catastrophe waiting to explode.
The forest would remember the night the lightning turned black, and the boy who walked among spirits. But for now, the castle remained blind to the monster growing within its nursery.