Three days later, screams tore through the village in the dead of night. Miguel burst from his hut to find shadows moving too fast, too strangely, across the rice fields.
"Aswang!" someone shouted. "Tagabulag!"
Miguel ran toward the village square, where he found a tall figure in black robes standing over the body of Mang Juan—the village elder who had taught him to carve wood as a boy. The figure's eyes were milky white, but he turned his head toward Miguel as if seeing him clearly.
"More life force," the Tagabulag hissed, his voice like stones grinding together. "Enough to finally break through to the next realm."
"Leave this place!" Miguel roared, drawing on his cultivated power. Golden light flickered around his fists.
The Tagabulag laughed, revealing elongated fangs. "A half-blood cultivator? You're barely a match for my lowest disciple. I'll take your power as well—add it to all I've stolen tonight."
They clashed, Miguel moving faster than any human could manage, but the Tagabulag was stronger—his power dark and twisted, fed by countless stolen lives. Just as the creature's hand reached for Miguel's throat, a blade flashed through the air, cutting across the Tagabulag's arm.
"Get back!" a voice commanded.
A young man with short black hair and wearing the gray robes of a human cultivator stood there, his sword glowing with silver light. He drove the Tagabulag back with a flurry of strikes, and the creature finally retreated into the mist.
"Are you hurt?" the stranger asked, lowering his weapon but not sheathing it.
"I'm fine," Miguel said, rushing to Mang Juan's side. But the elder was already gone—his life force completely drained away. "Who are you?"
"Rico," the cultivator replied, his jaw tight. "I've been hunting Tagabulag for two years now. They destroyed my village in Leyte."
"So you're here to hunt me too?" Miguel said, standing up and letting his own power flare slightly.
*Rico hesitated, then shook his head. "No. I've been tracking that one for weeks. He's different from the mindless beasts I've fought before—he's cultivating that stolen energy, growing stronger every time he kills."
"My grandfather says they abandoned the Liwanag—they only take, never give back," Miguel said, clenching his fists.
"Then we have the same enemy," Rico said, extending his hand. "I know where he's going. He's heading for the Tree of Echoes—they say it amplifies cultivation power a hundredfold."
Miguel looked toward the mountains in the distance, where the mist never seemed to lift. "Then that's where we're going too. Lolo, can we prepare for the journey?"
*Lolo Daniél had joined them, his face grave. "You're not ready yet, Miguel. The Tree of Echoes holds secrets that can destroy you if you're not strong enough."
"Then teach me," Miguel said firmly. "Teach me everything I need to know to stop them."
*The old man was quiet for a long moment, then nodded. "There is one who can help you. An ancient elder who lives in the caves above the terraces. Lolo Mateo—he was my master, and he knows the deepest truths of our cultivation."