After being cast out from Rock Village, Badrul had been surviving alone in the harsh wilderness — facing deadly threats like Demigons, Crawlers, and other monstrous beasts that roamed the outside world.
But it didn't bother him much anymore.
After a while, he'd become good at one thing: running from danger.
Each night, he found a place that seemed safe enough to rest — even if just for a while.
And every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted to the people he left behind. Most of all… to Nisa.
"Hah… I never thought my life would end up like this," he muttered with a hollow laugh.
"Well, there's nothing I can do about it now. It's all in the past." He had accepted his fate.
Out here, survival wasn't promised.
And in the back of his mind, he knew — he probably wouldn't last long in the outside world.
Days passed.
One day, after searching for food, Badrul trudged back to his makeshift shelter with a half-empty sack and a heavy face.
But the moment he arrived… he froze.
Someone was there.
A tall figure in a black cloak stood silently, right in front of the shelter — as if he'd been waiting all along.
Badrul's instincts kicked in. He quickly grabbed a nearby metal rod and tightened his grip, eyes narrowed, posture guarded.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice sharp and clear.
The stranger slowly turned to face him.
A mask covered his face, and on the forehead of the mask was an unfamiliar symbol — a setting sun.
He didn't speak. Didn't move. Just stood there, staring at Badrul in silence.
The eerie stillness unsettled him.
"If you've got nothing to say, then get lost, I'm not in the mood for whatever this is." Badrul snapped, trying to sound intimidating.
He turned, intending to head back inside and leave the weirdo alone.
But the cloaked man lifted a hand and blocked his path.
"Hey… what do you think you're doing?" Badrul growled, anger rising in his chest.
The man still silence.
His silence, heavy and unmoving, began to grate on Badrul. Frustration simmered inside him, although he tried to hold it back. The sky was darkening, and he didn't want to waste energy on someone whose intentions were still unclear.
"If you're here just to start a fight, forget it. I don't have time for your games." Badrul snapped,
He turned, ready to head back inside—
SLAAASH!
A blade tore through the air, slashing across his cheek.
"A knife?!"
Badrul stumbled backward, reaching for something—anything—but his limbs refused to move. It was as if his body was no longer his own.
"W—what's happening to me?"
Panic surged. He fought to regain control, but something strange was taking over.
And then—everything shifted.
In the blink of an eye, Badrul was back in Rock Village.
But it was in ruins.
The ground was soaked in blood. Bodies lay scattered, lifeless. Smoke poured into the sky like a wound that wouldn't close.
Badrul stood frozen, chest tightening, lungs struggling to take in air.
"Nisa… Badang… Samar…" he whispered, fear rising in his throat.
He ran, his heart pounding, desperate to find them.
And when he finally did—he wished he hadn't.
Their faces were twisted in fury, eyes bleeding and black, voices echoing with betrayal.
"Why'd you let this happen?!"
"Where's all that talk of protecting us now?!"
"Traitor!"
Badrul froze. His whole body trembled with cold. He wanted to speak—wanted to defend himself—but it felt like something was choking his throat.
Minutes dragged by as he endured the nightmare.
Then, with a gasp, he jolted awake.
"Hah... hah... what was that…" he panted, sweat dripping down his forehead.
His head throbbed, sharp pulses of pain stabbing through his skull.
He tried to shake it off—tried to convince himself it was just a hallucination, a bad dream brought on by exhaustion and fear.
But then—
"You really think all of that was just an illusion?"
The voice came from behind.
That same man in black. He stepped forward, his pace slow, unbothered… but something in his presence made the air grow colder.
"What… what did you do to me?!" Badrul shouted, reaching out to grab him—
—but his fingers barely brushed the cloak before the man calmly replied:
"Oh, nothing. I merely brought out… what was already inside you."
"What the hell does that mean—ARGH!"
Badrul collapsed to his knees, clutching his head in both hands.
Then it started.
Flashes. Voices. Images pouring into his mind—wild, violent, chaotic.
Memories.
Ones he had never seen before.
Terrified faces. Screams, Smoke, Flames devouring rooftops.
And his own hands—bloody, shaking—striking down people, one after another.
"No… this isn't real… this isn't me!"
But deep down… something told him it was.This wasn't a dream.
It wasn't some trick.
It was the truth.
And in that horrifying moment… he realized—
He just destroyed Kampung Batu.
"What have I done…"
His voice cracked.
His hands trembled violently.
And all around him, the silence screamed.
"You can't run from your sins anymore, Badrul," the man said calmly, a twisted smile curling on his lips.
Badrul slowly lifted his face, eyes blazing with fury.
"You…"
Even though his body was battered and weak, he forced himself to his feet.
"What the hell did you do to me, you bastard?!"
With what little strength he had left, Badrul lunged forward, throwing a punch — then another — then a flurry of desperate attacks. Punchs, kicks, every strike powered by rage, grief, desperation.
But none of them landed.
Each blow was brushed aside, parried with ease, as if Badrul's movements were weightless, meaningless — like leaves in the wind.
Still, he kept going.
He had to.
Anger surged through him. Pain sharpened his focus. But his limbs betrayed him. His heart pounded, lungs burning.
And then, with a final gasp —
His body gave out.
He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
Then — a sharp, brutal blow landed across his face. He hit the dirt hard, dazed and helpless.
"Why are you blaming me?" the man said, his voice almost gentle now. Cold. Detached.
He crouched, grabbed Badrul by the hair, and yanked his head up, forcing their eyes to meet.
"All I did... was bring out what was already inside you."
"…That power you've been hiding… that darkness you've been burying."
"…I didn't destroy Kampung Batu."
"You did."
Badrul went completely still.
Then — slowly, like floodgates breaking open — the memories came.
One by one, they surged into him. Visions. Sounds. Feelings.
And something else — the truth of his power.
The power to command monsters.
To control them.
To… connect with them.
And with that connection came something else — their memories.
And in one of those memories…
He saw her.
Nisa.
Her face—
Twisted in terror.
Her final scream echoed through his mind—
right before she was stabed by one of the very monsters he had unknowingly commanded.
"No…"
Badrul sank to his knees.
Tears streamed down his cheeks—silent, unstoppable.
But no one was there to comfort him.
AAAAARRRGGGHHH!!!
His scream stattered the silence of the night.
His heart, already battered, now lay in ruins.
He had killed her.
The only person he ever truly loved…
with his own hands.
Without even knowing.
And now, the light that once guided him toward something better—
had vanished.
Swallowed whole by the darkness.
The man in black slowly approached, his steps quiet, deliberate.
Badrul sat motionless, broken, eyes glazed over—his soul adrift.
"Badrul," the man murmured, his voice low…
like a serpent whispering to a dying flame.
"Do you know who set you up…?"
"The one who made sure you'd be cast out of Kampung Batu..."
He paused, letting the words seep into the cracks of Badrul's mind.
"It was someone close to you."
Then—
a face.
Badang's face.
It flashed in Badrul's thoughts like a shadow against a wall.
He looked up, slowly.
His eyes were void of light.
Emotionless.
Empty.
The man gave a faint, satisfied smile.
"I know… none of this is truly your fault."
He crouched beside Badrul, extending a hand.
"So let me help you," he said softly.
"Let me help you destroy the ones who made you become like this."
For a moment, everything went still.
No words.
No sound.
Only the wind whispering through the trees…
and a creeping fog curling in around them like a silent witness to the darkness unfolding.
At last, Badrul raised his hand—
and clasped the stranger's.
No words were spoken.
And just like that, the two figures vanished into the thick fog, swallowed by the night…
leaving behind only silence and secrets.
Back in the present.
From deep within the shadowy woods, the same cloaked man watched from afar.
He stood still, half-hidden by the trees, observing Badrul's motionless body… and Badang arguing below.
A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Tch… Looks like that's as far as he goes."
He tilted his head slightly, studying his fingers as if lost in thought.
"All that effort to destroy Kampung Batu to the ground…"
"Just to awaken some useless trash that can't even be recycled."
He let out a dry chuckle.
"But... thanks to him, I found something much more… entertaining."
He stretched his arm lazily, brushing his coat aside, and took a slow step forward.
"Well then… now it's time to—"
"Time for what?"
The voice came out of nowhere—
cold, level, and sharp like steel drawn from a sheath.
The man froze.
His pupils dilated.
A drop of sweat slid down his temple.
His body stiffened as a figure emerged through the fog behind him.
"Since when did he stand behind me?"
"Why didn't I sense him at all?"
"Who the hell is he?"
The mysterious presence stepped forward, slowly and deliberately, through the mist.
His face was young, hair slightly tousled, and something about him radiated an unexplainable aura.
The figure standing in the mist… was Ilyas.
He stood calmly.
No tension in his body, no sign of aggression.
But his eyes — cold, sharp — locked straight onto the man perched above the tree branch.
"You said you were leaving," he spoke flatly.
"So why are you still here?"
His voice was calm… but each word seemed to slice through the night air like a blade.
The cloaked man stiffened.
A chill crept down his spine — but he quickly tried to mask it, forcing a slow breath as he glanced down at Ilyas with a crooked smirk.
"heh... there's no way. I must have been too preoccupied with my success to the point where I didn't sense him." He chuckled dryly, shaking his head as if mocking himself.
"I've asked you once. Are you mute or just stupid?"
Ilyas pressed again, this time with a hint of sarcasm.
"Tch... Fuck off, kid. I've got business to finish," the man snapped, his voice now laced with annoyance and condescension.
"What business?"
Ilyas asked simply, not moving an inch — expression unreadable.
"Hah, and why would I tell you?" the man sneered, averting his gaze.
"It's not like you'd even understand…"
Ilyas didn't react — he just said, quietly:
"Something to do with the Order of the First Light?"
The moment the words left his lips, the air shifted.
It hit the man like a hammer to the chest.
His eyes widened. His jaw slackened.
"…H-How do you—?"
He stared at Ilyas, stunned.
But Ilyas only sighed, like he'd grown tired of this whole game.
"Hah… I've dealt with your kind too many times already," Ilyas said, his voice still calm — but now edged with disdain.
"Cultists like you… you're all the same. Loud, delusional, and a complete waste of my time."
His tone shifted.
What was once stillness now crackled with tension — something dangerous lurked beneath his words.
The air around him grew heavy, suffocating.
The cloaked man felt it.
A chill prickled across his skin. His hands began to tremble — just slightly, but enough.
"If you know about our order…"
"…then I can't let you leave alive."
"Blame yourself…"
"…for knowing what you shouldn't!"
With that, he lunged forward, a gleaming blade sliding out from his cloak — a brutal, jagged thing designed to kill, not intimidate.
But then—
"You know…"
The voice came again, quiet — but this time, not from the front.
The man froze.
In the blink of an eye, Ilyas was no longer where he had been.
He was behind him.
No footsteps.
No warning.
Just silence… and then pain.
"Wha—?!"
A sharp, violent throb ripped through his arm.
He looked down—
And saw nothing.
His right arm was gone.
Clean off.
Blood oozed slowly from the torn socket, but his brain hadn't caught up.
He gasped, eyes wide, heart hammering.
Behind him, Ilyas stood, expressionless.
In his hand… the man's severed arm.
"Now is the time for Luna to drink milk."
Only after a few seconds did the man's brain finally catch up to the pain —
AAAAAARRGHHHH!!
His scream shattered the quiet of dawn — raw, high-pitched, and soaked in terror.
He collapsed backward, landing hard on the damp, muddy earth.
What remained of his arm trembled violently, blood streaming down and mixing with dead leaves and soil.
His eyes bulged in disbelief.
His breath came in short, panicked bursts.
He screamed again — this time less human, more like a cornered animal losing its mind.
Ilyas approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
With every step, his shadow grew longer, darker — as though the morning sun itself recoiled.
He crouched, bringing his face close to the screaming man.
Their eyes met.
And in Ilyas' gaze… there was no name for what looked back.
Something between a reaper ready to claim a soul — and a predator savoring the fear of prey.
The man froze.
His body trembled violently.
The air around him felt like ice and fire all at once.
Then — the smell hit.
Warm. Shameful.
He had wet himself.
"I was going to kill you right now…"
Ilyas' voice was soft. Almost gentle. But each word sliced like glass dragged over bone.
"But…"
"…today is not a time for you to die."
Tears streamed down the man's face, mixing with blood and dirt.
And for the first time in his wretched life, he was grateful to still be breathing.
"…but," Ilyas continued, voice low, unhurried,
"…you're going to do something for me."
He leaned in close… and whispered.
Just a few words. But it hit the man's mind like thunder cracking a stone.
His eyes widened. Breath caught in his throat.
"Do you understand?"
The man could only nod slowly, eyes fixed on the ground — too terrified to meet Ilyas' gaze.
"Or do I need to tear off your other arm?"
Ilyas' threat sliced through the air like a blade.
The man nodded rapidly, fear etched into every twitch of his broken body.
And then — he was gone.
Vanished like a shadow fleeing the light.
Ilyas rose to his full height.
He took a deep breath and looked toward the distance.
from afar, he saw them — Badrul, Badang, and Samar — caught in a heated conversation. Tension practically radiated from their silhouettes.
"Hah…" Ilyas muttered to himself,
"So that's what changed after I took Luna."
His eyes shifted upward, locking onto the rising sun.
A new day had begun. The chaos of the night was ending — and the real story was just beginning.
"Now…" he whispered,
"…it's finally time for me to step into their story."