[ DISTRICT LEADERS ]
THE PAST: ASWA
That evening sky was too blue for a failure.
*Hiyakk!*
Aswa's scream shattered the air, but his voice was hoarse, like a dull sword trying to cut through the wind. His legs trembled in a stance, calf muscles throbbing under the strain. Five hours. He had been training nonstop for five hours.
*Tap. Tap.*
Sweat dripped to the ground, soaking the dusty training field which had turned into little mud patches beneath his feet.
"Focus! Stabilize your movements."
A voice—seemingly his mentor's—echoed from the side. The man sat under a sour-sop tree, his eyes sharp like an eagle watching its fledgling struggling to fly.
Aswa tried to catch his breath, but his chest felt like it was being crushed by a rock.
*Hiks—*
*Thud!*
He fell. His back hit the ground hard, dust billowed like a small explosion. His eyes immediately stared upward—white clouds slowly drifting across the sky, changing shapes like unclear dreams.
Beautiful, he thought. But I don't deserve to look at them.
"Still not good enough. Not like this!"
Now he stood beside him, his shadow covering Aswa's face.
"I haven't seen the edge of that person in you, Aswa!"
Aswa frowned. What did "the edge of that person" mean?
"You have to become stronger! That's the only way!"
He tried to push through the dirt, attempting to stand. But his arm trembled like a fragile twig holding against a storm.
*Nervous. Weak. Failure.*
He fell again.
Above him, the white clouds still floated—calm, untouched, indifferent to a boy who just lost again.
Seems... I'm really not worthy of the real world.
THE PRESENT: Kalideres District
[Kalideres Station – Present Day]
Diemelin sighed deeply.
The smell of diesel and sweat filled the air around the terminal. Dozens of buses jostled in front of her, some still humming, others silent like old metal.
"Cindy... where are you?"
She checked her phone again. 5%. Its screen dimmed, like her eyes tired from waiting. Two hours. She had been standing here for two hours, and her friend's promise to "pick me up with a surprise" felt more like a spoiled dream.
*Blup!*
Her phone died.
"Damn!"
"Need a ride, miss?"
A voice suddenly appeared nearby. A small man wearing a worn-out motorcycle jacket smiled widely—too wide, like a forced mask.
"I can take you wherever you want. Cheap, fast, safe."
Diemelin hesitated. But the smell of exhaust and the scorching sun became unbearable.
...Alright then.
She got on.
But ten minutes later—
"Here, miss! 150 thousand."
"What?! It was close!"
"Well, you already got the ride. Or do you want me to report you to the police?"
The rider's expression changed—his smile vanished, replaced by a cold glare.
Diemelin opened her wallet tremblingly. "I... only have 50 thousand..."
*Slap!*
He slapped the money until it fell. "Don't mess around, miss!"
Suddenly—
"KALIDERES HIGH SCHOOL MUST NOT BE TRAMPLED ON!"
A thunderous shout.
Diemelin turned.
Two groups of students—probably fifty—faced each other on the street. Sticks, chains, and broken beer bottles scattered around them.
"YOU STARTED THIS, YOU PEGADUNGAN KIDS!"
"WE WILL RULE THIS STATION!"
The rider immediately disappeared, his motorcycle roaring like a demon fleeing hell.
Diemelin was trapped.
She tried to retreat, but the crowd closed in around her.
*Thud!*
Someone bumped into her shoulder.
*Thud! Again!*
She was pushed—sidewalk! Her feet stumbled—
This is going to hurt.
But before she fell—
"Got you."
A hand caught her.
Diemelin looked up.
Two men stood before her.
The first: short hair, black eyes sharp like a freshly sharpened knife. No smile. No emotion. Only an aura that made the air heavy.
The second: messy blonde hair, a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. But that was what made it scary—like a crocodile before it strikes.
"You're not one of them, right?" the blonde asked. His voice deep, calm, but with iron beneath it.
Diemelin could only shake her head.
The guy with curly hair grinned. "Wow, so just a victim in the wrong place. Should we help... or just kill her, Moock?"
*Moock.*
That name struck like lightning in Diemelin's ears.
*Moock? MOOCK?*
She had heard it before, whispered among high school kids, in local news about riots, in stories that made parents shake their heads in fear.
*District Leader of Kalideres, Moock and Vincent.*
Moock raised his hand—just a small movement.
But suddenly, from dark alleys, from behind stalls, from inside silent buses—dozens of men appeared. They moved silently, like living shadows.
The high schoolers instantly went pale.
"T-That's... Mookervaat..."
"Kalideres' two demons..."
Vincent stepped forward, hands in his pockets. "You like to fight, huh? Good. But don't do it on public streets—later we'll have to deal with it."
Moock didn't speak. Just stared.
But that was enough.
Within five minutes, everything was settled. The high schoolers were taken away—some slapped, some dragged, but no blood spilled. Like routine procedure.
Diemelin still trembled.
"Where are you headed?" Moock suddenly asked.
"I... was waiting for a friend. But my phone died."
Vincent laughed. "Wow, so you need a charger. Or... maybe you need a bodyguard?"
His eyes squinted. "We can be paid friends, you know."
Moock hissed. "Vincent."
"Ah, you're no fun, Moock."
But before they could continue—
*Crash!*
A man ran—on purpose or not—and bumped into Moock.
Vincent immediately grabbed his collar. "Do you need glasses or what?!"
But Moock saw something fall.
A letter.
He opened it—his eyes furrowed.
"District Leaders Gathering... West Jakarta?"
Vincent came closer. "Huh. An invitation to assemble?"
Moock folded the letter. "Or an invitation to war."
Diemelin saw the fire burning in Moock's eyes—
-TO BE CONTINUED-