Jakarta, 2025 — The End of a Patriot
The streets of Senayan were quiet that night. Too quiet.
Rakha Yudhistira Halim stood by the office window, staring out at the skyline he had tried to fix. Below, the city pulsed with a thousand betrayals wrapped in neon lights. Somewhere in that darkness, his enemies waited. Politicians he once called brothers. Foreign men in suits. Shadows from the past.
His phone buzzed. Another warning.
"Leave the city. Tonight."
He didn't reply. What was the point? When you refuse bribes, when you dismantle the old networks, when you speak truth in rooms where truth is currency… you don't get to walk away.
He turned back to his desk. Folders of unfinished reforms. A draft of a speech he would never give.His mother's photo. His father's silat belt.He whispered a quiet prayer.
A knock.A crack of light.Then — silence.
The shot rang out like punctuation.And just like that, Indonesia lost one of its last honest men.
But death wasn't the end.
Matur, Agam Regency — West Sumatra, 1982
The cry of a newborn echoed through the small wooden house in Lawang.
His mother wept softly, holding him close, whispering thanks to Allah. Outside, his father stood under the stars, breath heavy with hope. Sugarcane rustled in the night wind. The air was thick with the scent of saka being boiled down the road.
The baby blinked. His eyes were too sharp. Too knowing.
Inside his mind, a voice echoed:
[GARUDA SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Welcome back, Rakha Yudhistira Halim. Your mission continues.
And thus, from blood and betrayal, a new Indonesia would begin.
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[Welcome to the new story, this is kind of wish-fulfillment story so if you're not into that i understand]