For Ester Cornelia, who teaches me to love.

Two centuries ago, the world was graced with a long-sought peace following the heroic deeds of twin deities, Gurita and Kota, who vanquished the nefarious God of the Devil, Setan. Since that pivotal day, these twin protectors have guarded Bumi against the shadows of evil.

Prior to his defeat, Setan unleashed terror across the entire realm, corrupting nearly all the living beings with malevolent thoughts through mere gestures. His brief presence on Bumi, lasting only three days, was cataclysmic. He transformed the realm into a veritable hell, massacring millions, including thousands of warriors and several demigods. His wrath didn’t spare the gods either; he slaughtered nine of them, with only Gurita and Kota surviving. Despite their grievous injuries—with Gurita losing his sight and Kota both her arms—they narrowly triumphed in what was nearly a pyritic victory.

Gurita, the divine blacksmith, forged the legendary Shield of Patagomy, which could only be wielded by the most valorous of warriors. He was renowned not just for his craftsmanship of arms and armors that clad the warriors of Bumi during battles, but also for his prowess on the battlefield itself.

Kota, the Goddess of the Moon, mastered the enigmatic powers of darkness and shadow. Despite being misunderstood and often maligned by the people of Bumi who feared her dominion over the dark, she proved to be their ultimate savior.

The twins’ victory was also bolstered by the valor of a mortal named Rogue, the commanding general of the Nathallion’s Army. Facing the God of Devil himself, Rogue held his ground heroically until Gurita and Kota could intervene. After their victory, the twins offered him godhood, but Rogue chose to remain mortal. He passed away years later, always remembered by the people of Bumi as their true hero, The World Savior.

In the heart of a quaint town lies a small, ancient library, a repository of wisdom where echoes of the past whisper through the stacks. This sanctuary of knowledge is crammed with towering bookcases filled to the brim with books of every conceivable shape and size. The architecture, adorned with gothic arches and windows, casts intricate shadows across the creaking wooden floors, imbuing the space with an aura of mystery and antiquity.

The library houses a specialized collection that draws the curious and the brave—sections densely packed with volumes on monsters, evil entities, and gods. These tomes, some bound in weathered leather and etched with ancient runes, contain esoteric lore about dark creatures and celestial beings alike. One secluded corner, particularly rich with dust and shadow, is dedicated to the lore of malevolent forces and celestial conflicts.

Inside, a scene unfolds around a sturdy oak table set beneath a stained-glass window depicting an ancient celestial battle. Five individuals are present: one sits behind a desk, surrounded by piles of ancient scrolls and manuscripts, while the other four sit across from him.

“Blah-blah, that’s a good story, old man. But can you just tell us why we are here today?” said the slender handsome young man with horns crowning his head. His short, curly hair just barely concealed the bases, adding a touch of mystery to his piercing gaze.

“Give me one reason why I should not just kill you already for wasting my time,” she hissed, her voice as menacing as her appearance. Even in the dimly lit room, her scaly, oily skin stood out, catching what little light there was and reflecting it in a subtle, eerie glow.

“Let’s all just take a moment to calm down. It seems like the old man hasn’t finished his story yet,” said the young man cheerfully, a bow resting on his back, looking decidedly more ordinary than the rest of the room.

“Oh please, we all know how this story goes. The Gods win, the Devil’s gone, end of story. And then we all live happily ever after. Ta-dah,” the handsome young man with horns quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“But here’s the thing. The Devil is coming back,” the old man said, his voice fragile and quivering slightly with the weight of his words.

The room tensed as the scaly lady slammed her hand down on the table with a heavy thud, startling everyone except one. The person who remained unfazed was engrossed in a piece of paper. She stood abruptly, pointing a finger at the old man, her movement sharp and deliberate.

“I’ve been hearing that bullshit for years, and it was all nothing but lies!” the scaly lady exclaimed.

“I came here because you promised a mission, one that promised more adventure and killing. Yet, here you are with your bullshit stories about the Devil coming back. You better choose your next words very carefully, old man. I’m at my limit,” she added, her tone harsh as she remained standing, towering over the seated figures.

“It is my fault, I should have introduced myself before telling you about the job,” the old man said as he stood up. As he rose, a warm glowing light radiated from his entire body, casting a serene illumination around the room.

“I am Gurita’s Medium. I speak what Gurita wants to speak. I’m his tongue, I’m his mouth, and I’m his mind,” he explained, his voice steady and imbued with a newfound authority. Upon hearing this, the handsome young man with horns quietly clapped his hands.

“And?” the handsome young man with horns prompted, his eyebrows raised in expectation.

“I bring a message from Gurita. It is true, the Devil’s coming back,” the old man declared. Suddenly, a palpable pressure filled the room, as if an invisible weight had settled over everyone present, making the atmosphere thick with tension.

“The truth is, Setan was never killed. We chopped off his body, part by part, and cast it into the depths of the Abyss, hoping he would never return,” the old man continued, his voice steady despite the heavy revelation.

“It has been peaceful for centuries, until recently. Kota has sensed a massive power emerging from the Abyss. It’s different, yet strangely familiar,” he added, his eyes scanning the room as he saw the realization dawn on their faces.

“That’s when she knew for certain—Setan is back.” The young man with the bow shifted slightly, raising his hand, a questioning look etched across his face as he caught the old man’s attention.

“Is Setan immortal?” The old man responded with a solemn nod.

“Yet the Gods are not, huh. Talk about an unfair world,” the handsome young man with horns remarked, as he casually flipped his knife into the air and caught it with practiced ease.

“Mark my words, young man. The act of Evil has always been there, from the beginning of time to its end. But the act of Good is not always there when we need it. That’s why all we need to do is keep the candle burning,” the old man said.

“However, to truly revive and be back in his own body, Setan needs to crawl his way out of the Abyss and sit on his throne,” the old man explained.

“That’s weird. But where is this throne located?” the handsome young man with horns asked, his curiosity piqued.

“In his castle, of course. But to reach it, you must travel between realms. It’s not located in Bumi; it’s in a realm that lies between Hell and the Abyss—a place where even the Gods have never ventured,” the old man detailed, his eyes reflecting the gravity of such a journey.

“And you expect us to go there just like that?” the scaly lady moaned, her voice hissing with a mix of skepticism and annoyance.

“Not only going there, but you also must destroy Setan’s throne before it’s too late. If he truly returns, it could mean the end of all,” the old man emphasized.

“Yeah, that’s it, I’m leaving, bye, everyone,” the man with the horn said as he abruptly stood up from his chair and started to walk away. Yet, after a few steps, he stopped, standing frozen in place.

“I’m afraid you can’t do that, Maling,” the old man said calmly. Maling turned his head, his expression shifting to one of surprise.

“I never told you—what—how?” Maling stammered.

“The reason I came here is not to give you this mission. I came here to order you this mission. The Twins have specifically chosen the four of you,” the old man declared, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

At his words, everyone in the room rose from their seats, stirred by the gravity of the situation—except for one, who remained seated, still engrossed in the piece of paper he held, seemingly oblivious to the tension around him.

“But I just got promoted to be The Protector of this city. How can I protect it if I’m going to a realm between Hell and Abyss?” said the young man with a bow on his back, his face creased with worry.

“This order is far more important than just that, Panah. You are not only the Protector of Godam, but of Bumi. You are not only protecting the people of Godam, but the entire humanity,” the old man responded firmly.

Panah, the young man with the bow, paused, his expression turning contemplative as he weighed the gravity of the old man’s words against his own fears and responsibilities.

“You can’t just hand us death sentences like that!” hissed the scaly lady, her two fangs protruding menacingly as if she was ready to strike at the old man at any moment.

“And what makes this different from your other death sentences, Ular?” the old man replied calmly, not flinching under her deadly glare. Ular, still glaring at the old man, seemed taken aback by his retort.

“Let me out, old man,” Maling said, his voice rising into a shout.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I haven’t given you the instructions for this mission yet,” the old man responded, maintaining his composure.

Almost instantly, Maling, who had been standing frozen just seconds before, appeared behind the old man, his knife poised to slit his throat. However, before Maling could enact his violent intent, his hand was stopped. Once again, his body seemed to be frozen in place, immobilized.

“If I may give you some advice, please don’t do it, Maling,” said the old man calmly, unfazed by the threat at his throat.

Realizing that his attempt had led nowhere, Maling reluctantly took a step backward and stood still, his expression one of confusion and frustration.

“I think I’ve made myself clear already. Go to Setan’s castle and destroy his throne before it’s too late. You will encounter a lot of trouble along the way, but the Twins chose you specifically because they know you have what it takes to complete this mission,” the old man stated firmly, his gaze sweeping across the group.

At that moment, the one person who had remained seated throughout the exchange, still engrossed in his piece of paper, raised his hand. Instantly, all eyes turned towards him.

As everyone’s attention turned towards him, the man with the long, flowing dark hair, dressed in a deep blue robe adorned with magical amulets, finally looked up from his piece of paper. His intense eyes, flickering with mystical power, surveyed the room.

“How are we supposed to destroy Setan’s throne? Last time I checked, we don’t have Typhon as our pet,” asked the long-haired man, his voice echoing a mix of skepticism and concern as he glanced around the room, challenging the others with his intense gaze.

“I supposed you have read the brief mission that I wrote to you, Tuli?” the old man inquired, his gaze settling on the long-haired man. Tuli nodded his head in affirmation.

“To defeat Setan, the Gods can’t work alone. It always takes one mortal human to make it possible. The Twins barely won their fight against Setan until Rogue helped them. Now, it’s your turn,” the old man continued, his voice steady but carrying a weight of urgency.

“When you arrive at Setan’s Throne, the Twins should be there. Help them, and they will help you,” he concluded, laying out the path before them clearly.

“How about another threat? Like Bayangan for example? He already destroys realms too,” Tuli asked again, everyone else in the room seems confused except the old man.

“Bayangan has been imprisoned in Heaven for centuries now, he’s as ancient as time. As long as he’s locked up in Heaven, we have no worries.” the old man answer, then Tuli just nodded his head.

“What if we refuse this mission?” Ular questioned defiantly, her gaze still deadly.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. The Twins set their sights on all of you the moment you entered this library. They offer their aid for this quest, but make no mistake - they also wield the power to end your lives if you defy them.” Worried glances were exchanged around the room as fear gripped those present. After a momentary silence, Panah was the first to regain his composure.

“Well, it seems we have no choice but to accept, but what should be our first step old man?”

“Your first destination must be the portal,” the old man stated. With measured movements, he opened a rift behind him, revealing a shimmering purple gateway.

“To travel between realms, you must pass through such portals. But be warned - each portal is guarded. Some guardians may be welcoming, while others will attack intruders on sight. They bear the solemn responsibility of safeguarding all the realms.” As he spoke, the old man’s body began to emanate an ethereal glow.

“Seek the portal, and you will find what you search for. Remember, the Twins keep their eyes on you.”

“May the gods save us all.” And just like that, the old man vanished from the room, leaving only a lingering radiance behind.

“So... Should we listen to him?” Maling asked, turning to the others left in the room.

“I don’t believe him, I want to get out. This is not what I signed up for,” Ular declared, her voice firm and her stance defiant as she crossed her arms, her eyes darting towards the exit.

Suddenly, the bookcases in the library creaked and groaned as they began to move on their own. Dust swirled in the air as the heavy shelves slid across the floor, forming a tight blockade around the four of them. They were trapped within a confined square, the walls of books looming ominously. The only visible exit was the shimmering portal rift that the old man had left open in front of them, its purple light casting an eerie glow on their tense faces.

“Well, I guess you can’t get out,” Panah remarked with a wry half-smile, taking a step closer to the shimmering rift portal. Panah stepped forward and vanished into the portal, the light swallowing his figure as he crossed the threshold into the unknown.

Tuli followed silently, stepping into the portal after Panah. And he disappeared into the swirling light without a word.

“You coming?” Maling asked Ular. Not yet moving toward the portal.

“Like I said, I’m not going in. This is not what I signed up for!” Ular replied, her voice rising in frustration. However, moments later, her body seemed to move against her will. With reluctant steps, she walked towards the portal, her expression a mix of confusion and resignation as she stepped into the swirling light, disappearing from sight.

“Alright, fine, don’t force me. I can walk on my own, thanks,” Maling said, his tone a blend of irritation and resignation. He took a deep breath and walked toward the portal, stepping through with a final glance back at the now empty library.

The portal transport them into an abandoned ruin, a relic of a once-grand structure now surrendered to the elements. Tall grasses and wildflowers had overtaken what was left of crumbling stone walls and broken columns, weaving through the debris in a silent testament to nature reclaiming its territory. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, a stark contrast to the stillness that enveloped the area.

In the center of the ruins, an ancient arch stood resilient amidst the decay. Intricate carvings, worn by time and weather. Nestled within this arch was another portal rift, glowing with a mysterious purple hue that pulsed gently, casting eerie shadows on the uneven ground. This luminescent portal contrasted vividly with the natural greens and grays of the ruins, a beacon of otherworldly energy in the midst of desolation.

“Oh, I thought both of you would stay there,” Panah said, a hint of surprise in his tone as he saw Maling and Ular step out from the portal into the grassy ruins. His expression lightened, relieved to see them join despite their earlier reluctance.

“I wish, but my body moved on its own,” Ular said curtly, her voice tinged with irritation as she glanced around the ruins, still coming to terms with the involuntary journey through the portal.

“Whoa, that was cool. One second we were in a dusty library, now we’re in... whatever this place is?” Maling remarked, his eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. He turned in a slow circle, gazing at the sprawling ruins and the wild grass.

“It’s teleportation magic, but greater. The old man literally tore the fabric of this realm to bring us here. Fascinating,” Tuli murmured, more to himself than to the others.

His gaze was fixed on the portal within the arch, studying the purple glow with a mix of reverence and curiosity, his mind already dissecting the layers of magic at play.

“You can do this kind of magic?” Ular asked, stepping in front of Tuli.

“Not really, I specialize in Evocation magic,”

“Oooh, we got an Evoker here. You would be useful in battle,” Ular said, her tone lightening as she smiled at him. Tuli simply nodded in response.

“But seriously guys, where are we?” Maling asked to everyone.

“At your destination, of course,” came a voice from behind them. The group turned to see a middle-aged bald man with glasses, who had appeared suddenly and unexpectedly.

“Who are you?” Maling demanded, his knife at the ready as he eyed the bald man warily.

“No need for hostility, Maling. I’m not your enemy,” the bald man replied calmly, his hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace, his demeanor unflustered by the blade.

“Why does everyone know my name? I never told anyone about that!” Maling sounded both angry and frustrated, his confusion apparent as he gripped his knife tighter.

“I am the Shadow Lurker, long concealed in the underground, yet now, my name seems to be common knowledge. Who are you?” Maling interrogated, his pointed questioning directed sharply at the bald man, who responded with a simple, enigmatic smile.

“My name is Gapura, I’m the Guardian of this realm portal,” the bald man introduced himself. Hearing Gapura’s explanation, Maling’s stance softened slightly, his grip on the knife loosening as he processed the information.

“I believe this is your first time traveling between realms?” Gapura asked, observing their reactions closely. Everyone simply nodded in response, their expressions a mix of curiosity and slight apprehension.

Gapura then walked toward the center arch containing the portal, signaling them to follow. The four of them, now somewhat reassured but still wary, trailed behind him, their eyes fixed on the glowing arch that seemed to hum with a quiet power.

“Now, let me tell you one thing: I’m not only the Guardian of this realm portal but also of all realms. No one and nothing can go in or out of this portal unless I say so,” Gapura stated firmly, pausing in front of the glowing purple light of the portal. His voice carried the weight of authority and responsibility, underscoring the significance of his role in their journey and the broader workings of the realms.

“Even if someone came through by force, I can sense it. If they are foolish enough, then they will have to battle the greatest Arcane Sorcerer in this realm,”

“What is an Arcane Sorcerer?” Panah asked, raising his hand inquisitively. But before anyone could respond, Tuli interjected.

“The purest form of magic. It can pierce through anything and has no elemental weaknesses. Not even a prodigy in magic could master it easily,” Tuli explained, his tone reflecting both respect and a hint of awe for the discipline.

“I think that clears it, now let’s see who you guys are,” Gapura said, adjusting his glasses with a deliberate touch. He then turned his attention to Panah, scrutinizing him with a focused gaze that seemed to see beyond mere appearances, assessing the young marksman’s.

“Panah, Godam’s Protector and a master archer, capable of striking targets miles away without their knowledge. An excellent strategist and leader too. You’re the reliable one,” Gapura observed, He then shifted his gaze toward Ular.

“A shape-shifter able to become a lethal, venomous snake, infamous for the Desa village massacre. You’re a wanted criminal in 16 major cities, with death sentences in each. Quite the record,” he remarked, As he spoke, Panah shot Ular a sharp glare.

“Good thing you are not wanted in Godam. If so, you’d be dead by now,” Panah retorted, his tone laced with a mix of jest and warning. Ular responded nonchalantly, flicking her long tongue across her lips in a defiant gesture.

“I’d like to see you try,” she shot back, her voice steady and challenging. Panah, however, chose to ignore her provocation, shifting his focus back to Gapura.

“The Shadow Lurker. A half-demon who spends his entire life in the underground. Yet only came out when he smelled gold in his mission. A greedy, cunning, and wicked bastard,” Gapura described. The words seemed to strike a chord, and Maling’s expression turned to one of offense.

“But a deadly assassin nonetheless. His ability makes him a very dangerous person,” Gapura added. Upon hearing this, Maling’s frown turned into a slight, grudging smile.

“What is his ability?” Panah inquired, Maling opened his mouth to respond, but Gapura quickly interjected.

“He can meld with shadows, appearing and disappearing at will.”

“Hey, that’s supposed to be a secret! Now everyone knows!” Maling protested, he raised his hand in the air.

“It’s good to know each other’s skills; after all, we are a team,” Tuli chimed in, his voice calm and reasoning. Panah nodded in agreement.

“Though I suspect you could handle any threat alone, Tuli,” Gapura added, turning his attention to the evoker.

“A sorcerer with generational magical talent passed down from his family line. Able to conjure all kinds of magic, but Evocation is his main specialization,” Gapura detailed, his voice imbued with a mixture of admiration and solemnity as he described Tuli’s capabilities.

“He’s able to create something out of nothing with ease. Favoring ice magic, which he once used to dispatch four trolls single-handedly.” As Gapura recounted this particular feat, the others turned to look at Tuli, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief, now fully grasping the extent of his power.

“Four trolls? All at once?” Panah asked Tuli, his tone mixing surprise and intrigue. However, Tuli appeared not to hear the question.

“With him on your team, you guys should have no worries. He’s the best Evoker in this realm after all,” Gapura continued, Ular gave Tuli a flirty smile, trying to catch his attention, but Tuli just ignored her.

“He’s also an exceptional lip-reader,” Gapura added, noticing the interaction. This revelation caused some puzzled glances among the group.

“That last one doesn’t seem useful in battle, does it?” Maling scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips as he shared a laugh with Ular.

“The Godam protector, a notorious criminal, a shadow lurker, and the realm’s finest Evoker—what brings you here?” Gapura inquired.

“We were told to come here to travel to Setan’s castle,” Panah answered straightforwardly, his gaze meeting Gapura’s steady one. Despite the gravity of their mission, Gapura’s expression remained unchanged, not showing any surprise at the mention of Setan’s castle, as if he had anticipated their purpose all along.

“It’s in the realm located between Hell and Abyss, I assume you know where it is, Gapura?” Panah inquired.

“You were about to travel to The Ghaib Realm. It’s a realm that even the Gods never set foot upon. Are you guys sure about this?” he asked, his voice reflecting the gravity of the journey they were about to undertake. His question hung in the air, prompting a moment of contemplation among the group.

“The old man told us to go there, we have no choice. He said Setan is back,” Maling answered with a tone of resigned determination, acknowledging the dire necessity of their mission.

“But how do we truly know that Setan is back? The old man might be just saying bullshit,” Ular argued, her skepticism evident in her tone. Gapura raised his hand to quiet her concerns

“When you travel between realms, there’s a sensation... as if the universe itself is unsettled, trying to expel something beyond our knowledge,” Gapura explained.

“It never happened before, until lately,” Gapura said, his voice carrying the weight of this new reality. A hush fell over the group as they absorbed the gravity of his words.

“I’ve never seen him personally, but you don’t have to meet him to feel his presence,” Gapura said, his voice lower, almost a whisper.

“So will you just let us go then? You know how urgent this mission is, right?” Maling said, taking a step forward, his impatience clear in his stride. But Gapura blocked his path.

“Let me remind you, Maling. I am this realm’s Guardian. Access through this portal is mine to grant,” Gapura stated, stepping directly in Maling’s path, his posture unyielding.

“We have the blessing of the Twins! Can’t you see it with your magic glasses?” Maling snapped, his hands gesturing sharply towards Gapura’s glasses.

“I saw the blessing the moment you stepped in here. But if you doubt my authority, perhaps ask the Twins how often I’ve barred them from realm travel.” Gapura’s tone was mild but his eyes held a firm resolve, making it clear that his approval was not merely procedural.

“They can’t do it themselves? They are the Gods, aren’t they supposed to be able to do everything?” Ular’s voice rose in confusion, her question echoing in the silence that followed, as her eyes searched the faces of her companions for answers. Gapura responded, his voice steady and clear.

“If they were all-powerful, the other seven Gods wouldn’t have fallen to Setan. If they were, Setan would be eternally vanquished, and you wouldn’t be here.” His explanation cut through the uncertainty, grounding the reality of their situation.

“They need our help, there are some things that even the Gods can’t do by themselves. So my question remains the same: Are you guys sure about this?” Gapura’s gaze swept over the group. His tone was not just inquiring; it was a call to recognize the gravity of their commitment.

“I’m aware that the old man just forced us to do this mission. But he said that the Twins chose us specifically, which means they believe in our power. They believe in us, they believe that we can save Bumi and everyone in it,” Panah spoke with conviction, his voice carrying through the quiet that had settled around them.

“And why would you want to save Bumi?” Gapura asked.

“Because we live here,” Tuli responded simply, his answer cutting through any philosophical or rhetorical layers. As he spoke, nods passed through the group, a silent agreement echoing Tuli’s straightforward rationale.

“And why would a mass murderer want to save Bumi? So she can murder everyone in it by herself?” Gapura’s question to Ular was pointed and skeptical.

“I don’t kill everyone I see. I only killed those who deserved it,” Ular responded, her voice firm and unyielding, meeting Gapura’s challenging gaze.

“Do the people of Desa village deserve it? All the victims that you killed in 16 cities too?” Panah chimed in, his voice laced with doubt and accusation.

“Please, do not judge me too harshly, boy. I killed those bastards in Desa village because they deserved it. Those bastards raped a child and burned her body! How could I just sit still? I had to kill them, every single one of them,” Ular explained.

Panah opened his mouth to retort, his expression one of conflict and frustration, but before he could speak, Gapura raised his hand.

“Lastly, how about you, Maling?” Gapura inquired, turning his attention to the tiefling. Maling paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts before he could respond.

“I... I don’t have anyone waiting for me in the underground, my whole family was murdered when I was a kid. I only have me, and only me,” Maling said, his voice faltering slightly as he spoke the words, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability he usually kept hidden.

“I guess... The reason I want to save Bumi is because I like... Gold? That’s the only thing that keeps me going. Is that a good enough answer for you?” Maling asked, his tone half-joking yet tinged with a sincerity that resonated with his simple truth.

Gapura smiled weakly at him, a gesture of understanding that acknowledged the varied and personal motivations driving each of them, no matter how pragmatic or profound.

“I don’t want to hear your answer, I want to hear your reason to save Bumi,” Gapura clarified, his voice firm, as he slowly walked towards the glowing purple light at the center of the portal arch.

“As the Guardian of this realm, I will allow you to travel through this portal that will take you directly to the Ghaib realm.” As he spoke, the purple light intensified, glowing brighter and vibrating with the energy of the gateway.

“Realm travel is complex, yet we’ve simplified it. Walk through the realm bridge, and you’ll arrive swiftly at your destination. Be wary of anomalies; they’re rare but dangerous. Stay alert while crossing,” he advised, his gaze scanning the group to ensure his warning was heeded. The purple light then began to swirl, forming a vortex, a mesmerizing and slightly ominous gateway to their next challenge.

“Safe travels,” Gapura said, and the vortex enveloped them, whisking the four away into the unknown.

Suddenly, the four of them found themselves on a long bridge, stretching endlessly into the void. There was nothing else around them; just the bridge beneath their feet and the empty space above and below. They walked in silence, the monotony of their steps echoing in the vast emptiness.

“Gosh, how long is this stupid bridge?” Maling moaned, his voice filled with a mix of annoyance and exhaustion, yet he didn’t stop walking.

“I don’t know, this is my first time doing realm traveling,” Panah responded, his tone uncertain. As he spoke, his eyes darted around, scanning the expanse as if searching for a sign or anomaly that might give them some sense of progress or direction.

“Did Gapura tell us that we are going to walk for years?” Maling moaned again, his frustration mounting, but his question hung unanswered in the air. The group continued their silent trek across the bridge, the sound of their footsteps a constant companion.

“What are we supposed to do when we arrive at Ghaib Realm? Just storm into Setan’s Castle?” Panah asked, his gaze shifting from one companion to another, seeking guidance.

“It’s a small realm compared to Bumi. If my memory serves correctly, that realm has only one significant feature: Setan’s Castle,” Tuli answered.

“And how can you know that? What book did you read?” Ular queried, her voice tinged with skepticism as she trailed behind Tuli. He remained silent, not offering a response, his focus fixed ahead.

“Maybe we will meet the Twins there, and they will help us or something,” Panah speculated, trying to inject a bit of hope into the situation. His thoughts were abruptly cut short as he raised his right arm, signaling the others to pause.

“Someone’s here,” he whispered, his tone dropping to almost a hush. At the far end of the bridge, barely discernible, was the faint outline of a humanoid silhouette. The figure was distant yet unmistakable, a lone presence in the vast emptiness that stretched before them.

Everyone tensed, swiftly arming themselves. Panah readied his bow, nocking an arrow with practiced ease. Ular drew her dual short swords, the blades glinting even in the dim light, while Maling’s hands moved to his knives, gripping them tightly.

“An anomaly?” Maling whispered, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and caution. There was no response from the others; their focus was fixed on approaching the figure cautiously, ready for whatever might come.

They moved forward, each step measured and silent, gradually closing the distance between themselves and the distant silhouette. As they neared the end of the bridge, the figure’s features began to sharpen, revealing what—or who—was waiting for them.

It appeared humanoid but with a ghastly, emaciated form. Its skin was pale, almost translucent, clinging to its skeletal frame. The creature’s eyes glowed a sinister red, piercing the darkness around it. Long, claw-like fingers extended from its bony hands, enhancing its eerie presence—a Banshee.

The moment the banshee meets their eyes, the banshee screams with a voice that rips through the air like a ghostly lament, a bone-chilling wail that echoes with an otherworldly intensity. It starts low and builds, reaching a crescendo that pierces the silence of the nothingness around them. The sound is not just heard but felt, sending shivers down the spine of those within earshot. And they felt that.

Maling suddenly dropped his knives and covered his ears as tight as he could. Panah lost his grip, his bow and arrow fell to the ground. He also let out a scream, but it was buried under the banshee’s scream. Ular also dropped her short sword, but the screams affected her the most because she was dropped to the ground while covering her ears.

Suddenly, the air felt cold. Then the scream suddenly stopped. When they all looked at the Banshee, her body is pierced with a big chunk of a spike made with ice. Then they looked at the one who killed the Banshee.

“A banshee,” Tuli said, extending a hand to help Ular back to her feet.

“The banshee scream is a spectral force, a manifestation of grief and impending doom. It cuts through everything, carrying an ethereal quality that seems to transcend the natural realm,” he explained, his voice steady as he provided insight into the creature they had just encountered.

Noticing the puzzled expressions on the faces of his companions, Tuli simplified his explanation.

“She screams very loud basically,” he added.

“No, that’s not what we were asking. How come you were the only one not affected by her scream?” Panah asked, his tone mixed with curiosity and a hint of frustration at being overwhelmed by the banshee’s wail.

In response, Tuli brushed back his long hair to reveal the sides of his head. Where ears would typically be, there was only smooth skin—no indentations, no openings, just an unbroken expanse matching the rest of his face.

“I’m born with no ears. The banshee is facing her worst enemy possible,” Tuli explained with a slight grin.

“How come you were born with no ears?” Ular asked, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. Tuli simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

“I think it’s in my family line. My parents don’t have ears either,” he explained nonchalantly, as if discussing a common trait.

“If you don’t have ears, how did you understand what we were saying all this time?” Panah questioned, his intrigue deepening at Tuli’s unique condition. Before Tuli could respond, Maling chimed in.

“He’s an exceptional lip-reader,” Maling stated, giving Tuli a nod of respect.

“I can only understand what you were saying if I’m looking at you,” Tuli clarified.

“Good to know then,” Ular responded, nodding slightly, appreciating the clarity.

“I think that’s an anomaly, the one that Gapura told us to be wary of,” Tuli remarked, gesturing towards the lifeless form of the banshee. His comment refocused the group’s attention on the dangers of their journey.

“Yeah, I wonder how it got stuck in here,” Panah mused aloud, glancing down at the banshee.

However, their contemplation was abruptly cut short as the realm bridge began to shake violently. The rumbling was so loud it reverberated through their very bones. Before anyone could react or grab hold of something, the force of the shaking threw them off the bridge. They found themselves plummeting into the void of darkness surrounding the narrow path, their shouts and cries swallowed by the engulfing abyss.

To be conti

After what seemed like an endless fall through darkness, the group abruptly hit the ground with a jarring impact. They found themselves sprawled across the coarse, gritty surface of a vast desert. As they gathered themselves and stood, taking in their surroundings, the stark landscape around them came into focus.

Stretching endlessly in every direction, the desert was a panorama of rolling dunes and expansive flatlands, under a sky that was a relentless, searing blue. The sun blazed overhead, merciless in its heat, casting sharp, elongated shadows from the occasional jagged rock formations that jutted out of the sand like the bones of the earth.

“What the? Where are we?” Maling exclaimed, pulling himself up from the sand. He dusted off his clothes, squinting against the harsh sunlight as he scanned the endless expanse of desert surrounding them.

From the distance, they caught sight of what appeared to be the silhouette of cities. However, as their eyes focused and adjusted to the glaring sunlight, the grim reality set in: the cities were burned, reduced to charred outlines against the stark desert backdrop. The dark, smoldering remnants sent up thin wisps of smoke into the clear sky.

Beyond the ruined cities, closer to what remained of a once-grand castle, they could see figures—numerous people fiercely slashing their way through the chaos that surrounded the castle walls. It was a warzone, with clashing swords and the distant echo of shouts carrying across the sand.

“Welp, didn’t expect Ghaib realm to be like this...” Ular remarked, her tone a mix of surprise and resignation as she observed the distant chaos. She brushed off the sand clinging to her clothing, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scale of destruction that sprawled before them.

“This is not Ghaib realm,” Tuli corrected, as he scratched his long hair, working to free it from the sand that had gathered during their abrupt landing.

“Then where are we?” Panah asked, looking around at the vast, arid landscape and the distant scenes of conflict with growing concern.

As the quartet watched, the desert sand before them erupted dramatically, casting plumes of gritty particles into the arid air. Two figures emerged from beneath the shifting sands, locked in intense combat. One was a Djinn, its form shimmering with an ethereal quality. The creature was tall and lithe, its skin a kaleidoscope of swirling colors that seemed to shift with its movements. Its eyes glowed a deep, menacing red, and it moved with a grace that belied its powerful, malicious intent. Long, curling horns twisted back from its forehead, and its hands ended in sharp, talon-like claws that caught the sunlight with a menacing gleam.

Beside it fought a mage dressed in a flowing blue robe, the fabric rippling like water as he moved with desperate speed. His face was set in a mask of concentration as he unleashed a barrage of elemental attacks. Flames roared from his hands, followed by jets of water, each spell meticulously cast but seemingly ineffective. The Djinn laughed, a sound that was both haunting and mocking, easily deflecting the mage’s powerful spells with an almost casual disdain.

“Hi! Welcome to Matahari! Care to lend a help over here?” the mage called out, his voice strained under the effort of dodging another of the Djinn’s vicious swipes. He glanced quickly at the quartet, his expression a mixture of hope and desperation.

While glancing at the quartet, the mage’s attention was momentarily divided, a critical error. The Djinn seized the opportunity, its claw connecting with a powerful strike. The impact was swift and brutal, hurling the mage through the air. He landed with a harsh thud, the force of the blow throwing up a cloud of sand that quickly swallowed his form, burying him beneath the desert’s unforgiving surface.

Tuli raised his hands, the air around him crackling with cold as he summoned a barrage of ice spikes. With a swift motion, he directed them at the Djinn, the sharp projectiles cutting through the hot desert air towards their target. Yet, despite their deadly precision and chilling intent, the spikes shattered harmlessly against the Djinn’s form. It seemed immune, unaffected by the magical assault.

The Djinn’s laughter grew louder, echoing eerily across the battlefield as it watched the ice disintegrate before even grazing its skin. Its amusement at Tuli’s efforts was evident in its mocking sneer and the unyielding gleam in its eyes. Now fully aware of the new adversaries, the Djinn shifted its attention towards the quartet, clearly assessing them as either a new source of amusement or a potential threat.

“The Djinn are immune to any magical attack!” the mage shouted, his voice hoarse as he struggled to free himself from the sand’s grip. Tuli and Panah hurried over to where the sand was disturbed, quickly digging through to reach the mage’s outstretched hands. Together, they pulled, helping him to resurface and regain his footing.

Meanwhile, Maling and Ular prepared for a more direct confrontation. Maling tested the balance of his knives, eyeing the Djinn with a calculating look, planning his attack with precision. Ular flexed her hands, her muscles tensing in preparation. They both knew that if magic was futile, their success depended on their ability to physically outmaneuver and overpower the Djinn.

In a burst of action, Maling and Ular both launched their attacks simultaneously but without coordination. Maling surged forward, knives poised to strike at the Djinn, his movements swift and determined. At the same moment, Ular underwent a dramatic transformation, her form elongating and expanding as she morphed into a colossal green serpent. Her scales shimmered under the harsh desert sun, and her fangs glistened menacingly.

Caught in the momentum of his charge, Maling was unable to halt his advance as Ular’s massive serpentine body materialized in his path. With no time to adjust, his blade unintentionally slashed across Ular’s thick, scaly hide. The cut was superficial but startling, causing Ular to lash out with a pained grunt.

As she turned her massive head towards Maling, her serpent eyes flashed a sharp look, filled with irritation and pain. Djinn’s laughter sounded louder seeing what happening in front of him.

“Sorry! I didn’t know you can do that!” Maling said, flashing a cheeky grin at Ular, trying to lighten the mood with his apology. But Ular, still on her serpent form ignore him, her attention fixed on the Djinn.

As Ular lunged forward, her colossal serpent form swiftly slicing through the desert air, she aimed a vicious bite at the Djinn. Her long, deadly fangs closed on what she hoped would be the Djinn’s form, but as her teeth connected, the Djinn’s figure shimmered and suddenly split into three separate entities.

Each of the three Djinns mirrored the original, complete with taunting, glowing red eyes and a mischievous grin. Their laughter filled the air, a cacophony of mockery that echoed around the bewildered group. The trio of Djinns danced around Ular, their movements synchronized and elusive, turning the battle into a dizzying spectacle of deceit.

With uncanny precision, Panah took a moment to steady his aim amidst the chaos. Drawing deeply on his focus, he unleashed three arrows in rapid succession. Each arrow whistled through the air, striking each of the three Djinn figures squarely. The quartet watched, hoping for a resolution, but the situation only escalated.

Instead of diminishing, the figures of the Djinn multiplied once more—this time, transforming into four distinct copies, each a perfect mirror of one of the quartet members. There stood a Djinn version of Tuli, Maling, Ular, and Panah, each mimicking their appearance and stance with eerie accuracy.

Maling glanced at Ular, who had reverted to her human form.

“Okay, what in the world? Is that me? Like, literally me? Or not me?”

“I don’t know, this is trickery,” Ular answered, her eyes narrowing at the mirror images of themselves.

“This is the Djinn. He’s a master of deception, make no mistake! What you are seeing is your enemy!” the mage informed the group, his voice urgent as he recovered from the sand.

The quartet quickly absorbed this information, understanding the gravity of their situation. Each member tightened their grip on their weapons, readying themselves for the battle ahead. The Djinn’s laughter echoed eerily around them, the doppelgängers mirroring their every move with a mocking precision.

All four doppelgangers suddenly lunged toward Tuli and the mage with blazing speed, aiming to exploit what they perceived as the most vulnerable targets. The quartet braced for impact, but before the doppelgängers could reach Tuli and the mage, Ular transformed back into her colossal serpent form. With a swift, powerful motion, she swung her massive tail, striking the doppelgängers from the side and sending them sprawling across the sand.

Tuli then conjured a barrage of ice shards towards the Djinn’s doppelgängers, aiming not to harm but to distract. The ice mingled with the hot desert sun, creating a swirling mist of steam.

Seemingly able to read his plan, Maling slipped into the shadows cast by the mist, using the cover to move stealthily. His eyes scanned the bewildered doppelgängers, searching for any sign that might reveal the real Djinn.

Ular, still in her serpent form, circled her massive body around Panah, the mage, and Tuli, providing a protective barrier. Suddenly, the ground rose beneath Panah’s feet, lifting him to a vantage point where he could see the battlefield more clearly. His bow was ready, eyes scanning for any sign of weakness.

“It’s hard to keep this kind of illusion, even for a master of deception!” The mage shouted,

“The real Djinn is the one who might flicker or show a disruptive motion. Watch them closely!”

With a keen eye, Panah noticed one of the doppelgängers flinching slightly. Without hesitation, he released an arrow, striking the flinching doppelgänger squarely. The moment the arrow hit its mark, all the illusions vanished, leaving only the real Djinn kneeling on the ground.

Maling seized the opportunity and lunged forward, his knives aimed for the killing move. But just as his blades touched the Djinn, the creature vanished into thin air, leaving Maling striking an empty space. The Djinn was nowhere to be seen, its mocking laughter echoing faintly in the distance.

“Hahaha, nice playing with you,” the Djinn’s voice echoed.

“We’ll meet again, someday,” the voice continued. The quartet waited for something to happen, but it seemed the Djinn had gone.

“God damn it!” the mage cursed, his frustration and anger evident in his voice.

“That was my best chance to defeat him! Now he’s gone!” the mage shouted, his voice filled with frustration and despair.

“I’m sorry, our fault. We should do better,” Panah said in a calming voice, trying to diffuse the tension.

“It’s on me, honestly. I couldn’t do anything about it,” Tuli said, his voice sounding defeated.

“Nah, if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me. I should have gone faster,” Maling said, putting his knives away.

“What happened, happened. Okay? No need to blame ourselves. Remember our mission,” Ular said, trying to lift the mood. However, the others still looked down, their expressions heavy with frustration and regret.

“Yeah, thank you for trying to help. Who are you guys, anyway?” the mage asked, his curiosity piqued despite the lingering frustration.

“We’re not from here,” Panah started.

“Yeah, I know that. I didn’t get any permission whatsoever about your coming,” the mage interrupted.

“You see, we are supposed to go to Ghaib Realm, but somehow... no, something, threw us here,” Panah continued. The mage looked at the quartet with a serious expression.

“Ghaib Realm? What’s your business going over there?” the mage asked, his curiosity mixed with concern.

“Don’t you hear? Setan is back! We were sent there to kill him,” Ular interjected.

“I don’t know, I just became this realm’s guardian a few days ago,” the mage explained, his voice weary.

“I spent all this time hunting that stupid Djinn. I haven’t slept for days.”

“But if you were going to kill Setan, and if you succeed, then maybe it will kill this stupid Djinn too,” the mage said, his face brightening slightly with hope.

“I don’t know, man. Setan is supposed to be strong, right? He’s the God of Devils, after all,” Maling replied.

“Yet, we couldn’t even kill this Djinn in the first place,” he continued, causing the quartet to look down once more, their confidence shaken.

“No worries,” the mage said, summoning a rift portal.

“Ever since you guys set foot here, I can feel a Divine presence within you.”

“Stronger than I have ever known, you guys will be alright,” the mage continued, pointing towards the portal.

“Now go, finish your mission.”

“You are our last beacon of hope,” he added, his voice filled with encouragement and belief in their abilities. The rift portal then envelopes the quartet, and they are sent into the realm bridge again, the very same bridge they were there moments ago.

The quartet stood in silence as a shimmering portal appeared at the end of the bridge. No one said anything, but they exchanged worried looks, each understanding the gravity of what lay ahead without needing words.

“Afraid?” Panah asked, directing the question to everyone, including himself.

“Why, of course. I’m just a tiefling—one stab in my chest and I’ll die,” Maling answered, but Ular let out a small laugh.

“What? Do you think it’s funny? Lucky you, you can turn into a giant snake,” Maling said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. But Ular’s laughter just grew louder, echoing slightly on the bridge.

“A snake or not, we are the same, Maling. One stab in my chest, and I’ll die too,” Ular said, mimicking a stabbing motion into her chest.

“Then what’s so funny about it?” Maling asked, his annoyance giving way to curiosity.

“I’m laughing at the fact that you are afraid to die,” Ular answered.

“Fighting Setan or not, we are going to die anyway,” she continued, her laughter subsiding into a calm, resolute expression.

“But this time, if we die, we die as heroes. The last beacon of hope for humanity,” Ular continued.

“Fair point,” Tuli interjected, walking closer to the rift portal.

“So, are we going?” he asked the rest of the group. After giving each other one last look, the quartet stepped into the portal.

To be continued...

As the four stepped through the portal, a surge of energy enveloped them, and in an instant, they found themselves in a realm unlike Bumi or Matahari. The air was thick with an oppressive darkness, and an unsettling evil aura pervaded the atmosphere, sending a shiver down their spines.

The surroundings were obscured by shadows, and visibility was limited to an eerie, dim glow that seemed to emanate from an unknown source. Sinister whispers echoed through the realm, carried by unseen forces that added to the ominous ambiance. The ground beneath their feet felt cold and uneven, as if it held the weight of untold secrets and ancient malevolence.

The quartet instinctively huddled closer together, their senses heightened by the unfamiliar and foreboding environment. The air was heavy, making each breath feel labored and deliberate. Shadows twisted and shifted at the edges of their vision, creating the unsettling feeling of being watched.

“So this is it,” said Ular, looking at her surroundings but finding nothing comforting.

“Ghaib Realm. I’ve only read about it in books. Never set foot here. I don’t like this place,” Tuli said.

“Yeah, what do you expect? This ain’t a paradise realm.” Maling replied, taking a step forward.

“Let’s go, we are here to find Setan’s Castle,” Panah said as he also took a step forward.

Amidst the darkness of the malevolent realm, Maling and Panah found their eyes drawn to a singular, towering structure — the ominous Setan Castle. Rising like a monolith against the darkened sky, the castle exuded an aura of pure evil that seemed to be the source of the oppressive atmosphere surrounding this realm.

The Setan Castle loomed with intimidating grandeur, its spires reaching towards the heavens like skeletal fingers. The architecture bore a sinister elegance; though not enormous in size, the building’s presence was more than enough to showcase its true power.

“There it is!” Panah pointed towards the castle. Everyone looked at it, but they also noticed something else.

A foreboding silhouette emerged from the shadows. Slowly, with deliberate steps, the figure revealed itself to be a colossal Minotaur, its massive form towering over the four individuals. The ominous glow cast by Setan Castle outlined the creature’s muscular build, and the flickering light played upon its imposing figure.

The Minotaur’s eyes glowed with an eerie intensity as it gripped a massive axe, its blade gleaming ominously. The creature’s hooves echoed against the cold ground with each deliberate step, sending ripples of trepidation through the air. Sinister runes adorned its horned head, and the monstrous silhouette seemed to emanate a palpable aura of peril.

As the Minotaur approached, the air grew heavy with an oppressive tension. The only sound that broke the silence was the distant whispers from Setan Castle, amplifying the surreal and threatening atmosphere. The towering figure of the Minotaur became a living embodiment of the dark forces that governed this realm, an enforcer of the ominous depths that lurked within.

“Our first challenge,” Maling said, readying his knives.

“No worries, I got this,” Ular replied, running head-on towards the Minotaur by herself.

As the Minotaur swung its colossal axe, Ular swiftly transformed into a giant serpent, her bright green scales shimmering in the eerie glow of the surroundings.

The battle commenced with a thunderous clash as the Minotaur’s axe struck Ular’s scales. Each impact reverberated through the air, a cacophony of clashing forces. In her serpent form, Ular moved with sinuous grace, deftly dodging the Minotaur’s relentless attacks. Her emerald scales glowed vividly, a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness.

Ular’s movements were a display of agility and finesse, as she coiled and lunged, using her serpent form’s speed and flexibility to her advantage. The Minotaur, however, exhibited sheer strength and resilience, absorbing Ular’s strikes with its hulking frame.

The battlefield became a dynamic arena of opposing forces—the Minotaur’s brute strength against Ular’s serpentine agility. As the fight wore on, it became evident that Ular was gaining the upper hand. Her swift strikes and elusive maneuvers gradually wore down the Minotaur, her bright green serpent form outmaneuvering the formidable creature.

Panah readied his bow, aiming to assist Ular. But Maling lowered Panah’s hand.

“She’s got this one,” Maling said, smiling widely as he watched the two giant creatures fiercely battle each other.

Ular coiled her massive serpent form around the Minotaur’s struggling body, tightening her grip with unyielding force. The air echoed with the Minotaur’s agonizing roars as the pressure intensified, reaching the brutal zenith of the battle.

Ular’s bright green scales glowed with eerie intensity as she constricted her powerful coils around the Minotaur. The once formidable creature, now gasping for breath, thrashed desperately in an attempt to break free. The sinister whispers from Setan Castle seemed to intensify, as if the dark realm itself bore witness to this decisive moment.

The Minotaur’s struggles grew weaker, and its roars transformed into pained cries. The oppressive atmosphere held its breath as Ular’s serpentine grip tightened further, each scale pressing into the Minotaur’s form. In haunting silence, the colossal creature succumbed to the relentless force, meeting its demise within Ular’s unyielding coils.

With the Minotaur defeated, Ular swiftly shifted back to her human form, the bright green serpent skin giving way to her original appearance. As her transformation completed, a sudden stillness settled over the malevolent realm, and the haunting whispers from Setan Castle abruptly ceased.

“You are amazing,” Maling said, giving Ular a thumbs-up. She shrugged her shoulders.

“He’s just an animal. I’m a monster,” she replied.

“Amazing control of shape-shifting. Not everyone could fight a Minotaur and live. You were good,” Tuli praised Ular. Ular seemed to blush a bit at the compliment.

“Why, thank you,” she replied.

“Let’s go,” Panah said, leading the four of them towards their destination, Setan’s Castle.

The castle gates, wrought with ancient iron, creaked open slowly as if reluctant to reveal the secrets held within. A cold wind whispered through the narrow passage, carrying the unsettling whispers of the malevolent presence that surrounded the castle. The stones underfoot felt like they held the weight of centuries of darkness, each step echoing with a sense of foreboding.

Maling, the Shadow Lurker, tightened his grip on his twin knives, his senses heightened by the palpable tension in the air. Tuli, the Deaf Sorcerer, scanned the surroundings with furrowed brows, feeling the arcane currents twisting and turning around the fortress. Ular, the serpentine shapeshifter, her scaly skin reacting to the malevolence in the air, remained alert, her fangs slightly exposed.

Even Panah, the usually composed Ranger, hesitated as he crossed the threshold, his longbow at the ready.

“I feel a massive dark arcane energy coming from the inside, get ready,” Tuli warned as the door opened.

In the face of the foreboding aura, they pressed forward, determined but cautious, into the heart of Setan Castle, where the true challenges awaited them. The gate closed behind them with a resounding thud, sealing them within the walls that echoed with the secrets of darkness that had endured for centuries.

The quartet stepped into the castle yard, and an eerie hush fell over the place. The ground seemed to groan beneath their weight as they surveyed their surroundings. Before them stood a legion of skeletal warriors, perfectly arranged in formation. A hundred hollow eye sockets stared fixedly at the castle gate, their shields and swords gleaming with an otherworldly sheen.

As they moved further into the castle yard, an uncanny sensation crawled over their skin. The skeletal warriors, without a sound, pivoted in unison to face the quartet. Every hollow gaze locked onto them with an unsettling intensity.

It was as if the skeletal army had been patiently waiting for their arrival, the ancient bones imbued with an awareness that sent shivers down the quartet’s spines. The silence was broken only by the distant echoes of their footsteps, a stark contrast to the skeletal army’s eerie stillness.

Tuli couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, not just by the skeletal warriors but by something far more malevolent within the castle walls.

Panah’s eyes narrowed as he assessed the skeletal warriors, thousands of ominous figures that stood between them and the heart of Setan Castle. In the blink of an eye, he devised an impromptu strategy, relying on each member’s unique skills. He raised his hand, signaling the quartet to gather close.

“Maling, be the Shadow Lurker that everyone knows you are. Tuli, freeze their movements and create openings. Ular, go big and wreck them all. I’ll provide cover with ranged attacks. Move swiftly, and watch each other’s backs,” Panah instructed, his voice low and determined.

As Panah signaled for coordinated action, Tuli’s hands moved in intricate patterns, conjuring a surge of freezing energy.

A wave of frost emanated from Tuli’s outstretched palms, enveloping the castle yard in an ethereal shimmer. The freezing ice cascaded over the skeletal warriors, wrapping them in an icy embrace. Their joints stiffened, their movements coming to an abrupt halt.

The quartet, momentarily shielded by Tuli’s mastery of ice evocation, observed as the skeletal warriors struggled against the cold. Their bony limbs became encased in frost, rendering them immobile and vulnerable. The eerie silence of the castle yard was now punctuated by the faint crackling of freezing magic.

“Maling, Ular, move in now!” Panah ordered.

Without a word, Maling blended seamlessly into the darkness, reemerging behind the frozen skeletal warriors like a phantom. His twin knives gleamed in the dim light as he struck with deadly precision. The shadows seemed to dance around him, and with each swift movement, he incapacitated the undead soldiers with calculated strikes. The air echoed with the sinister melody of his blades, and chaos ensued among the skeletal ranks.

Maling’s lethal dance through the shadows proved devastating. The skeletal warriors, once lined up tidily, found themselves vulnerable to his relentless assault. He exploited their blind spots, turning the organized formation into a disarrayed and confused mess. Bones shattered, and the eerie silence of the castle yard was interrupted only by the wicked whispers of the fallen undead.

With a sudden brilliance, Ular transformed into a colossal bright green serpent, towering over the battlefield. Her enormous form shimmered with a radiant intensity.

With a swift and decisive movement, Ular brought her colossal body crashing down upon the skeletal warriors. The impact echoed through the castle yard as she smacked her immense serpent form into the frozen legion. Bones shattered upon contact, and the once-organized lines of skeletal warriors crumbled like brittle twigs.

But the battle was not over yet. As the quartet engaged in the chaotic battle within Setan Castle’s courtyard, Panah, the Protector of Bumi, stepped back to provide crucial support. Positioned from afar, he drew his longbow with uncanny precision. Arrows flew from his bow with a swiftness that seemed almost supernatural.

With every shot, Panah demonstrated his mastery, the arrows finding their marks flawlessly. Some arrows embedded themselves into the joints of skeletal warriors, enhancing the impact of Tuli’s freezing magic. Others created openings for Ular’s colossal serpent form to exploit.

Panah’s support was not limited to offense; his keen eye for strategy became evident when he shot an arrow into a perfect position, creating a shadow for Maling to warp into. The Shadow Lurker took advantage of this, seamlessly disappearing into the shadow and reappearing behind a cluster of skeletal warriors, striking with deadly precision.

As Panah’s arrows whistled through the air, the quartet felt a seamless orchestration of attacks. It was as if Panah’s every shot was guided by an unseen force, anticipating the quartet’s needs in the heat of battle. The rhythmic sounds of arrows finding their targets became a symphony of calculated chaos, enhancing the quartet’s coordinated assault.

To the amazement of his comrades, Panah’s quiver never seemed to deplete. Each time it appeared that he was running out of arrows, the quiver was magically replenished, a stack of arrows ready for the next salvo. It was as if the very fabric of the battle favored Panah’s unerring accuracy and resourcefulness.

The quartet, invigorated by Panah’s support, pressed forward with renewed vigor. The skeletal warriors, caught in a deadly crossfire of ice, serpent strikes, shadowy assassinations, and precise arrow barrages, struggled against the relentless onslaught.

Finally, the sounds of battle ceased as there were no more skeletal warriors left on the battlefield.

“Wow, we make a good team, don’t we?” Ular said as she turned back into her human form.

“Better than before, for sure,” Maling added as he sheathed his twin knives.

“Good job, everyone. Thank you for trusting my plan,” Panah said with a big smile on his face.

“It’s not over,” said Tuli, his eyes fixed on the castle door that would lead them inside. Slowly, a half-transparent figure began to morph from the door. The figure floated toward them, gradually becoming more distinct until they realized what they were seeing.

A hooded figure, skeletal and foreboding, slowly floated towards them. Clad in dark robes, the figure’s bony hands clutched a staff adorned with a glowing, mystical orb. The skull-like face, with its eerie, yellow glowing eyes, seemed to pierce through the darkness. Sinister runes and intricate designs etched into the fabric of its robes added to its malevolent presence. The atmosphere grew colder, and the air seemed to crackle with dark energy as the figure drew nearer, embodying an ancient and powerful evil.

“A necromancer...” Tuli whispered under his breath.

With a swift movement, the skeletal necromancer lifted his staff, and with a malevolent incantation, a dark dome enveloped the quartet. Inside this eerie barrier, shadows were banished, rendering Maling unable to utilize his shadow-lurking abilities. The quartet found themselves trapped, vulnerable to the whims of the skeletal necromancer’s dark magic.

The skeletal necromancer, with hollow sockets gleaming, pointed his staff at Panah, unleashing a curse of misfortune upon him. Panah felt the fickle hand of misfortune tighten its grip. Undeterred, he raised his bow and loosed an arrow at the necromancer. However, the arrow veered way off course, missing its mark as the curse took effect.

Meanwhile, Tuli, the Deaf Sorcerer, strained to summon his mastery over ice. Yet, within the confines of the dark dome, the very essence of magic seemed elusive. No matter the effort, Tuli’s attempts to conjure freezing spells were met with frustrating silence.

Ular, the shapeshifter, faced a similar predicament. Her attempts to transform into her formidable serpent state were met with resistance. The dark magic stifled her ability to shift, leaving her confined in her humanoid form.

The skeletal necromancer observed the quartet’s struggles with cold satisfaction. With each thwarted attempt and missed opportunity, the malevolent sorcerer reveled in the effectiveness of his curses. The quartet, now stripped of their usual advantages, stood encaged in a darkened bubble, their abilities nullified by the necromancer’s dark arts.

Within the enveloping darkness of the dome, the necromancer’s skeletal form emanated an air of ancient wisdom. His hollow sockets, though lacking the warmth of life, exuded a contemplative intelligence as he addressed the quartet.

“Greetings, esteemed visitors,” the skeletal necromancer began, his voice carrying the weight of eons.

“I am Kerangka, guardian of Setan Castle. What compels such valiant souls to venture into the heart of this enigmatic realm? Your presence stirs the shadows, and yet, I discern no malevolence in your intentions.”

“Of course you don’t sense malevolence in us, ’cause we came here to kill the owner of this castle, Setan himself!”

“It’s all for the greater good, I promise,” Maling continued, a smile on his face.

Upon hearing Maling’s declaration, Kerangka let out a skeletal laugh that echoed eerily within the darkened dome. His hollow sockets gleamed with an otherworldly light as he responded.

“Prepare yourself then, for your destiny is already woven.”

“To the death.” Kerangka then raised his staff.

Suddenly, spectral chains emerged from the ground, locking the quartet in place. A purple hue appeared beneath their feet, forming intricate lines that drew a sinister pattern. With each line made, they could feel their life force being drained away.

“Wh-what is this?” Ular asked, panic showing on her face.

“Hel-hel--help!!!” Panah shouted as loud as he could with whatever strength remained in him.

A sudden crack ruptured the dark dome Kerangka had cast. Slowly but surely, the fracture spread, disrupting the malevolent enchantment until the entire structure shattered. The moon, witnessing the scene from above, cast its radiant light upon the quartet. However, all attention was drawn to one figure.

The one who had dismantled the dark dome stood tall—a dwarf with a formidable mohawk and a beard that cascaded down to his chest. His presence exuded strength, and in his right hand, he held a massive hammer, the embodiment of raw power.

“Worry not, your savior has come,” said the dwarf with a big smile on his face.

“I am Palu, son of Gurita. The four of you can go now. This guy is my enemy,” Palu continued, pointing his finger at Kerangka.

Now that the spectral chains were gone, the quartet knelt on the ground, relieved but undoubtedly exhausted.

“Tha-thank you,” Maling muttered as he looked up at Palu.

“You must be a demigod,” he continued.

Palu, with a hearty laugh that seemed to resonate with divine energy, responded,

“Yes, sir! Indeed, I am Palu, son of Gurita, the last of the demigods.”

“The last? You mean there’s no more demigods except you?” asked Ular.

“Yep, all of my brothers and sisters have been slain by the owner of this wicked castle!” Palu answered, pointing his finger towards Setan Castle.

“And you! You will be my first kill for today!” he continued, pointing his finger back at Kerangka, who stood still.

Intrigued by the arrival of Palu, Kerangka’s skeletal form shifted into a stance that exuded an eerie grace. The castle guardian, with hollow sockets fixated on Palu, extended his bony arms in a welcoming gesture.

“Welcome, Palu, son of Gurita, the last of the demigods. I sense the echoes of a fading era within you. If it is a challenge you seek, try, for within these walls, the dance of shadows awaits a new partner.”

“And for you, you may enter the castle. But heed my last warning, leave now and you can still live,” Kerangka said, his voice resonating with a cold finality. With a subtle gesture, Kerangka granted permission for the quartet to enter the castle.

Under the watchful gaze of the moon and the lingering echoes of Kerangka’s permission, the quartet stood in silent unity. They exchanged glances, each member reflecting a mix of determination and hesitancy. The weight of the castle’s ominous history and the mysteries concealed within its walls loomed before them.

With cautious steps, they approached the towering doors of Setan Castle. The ancient structure, ominous and foreboding, seemed to whisper tales of untold horrors and ancient malevolence. As they hesitantly walked forward, the quartet couldn’t shake the feeling that they were stepping into a realm where shadows held secrets and echoes whispered forgotten truths.

“Go, this won’t take long. Don’t kill Setan without me!” Palu shouted as the quartet entered the castle.

As the quartet crossed the threshold into Setan Castle, they found themselves in a vast hall, its grandeur tarnished by the passage of ages. The air inside was thick, carrying the weight of untold histories and lingering malevolence. Dim torches lined the walls, casting flickering shadows that danced across faded tapestries, each depicting scenes of long-forgotten battles and ominous figures.

At the heart of the hall, a magnificent staircase unfolded, its steps ascending majestically toward an obscured upper level. The quartet couldn’t help but marvel at the craftsmanship of the stairs, though time had weathered its once-elegant design.

As the quartet stood at the base of the grand staircase, they suddenly sensed a shift in the air. A soft, ethereal glow began to emanate from the top of the stairs. From the shadows above, a figure emerged, descending gracefully.

This figure possessed an otherworldly beauty. Her presence was both captivating and unsettling, a testament to her origins. Her skin was flawless, exuding a radiant glow, and her eyes shone with an intense, piercing light. She had an aura of majesty and power that contrasted sharply with the malevolent energy surrounding the castle.

She wore a golden and majestic armor that shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the dim light of the torches. Her wings, though darkened by her fall, retained a semblance of their former glory, arching elegantly behind her as she descended. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she landed with a fluid grace, every movement exuding confidence and poise.

The quartet stood in silence, captivated by the beauty of the figure before them. Her radiant glow and majestic armor commanded their attention, creating a stark contrast to the malevolent energy of Setan Castle. The air seemed to grow heavier with her presence, and the quartet instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons, uncertain of her intentions but fully aware of her power.

“Are you an angel?” Panah asked, his eyes captivated by the figure’s beauty.

“Used to be,” she answered, her voice calming and serene.

“I’m Jahat, Princess of Hell,” the figure continued. She bowed slightly towards the quartet, who hesitantly bowed back.

“Princess of Hell? So you are a Devil?” Maling interjected.

“Yes, just like you, I’ll assume,” Jahat replied, pointing towards Maling’s horns.

“Oh, no-no-no. I’m no devil. I’m just a human who was unlucky enough to be born from a devil. It’s a different thing,” Maling said, but Jahat just chuckled.

“Deny it all you want, darling, but you can’t reject your own nature,” Jahat replied. Maling glared at her, his expression now filled with anger.

“If you are a devil, how come you are this ... beautiful?” Ular asked, hesitating a bit to praise the devil in front of her.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended, but yes. I’m a devil,” Jahat replied with a slight smile.

“In fact, when my lord was banished into the Abyss, I ruled Hell in his absence.”

“This is not surprising at all. After all, all devils used to be angels. They just conflicted with their own gods,” Tuli said, and Jahat smiled at him.

“My, a clever one,” Jahat said.

“So you used to be an angel of our twin gods?” Panah asked, but Jahat gave him a confused look.

“No. There are countless realms, and almost each of them has its own gods,” she explained.

“I used to be the angel of The Seven Divine, from Heaven. In fact, the majority of them were about to raise me up to be the Eighth Divine,” Jahat continued.

“But even the gods feel jealousy. One of them accused me and threw me out to Hell.”

“Any of you know Archangel Michael? He used to be my mentor, until he too betrayed me.”

“Who’s this Michael dude again?” Maling asked.

“The protector of Heaven. Said to be stronger than even The Seven Divine. We had a fight when he believes what The Seven Divine conspire against me. I banish him to Abyss, while I got sent to Hell.”

“Funny enough, I felt at home in Hell, especially when my lord accepted me as I am,” she added, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

“Wait,” Panah interjected. “If you are the Princess of Hell, then why are you here?” Jahat smiled at him.

“To welcome my lord, of course.” The quartet felt the pressure suddenly change, a heavy weight settling around them.

“So he has come back?” Maling asked, his hands gripping his twin knives tightly.

“Yes. She’s fighting your twin gods over there,” she added, pointing behind her towards the top of the stairs.

A huge ice spike suddenly hurtled towards Jahat at a terrifying speed, but upon impact, her golden armor absorbed the ice like it was nothing. She stood there, an offended look clear on her face.

“Ouch,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Suddenly, the room transformed into an eerie, desolate landscape. The ground beneath them turned black and cracked, with molten fissures seeping through. Surrounding the quartet was a river of hellfire, its searing flames licking the edges of the ground and casting a sinister glow. The oppressive heat radiated outward, making the air shimmer and warp. The hellfire flowed with an otherworldly intensity, its surface bubbling and spitting embers that illuminated the darkness with an ominous light.

“Wh-where are we?” Panah asked, his voice trembling.

“Welcome to Hell. I don’t want to make my lord’s castle dirty,” Jahat replied with a smirk.

“Now, since you seem very impatient to help your gods, let’s do it,” Jahat said, her tone both mocking and challenging. The quartet readied their weapons, determination etched on their faces as they prepared for the imminent battle against the Princess of Hell.

Panah lashed out a strike with his bow, but with blinding speed, Jahat easily avoided every attack he sent her way. Panah, who never missed his mark, found that not a single arrow landed on its target. Jahat moved with such grace and agility that it seemed almost impossible to touch her.

Helping out, Tuli unleashed a hundred ice shards towards Jahat. But Jahat countered his attack with hellfire of her own, a stream of intense flames sprouting directly from her palm. The hellfire easily melted Tuli’s ice, creating a thick mist of smoke that covered Jahat.

Maling vanished, but the quartet could see shadows dancing around the mist that covered Jahat. Tuli then summoned pillars of ice to surround her, and Panah struck his arrows at seemingly random targets on the ground.

With one powerful flap of her wings, Jahat cleared all the mist surrounding her. Now, Maling was darting and warping from one pillar to the random arrows on the ground with blinding speed. The quartet couldn’t track his movements anymore.

“Ah, master of shadows. You truly are one of us,” Jahat said, as Maling continued to dance around the shadows.

The hellish landscape seemed to grow darker, shadows dancing around them and creating spots for Maling to warp into. His movements were literally impossible to track as he kept moving from one spot to another with otherworldly speed, faster than anything the quartet had ever seen.

“I told you before,” Maling’s voice echoed, “I’m not one of you!”

Maling emerged from the shadows, twin knives gleaming as they aimed directly for Jahat’s head. His speed and precision were unmatched, the moment fraught with tension as he closed in for the strike.

But with a swift, almost effortless movement, Jahat caught him by the neck, choking him mid-air. Maling struggled, his face contorting with effort as he tried to break free. His twin knives slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground below.

“And I told you before,” Jahat replied, her grip tightening.

“Deny it all you want, you can’t reject your own nature,” she continued. With a swift motion, she slammed Maling into the ground, cracking the earth beneath them.

Ular, now in her serpent form, launched towards Jahat with fangs ready to bite. But with a powerful flap of her wings, Jahat created a vortex of wind that sliced through Ular’s serpent form, cutting it in two with ease. Ular reverted back to her human form, lying on the ground, gasping in pain.

“That’s a nice exercise, guys,” she said, pointing her palm towards Tuli and Panah.

But then, she stopped. She lowered her hand, and the surrounding area transformed back into the castle hall. The hellfire river was gone, replaced by the familiar stone walls and dim torches. Ular and Maling lay on the floor, seemingly in pain. The oppressive heat dissipated, leaving only the cold, heavy air of the castle.

“It seems my lord wants to meet you,” Jahat said casually.

“You should feel honored. No human has ever been this close to him,” she continued.

“Though, we will meet again, soon.” Then, with a final, enigmatic smile, she vanished into thin air.

Now that the threat in the room was gone, Panah and Tuli quickly approached their fallen comrades.

“You okay?” Panah asked Maling, who was still lying on the ground, his face clearly showing pain.

“Any wounds?” Tuli asked, pointing his palm towards Ular’s body, which seemed to lack any visible injuries.

“I’m okay. It was my serpent form that tore in half, not me. I just can’t change into my serpent form for a few minutes,” Ular said as she tried to stand up with Tuli’s help.

“I’m dying! Oh, I think she broke my back!” Maling moaned dramatically, but Panah lifted him with ease.

“You’re fine, you’re not dying,” Panah said, patting Maling’s clothes to clear off the dust.

“Did you guys hear what the devil said?” Tuli asked the group, and they all nodded.

“Yes. Setan wants to meet us,” Panah said, looking towards the top of the grand staircase.

“I have an idea, guys,” Maling said, raising his hand.

“Why don’t we just get the fuck out of here, yeah? That wicked lady was toying with us, imagine the Setan himself!” His voice was more frustrated than angry.

“I knew from the beginning that this is a suicide mission!” Ular added, her tone equally frustrated.

“I’m calling it. Let’s get out of here, now,” Panah said, quickly leading the quartet toward the exit. However, Kerangka phased through the door, standing firmly in their path.

“I warned you to leave, but you chose to ignore my counsel. Now, departure is no longer an option,” Kerangka said chillingly, his hollow eyes gleaming with a cold, eerie light.

“My lord desires your presence. Ascend the staircase and meet him,” Kerangka intoned. A chilling sensation spread throughout the room, and Tuli’s hands began to freeze as he prepared to conjure something.

“Don’t even try. I am far more powerful than Jahat,” Kerangka warned Tuli, his voice dripping with ancient authority. Tuli, feeling the weight of the necromancer’s words, took a step backward.

“Go. Meet my lord,” Kerangka continued, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

The quartet exchanged worried looks, the weight of their situation settling heavily upon them. With no other choices, they took hesitant steps backward before turning to ascend the grand staircase. Each step echoed ominously, the air thick with the sense of impending doom. Their hearts pounded, and an unspoken understanding passed between them: they were walking towards their likely demise.

Upon reaching the top of the grand staircase, they were met with an imposing, massive door. Panah took a deep breath, steeling himself before pushing it open. The door creaked ominously, revealing a dimly lit room beyond.

First, their eyes were drawn to the floor. There were two bodies lying there. One was a dwarf, surrounded by an array of weapons. The other was a lady, seemingly missing both of her arms. They lay there motionless, with their head cut off from their bodies.

Maling felt a shiver of horror run the length of his spine as he looked upon the macabre sight, and his senses tingled in a most primal fear. Thick tension filled the air of the throne room as the quartet stood immobile, grappling with the dreadful truth of what lay before them.

Ular took a breath only to swallow back what caught it, her eyes wide with disbelief and revulsion at the sight. Tuli’s fists were balled at his sides; his thoughts raced on an almost unbearable track. Even Panah, experienced in such things from his work as a ranger, felt a chill run down his spine upon realizing just how badly those bodies had indeed been mutilated.

With such grisly evidence before them, it made the quartet feel like a suffocating cloak had wrapped around them, an uneasy sense.

Then, their eyes were fixed on the figure seated on the throne.

The figure exuded an aura of dark authority, clad in intricate, golden robes adorned with arcane symbols. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his eyes glowed with an eerie blue light, casting an ominous glow. A skeletal grin seemed to be etched into the darkness beneath the hood, adding to his menacing presence. The throne itself was an elaborate construct, ornate and foreboding, as if crafted from the shadows themselves.

“Well, hello there. Welcome. Though you might be a little late to the party,” the figure said, his voice hollow yet filling the entire room with an immense, oppressive aura.

This is the end of the free samples chapter for this book, you may buy my book on Amazon, titled the same, The Devil's Wrath. Cost only $2 if you like it!

Thank you for reading it, hope you enjoy it.