The village had always been a place of peace, nestled deep in the heart of the jungle. For centuries, it stood undisturbed by the outside world, hidden away from the troubles of modern life. The villagers lived simple lives, working the land, growing their crops, and caring for one another. Time passed slowly here, the rhythm of nature uninterrupted by the noise of cities and the rush of civilization. But all of that changed one fateful night.

The sky, once calm and starry, darkened suddenly, a swirling vortex of shadows appearing above the village. It was as if the very fabric of the universe had been torn open. A rift—black and ominous—split the heavens, its edges jagged and raw. From it poured terrifying creatures, each more grotesque than the last. Their forms were twisted and unnatural, their eyes glowing with malice and hunger. The air grew thick with a suffocating heat, and the once-peaceful village trembled as the creatures flooded into the world.

The villagers scrambled in panic, their peaceful lives shattered in an instant. They grabbed whatever they could—axes, pitchforks, knives—attempting to fight back against the onslaught. But the creatures were unlike anything they had ever encountered. The creatures, as the village elders called them, were relentless and powerful, their forms shifting in the shadows like nightmarish phantoms. Each creature seemed more terrifying than the last, their movements swift and deadly, their shrieks echoing through the trees.

The villagers fought bravely, but it was clear they stood no chance. The creatures tore through their defenses with terrifying ease. Homes were destroyed, the earth shook beneath their feet, and the once-quiet village was plunged into chaos. The air was thick with the stench of death, the cries of the fallen mixing with the eerie howls of the creatures. The ground was soaked with blood, and the light of the stars above was swallowed by the darkness of the rift.

Just when all hope seemed lost, a figure appeared in the midst of the carnage. He was tall, his figure cloaked in shadows that seemed to swirl around him. His face was weathered by time, the lines of age and wisdom etched deeply into his skin. His eyes, though old, still gleamed with a quiet intensity, as though he had seen countless battles and endured countless losses. In his hand, he gripped a staff—a long, gnarled thing, ancient and powerful, with runes carved into its surface. The air around him seemed to hum with an energy that resonated through the earth itself.

As the creatures drew closer, their eyes locking on the newcomer, a strange energy radiated from him. The villagers, battered and bloodied, watched in awe and terror as the man stepped forward, his presence commanding the attention of both the creatures and the survivors. Without a word, he raised the staff high above his head. The rift above the village trembled, cracking as if it were made of glass. The creatures snarled and recoiled, but the man did not flinch. He stood firm, his stance unwavering, as the hum of power in the air grew louder.

“Be gone,” he whispered, his voice low and resonant, like a command issued by the earth itself. His words carried an ancient power, one that seemed to shake the very foundations of the world. The rift crackled violently, and the creatures let out howls of fury, but the man did not falter. The energy in the air surged, pulsing with a force that could not be denied.

Slowly, the rift began to shrink. At first, it was almost imperceptible, the edges pulling back just slightly. But then, with a force that shook the very ground beneath their feet, the rift began to collapse in on itself. The creatures screeched in protest, their forms writhing and contorting as if they were being pulled back into some hellish void. One by one, they vanished into the rift, their monstrous shapes swallowed by the darkness.

With a final, deafening crack, the rift sealed shut. Silence fell over the village, broken only by the ragged breaths of the survivors. The creatures were gone, but the devastation they had wrought remained. The air still buzzed with the remnants of the strange energy that had filled the night, and the ground was littered with the fallen, both human and creature alike.

The man lowered his staff, his body trembling with exhaustion. His face, once stern and composed, now showed signs of weariness. He looked around at the village, the ruined homes, the bloodstained earth. His eyes, however, were not filled with triumph or relief, but with sadness. He knew that this was not the end. The rift would open again. The creatures would return, more powerful and more numerous than before. And when they did, he would not be there to stop them.

“This is not the end,” the man murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind. “There is someone… behind all this chaos.”

With that, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows, his figure fading into the night like a ghost. His work was done for now, but the battle was far from over. The village would have to prepare for what was to come, for the rift was not finished. And neither was the war.

Ayish had always been different. Not in a way people could see, but in the way his mind worked. He noticed patterns, solved problems, and made connections faster than most. His IQ was well above average, but intelligence wasn’t always a gift—it set him apart, made him feel out of place.

As a child, Auntie Nab, the family housekeeper, was the only one who truly cared for him. She had been there when no one else was.

Ayish had been adopted at four years old. His mother had loved him dearly, but his father had only taken him in for an inheritance. When his mother passed away, his father barely acknowledged his existence. He grew up in a house filled with silence, where he had to fend for himself.

Auntie Nab tried her best to fill the void, but in the end, she couldn’t stop what was coming.

The day Ayish finished school, his father threw him out. No home, no family—just a mind that worked faster than his heart could keep up with.

Now, at twenty, he had learned to survive on his own. He was a student, making his way through life with logic and strategy. But no amount of intelligence could have prepared him for what was coming.

...Present...

His rented room was a chaotic mess—papers, notebooks filled with theories, books on various subjects. Knowledge was his greatest weapon, but it also kept him awake at night, chasing answers to questions he wasn’t sure he should be asking.

That evening, after a long day at university, he walked home like usual. The streets of Kuala Lumpur were alive—cars honking, people chatting outside shops, the scent of street food drifting through the air.

It was just another ordinary night.

Or so he thought.

...The Encounter...

Taking his usual shortcut behind a row of commercial buildings, he stepped onto a narrow path lined with old shop lots. The ones facing the main road were filled with life—brightly lit, bustling with customers.

The ones on the other side, however, were abandoned. Dark windows, peeling paint, overgrown weeds creeping through cracks in the pavement.

Ayish had walked this path countless times. It never bothered him.

Until tonight.

A sudden gust of wind rushed past him, sending loose papers flying.

Then—

A sharp, unnatural light tore through the sky.

A jagged rift split open above the alley, pulsating with a sickly glow. The air crackled.

Then, something stepped out.

A Kuntilanak.

Her long, tangled hair covered most of her face, but her glowing red eyes burned through the strands. A tattered white dress clung to her impossibly thin frame, moving unnaturally in the still air.

Ayish’s blood ran cold.

Every nerve in his body screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move.

Then, she screamed.

The sound was worse than anything he had ever experienced. It wasn’t just loud—it burrowed into his skull, vibrating through his bones. His vision swam, knees buckling.

The Kuntilanak’s gaze locked onto him. Her lips curled into a sinister grin.

Then, she lunged.

...Khairil’s Arrival...

Across the street, Khairil tossed his gym bag into his car, rolling his sore shoulders. Another long shift at the gym.

Just as he was about to get in, a strange sensation rippled through his body. A sudden, intense awareness.

His eyes narrowed.

Then, a sound—distant but sharp. A scream.

His chest tightened. Without realizing it, his fists clenched.

A faint glow flickered in his irises—Violet Purple.

Something was wrong.

He turned toward the alley.

Then, he ran.

...Awakening...

“Hey!” Khairil’s voice rang through the alley as he sprinted forward.

The Kuntilanak whipped her head toward him, red eyes narrowing in irritation.

Khairil’s glowing eyes locked onto hers.

With another piercing shriek, she slashed her claws toward Ayish.

Khairil moved faster.

Before the claws could reach their target, he shoved Ayish out of the way and planted himself between them. His fists clenched.

“Get back!” he ordered.

The Kuntilanak lunged again.

She was fast. But Khairil was used to reacting under pressure.

He dodged, twisting his body, and drove a powerful punch into her ribs. The impact sent her staggering, but she recovered unnaturally fast. Her long claws slashed through the air, missing his face by inches.

Behind him, Ayish scrambled to his feet. His heart pounded in his ears.

“What the hell is that?!”

“Not the time,” Khairil muttered, eyes locked on the creature.

Ayish’s mind raced. He had read something about this before. A Kuntilanak… there’s a way to defeat it.

“There’s a nail!” he blurted out. “In the back of her neck! If you pull it out, she’ll be destroyed!”

Khairil dodged another swipe. “A nail? You sure?!”

“Yes! That’s how she’s bound to this world!”

“Great. Cover me.”

Ayish looked around. Cover him? With what?

Then he spotted it—a rusted metal pipe on the ground. Gripping it tightly, he crept closer.

Khairil charged at the Kuntilanak, dodging her claws and landing another solid hit to her chest. The force sent her reeling, but she recovered instantly.

She screamed again. The sound rattled through Khairil’s skull. He gritted his teeth, staggering slightly.

Ayish took his chance.

He swung the pipe with all his strength, striking the Kuntilanak in the side of the head.

The impact made her snarl in pain.

Then—

A strange heat surged through Ayish’s veins. The world around him blurred. His body felt weightless.

And suddenly—

He was somewhere else.

He had moved.

Instantly.

Across the alley.

His breath hitched. His hands trembled. His eyes—glowing Azure Blue—stared at the spot where he had just been.

“What just happened?”

The Kuntilanak turned toward him, fury in her glowing red eyes.

Khairil seized the moment.

He lunged, grabbing the back of her neck. His fingers found the nail—cold, rusted, buried deep in her flesh.

With a grunt of effort, he yanked it free.

The Kuntilanak let out a final, ear-splitting scream before dissolving into black mist.

The rift flickered—then vanished.

The night fell silent.

Ayish stood frozen, staring at the nail in Khairil’s hand. His legs felt weak. His pulse thundered in his ears.

Khairil exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulder. Blood trickled down his arm.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I—I think so,” Ayish stammered. Then, his eyes widened. “Your arm… it’s bleeding.”

Khairil glanced at the claw marks. “It’s fine. Just a scratch.”

“That’s not fine,” Ayish insisted. “You need to clean it. Who knows what was on those claws?”

Khairil smirked. “You sound like my coach.”

“I’m serious.”

Khairil nodded. “Fair enough. But you—” he eyed Ayish carefully. “You teleported.”

“I don’t know how,” Ayish admitted. “It just… happened.”

Khairil’s expression darkened. “You’ve got powers. Like me. And whatever’s happening, it’s not random.”

Ayish swallowed. “What do you mean?”

Khairil glanced back, smirking. “You’ll know.”

Then he was gone, leaving Ayish alone beneath the flickering streetlights.

Something big was coming.

And he had no choice but to face it.

Days had passed since the night Khairil and Ayish faced the Kuntilanak, but the encounter lingered like a shadow over them.

In the morning, Khairil found himself near the library, Leaning against a lamppost, Khairil waited. His sleeveless hoodie, showing off his muscular arms, fit his rugged, calm demeanor. The torn knees of his jeans and the sling bag slung over his shoulder gave him a laid-back yet prepared look. He appeared more like someone waiting for the world to catch up to him, not the other way around.

It wasn’t long before Ayish appeared, clutching a book titled Malaysian Myths and Legends, his eyes scanning the pages as he walked.

“You’ve been busy,” Khairil said, breaking the silence.

Startled, Ayish stopped and stared at him. “You? How do you find me?”

“I have a friend with a useful skill,” Khairil explained, stepping closer. That also make Ayish not comfortable with his statement “skill”.

Ayish smirked and lean his arm around Ayish shoulder and make Ayish look small around him. Then Khairil told Ayish what on his mind. “You know, my life used to be so damn boring. Wake up, work, workout, eat, sleep—repeat. No purpose, no real excitement. Just… existing.” He chuckled, but there was something hollow in it. “But what happened that night? That was different. That was interesting.”

“Getting attacked by a ghost? Almost dying? That’s what you call interesting?”

Khairil grinned. “Hell yeah. Because now, I know there’s more to this world. These things—they’re not just stories, Ayish. They’re real. And if they’re real, that means they’re out there. Maybe not here. Maybe not tomorrow. But somewhere, sometime, they will show up again.”

Ayish frowned. “And you think it’s up to us to stop them?”

Khairil shrugged. “Who else? We already fought one, and we won. But what if next time, there’s no one around to stop it? What if next time, people die because we didn’t step up?” He turned to Ayish, his eyes sharp. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna sit around and pretend none of this happened.”

Ayish hesitated. A week ago, he would have called Khairil crazy. But now? He couldn’t ignore the power he had felt inside him, the strange energy that had surged through him when he teleported. He needed answers—about the creatures, about himself.

After a long pause, he exhaled. “…Fine. I’m in. But not just because of your whole ‘saving the world’ speech. I want to know what these things are—and what I am.”

Khairil’s grin widened. “That’s what I like to hear.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “And we won’t have to wait long for our next hunt. There’s already a case.”

Ayish raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“Sarawak. Sungai Sarawak, to be exact.” Khairil’s expression turned serious. “A few people claim they saw something in the river. A monster. Huge, covered in scales. That use river as its domain. That only information that I got.” Discussion got further about this case.

...Journey to Sarawak...

The next day, they boarded a flight to Sarawak. The trip was long, and Ayish spent most of it reading through his book, absorbing whatever he could about Malaysian folklore. Khairil, on the other hand, dozed off occasionally, only waking when the turbulence jolted the plane.

Upon landing, they made their way to a remote village near Sungai Sarawak, is where this creature appeared and attacked people. The village was small, surrounded by thick jungle and narrow dirt paths that wound between wooden houses on stilts. It was eerily quiet.

An elderly man, met them at the entrance of the village. His face was etched with worry. “What are you two doing here? This place is no place to visit. Go back!!”

Khairil march and tell their motives. “We heard about the attacks. Can you tell us what happened?”

That man shock. “News spread faster than I thought. But authorities think its just normal thing”. Then he introduce him as pak Rauf and ask them to follow him and led them to a wooden hut where an injured man lay on a straw mat, bandages wrapped around his legs and arms. “This is Arif. He was the last one attacked and the only one who survived.”

Arif’s voice was weak. “It came from nowhere… huge, with glowing eyes. I thought it was a crocodile, but it wasn’t normal. It was something else. It threw me against my boat and dragged my net under… I barely made it.”

“Crocodile?”

Ayish glanced at Khairil, then he try recall back what he has learn about some local folklore. Something about this felt familiar.

“Like this. We don’t ask you guys to trust both of us. But this situation only Ayish and me can handle it” explain Khairil. “It sound impossible but trust us. Let us handle this.”

Pak Rauf sighed. “If you’re going out there, be careful. The river is cursed.”

...On the Boat...

As the sun began to set, they boarded Pak Rauf’s wooden boat and set off down the river. The water was calm but dark, the jungle on either side thick and foreboding.

“So, you can sense these creatures?” Ayish asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Khairil replied. “It’s like a pulse, like static in my head. The stronger it gets, the closer I am. It’s not exact, but it’s enough to lead me to trouble.”

Ayish frowned. “That explains why you showed up when the Kuntilanak attacked me. But what about me? I only just discovered I have powers. Why now?”

Pak Rauf curiously listened what have they discuss about and find something strange about this two but dare to ask.

Khairil leaned against the boat’s wooden railing, gazing at the murky river. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Something’s triggering these Makhluk to come through. And if you’ve awakened your abilities now, then maybe… you were meant to.”

Ayish didn’t like the sound of that. Fate? Destiny? He had never believed in such things.

Before he could dwell on it further, Pak Rauf slowed the engine when the reach the river bank where the place of last attacked happen.

“We’re here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The river stretched in both directions, flanked by thick jungle on either side. The air was humid, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something else—something foul.

“This is where the attacks happened?” Ayish asked.

Pak Rauf nodded, his face pale. “Fishermen. Villagers. Even a logging worker. All attacked. The last man who was found… was barely alive.”

Ayish flipped through his book, his eyes scanning the legends of Sarawak. Then he froze. “Bujang Senang…” he muttered.

Khairil glanced at him. “What?”

Ayish’s voice was grim. “Bujang Senang isn’t just a crocodile. He was once a warrior, Simalungun. He was invulnerable in battle until his enemies found his weakness—he couldn’t step into a river. They tricked him, killed him, and threw his body into the Batang Lupar. The spirits cursed him, turning him into an undying crocodile, seeking vengeance on the descendants of his killers.”

Pak Rauf’s hands trembled on the motor handle. “And now, he’s back.”

Before anyone could respond, the water exploded. A massive crocodile, nearly the size of their boat, surged from the depths. Its scales were dark, its golden eyes burned with an unnatural glow, and a white stripe ran down its massive back marching forward to their boat.

...The Battle with Bujang Senang...

The water exploded. A massive crocodile, nearly the size of their boat, surged from the depths, its golden eyes burning with an unnatural glow. Scales as dark as the river itself shimmered under the moonlight.

Without hesitation, Khairil lunged forward, fists clenched. His punch landed hard against the creature’s snout, sending a shockwave through the water. Bujang Senang roared, the sound echoing through the jungle.

It retaliated with a violent swing of its tail, aiming straight for Khairil. Before the attack could land, Ayish reacted—instinct taking over. In a flash, he teleported Khairil out of harm’s way, reappearing on the other side of the boat.

Khairil exhaled sharply, nodding. “Nice timing.”

The beast roared again, lunging forward with its massive jaws open. Khairil dodged to the side and struck again, this time aiming for its eye. The impact was solid, but Bujang Senang barely flinched. Instead, it thrashed, causing waves to rock the boat violently.

Ayish’s heart pounded. He couldn’t match Khairil’s strength, but he could keep him moving. Every time the creature attacked, Ayish teleported Khairil out of danger, keeping him one step ahead.

Khairil clenched his jaw. “Ayish, get me on its back!”

In a blink, Ayish teleported him onto the beast. Khairil wrapped his arms around its thick, scaled neck, muscles tensing as he tried to hold on. But Bujang Senang was relentless. With a sudden dive, it dragged Khairil underwater.

“Khairil!” Ayish’s pulse spiked. He scanned the surface, but the river was still.

Then, a ripple. A dark shape emerging—fast.

With no time to think, Ayish teleported again, grabbing Khairil just as the creature surged from below. They reappeared back on the boat, both gasping for air.

Bujang Senang’s golden eyes locked onto them. Then, without warning, it turned and swam away.

Khairil wiped the water from his face, breathing heavily. “It ran.”

Ayish watched the rippling water, unease settling in. “They don’t just run without a reason.”

Khairil’s gaze darkened. “We follow it. It may lead us somewhere.”

Ayish nodded, already stepping onto the riverbank. “Then let’s move.”

...Chasing Bujang Senang...

“Pak Rauf,” Ayish said urgently. “Get back to the village. We’ll handle this.”

Pak Rauf hesitated, fear evident on his face, but nodded. “Be careful.”

With Pak Rauf heading back, Ayish and Khairil followed the trail that left behind by the creature. It didn’t take long before they came to a hidden cave, nestled along the river’s edge, its entrance barely visible from the boat.

Inside the cave, the air was damp and thick with tension. The water flowed into the dark depths, the echoes of the river blending with the ominous silence.

Suddenly, Bujang Senang burst from the shadows, its massive body illuminated by the glow from Ayish’s teleports. The battle resumed, Khairil’s fists pounding against the creature’s scales but futile. Khairil attack only cause damage back to him. This creatures scal is vulnerable and damaging.

During the chaos, Bujang Senang launched Ayish into the air with its tail. He landed hard, his body crashing onto something cold and metallic. His hand instinctively gripped the object—a talisman. As soon as his fingers made contact, the creature halted its attacks and began to move toward him, its eyes wild with fury.

Ayish could feel the vengeance that emanated from the talisman, a dark, malevolent energy tied to Bujang Senang’s past. This was no ordinary artifact—it was a symbol of the ancient curse that had turned a warrior into a vengeful beast.

As Ayish held the talisman, memories surged through him. The overwhelming desire for revenge, the grief of Bujang Senang’s death, and the rage of his transformation into the monster before him.

“This… this is what made you like this,” Ayish murmured, understanding the source of Bujang Senang’s madness. “It’s the curse. The anger of the past, lingering in this talisman.”

In a final act of defiance, Ayish smashedy the talisman to the ground, and the cave trembled. A rift appeared in the air behind Bujang Senang, its darkness swirling like a vortex. The monster’s body was pulled into the rift, its monstrous form screaming as it was consumed by the darkness.

When the rift closed, only the lifeless body of a man remained.

As the dust settled in the cave, silence filled the air. The once-monstrous Bujang Senang was no more—only the lifeless body of a man remained, his expression frozen in anguish. The curse that had tormented him for centuries was finally broken.

Ayish took a deep breath, still shaken from the visions he had seen when he touched the talisman. He had felt the raw, unrelenting fury of a warrior who had once sought power to make himself invulnerable, make its unstopable warrior that had fought fearlessly, only to lose everything when his enemies found his actual weakness—not river, but his wife.

They had slaughtered her, using her death to break him before finally killing him. But death had not been the end for him. His rage had defied the grave, festering into a curse that turned him into the monster they had just fought.

Khairil stood over the body, his fists still clenched. He exhaled slowly. “We did it.” His voice was steady, but Ayish could tell he was processing everything just as much as he was.

The cave felt heavier now, as if the weight of history itself had settled into the stone walls. Water dripped from the stalactites, echoing in the hollow space. The river continued its steady flow, oblivious to the battle that had just taken place.

“We should go,” Khairil finally said, stepping back from the body. “Pak Rauf and the villagers need to know it’s over.”

Ayish nodded, still gripping his aching arm. His body was sore from the fight, and his mind was even more exhausted. But something inside him had changed. He wasn’t just a bystander in this anymore. He had played a part in ending the curse, and that meant something.

As they exited the cave, the night sky greeted them with a sea of stars. The river reflected the moonlight, calm once more, as if nature itself acknowledged their victory.

They found Pak Rauf waiting anxiously near the riverbank, a lantern in his shaking hands. His face paled when he saw them. “What happened?”

Khairil glanced at Ayish before answering. “It’s done. The monster’s gone. He was never just a crocodile—he was a man, a warrior who was cursed by vengeance. But now, he can finally rest.”

Pak Rauf’s eyes widened in disbelief. He looked at the river, then at them. “You… you really did it?”

Ayish nodded. “Yes. It won’t haunt the village anymore.”

The old man let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for years. Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve saved us all.”

The villagers, who had gathered nearby, began murmuring amongst themselves. Some whispered prayers, others clutched their loved ones tightly. The weight of fear that had loomed over them for so long was finally lifted.

Khairil and Ayish stood side by side, watching as the people slowly returned to their homes.

Khairil smirked slightly, his usual confidence returning. “Then you’d better be ready for whatever’s next.”

Ayish chuckled tiredly. “Guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

They exchanged a knowing look before turning their backs to the river. The night was still young, and though one battle had ended, the road ahead was only just beginning.

For the first time, Ayish didn’t fear what lay ahead.

He was ready.