Four brothers sat huddled by the side of the dirt road, their bodies warmed by the crackling campfire. As the sun disappeared, darkness cloaked their surroundings.
Two old horses trudged along, pulling a weathered wagon laden with a jumble of junk and seemingly useless items. Among the pile, they also stowed away their precious food and belongings within it.
Among the brothers was a man in his twenties. He clambered onto the wagon and began sifting through the discarded remnants, his hands delving deep into the pile of iron and wood. He unearthed a pot buried beneath the junk with a surge of strength. However, he tugged too forcefully, causing him to lose balance and topple backwards. His vision blurred momentarily as he landed on the ground with a thud.
Startled by the commotion, a slightly hoarse voice echoed from the campfire, "What was that, Ade!?" he shouted.
"It's nothing!" the fallen brother shouted back, gathering himself up and dusting off his clothes from dirt. He walked over to join his brothers by the campfire.
Seated around the crackling campfire were three men. One was elderly, another in his "not so prime" years, and the youngest was a mere teenager.
"Bring the pot here, De," the old man called, his weathered arm clutching a waterskin with water.
With ease, he poured the water into the iron pot, the sound of its steady flow resonating through the night. The old man hung the pot over the campfire, its contents coming to a gentle simmer.
"Abim, where are the vegetables?" the old man's hand raised, demanding for something to be handed.
"I'm still cutting it," responded the middle-aged man, Abim, who possessed a burly frame and wielded a small knife. His hair, already touched by grey, spoke of countless hardships, his wrinkled and tanned skin revealing a life spent under the unforgiving sun. The arduous task of cutting the vegetables seemed to challenge him, but his teenage brother lent a hand.
Like his older brother, the teenager had tan skin and nimble fingers that sliced the vegetables with precision. The rhythmic sound of the knife cutting resonates on the empty field. He swiftly submerged the vegetables into the boiling water with the task complete.
Seizing the moment, the elderly man added minced meat to the pot, gently stirring the soup while the others patiently awaited the dish's completion.
The three brothers stared at the campfire, mesmerised by the flames dancing beneath the iron pot, creating a sense of tranquillity. Silently, they observed the bubbling pot, captivated by the anticipation of their shared meal. Boredom eventually gripped the youngest brother. Eventually, he toyed with the soil beneath him. The eldest brother ceased stirring the pot and closed it, letting tendrils of smoke escape through its lid's gaps.
"Royyan, stop playing with the ground! I don't want to see dirt in the pot," the elder brother scolded and held Roy's hand.
The teenager wiped his hands clean with a small cloth and sat still, his bored eyes transfixed on the pot. Seeing his little brother’s boredom, the third brother reached into his bag and withdrew a book.
"Would you like to hear a story?" Ade watched his brothers' faces.
"Another story about demons?" weakly inquired the youngest brother, his eyes glazed over with boredom
Glimpsing the cover with the word "Demons,” the brother hesitated to respond.
"Eh... no. It's different," the third brother answered suspiciously.
"You have my attention," chimed in the second eldest, his posture straightened. "What is it about?"
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"Give me a second," Ade rose from his seat and made his way to the wagon once again, searching for a new book.
He opened a large bag, revealing its contents—old antique books, each one a gateway to the realm of demons and ancient history. He browsed the collection, seeking a different tome.
"Not this one," Ade muttered, shuffling through the books' arrangement.
Finally, he discovered it. A massive book caught his eye, its presence unfamiliar in his memory. Perplexed by its origin, he pushed aside his curiosity to avoid prolonging his brothers' wait. Ade returned with the weighty book in hand, evoking awe from his siblings. The size and thickness of the book produced attention, leaving the brothers eager to delve into its contents. Abim, the second eldest, couldn't contain his anticipation.
"What’s in it, Ade? That’s a massive book!" exclaimed Aldi in excitement.
Unfurling his grip, Ade released the book to the ground. A cloud of dust blew everywhere. Coughing, he settled back down, his eyes fixated on the hefty cover. He opened it, revealing an ancient grand tale of yore.
"How far have we come? Our tongues may differ, yet they intertwine,” he murmured to himself while caressing the book’s cover.
"What does it say, De?" inquired the youngest brother, clapping, unable to contain his curiosity any longer as he eagerly awaited the answer.
"This time,” he cleared his throat. “I've brought a book called 'Demens' in the ancient Southern language," Ade hesitated momentarily. "I'm not really fluent in this language, but I will try my best. So, listen."
As the brothers drew nearer, their curiosity piqued, Ade opened his mouth, preparing to share the story hidden within the deteriorated pages.
"Before we start, do you know what demens are?" Ade asked his brothers.
"I know," answered Abim. "They are living creatures transformed by mutation. Learned that in the army," he showed off.
Ade nodded approvingly.
"Correct. And I quote, 'Demens is the consequence of humanity's errors. A mistake that sent us toward the pinnacle of collective good, though not without its costs. The implications of this failure have affected countless lives, and the weight of the outcome remains uncertain.' Bruyne, Science Data of The North-942," he ended his quote. "I wish these creatures had never come into existence. But what can we do?" Ade explained like an educated lecturer. "Demens are humans, animals, plants—every living being altered by mutations, surpassing the boundary of sanity. Not all mutants are demens, but all demens are mutants.”
"Do you mean...?" Abim speculated.
"Aldi, have you heard the legend of the purger?" Ade cuts his older brother's sentence.
The old man recoiled, his body tensing, while his lips ceased to move. He shook his head after giving a shot to answer the question.
"I suspected as much," Ade said, a hint of anticipation in his voice. “The purger is a soldier, much like Abim, with one crucial difference—they are mutant."
"Ooh! Do they possess fangs? Sharp nails?" the youngest brother interjected with excitement, showing his teeth. "Or perhaps, do they have horns?"
"Purgers... they are just like us," Ade pointed at themselves.
"In that case, what is the difference between us and them?" Roy inquired, scratching his head.
"You can't tell by looking at them. It is difficult to distinguish between ordinary humans, as they often blend with the crowds. However, there are ways to know if someone is a purger, such as their height, strength, and many more," he explained like a scholar.
"How tall are they?" Abim queried, raising his hand.
"I cannot say for certain. All purgers are unique. What matters is that they live much longer than we humans. Some said that the people who made them use the blood of vampires," Ade spoke doubtfully. "Like vampires, the older, the more dangerous they are.”
"I have never seen or heard of anyone like that," Aldi admitted, his eyes widened and his voice tinged with wonder. “Are they still alive like the sorcerers?”
"They might have died out," Abim shrugged.
"Hey, Abim," the teenager interjected, admonishing his brother. "Have you ever encountered a purger?"
"Never," Abim replied, shaking his head.
"And I know why Abim has never laid eyes on one, Roy," Ade said, tempting his youngest brother to inquire further.
"Why is that?" Royyan rested his head with his hands.
"Now, let me tell you the story," Ade declared, turning to a new page in the dust-laden book. "Here is Demens: From Roots to Leaves. Chapter One: From Demons to Demens."