As Wisesa recalled, he should be in the backyard of the inn opposite the palace. As Wisesa recalled, darkness was still taking over the atmosphere. However, in his eyes, the sky was a pale yellow colour, and the barren land, green as it was, seemed to stretch on endlessly. It was only moments ago that he was overrun by a horde of insects. There was no way that the guards would have made him feel like he was stranded in a prison of the wild.

"At last you've come to your senses, you foolish child!"

A voice, heavy and foreboding, shattered the stillness. Wisesa's head snapped to attention, scanning his surroundings for the source of the voice. And there it was, a colossal tiger with bulging eyes and golden armour—the illegal occupant of his body.

"Why am I in your loka?" demanded Wisesa. "Oh great. Did those bastards manage to trap my consciousness here?"

"No, I dragged you here, okay?” replied the tiger. “Rather than having a good night's sleep, I'll just bring you here, keeping your life restless!"

Wisesa winced at the tiger's words, then fell back onto the ground.

"What are you doing?" the tiger roared.

Wisesa interlocked his fingers behind his head. "While I am having my peace here, might as well enjoy it. Get lost."

"No, no, no!" the tiger growled. "That's not why I brought you here! Listen to me, Fool! You must wake up, and when you do, use my power to defeat them!"

The man's jawline twitched, and he clicked his tongue in frustration. "By the Soul of Durga...," he muttered. He stood up, casting a wary glance at the tiger, and quickly walking away, hoping there was somewhere else he could bask in silence and sleep. Wisesa's mind was still fanciful even though he realised he was in the middle of nowhere; his eyes only saw a grassless green land, barren and desolate, its mirage growing more intense with each passing step.

"Don't avoid me, you son of a bitch!" said Barong. "You know you can't!"

"Yet you’re still yelling at me, you dumbass cat!"

"Because you keep walking and it's frustrating me! You have to listen to me!" Barong bounced up and down. The floating pebbles were no problem for Wisesa this time. "Use my power! I'm inside you, and you won't be able to deny it! All enemies are in the real world and you must subdue them quickly! The situation is precarious!"

But Wisesa refused to acknowledge the urgency of the situation, still pretending that he was alone in the wasteland. Barong was not going to let him off that easily. "I see. You don't want to listen? Alright, then I'll be the one to ascend to the realm of consciousness!" it threatened.

Wisesa whirled around, drawing his golden kris. "Woi! Do not even dare try to possess my body again!" he warned. Who knew if it could be called luck when the man in the blangkon was still bringing mundane weapons into the realm of his dreams.

But Barong seemed unfazed by the man's hostility. "What's going to stop me? You're still here. You haven't achieved full control of your consciousness yet, and I have an empty shift."

"You have an empty shift? I'll make you take a leave-of-absence! Fuck, killed in action, then!"

"Now we're talking! Do I always have to do that to get your attention? How childish." Barong finally sat down like a contented housecat. "Don't worry. I'm not infected with Khaos like I used to be. In a state of peace, I will respect the boundaries on your body unless I have to. Back to the topic. I am still generous, offering you my unbelievably powerful power to defeat Panggaraknagara and his troops and save Yawadwipa!" Barong licked its foreleg. "I still don't understand your objection."

"Don't understand? Is it so difficult to grasp the simple phrase, 'I did not ask for any of this'? And let us not forget that it was you who brought about Gading's demise!"

"What? It wasn't me, it was that Panggaraknagara!"

"You! Him! Westerners! The others! All the same! Your power is a blight upon me. Whenever I feel your influence, I no longer think of the might of the Patron of Lands. Not anymore! My thoughts are of my brother who was slit to death!"

Wisesa paced back and forth. His kris had drooped and fallen. It was not only when the power came out that he was reminded of his brother's figure. He had just blabbed this, and he could not avoid that his mind conjured up the image of a cute little boy, innocent and helpless, with no control over his own silence. Wisesa gazed at the horizon, imagining his brother's tiny hands rummaging through wires and circuits like a puzzle that needed to be solved to form a new entity under his control—the machines.

"I cannot..." Wisesa's head began to pound, as though struck by a heavy yoke the longer he dwelled on his brother's memories. "I will not endure this any longer. Fuck your power. It is disgusting, and I curse the day it crossed my path!"

Barong's body fogged up from the steam coming out of his nostrils, accompanied by a heavy echo from its adenoids. "I am sorry, Wisesa. Truly, I am. Our meeting began with bitterness. Me, and you. but I cannot make any promises that the memory of Gading's tragedy will fade with time. No. They are blotches of your life. They will always be with you until you die."

"It doesn't help when you say that, does it?"

The hind legs of Barong straightened out. One by one, they gracefully swayed towards Wisesa. "Accept it and move on. Gading is gone, and his blood has sealed me to you. Do you think of him every time you use my power? Fuck that! From now on, use my power as a way of honoring your brother. Use my power as a carrier of revenge for him! Be an extension of me as the Patron of Lands, for the time being!"

Wisesa released a heavy sigh and buried his face in his palms. "You and that form of virtue of yours!” he muttered, his doubts still swirling around him. “You're more pathetic than a caged house cat. Why still bother fulfilling your duty?"

"As vile as humans are, if my master, Sang Hyang Sukra, does not inspire me to destroy humanity's survival, then I must endeavor to protect humanity myself, at all costs!" Barong replied. "You think you want to be alone, wanting everyone but you to be destroyed because you feel destroyed. But I know, all you want is to feel whole again…"

As if a magical dagger had pierced his heart, the lad's energy ebbed away, with nothing left to refute the colossal tiger's words. Wisesa sat limply on the ground. His face crumpled slowly. A weak sob escaped the air. There was no one else in this barren land but him and Barong. No one would judge him if he cried. Barong better not be the first one to do that, considering that it was the beast’s words that made Wisesa a mess.

But, no. Not today. He rubbed his eyes and tugged at his facial muscles to make them firm again. Still, those puffy eyes took a long time to dry.

"There's no point in feeling whole," Wisesa said, his voice hoarse. "I'm already damaged by this power."

"Oh, come on...!" Barong dismissed him. "You're an unethical, foul-mouthed, racist, misogynist, and a hundred and one other despicable attributes! You are all of those, except without a conscience."

Wisesa's eyes glared before he turned his head away, his breathing becoming erratic. "Well, good! What a useful lecture!" he snapped. "Let's just get it over with—"

"No way!" Barong's voice rose half an octave. "You have to hear this, and you have to deal with it! I saw you, Wisesa. I saw your behavior with Ki Semar. I saw you chatting with animals and nourishing plants with your urine. What's more, I saw how you treated Alicia! I noticed all that, even when I was tainted by Khaos; you know how much I raged about all that good behavior! You've had hardships all your life, true, but you're not broken, never have been! As long as we're stuck with each other, we'll undoubtedly continue to fight. But know this: I'll never trust my strength to anyone again but you! You are a worthy person, just like Arcane and the 'Western' Woman."

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Sukra's Flesh Aspect lecture had come to an end. The air hung heavy with silence for a few moments until Wisesa shyly giggled. His eyes locked onto Barong with intent—somewhat glaring, in fact, resembling Barong's red eyeballs.

"Sang Hyang Sukra's intuition gave you this?" Wisesa asked.

"It's not Sang Hyang Sukra's intuition. It is me speaking."

It was not like the lad had tons of choices, was it not? After all, he could prevent the beast from steering his body at whim but not from raving. So engaging it was probably his best bet for now. His other eye twitched with that idea. "Fuck you, Barong."

Barong chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Two conditions!" Wisesa raised his hand. "One: only I take over this body. Two: a quarter of the power only!"

"What? You know when I offered you power, it was like Orb and Alicia's relationship—both united in mind. We can be more than that! We can unite minds, and souls into a new entity with full control belonging to both of us! Wouldn't that be great?"

"Two conditions! Take it or leave it!"

A brief primal growl from Barong. But its two ears clearly heard the hustle and bustle in the real world—Alicia with her Orb must have been battered by dozens of magic practitioners. Both Wisesa and Barong’s intuition said that even with the strongest might in the world of thaumaturgy, the practically stupid Alicia would greatly appreciate their help.

"Agreed! Even a quarter of my power is already powerful!"

Barong extended its forepaw to Wisesa, an agreement-binding gesture.

"Cut the business deal bullshit, Cat! Just give me your power!"

With its oversized toe, the Patron of Lands pinched the fabric of Wisesa's shirt and lifted him up. There was that crazy grin again, which should not be necessary since Barong was always grinning.

"Let's go to the conscious realm, and slaughter the wretches!" Barong exclaimed.

A golden vortex formed in the centre of the sky. The wind suddenly came out of the holes in the ground, lifting Wisesa and Barong from the green land full of woes. They leapt upwards to meet the glaring light on the horizon!

***

Wisesa's eyes suddenly opened wide. The shamans around him were startled, and Panggaraknagara was about to turn around when Wisesa lifted his legs and got up. The young lad did not know how long he had been out, but he knew he had been bound with a skein of silk thread so fine it could slice through skin and flesh if he rebelled.

As Wisesa observed the surrounding, he saw the chaos unfolding before him—party attendees scattering behind the inn's portico, soldiers pointing daggers and rifles at him, and state leaders protesting the commotion on the other side of the palace, thinking that there was a capture of a group of fugitive palace scouts that threatened all lives.

Ignoring the shouts of the royal guests, Wisesa focused on the thin thread that was wrapped around him. He could feel it rubbing against his skin, and he did not like it one bit.

"What the—what kind of thread is this?"

"I recognize this thread!" Barong's disembodied voice replied. "I see it every time I visit Vanir. It's Gleipnir Thread, one of the strongest bindings in the world of Thaumaturgy from the Nidavellir region!"

"Gleipnir? What the...? Where's the Titiksa Niskala Chest?" Wisesa glanced at his father. His lips could not help but sneer. "Hah! I knew it! Alas Purwo is ultimately a sycophant of the West! Your chosen Yawanese nation, my ass! You're even too embarrassed or lazy to make your own magic devices!"

Panggaraknagara paid little attention to his son's quip. His mind was already fortified like an armoured tank. With a single raised hand, he turned back and commanded, "Take him the other way. Lock him up in the deepest dungeon. I will take care of the rest."

The shamans pulled the thread tighter and tighter, and Wiseasa could not help but comply unless he was content with life and died a ridiculous death torn apart by threads.

"This is something you can handle with a quarter of your strength, right?" asked Wisesa.

"It's something I can handle with a quarter of my strength!" came the confident reply.

A surge of yellow energy pulsed through Wisesa's body, and the scent of magic filled the air, sending chills down the spines of everyone in the chilly night. The hands of the shamans blistered and burst into flames as the Gleipnir threads melted away into a clear liquid. Wisesa spread his hands wide, and the hearts of the Alas Purwo shamans. Their gunpoint gestures and brandished krises failed to intimidate, as they struggled with the dilemma of whom to aim at.

Wisesa swung his hands backwards and, still enveloped in glorious yellow energy, slammed them into the ground. The earth beneath him collapsed with a deafening gnash, forming a transverse crack line that extended all the way to form a plane. A tiny earthquake shook the ground as he revelled in his little mischief, while the shamans scrambled for safety. Then with a mighty gust, Wisesa's muscular hands pulled the patch of earth with all their might and flipped it into the air! Their escape attempt failed; most of the shamans stumbled into the hole, trapped, waiting for the soaring plane to come down and bury them.

But a sense of solidarity had been sparked, together the shamans in the burrows and on the ground blasted the fallen piece of land through a burst of inner strength!

The limited phenomenon in the inn's backyard in the form of raining grit.

As the shamans and soldiers waited for the expected downpour of black soil grains, something unexpected happened. Two beast heads glowed behind the grit-fall. Left and right, imaginary lines depicting wide-eyed and sabre-toothed tigers became apparent through the twitching yellow light. The location of these two heads, each on one of Wisesa's hands, was now unmistakable.

Without warning, Wisesa opened his palms, and the Barong Heads that had become his gigantic gloves roared! The rush of reluctance and fear made the bones of the shamans and civil guards ache. However, they looked back at the Panggaraknagara, who had always been as firm as a limestone carving. They would die either way, but at least being torn apart by Barong would earn respect in the sunan's eyes.

With that in mind, they launched an attack on the Child of the Beast! Wisesa swung his left hand, catapulting the yellow Barong shroud far away and sending it flying into the nape of the civil guard firing the rifle. The poor man was dragged along and collided with the rest of his comrades, as a thin flash of lightning from the rifles' whizzing came out haphazardly, some shattering windows, some breaking light bulbs, some wandering forever in the scattering of stars.

But Wisesa was not deterred. He circled the shamans and pushed them down with a tug of the neck. He swatted away incoming krises with a sweep of his foot, then pounced on a shaman's head with a bite of Barong's hand-shroud. He repeatedly swung the unlucky shaman to the ground like he was playing with a whip, then whipped another before their bodies were smashed into a pile of scrap concrete. Barong's left veil passed to its master. Wisesa made sure no one met their demise, but no one went home without at least five scars and bruises.

For Wisesa, one bullet casing was not enough to stop him. Fists were not welcomed. Even the friction of supernatural power from magical hands could not break him.

The shamans looked for another way. With Panggaraknagara's blessing, they took from their pockets a doll of the man they were facing—although the dolls lacked the man's thick straight hair, they did include a small strand of it. The shamans had been prepared from the start, apparently.

the shamans began to pierce each doll with a needle, and in response, the two Barong Heads in Wisesa's hands vanished, causing him to lose his balance. The yellow glow on his body was still present, but what use was it when the transparent stabbing repeatedly tore through his muscle tissue and clogged his heart? Wisesa trembled, imagining the tendon strings in all his bones breaking one by one. Just as he was about to reach for the side of his chest, his hand withered under the turbulence.

"Damn it! Damn it!" Wisesa barked, his light dimming. "If only I hadn't been so stupid back then to let that old bastard cut off my hair and store it in the armory!" His hand was about to reach for his chest again, but it withered once more.

"Don't worry, Wisesa!" whispered Barong. "Breathe. Close your eyes. Concentrate. Don't let your anger build up in your chest cavity. Channel it. Turn it into energy. Make it a conduit of power..."

Wisesa followed Barong's instructions, breathing deeply and carrying all the slurs and curses in his mind. The dark landscape behind his eyelids reddened, and the yellow glow slowly lit up again. He could feel the brilliant presence of the Patron of Lands' power blocking all invisible witchcraft torment.

"Take out your anger on them!"

Wisesa howled, and his burst of energy summoned lightning, blowing a storm that frightened the state leaders in front of the inn. The Kasunanan Palace was not spared from the turmoil of that energy. The building swayed, and the electricity flickered on and off. Finally, not only the state officials but also the human wave hit the palace gates, wanting to see what was causing all these insane phenomena. It was as if the Thunderkeeper had come to wreak havoc on the world.

Wisesa stood up, triumphant. The witchcraft puppets were nothing more than limp dolls at his feet. All their power had been sapped, and all weapons were disarmed. The troops were left with nothing to use against him.

Yet Panggaraknagara remained still.

His hands were moving in a strange, almost mystical motion as he whispered incantations under his breath.

"Ingsun amatek ajiku si gelap ngampar, Gebyar-gebyar ana ing dadaku, Ula lanang guluku, Macan galak ana raiku, Surya kembar ana netraku, Durgadeglak ana pupuku, Gelap ngampar ana pengucapku, Gelap sewu suwaraku, Ah Ö aku si gelap sewu."

Suddenly, the sunan lunged forward, delivering a fierce punch to Wisesa's chest. The blow knocked the wind out of the young lad, and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Wisesa let out a deafening scream. His arrogance was shattered.

The surjan Wisesa was wearing was scorched, and he ripped it off to find that his body was covered in new tattoos. They were red carvings of upside-down dried trees with hundreds of tiny branches, twisting and turning over his skin. Wisesa gritted his teeth. His nose was pulsating. A bid to suppress the unbearable pain.

The night wind just made the searing pain worse, as it eroded the lightning tendrils.

Yet Panggaraknagara remained still. That heartless, sons-slaying bastard.

His arm extended, waiting for Wisesa to rise and fight him once again. His stance was unwavering, a silent invitation to continue the familial war. []