THE THRONE ROOM OF THE MAJAPAHIT KINGDOM
In the grand palace of the Majapahit Kingdom in Trowulan, the Fatalis and the king were holding an important meeting. Suddenly, a soldier rushed into the room, panting heavily, and immediately knelt before the leaders, bringing urgent news about the events that occurred in Gousan Village the previous night.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," the soldier said, his breath still ragged.
"I must report that Gousan Village was attacked by a group of Raksha. According to the reports I received, there is one Raksha with a high-level threat leading them." His voice was filled with tension, reflecting the seriousness of the situation that had just transpired.
The leaders and the King were shocked to hear the soldier's report.
"What? How could this happen?" asked the King, his once-sturdy frame now standing, signaling deep unease.
"Then, what is the condition of the village?" he continued, his voice firmer, demanding further explanation.
"The village has been completely destroyed, nothing is left," the soldier replied in a heavy tone.
"The Raksha also destroyed our military base. Of all the soldiers present, only two survived, but they are severely wounded and in critical condition." His face was filled with worry, portraying the tragic nature of the attack.
Vitjendra, upon hearing the report, immediately panicked, his thoughts drifting to the safety of Kandita and Nazzares.
"Then, what about Nazzares, the student I trained? He should have been there, right?" asked Master Vitjendra, his voice filled with concern, clear anxiety lacing his words. He looked at the soldier, hoping for some good news that could ease his worry.
"Forgive us, Captain," the soldier replied, bowing his head, his voice full of regret. "As of now, there have been no reports regarding him."
"Your Majesty, may I go to Gousan Village?" Vitjendra said, kneeling before King Hayam Wuruk, requesting permission to act immediately.
"Very well, but take some guards with you for safety," King Hayam Wuruk responded firmly, granting the request.
"Allow me to accompany Captain Vitjendra, Your Majesty," said Commander Druvh, offering his services respectfully.
"I will also go, with Captain Vitjendra, Your Majesty," added Captain Ahtreya, expressing his willingness to join.
"Alright, it seems three Fatalis should be more than enough," said King Hayam Wuruk, his sharp gaze fixed on them.
"Now, I order you to go to Gousan Village. Save whatever can be saved."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" they replied in unison, their voices filled with resolve.
As they left the hall, His Majesty Hayam Wuruk stood still for a moment. Anger and regret overtook him. He clenched his fist, then slammed it into the backrest of his grand throne. The sound of the impact echoed through the now-silent room.
"Every military base should have at least one Fatalis on guard," he thought, his emotions running high.
His gaze was sharp, filled with deep regret over his negligence as a leader.
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Back to the destroyed Gousan Village after the Raksha attack...
Kandita awoke from her long fainting spell, gasping for breath. The Abhiseka sword was still tightly gripped in her hand, as though it was her last hope. Pain coursed through her body, the wounds burning with every movement. With her legs severely injured, she struggled to stand, taking slow steps toward the village.
Tap... tap... tap...
Her steps were slow, staggered in the midst of the darkness. The sun was beginning to rise in the distance, but the shadows of Gousan Village's destruction still haunted her mind.
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"What kind of sight is this?" Kandita murmured, her voice trembling in the eerie silence.
With unsteady steps, she walked through the village, now reduced to rubble. Her eyes could not hold back the tears as she saw the scattered corpses, bloodstains staining the ground, and buildings reduced to nothing. Black smoke still billowed from the remnants of the fire from the night before, mixing with the cold morning air that cut through her bones.
Everything around her created a horrifying atmosphere, like hell had descended upon the earth. Her heart was crushed with sorrow and rage, intertwined as one.
"Big sister!!! Aaaaaaaa... Big sister... Father... aah... Father... is gone..." Samsul sobbed, his voice broken as he tried to speak between his tears. His eyes were swollen, filled with fear and grief.
Kandita froze for a moment, her body stiffening. She didn’t need to hear the rest of Samsul’s words to understand what her little brother was trying to say. Her heart shattered, but she held back her tears. With swift steps, she reached Samsul and embraced him tightly, trying to protect him from the unbearable pain.
"It’s okay... don’t cry, Samsul," Kandita whispered softly, even though her own heart was broken. The embrace was the only protection she could offer amidst the devastation surrounding them.
The survivors of the incident were only a few women and children. Their faces were pale, their bodies trembling beneath the shadow of destruction. Most of the men had perished, likely while trying to fight off the lower-level Raksha.
They fought until their last breath, risking everything to protect their village. But now, only memories and destruction remained, leaving deep scars for those still alive.
"Alright, go to mother now," said Kandita gently yet firmly, looking at her little brother still sobbing. Samsul nodded slowly, his steps heavy as he reluctantly left his sister.
After ensuring her brother had gone, Kandita reached for the potion from her belt. Her hands trembled as she unwrapped the cloth covering her wound. The injury was gaping, still bleeding, but she had no other choice. Carefully, she poured the potion directly onto the wound.
"Heeeggggkkkk!"
Kandita gritted her teeth, holding back the intense pain. Her body trembled as the pain spread, but she refused to let weakness take over. Slowly, she closed her eyes, regulated her breathing, and began to concentrate. Her mystic energy flowed, merging with her body, attempting to accelerate the healing of the wound that was draining her strength.
After some time, the wound on Kandita’s body began to dry. Though her body still felt exhausted, she could now walk normally. Without wasting any time, she rushed to search for Nazzares, walking swiftly while constantly glancing around, hoping to find signs of her fiancé’s presence.
Her steps led her to the edge of the village, near the river where the villagers once washed their clothes. However, the scene there was now different. Destruction had overtaken the area. Trees had fallen, the earth was scarred, and traces of battle were evident. The place was now silent, leaving only the remnants of the fierce struggle between Nazzares and the Raksha the night before.
Kandita’s heart raced. "Nazzares! Where are you?" she muttered anxiously, her gaze sharp as she continued searching the area.
Meanwhile, at the place where Nazzares had not slept all night, still staring at his father’s corpse...
In the vast expanse of land by the riverbank, Nazzares sat frozen. His body was rigid, not moving at all. In front of him lay the body of his father, skin paling, cold with time.
His mind was empty. His gaze was hollow, staring but not truly seeing. His heart felt as though it had stopped beating, consumed by an unbearable emptiness. Only silence and emptiness filled him, like a night without stars.
The only family he had left was now gone, taken from him in such a cruel manner. It felt like the world had abandoned him, leaving him alone in a suffocating silence.
Kandita, seeing Nazzares from a distance, knelt. Without thinking, she ran toward her fiancé, filled with worry and tears.
Tap... tap... tap...
Kandita’s steps halted abruptly when she saw Nazzares kneeling frozen in front of Abail's body. Her body shuddered at the sight of the corpse, which was horrifyingly disfigured, covered in wounds and dried blood.
Kandita covered her mouth, holding back the sobs that nearly escaped her. Her eyes reddened, tears flowing without end, but she didn’t want Nazzares to hear her crying.
"mmmhh," Kandita stifled her sobs.
She reconsidered her impulse to embrace her beloved, afraid of touching the wound clearly visible in Nazzares’ heart.
She slowly knelt behind him, sitting between his heels, her body trembling. However, the tears she could no longer hold back finally flowed freely. She cried in silence, sharing in the sorrow without uttering a single word.
one days later...
In the middle of the now-destroyed village, rows of wood were neatly arranged, ready to receive the lifeless bodies, placed one by one. The funeral ceremony began. Fire would consume the bodies that lay atop the wood, one by one.
Nazzares held a torch in his hand, his empty eyes staring at his father’s body covered in white cloth, a body that would soon be turned to ashes. With slow steps, he approached the woodpile, his heart haunted by an indescribable sense of loss.
"Ssssttt... krek-krek..."
The flames roared, swiftly spreading, burning the row of bodies with immense force, while silence prevailed, only interrupted by the broken sobs of the families left behind. Kandita approached, wrapping her arms around Nazzares with love, trying to comfort him with a hug she never wanted to let go of. In that embrace, Nazzares could no longer hold back. His tears broke free, his body shaking in the warmth of her embrace.
To be continued...