The footsteps grew closer. Raka stood frozen in the middle of the grassland as the pale-blue-skinned creatures emerged one by one from behind the bushes. There were about six of them.
Up close, they were much taller than humans. Their ears were long, their hair was dark blue, black, and their eyes carried a faint glow, like moonlight reflected on water.
Their robes were intricately designed, decorated with patterns that resembled ancient script. But what made Raka freeze the most was their weapons.
SWORDS!
They were not European swords like the ones he often saw in fantasy films. Their blades were curved, with shapes that reminded him of traditional keris and swords from the Nusantara region.
Raka swallowed nervously.
"Stay calm... stay calm..." he muttered to himself.
One of the creatures raised her hand.
All of them stopped.
Their eyes focused on Raka.
Then, the figure standing at the front walked closer.
It was a woman.
Raka could see her more clearly now. Her long black hair fell past her shoulders, decorated with several small pieces of golden metal. Her face looked young, perhaps not much older than Raka himself.
But her gaze was different. Calm. Alert.
And slightly... afraid. The woman stopped several meters in front of him.
"Can you understand our language?"
Raka frowned. Strangely, the voice did not come from her mouth. It sounded directly inside his head.
"I..."
Raka pointed at himself.
"I can hear your voice."
The woman looked surprised. Her guards immediately exchanged glances.
"Impossible."
"Our language should not be understood by humans from the outside world."
Raka became even more confused. The woman looked at him again.
"What is your name?"
"Raka."
"Your full name."
Raka hesitated for a moment.
"Muhammad Raka."
The moment his name left his mouth, the air around them seemed to change. The woman froze. Her eyes widened. One of the guards even dropped to one knee.
"Impossible..."
"That name..."
"He really came."
Raka took a step back.
"Eh?"
The woman did not answer. Instead, she stared at the old notebook still held in Raka's hand.
"That object."
Raka looked down at it.
"What?"
"Where did you get it?"
"It belonged to my grandfather."
The woman fell silent again.
"Your grandfather?"
"Yeah. He was an archaeologist."
"Archaeologist..."
Her eyes shifted toward the symbol engraved on the notebook's page.
Her face slowly turned pale.
"Impossible."
Raka was beginning to lose his patience.
"Can someone please explain where I actually am?"
The woman opened her mouth.
But before she could answer—
"GRRRRAAAHHH!"
A terrifying roar echoed from behind them. Raka immediately turned around. The four goblins that had attacked him earlier had not left. And now, there were no longer just four. There were dozens.
They emerged from the tall grass. Some carried crude spears. Others held small axes and swords that appeared to be made from bone. Raka felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"Why are there so many of them now...?"
The woman immediately drew her sword.
"Formation!"
The six guards moved without hesitation. Two stood in front of the woman. Two spread out to the right and left. The final two drove the tips of their swords into the ground.
FWOOSH!
Blue lines of light appeared across the grass. A protective circle formed around Raka and the others.
"Magic...?" Raka muttered.
The woman glanced at him.
"This is not the time to be amazed."
"What?"
"Run."
"What?!"
"If you really are the Heir of Nusantara, you are their target."
Raka stared at the goblins, then looked at the woman.
"And you?"
"We will handle them."
One of the goblins let out a sharp cry.
"KRAAA!"
They charged.
The battle began in an instant.
The guards' swords moved like flashes of light.
CLANG!
One goblin was sent flying.
SWISH!
A spear shot past Raka's face.
"HEY!"
Raka immediately ducked. The spear struck the ground only a few centimeters from his head.
His heart nearly stopped.
"I could die here!"
The woman cut down two goblins at once. Her movements were fast, but not excessive. Every attack had a purpose. There were no wasted motions.
Raka watched her carefully. As a history student, he was used to observing objects and patterns. But something about the woman's fighting style seemed familiar.
The way she held her sword. The position of her feet. The rotation of her waist. The movement of her strikes.
Raka had seen similar patterns in illustrations of traditional martial arts that he had studied during university.
"No way..."
The woman swung her sword from the side.
SHING!
Raka suddenly remembered something.
"That movement... It looks like a silat technique."
The woman glanced at him.
"You recognize our techniques?"
"Not exactly! I mean—"
A goblin suddenly appeared behind her.
"LOOK OUT!"
The woman noticed it too late.
Raka moved without thinking.
He grabbed a stone from the ground and threw it.
PLAK!
The stone struck the goblin's head. The goblin stopped for a moment and stared at Raka. Raka stared back.
"..."
The goblin roared.
"...I think I just made things worse."
The goblin charged at him. Raka immediately turned around and ran.
"AAAAAA!"
But after only a few steps—
BOOM!
The goblin was thrown backward. The woman stood between them, her sword still raised. She looked at Raka with disbelief.
"Why did you do that?"
Raka panted heavily.
"Because if I hadn't thrown that stone, you might have died!"
The woman fell silent. For the first time, her expression softened.
"...Fool."
Raka frowned.
"Why am I being called a fool?"
"Because you nearly died for someone you do not even know."
"Isn't that what a normal human would do?"
The woman did not answer.
But a moment later, the corner of her lips lifted slightly.
"Interesting."
"What?"
"No wonder."
"No wonder what?"
"No wonder they chose you."
Raka had not even gotten the chance to ask another question. A distant scream suddenly echoed across the grassland. The remaining goblins began to retreat.
They were no longer attacking. Instead, they were staring at the sky. Raka followed their gaze.
His expression changed. Above the purple sky, something was descending. A massive shadow.
Its wings stretched across the clouds. Its body was pitch-black.
Two glowing red eyes pierced through the darkness. The woman tightened her grip on her sword.
"No..."
One of the guards whispered in fear.
"Why has that creature come this far?"
Raka looked up.
"What is that thing?"
The woman answered quietly.
"Not a creature."
The shadow drew closer.
"A disaster."
The creature released a roar.
"ROOOOOAAARRR!"
A wave of pressure struck the grassland.
Raka fell to the ground. The guards drove their swords into the soil to keep themselves from being swept away.
Then something crashed down from the sky.
DUUUM!
The earth shook.
Dust filled the air, and Raka covered his face.
When the dust began to clear, he saw it.
A dragon.
But it was not like the silver dragon he had seen when he first arrived.
This dragon had scales as black as charcoal. Long horns grew from its head, and smoke escaped from between its teeth.
The air around its body seemed to burn.
Raka stood frozen.
"So... dragons really exist."
The woman glanced at him.
"Why are you amazed?"
"Because it's a dragon!"
"It can kill us."
"Oh."
Raka swallowed.
"Then I'm scared."
The dragon opened its mouth.
A red light began to glow inside its throat.
"EVERYONE, GET DOWN!"
"BOOOOOM!"
Dragonfire erupted.
But before it reached them, the notebook in Raka's hand began to glow again.
Golden light wrapped around his body.
Raka stared in shock.
"What now?!"
The dragonfire struck the golden barrier.
WHOOOOM!
The ground trembled.
But the barrier did not break.
Slowly, a symbol appeared before Raka.
It was the same symbol found in his grandfather's notebook.
But this time, it was different.
At the center of the symbol was a shape resembling a keris.
Raka stared at it.
And for a moment...
He heard a voice.
Not the voice of the man in the batik robe.
Not the voice of the pale-blue creatures.
It was the voice of a woman.
Soft.
Sad.
Like someone who had been waiting for a very long time.
"Do not let them take the heritage."
Raka froze.
"Who...?"
The light before him suddenly shattered.
CRAAACK!
The barrier collapsed.
The dragon prepared to attack again.
But the woman immediately stepped in front of Raka.
"Enough!"
She raised her sword toward the sky.
A circle of blue light formed behind her body.
Raka stared at her in amazement.
"Who are you?"
The woman did not answer.
She only whispered:
"My name is Laras."
Then she turned toward the dragon.
"And I am the last guardian of the Nusantara Gate."
Laras and her guards managed to force the dragon back with combined magic.
Not because they were stronger, but because they used a white crystal that radiated powerful light.
The dragon finally retreated into the sky.
The goblins fled as well.
The grassland slowly returned to silence.
Raka was still standing motionless.
Then he looked at Laras.
"The Nusantara Gate?"
Laras returned her sword to its sheath.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"A place that has been considered nothing more than a legend for thousands of years."
Raka gave a nervous laugh.
"This is becoming even more ridiculous."
Laras walked closer to him.
"In your opinion, why were you summoned here?"
"Because you called me an heir."
"No."
Laras looked directly into Raka's eyes.
"You were summoned because this world is dying."
Raka's smile disappeared.
"What does that have to do with me?"
Laras did not answer immediately.
Instead, she pointed toward the large city in the distance.
"We have to go there."
"That city?"
"Kingdom of Arkapura."
Raka looked toward the city.
From afar, he could see its tall towers and the purple light that had drawn his attention earlier.
But now, he noticed something else.
Above the city's main gate was a large emblem.
A bird with its wings spread wide.
Beneath it was a shape resembling a mountain.
And at the center of the emblem was a symbol he knew very well.
The same symbol from his grandfather's notebook.
Raka slowly stepped closer.
"That symbol..."
Laras nodded.
"Yes."
"Why is it there?"
"Because that kingdom was built by people who came from the same land as your ancestors."
Raka froze.
"Wait."
He looked at Laras.
"My ancestors?"
Laras turned her face away.
"Not yet."
"Not yet for what?"
"To learn who you really are."
Raka clenched his fists.
"I have the right to know!"
For the first time, Laras looked completely serious.
"If you learn the truth now, you may never be able to return to being the Muhammad Raka you once were."
Her words left Raka silent.
The wind passed through the grassland.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Laras began walking toward the city.
"If you still want answers, follow me."
Raka looked at his grandfather's notebook one more time.
The previously blank page slowly began to change.
New writing appeared across the paper.
Raka read it with a held breath.
The writing was not in Ancient Javanese.
It was not Indonesian either.
Yet somehow, he could understand it.
> "When the heir returns, the first kingdom will fall."
Raka froze.
Then another sentence appeared beneath it.
> "And the blood of Nusantara will once again be spilled."
The wind suddenly stopped.
Raka quickly closed the notebook.
His expression changed.
He no longer wanted only to return home.
Now, he wanted to know who he truly was.
In the distance, the two moons shone above the Kingdom of Arkapura.
And without Raka knowing it...
Inside the royal palace, someone stood before an old painting.
The painting depicted a young man standing in front of a temple. In his hand was a keris-shaped heirloom.
The young man's face looked remarkably similar to Raka's.
The man staring at the painting slowly fell to his knees.
"The heir has returned."
A woman in a black robe stood behind him.
"Then..."
She smiled.
"The war that was delayed for a thousand years can finally begin."