《First Cultivator of the Philippines》


 A Strange dream and encounter

    Life in Cabanatuan City was predictable. Tricycles buzzing, jeepneys honking, and the chatter of street vendors were as constant as the scorching heat. Most days passed without much excitement, a blur of school, chores, and the occasional escape into the world of cultivation novels on my phone.


    That day started like any other. It was a routine trip to Pacific Mall, the city''s slightly worn yet bustling shopping center. A two-story building that had seen better days, its once-bright facade was now faded, with streaks of grime creeping up the walls. The inside wasn''t much better¡ªdull tiles patched with mismatched replacements, fluorescent lights that flickered intermittently, and a faint, ever-present scent of fried street food from a nearby vendor.


    Still, the mall was always alive with people. Families flocked to the discount stores, teenagers lounged around the food court, and salesmen peddled gadgets at small kiosks. For a city like ours, Pacific Mall was more than a shopping destination¡ªit was a meeting place, a hub of daily life.


    But on that day, everything changed.


    I had just withdrawn my allowance from the second-floor ATM near a clothing store. Pocketing the cash, I leaned over the railing and looked down at the activity below. Shoppers milled about, their voices blending into a comforting hum. It was a scene I''d seen countless times, unremarkable in every way.


    Then it happened.


    The hum of the mall vanished, replaced by an eerie silence. I turned, expecting a power outage. But the fluorescent lights above me still buzzed faintly. Something was wrong.


    A strange shimmer rippled through the air, distorting the familiar scene like heat waves rising off asphalt. The colors of the mall began to dull, the once-bright signs and displays fading into muted tones. I blinked, trying to shake off the sudden dizziness.


    When I looked around again, the mall was empty.


    It wasn''t just the people who were gone. The noise, the energy, the very essence of the place had vanished, leaving behind an unsettling stillness. The escalators were frozen mid-motion, the electronic hum of the stores was silent, and even the air felt heavier, as if pressing down on me.


    I took a hesitant step forward, the sound of my footfall echoing unnaturally in the empty space.


    That''s when I saw it.


    A figure descended from the shattered skylight above, landing with a force that shook the floor beneath me. It was an Aswang, its gaunt, leathery form crouched like a predator. Its wings folded behind it, and its glowing red eyes locked onto something¡ªor someone¡ªbehind me.


    Slowly, I turned.


    A young man stood about ten meters away, his back to me. He was an unusual sight in the abandoned mall, dressed in flowing robes that shimmered faintly, as if woven from threads of light. His hair was tied back, revealing a sharp, focused expression.


    In his hand was a sword¡ªa crescent-bladed weapon that seemed to hum with latent energy. It was unlike anything I''d ever seen, its edge glowing faintly, as though it was alive.


    The Aswang snarled, baring its jagged teeth. "You think you can stop me, boy?" it hissed, its voice guttural and filled with contempt.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The young man didn''t reply. He shifted into a stance, the blade of his sword angled downward, his body poised like a coiled spring.


    "Leave now," he said, his voice steady and calm. "This is your last warning."


    The Aswang let out a laugh, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the empty mall. "Bold words for a novice."


    Then, without warning, the creature lunged.


    The young man moved faster than my eyes could follow. His blade flashed, creating arcs of golden light that sliced through the air. The Aswang snarled, dodging the attack with inhuman agility.


    Their clash sent shockwaves rippling through the distorted space. Displays shattered, sending shards of glass flying. The escalator buckled under the force, its metal frame twisting like paper.


    I ducked behind a pillar, my heart pounding in my chest.


    The young man pressed forward, his movements fluid and precise. His blade struck true, cutting deep into the Aswang''s flank. The creature howled in pain, its wings unfurling as it lashed out with its claws.


    He dodged, pivoting with practiced grace, but the Aswang was relentless. It lashed its elongated tongue toward him, the appendage snapping like a whip. The young man barely managed to block it with his sword, the force of the impact sending him skidding backward.


    "You''re stronger than I expected," he admitted, his voice calm despite the beads of sweat forming on his brow.


    "And you''re weaker than I feared," the Aswang shot back, its voice dripping with malice.


    The young man muttered something under his breath, and glowing symbols appeared around him, forming a protective barrier. The Aswang hissed in frustration, its claws striking the barrier with no effect.


    But it wasn''t giving up.


    The creature spread its wings, letting out a piercing screech. The sound shattered the barrier like glass, sending shards of golden light scattering into the air.


    The young man stumbled, clutching his sword tightly as his aura flickered.


    I realized then that he wasn''t just fighting for survival¡ªhe was protecting something.


    He reached into his robes and pulled out a scroll. Even from my hiding place, I could feel the power emanating from it. The parchment was lined with intricate symbols, glowing faintly as if alive.


    The Aswang''s eyes locked onto the scroll, its lips curling into a predatory grin.


    "That''s what you''re here for, isn''t it?" the young man said, his tone sharper now.


    "You''re a mere courier," the Aswang sneered. "Delivering treasures you don''t even understand."


    The young man''s grip on the scroll tightened. "This treasure isn''t for you."


    The Aswang lunged again, faster and more ferocious this time. The young man managed to dodge, but not completely. The creature''s tongue grazed his arm, drawing blood.


    The scroll flew from his grasp, landing just a few feet away from me.


    "Take it!" the young man shouted, his voice filled with urgency. "Run!"


    For a moment, I froze. My mind screamed at me to stay hidden, to stay safe. But something deeper¡ªa strange, almost instinctual pull¡ªcompelled me to move.


    I darted out from behind the pillar and grabbed the scroll. The parchment felt warm, almost alive, as I clutched it to my chest.


    The Aswang''s eyes widened in fury.


    "Foolish boy!" it screeched, its wings unfurling as it launched toward me.


    "Run!" the young man shouted again, his voice echoing through the distorted space.


    I didn''t need to be told twice.


    I bolted, weaving through the wreckage of the mall. The once-familiar space now felt like a labyrinth, twisted and alien. The air grew colder, heavier with each step, and the sound of the Aswang''s pursuit sent chills down my spine.


    The young man fought to hold the creature back, his blade flashing as he intercepted its strikes. But I could hear the strain in his voice, the desperation in his shouts.


    "Keep going!" he yelled, his words punctuated by the clash of metal and claw.


    Ahead, the shimmering barrier that separated this dimension from reality came into view. It was faint, like a mirage, but it was my only chance.


    I sprinted toward it, my lungs burning, the scroll clutched tightly in my hands. Behind me, the sounds of battle grew fainter, muffled by the heavy air.


    Then, with one final push, I broke through the barrier.


    The world snapped back into focus.


    I stumbled onto the second floor of Pacific Mall, collapsing onto the cold tiles. The sounds of normal life rushed back¡ªthe chatter of shoppers, the hum of escalators, and the faint jingle of store advertisements.


    But the scroll in my hands was proof that it wasn''t a dream.


    My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. The young man''s face flashed in my mind, his desperate command echoing in my ears. He had sacrificed everything to protect this scroll.


    And now, it was in my hands.

 Cultivation technique

    The scroll lay in my hands, its surface pulsing faintly with a soft golden glow. The air around it felt charged, almost electric, as though the scroll itself was alive. My fingers traced the intricate symbols etched onto the parchment. I tried to open it, tugging gently at its edges, but the scroll remained sealed, like it was resisting my touch.


    It was locked.


    I racked my brain, searching for some clue or method to unlock it. Then, a memory stirred something I had read in the countless Chinese cultivation novels I consumed in my spare time. In those stories, items of great power often required a drop of blood to recognize their owner.


    The thought sent a chill down my spine. Blood? That felt so¡­ final, like it would bind me to something I couldn¡¯t back out of. But I couldn¡¯t shake the growing sense that this scroll was important, maybe even my only shot at making sense of what had just happened.


    I took a shaky breath and decided against experimenting with it here. This wasn¡¯t the place for reckless decisions. The events at Pacific Mall had left me shaken, and the weight of what I¡¯d witnessed was starting to settle in.


    The fight. The young cultivator. The Aswang.


    I had been lucky or maybe unlucky to survive. The Aswang didn¡¯t see my face, but that didn¡¯t mean I was safe. If the stories from Filipino folklore were true, Aswangs were cunning, predatory creatures with a sharp sense of smell. My clothes were likely soaked with fear and adrenaline, making them an easy trail for the beast to follow.


    I had to burn them.


    But first, I needed to get home.


    I flagged down a passing tricycle driver, giving him my address in Barangay Kapitan Pepe. It wasn¡¯t far, near the old palengke (wet market) and the bustling night market. Cabanatuan City might be called a city, but it¡¯s nothing like Manila¡¯s towering skyscrapers and sprawling highways. It¡¯s more quiet here, a mix of old charm and urban sprawl, with endless markets and streets buzzing with tricycles.


    The ride home felt like an eternity. My mind raced with everything that had happened, replaying the fight in vivid detail. The cultivator¡¯s desperate struggle, his glowing blade, and the words he spoke before shoving the scroll into my hands. Why me?


    When I finally reached home, I handed the driver some cash and hurried inside. Our house was modest but sturdy, a two-story structure with a weathered roof and thick wooden beams that creaked when the wind blew too hard. My grandparents were out for the evening, probably visiting neighbors or playing cards at the barangay hall.


    I climbed the stairs to my room on the second floor, shut the door behind me, and threw my soiled clothes into a plastic bag. I¡¯d deal with burning them later. Right now, my focus was on the scroll.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I sat on the edge of my bed, the scroll resting on my lap. It was strange that this relic from another world in such an ordinary place. The glow had dimmed, but I could still feel its pull, like it was calling to me.


    I steeled myself and reached for the small utility knife on my desk. A single drop of blood and that¡¯s all it would take, right?


    My hand shook as I made a tiny cut on my fingertip. The pain was sharp but brief, and I watched as a bead of blood formed and fell onto the scroll¡¯s surface.


    The effect was immediate.


    The scroll lit up like a firework, bathing the room in golden light. The seals that had once held it shut unraveled, their patterns dissolving into the air like mist. Slowly, the parchment unrolled, revealing rows of intricate Chinese characters that seemed to shimmer with life.


    I couldn¡¯t read Chinese. Not even a single word. But as I stared at the glowing text, something incredible happened.


    The words resonated with me.


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    It wasn¡¯t that I understood the words in the traditional sense; rather, their essence and their meaning seeped directly into my mind. What I received felt vast, like an entire book¡¯s worth of knowledge, even though the scroll itself appeared no larger than a simple two-page document. It was as if the scroll was speaking directly to my soul, bypassing the need for language altogether.


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    At the top of the parchment, bold and unyielding, were three characters. Their presence alone seemed to radiate authority and power. The scroll¡¯s title formed in my mind, as clear as if it had been written in Filipino:


    "Divine Vessel Ascension Method."


    My heart pounded as I continued to absorb the scroll¡¯s contents. It was an ancient manual, a guide to cultivating qi or ki, as I¡¯d read in novels. It described qi as a life force, an energy that flows through all living things and connects them to the universe. By cultivating it, a person could enhance their physical and spiritual capabilities, achieving strength far beyond normal human limits.


    I couldn¡¯t resist trying it.


    The manual¡¯s instructions were vivid in my mind, as though the scroll itself was guiding me. I sat cross-legged on the floor, imitating the meditation posture I had seen in countless manhua illustrations.


    It wasn¡¯t comfortable. My knees protested, and my back ached almost immediately. Clearly, I wasn¡¯t built for this yet. Still, I pressed on, focusing on my breathing as the scroll instructed.


    Inhale. Hold. Exhale.


    It felt silly at first, like I was just sitting there pretending to be something I wasn¡¯t. But then, something shifted.


    The air around me grew still. A faint warmth spread through my chest, radiating outward. It was subtle at first, like the feeling of sunlight on your skin. But as I continued, the sensation deepened, transforming into a gentle but persistent current flowing through my body.


    Energy.


    I opened my eyes, startled. Everything looked sharper clearer. The dim corners of my room were now vivid, every shadow and speck of dust in stark detail. I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the distant chirping of crickets outside. My senses had heightened, and my mind felt sharper, more attuned.


    It worked.


    It actually worked.


    I stared at the scroll, a mix of awe and fear coursing through me. The Divine Vessel Ascension Method was real, and it had already begun to change me.


    But what did that mean for my future?


    As the golden glow of the scroll dimmed, leaving my room bathed in moonlight, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that my life had just been rewritten. There was no going back now.


    And for the first time, I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good thing or not.

 Intruder

    The night deepened over Barangay Kapitan Pepe, a calm veil settling over its quiet streets. Inside his modest second-floor room, Jiro sat cross-legged on the floor, his body rigid with concentration. The faint glow of the mysterious scroll bathed the room in a soft light, highlighting the intensity on his face as he worked to follow its cryptic instructions.


    Energy swirled faintly around him, guided by his attempts to draw it toward his dantian. Despite his limited understanding, the scroll seemed to whisper instructions directly to his soul. Each breath felt like a step closer to something extraordinary.


    He was so engrossed in his cultivation that he didn¡¯t notice the danger creeping toward his home.


    The Aswang, cloaked in shadows, slithered and crawled toward the house. Its grotesque form, half-human and half-beast, moved with an unsettling silence. Only the faint clinking of its claws against the ground betrayed its presence. The scent of blood, a faint remnant from the injured disciple¡¯s desperate fight that led it unerringly to Jiro.


    It crouched at the edge of the property, eyes glowing like embers. The Aswang paused, sniffing the air. A low growl rumbled in its throat.


    ¡°This is the scent... the scent of the one who holds it,¡± the Aswang rasped, a wicked smile spreading across its malformed face. ¡°The scroll... and the fool who keeps it.¡±


    As it approached the house, its claws scraped against the walls, leaving long, jagged marks. It circled the property, probing for weaknesses.


    But as it moved closer, something unexpected happened.


    A faint, golden sigil etched into the ground outside the house began to glow. The ancient symbols, written in Baybayin script, came alive with radiant energy. The Aswang froze, its expression twisting into one of fear and rage.


    ¡°No... not them,¡± it hissed. ¡°Not here.¡±


    The sigil flared brightly, and the ground beneath it erupted in flames. From the fiery burst emerged a towering figure, shrouded in an aura of intense heat. The deity¡¯s form was humanoid yet otherworldly, its eyes blazing with an inner fire that seemed to pierce the night. In one hand, it wielded a staff tipped with a flame-shaped crystal that pulsed with searing energy.


    ¡°Ignorant creature,¡± the deity boomed, its voice reverberating like a rolling thunderstorm. ¡°Did you truly believe you could trespass here without consequence?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Aswang screeched, baring its fangs. Despite its fear, it lunged toward the deity, its claws aiming for a swift, lethal strike. But the deity was faster.


    With a sweep of its staff, the deity unleashed a torrent of flames. The fire roared to life, spiraling toward the Aswang with blinding speed. The creature twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the blaze, but the heat singed its flesh, leaving blackened marks across its twisted body.


    The Aswang landed awkwardly, snarling in pain. Its eyes darted around, searching for an escape.


    ¡°You cannot run,¡± the deity declared, stepping forward. Each step sent sparks flying, and the ground beneath its feet sizzled.


    The Aswang lunged again, this time feinting to the left before slashing at the deity¡¯s side. Its claws raked through the air, only to collide with a fiery barrier that erupted from the deity¡¯s staff. The force of the impact sent the Aswang tumbling backward, smoke rising from its scorched claws.


    Realizing it was outmatched, the Aswang tried a different approach. It hissed an incantation, its voice guttural and filled with malice. Shadows coalesced around it, forming jagged tendrils that lashed out toward the deity.


    The deity raised its staff, and a dome of fire burst forth, incinerating the shadowy tendrils before they could reach it. The flames danced and swirled, as though alive, and began closing in on the Aswang.


    ¡°Your kind has plagued the mortals for too long,¡± the deity said, its tone resolute. ¡°But this is where your terror ends.¡±


    The Aswang screeched in desperation, its voice echoing through the night. ¡°You cannot kill us all! We will endure! We always have!¡±


    The deity¡¯s eyes narrowed, the flames around it intensifying. With a thrust of its staff, a column of fire shot toward the Aswang, engulfing it completely. The creature¡¯s screams echoed briefly before fading into silence.


    When the flames subsided, all that remained was ash scattered across the ground.


    The deity turned its gaze toward the house, where Jiro remained oblivious, lost in his meditation. The scroll¡¯s glow pulsed faintly, as if responding to the events outside.


    From the rooftop, another figure emerged which is a man dressed in simple yet elegant garb, his presence radiating calm authority. He nodded toward the deity, raising a hand in a silent signal.


    The deity inclined its head in acknowledgment, the flames around it dimming. Slowly, it dissolved into the air, leaving only faint scorch marks on the ground where it had stood.


    The man lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Jiro¡¯s room. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.


    ¡°He is unaware... for now,¡± the man murmured. ¡°But his path is set. May the heavens guide him.¡±


    With that, the man leapt gracefully from the roof, disappearing into the night without a sound.


    Inside, Jiro let out a deep breath, his body tingling from the faint energy he had managed to gather. He opened his eyes, feeling more attuned to his surroundings. The room seemed sharper, clearer. He could see the smallest details and the fine cracks in the walls, the faint scratches on his desk, even the dust motes floating in the air.


    ¡°I did it,¡± he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. ¡°It¡¯s real.¡±


    But outside, the remnants of the battle served as a silent warning: the world he had stumbled into was far more dangerous than he could imagine. And the protectors who watched over it were only the beginning.

 Body tempering realm

    The blaring sound of my alarm clock yanked me from the strange dream I was having. My hand flailed around until I finally found the button to shut it off. ¡°Five more minutes¡­¡± I muttered, still half-asleep. But no matter how hard I tried to drift back into slumber, the dream wouldn¡¯t let me.


    It had started out as something straight out of a cultivation novel. I was flying on a sword, wind whipping through my hair, a sense of freedom so intense it felt real. But then, everything turned dark. The skies blackened, and I found myself face-to-face with the Aswang, its glowing eyes and twisted grin seared into my memory.


    The dream was more of a nightmare by the end, and it left a sour taste in my mouth as I stumbled out of bed.


    As I stood under the shower¡¯s stream, my thoughts drifted to the events of last night. The fight between the disciple and the Aswang had been shocking enough, but what happened outside my house and tought that if it was even real? I didn¡¯t see the battle myself, but I knew something dangerous was out there.


    ¡°I need to burn those clothes,¡± I muttered to myself. ¡°If that thing found me because of them¡­¡± The thought of Lolo and Lola being hurt because of my carelessness made my stomach churn.


    The morning routine passed in a blur. Before I knew it, I was walking toward the tricycle terminal. The usual sounds of morning commuters, engines revving, drivers calling out destinations that made everything feel normal again.


    ¡°Westway University Philippines po,¡± I said as I climbed into the tricycle.


    The ride wasn¡¯t long, and soon enough, the towering gates of Westway came into view. The campus was massive, one of the biggest private schools in Cabanatuan City. As I walked to class, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was¡­ off.


    When I stepped into the classroom, the morning light streaming through the windows momentarily blinded me. I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes, trying to adjust. That¡¯s when I saw them, small, glowing red dots, floating around some of my classmates.


    I froze, my breath catching. ¡°What the¡­?¡± I whispered under my breath.


    I rubbed my eyes again, and just like that, the dots were gone. For a moment, I thought I¡¯d imagined it, but then I caught a glance from Jose.


    Jose was one of my closest friends, and honestly, the guy looked like he belonged in a magazine. Tall, muscular, and effortlessly good-looking, he had this charm that made everyone gravitate toward him.


    ¡°You saw something, didn¡¯t you?¡± he asked, leaning over with that signature grin of his.


    I hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ maybe I¡¯m just tired.¡±


    Jose didn¡¯t push, but the look in his eyes said he knew more than he let on.


    The rest of the morning passed in the usual blur of lectures and notes. The professors droned on about circuits and systems, typical for an electronics engineering course. The only exciting thing was the gossip about a new professor joining our department after the sudden death of the previous one.


    When the lunch bell rang, I left the classroom alone, heading toward the cafeteria. The air was filled with the usual chatter, laughter, and the clatter of trays and utensils.


    But my path was blocked.


    Ramil, the campus bully, stepped into my way. Everyone knew him. He wasn¡¯t just a troublemaker, he was also a local arnis champion, and he loved to show off his strength.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± he said, smirking. ¡°If it isn¡¯t Jiro. You look like you¡¯re in a hurry. Where¡¯re you off to?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Just trying to eat, Ramil.¡±


    He cracked his knuckles, the sound loud enough to make me flinch. ¡°I don¡¯t like your face today. Let¡¯s fix that.¡±


    His fist came flying at me faster than I expected, but somehow, I dodged. It wasn¡¯t even conscious that my body just moved on its own.


    Ramil growled and swung again, but it was like time slowed down. I could see his movements clearly, predict where his fists were going, and step aside without effort.


    A crowd started gathering, but I didn¡¯t want a scene.


    ¡°I¡¯m not fighting you,¡± I said, stepping back.


    ¡°Coward!¡± he spat, lunging again.


    This time, I turned and walked away, leaving him fuming in the middle of the cafeteria. My heart was racing, but not from fear but from excitement. I couldn¡¯t believe what I¡¯d just done.


    As the day wound down, I made my way home, taking a shortcut through one of the quieter alleys. The air felt heavy, almost oppressive, and a shiver ran down my spine.


    Something wasn¡¯t right.


    I quickened my pace, my footsteps echoing off the walls of the narrow alley. The eerie feeling followed me, wrapping around me like a cold shadow. Just as I reached the end of the alley, I spotted Jose waiting near the jeepney stop.


    The unease disappeared instantly, replaced by relief.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Jose called, waving casually.


    I nodded, grateful for his presence even though I couldn¡¯t explain why.


    That night, after dinner, I locked myself in my room and pulled out the scroll. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I tried to focus on the cultivation technique again. The energy flowed smoothly this time, filling my body with warmth and a faint hum of power.


    But while I meditated, something else was happening outside.


    The moon hung low in the night sky as a small, grotesque figure crept into the alley where I¡¯d walked earlier. Its twisted body resembled that of an infant, but its limbs were deformed, and its glowing red eyes radiated malice.


    A tiyanak.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I¡¯d read stories about them, the creatures born from unborn children who were abandoned by their parents. They were said to haunt the living, driven by rage and sorrow.


    The tiyanak sniffed the air, its sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. ¡°His blood¡­ it reeks of power,¡± it hissed.


    Before it could move further, a figure stepped out from the shadows. Jose.


    ¡°You¡¯re persistent,¡± Jose said calmly, his voice low but steady.


    The tiyanak snarled, crouching as if ready to pounce. ¡°Why do you protect him? His blood smells of Bathala¡¯s blessing. You cannot shield him forever.¡±


    Jose smiled faintly. ¡°Maybe not. But tonight, you¡¯ll leave him alone.¡±


    The tiyanak growled, its body trembling with rage. ¡°You¡¯re no god. You¡¯re just a man.¡±


    Jose¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°A man is all it takes to stop you.¡±


    The creature hesitated, its glowing eyes flicking between Jose and the direction of my house. With a final, guttural hiss, it slinked back into the darkness, its twisted form disappearing into the shadows.


    As the alley fell silent once more, Jose turned his head slightly, looking toward my home.


    ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out soon enough,¡± he murmured, his voice barely audible in the night.


    ~~~~~


    Back on the roof, the man who had eradicated the aswang stood in silent contemplation, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The moonlight gleamed faintly off his intricately embroidered black robes, the patterns almost shimmering as though alive. With a slight movement, he stepped forward and disappeared into thin air, leaving only a faint ripple in his wake.


    Moments later, he reappeared in a grand chamber filled with an air of authority and mystery. The room was vast, its walls lined with towering shelves of ancient scrolls and relics that glowed softly, exuding power and history. In the center was an ornate chair carved from dark wood and inlaid with gold, sitting upon a raised platform. He settled into the chair with an ease that came from years of command. His posture was regal, his presence commanding.


    Seated below the platform were other figures, each cloaked in shadows, their faces partially obscured. Despite their powerful auras, none dared speak out of turn. The man¡¯s piercing gaze swept across the room, and his voice cut through the silence like a blade.


    ¡°The boy must be protected,¡± he said, his tone calm but authoritative. ¡°Jiro is awakening. The signs are clear. His potential could tip the balance.¡±


    From the shadows, a figure stepped forward. It was Jose, clad in a sleek, black jacket. Though his expression was calm, there was a hint of tension in his eyes. He stood tall, his confidence tempered by respect for the man seated before him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been observing him,¡± Jose said. ¡°He¡¯s starting to see beyond the veil. If his third eye fully opens, he¡¯ll begin to understand the truth.¡±


    The man on the chair leaned back slightly, his fingers steepled in thought. ¡°He is far from ready. And that makes him vulnerable. The aswang¡¯s attack may not be the last.¡± He paused, his gaze locking onto Jose. ¡°Ensure he remains untouched. His awakening must not be interrupted.¡±


    Jose gave a slight nod, his demeanor shifting into one of resolve. ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll keep watch. But if his presence becomes known to others...¡±


    ¡°Then you will do whatever is necessary to keep him alive,¡± the man said firmly. ¡°You have your orders.¡±


    Without another word, Jose raised his arm. The sigil on his forearm flared to life, its glowing lines casting faint shadows across the chamber. The energy pulsed rhythmically, a tangible force of power. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Jose vanished, the sigil on his arm fading along with him.


    Outside Jiro¡¯s house, Jose reappeared silently, the faint hum of the protective sigil still resonating on his skin. He approached the property, his movements careful and deliberate. With a practiced hand, he began inscribing glowing symbols in the air, each one fading into invisibility as soon as it was drawn. A protective barrier formed around the house, layered and intricate, a silent sentinel against any incoming threats.


    As he worked, a flicker of movement from the second floor caught his attention. He looked up and saw the faint outline of an elderly man through the window. Jiro¡¯s grandfather, half-awake, stirred in his bed. For a brief moment, the old man¡¯s eyes opened and seemed to focus directly on Jose¡¯s location outside the house. Despite the barrier and the darkness, his gaze held a knowing depth.


    The moment passed as quickly as it came. The old man closed his eyes once more, returning to his sleep.


    Jose exhaled softly, completing the final symbol. The sigil on his forearm dimmed and disappeared. The barrier was now fully in place, cloaking the house in a protective shroud that would keep any danger at bay for now.


    He stood silently for a moment, his eyes fixed on the house. Then, without a sound, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving no trace of his presence. Upstairs, Jiro remained lost in his meditation, completely unaware of the forces moving to protect him.


    ~~~~~


    The energy swirled within me like a gentle but relentless current. I sat cross-legged on my bed, the dim light of my room casting long shadows across the walls. My breathing slowed as I focused on the scroll¡¯s teachings, my hands resting on my knees, palms upward.


    The technique was unlike anything I had ever imagined. The words of the scroll weren¡¯t traditional instructions but felt like a direct imprint on my mind, guiding me step by step. I imagined the energy pooling in my core, the dantian, as the scroll called it.


    ¡°Circulate it slowly,¡± I murmured to myself, repeating what I understood from the manual. I visualized the energy, warm and vibrant, spiraling in a steady motion. It wasn¡¯t easy; every time I lost focus, the flow would falter, and I¡¯d have to start again.


    The sensation was strange yet thrilling. The more I persisted, the more I felt my body responding. A faint hum echoed in my ears, as though the world around me had quieted down to let me concentrate.


    I wasn¡¯t aware of what was happening outside.


    If I¡¯d known, I might have been shaken out of my trance: Jose, who had earlier saved me from something I didn¡¯t even know existed, stood outside, placing sigils around my home. He traced glowing patterns in the air, his face calm but focused.


    A faint rustling from within the house caught his attention. From a window on the second floor, my grandfather stirred in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering open just slightly. His gaze flicked toward Jose, and for a fleeting moment, something unspoken seemed to pass between them. Then, just as quickly, my grandfather¡¯s eyes closed, his breathing evening out.


    Jose glanced back at the house, his hand lowering as the final sigil settled into place. The air shimmered faintly before returning to normal, as if nothing had happened.


    But I was still in my room, lost in the rhythm of cultivating. The energy in my dantian began to grow denser, compacting into something solid.


    ¡°This must be it,¡± I thought, my heart pounding with excitement.


    The scroll¡¯s guidance was subtle yet persistent. I followed it as best as I could, drawing in more of the surrounding energy. My body ached at first, as though resisting the process, but slowly, the discomfort faded.


    Time felt meaningless in that moment. Minutes? Hours? I couldn¡¯t tell. All I knew was the energy within me, which now hummed like a tightly coiled spring.


    And then, something shifted.


    It was like a dam breaking. The energy in my dantian surged, filling me with a newfound strength. My senses sharpened instantly. I could feel the faintest draft against my skin, hear the creak of the wooden frame of my bed, and even see the tiniest specks of dust in the farthest corner of the room.


    ¡°Minor success¡­¡± I breathed. I had reached the Body Tempering Realm.


    The realization sent a thrill through me. My body felt stronger, more alive, as though I could take on the world.


    As I marveled at the transformation, the scroll on my bed began to glow faintly. I watched, wide-eyed, as a faint mist emerged from it, wrapping itself around me.


    The knowledge came suddenly, almost overwhelming me. Images and sensations flooded my mind, a series of steps, fluid and precise, each movement light and agile. The technique was meant for dodging, but it was more than that. It was a way of moving with such grace and silence that one¡¯s steps could rival a cat¡¯s.


    The name came unbidden, as if the scroll itself whispered it into my ear: Phantom Prowl Steps.


    I stumbled to my feet, eager to try it out. The technique felt natural, as though it had been etched into my body. I took a step forward, focusing on the essence of the movement. My foot landed silently, my balance perfect.


    Step after step, I moved around the room, my excitement growing. I was faster, more precise, and felt like I was gliding over the floor.


    ¡°This is amazing,¡± I muttered, coming to a stop.


    The glow of the scroll faded, but the knowledge remained firmly in my mind. I couldn¡¯t help but smile. This was only the beginning.


    What I didn¡¯t know was that my world was already changing in ways I couldn¡¯t imagine. Forces beyond my understanding were moving, and Jose was out there, ensuring I would survive to see it.

 First Battle as a Cultivator

    The weekend had arrived, and with no classes to occupy my time, I felt the itch to test myself, to push the boundaries of what I had discovered about my newfound strength. The scroll, the cultivation techniques, and the energy I could now feel coursing through my body were all calling me to explore and grow. I decided on an isolated spot for training: the woods in Barangay San Juan, a quiet area in the municipality of Aliaga. The woods were dense with trees and sparsely populated which is a perfect place to hone my skills without prying eyes.


    As I arrived at the woods, the air was fresh and alive with the faint hum of nature. The canopy of trees filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the ground. I walked deeper, following a small dirt trail until I was surrounded by the thick embrace of the forest. Here, I could be alone. Here, I could focus.


    I began practicing the Phantom Prowl Steps, the movement technique gifted by the scroll. It wasn¡¯t just about moving fast; it was about moving with precision, grace, and silence. The technique made me feel like a predator stalking its prey. My steps became lighter, and with each stride, I could feel my connection to the ground sharpening. I practiced darting between trees, imagining myself evading invisible enemies. My movements became smoother as I learned to trust the energy coursing through me, letting it guide my body.


    After hours of perfecting my movements, I decided to test my raw strength. Gathering energy into my right hand, I concentrated, channeling the ki into a single point. The sensation was electrifying, as though I held a small storm in my palm. I pulled back my arm and drove my fist into the trunk of a sturdy tree.


    The impact was immediate. A deep dent formed in the bark, splinters flying in every direction. The tree shook, leaves falling like confetti. My hand stung from the force, but the sight of the damage filled me with exhilaration. This wasn¡¯t just fantasy anymore. I was changing and becoming something greater.


    But the thrill was short-lived. A wave of fatigue washed over me. My energy reserves were nearly depleted. I was reminded of my humble position as the lowest rank in the cultivation world, barely at the Body Tempering Realm. My progress, while exciting, was just the beginning of a very long journey.


    I sat cross-legged under the tree I had just punched, closing my eyes to meditate and recover my energy. The forest was quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. As I focused on circulating my energy back into my dantian, the world around me began to fade. I felt the energy flow through my body, warm and revitalizing, like a gentle current restoring life to a parched riverbed.


    Then, the atmosphere shifted.


    A cold sensation prickled the back of my neck, and the serene hum of the woods turned into an oppressive silence. My breathing hitched, and an inexplicable dread began to settle in my chest. Even with my eyes closed, I could see. No, sense the world around me. It was as if my awareness had expanded beyond my physical form, revealing the shapes of trees, the brush, and something else. Something wrong.


    A sharp, stabbing pain erupted in my forehead, forcing me to wince and clutch my head. It was as though something or someone was trying to send me a warning. I stopped meditating and opened my eyes. My vision blurred momentarily, but as it cleared, I saw it: a silhouette darting among the trees.


    At first, I thought it was a trick of the light. But then I heard it.


    The sound of an infant¡¯s cry echoed through the woods, chilling and unnatural. It was faint at first, almost distant, but it grew louder, more piercing, as if the source was drawing closer. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and my heartbeat quickened.


    My eyes darted around, searching for the source of the sound. And then I saw it, a small figure, pale and ghastly, moving with unnatural speed. It was unmistakably shaped like a baby but grotesquely wrong. Its skin was a sickly gray, and its eyes glowed faintly with a malevolent light. Its movements were jerky, almost like a marionette controlled by invisible strings.


    I stood up, backing away instinctively, my body tensed and ready to run. But the creature didn¡¯t approach me immediately. It began circling, its movements erratic, like a predator sizing up its prey. The cries grew louder, overlapping into a cacophony of wails that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.


    I remembered the stories of the Tiyanak, creatures born from the spirits of abandoned or unborn children. In the folklore, they were said to lure victims with the cries of a baby, only to reveal their monstrous form before attacking. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.


    ¡°Stay calm,¡± I whispered to myself, though my voice trembled. I tried to remember what I had read about them. Tiyanak were fast, cunning, and relentless. If I panicked, I¡¯d be done for.


    The Tiyanak stopped its circling, tilting its head unnaturally as it stared at me. Its mouth twisted into a grotesque grin, revealing rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. Without warning, it lunged.


    I barely had time to react. Instinct took over as I activated the Phantom Prowl Steps, my body moving faster than I thought possible. I sidestepped its attack, feeling the rush of air as its claws swiped past me. It hit the ground, spinning around with a guttural growl. I could feel the blood draining from my face. This wasn¡¯t just a creature, it was a predator, and I was its prey.


    Gathering what little energy I had left, I prepared to defend myself. I didn¡¯t have any real combat techniques yet, but I could at least try to use the raw strength I had gained. The Tiyanak lunged again, and this time I retaliated, throwing a punch aimed at its center mass. My fist connected, and the creature was thrown back, crashing into a nearby tree.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    I didn¡¯t wait to see if it would recover. My legs moved on their own as I dashed deeper into the woods, my heart pounding like a drum. The cries followed me, echoing through the trees, relentless and haunting. No matter how fast I ran, the sound seemed to grow louder.


    Then, just as suddenly as it began, the cries stopped.


    I froze, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. The silence was deafening, and the forest felt heavier, darker, as though the very air was conspiring against me. I turned slowly, scanning my surroundings, but the Tiyanak was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Is it... gone? Is it the same one from before?¡± I muttered, though I didn¡¯t believe it for a second.


    "Hahahaha, I shouldn''t have gone here. Walangyang buhay to!" I exclaimed in my head in regret.


    A rustle in the bushes to my left made me spin around, my fists raised defensively. But it wasn¡¯t the Tiyanak. A bird fluttered out, startled by my presence. I let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over me.


    But deep down, I knew this wasn¡¯t over.


    I could feel the pounding of my heart echoing in my ears as the Tiyanak began its assault. Its movements were a blur, darting from shadow to shadow with an unnatural speed that made it impossible to track. Fear clawed at my chest, threatening to consume me whole.


    I tried to focus, to gather my thoughts, but the infant-like cries of the Tiyanak rang out again, piercing and distorted, shattering any semblance of calm I could muster. My instincts screamed at me to run, and I obeyed without hesitation. I sprinted through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches and jumping over roots that jutted out from the uneven ground.


    The Tiyanak was relentless. Every time I thought I had gained some distance, it would appear just at the edge of my vision, a blur of movement that sent shivers down my spine. Its cries echoed unnaturally, sounding closer one moment and farther away the next, as though the forest itself conspired to confuse me.


    My breathing grew ragged as I pushed myself to keep running. The forest, which had seemed serene and welcoming earlier, now felt like an endless maze of shadows and malice. I stumbled on a loose rock, barely managing to keep my balance, but the brief falter cost me. The Tiyanak lunged out of the darkness, its claws raking across my arm.


    The pain was sharp and immediate, like a searing brand tearing through my flesh. I cried out, clutching my bleeding arm as I stumbled forward and fell to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and for a moment, I lay there gasping, my vision blurred by pain and fear.


    I turned to face my attacker, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. This time, I saw it clearly.


    The creature was horrifying, a grotesque parody of an infant. Its skin was a mottled brown, its texture rough and leathery like dried bark. Long, unkempt hair hung down in tangled strands, framing a face that was a nightmarish blend of human and beast. Its eyes glowed faintly, a sickly yellow light that seemed to pierce through the darkness. And its teeth is sharp, jagged things, gleamed as it grinned, a soundless mockery of joy. Its claws, coated in my blood, dripped ominously.


    For a moment, I was paralyzed by the sheer terror of it. This was the monster from the myths. The Tiyanak. The stories never did it justice. Seeing it here, in the flesh, was a terror I could never have prepared for.


    It circled me, its movements slow and deliberate now, as though savoring the moment. Its cries had stopped, replaced by a low, guttural growl that rumbled deep in its throat. I clutched my wounded arm, the pain burning like fire, and tried to think of a way out. But my mind was blank, consumed by the primal fear of facing something so utterly unnatural.


    But then, something changed.


    The sharp pain in my forehead returned, more intense this time. It was as if my body was forcing me to snap out of my fear, to act. My thoughts, once muddled, began to clear. A strange sensation coursed through me, a warmth that spread from my dantian, the center of my energy, to the rest of my body. I felt a surge of determination, an instinctive realization: If I didn¡¯t fight back now, this would be my end.


    I forced myself to stand, my legs trembling but steadying as I planted my feet firmly on the ground. I wasn¡¯t ready for this and I knew that but survival demanded that I try. The scroll¡¯s teachings came flooding back to me. The Phantom Prowl Steps. The energy I could channel into my strikes. This wasn¡¯t just a fantasy anymore. This was real. And I had to use it.


    The Tiyanak seemed to sense the shift in my resolve. It snarled and crouched low, readying itself to pounce. I mirrored its stance, my body tensed like a coiled spring. The forest around us seemed to hold its breath, the air heavy with tension.


    When it lunged, I was ready.


    With a burst of speed, I activated the Phantom Prowl Steps, dodging to the side just as its claws slashed through the air where I had been standing. The movement was instinctive, fluid, and precise. My heart raced as I realized I had evaded it. The Tiyanak snarled in frustration, spinning around for another attack.


    We danced through the forest, the creature relentless in its pursuit, but my movements kept me just out of its reach. I darted between trees, using them as shields, and leapt over obstacles with a newfound agility. Each step felt more natural than the last, as though my body was finally beginning to understand the technique.


    But I couldn¡¯t keep this up forever. My energy was draining fast, and the wound on my arm throbbed with every movement. I needed to end this.


    I stopped abruptly, skidding to a halt in a small clearing. The Tiyanak paused too, confused by my sudden stillness. It hissed, baring its teeth, and began to circle me again. I steadied my breathing, focusing all my remaining energy into my right hand. I could feel the ki gathering there, a powerful current that made my arm feel like it was on fire.


    The Tiyanak lunged once more, its claws outstretched, its monstrous face twisted in rage.


    This time, I didn¡¯t dodge.


    I waited until the last possible moment, then pivoted on my heel, using the Phantom Prowl Steps to sidestep its attack. The creature¡¯s momentum carried it forward, leaving it exposed. I didn¡¯t hesitate. With all the energy I had gathered, I swung my fist with everything I had.


    My punch connected with the Tiyanak¡¯s chest, and the impact was explosive. A shockwave rippled outward, and the creature was sent flying, crashing into a tree with a sickening thud. It let out a final, ear-piercing wail before collapsing to the ground, motionless.


    I staggered backward, my vision swimming as the last of my energy drained away. My arm throbbed, my body ached, but I was alive. The forest was silent once more, the oppressive weight in the air lifting as though the darkness had been banished.


    I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath, and looked at the creature¡¯s lifeless form. The terror was still there, lurking at the edges of my mind, but so was something else. Pride. I had faced the unimaginable and survived.


    "At last, I won!" I said happily.


    As I sat there, the faintest hint of dawn began to creep through the trees, bathing the forest in a soft, golden light. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I felt hope.

 Tikbalang

    After I stumbled home that evening, nursing the fresh scratch on my arm from my earlier encounter with the tiyanak, my grandparents immediately noticed.


    ¡°Jiro! What happened to you?¡± my grandmother exclaimed, rushing to my side with a look of pure worry. She reached for my arm, carefully inspecting the wound. My grandfather, on the other hand, sat back in his usual wooden rocking chair, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.


    ¡°Did someone bully you at school?¡± he asked, his voice gruff but laced with genuine concern.


    I hesitated for a moment. Telling them the truth was not an option. They would not believe me, and even if they did, it would only put them in danger. So, I forced a laugh, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that, Lolo. I, uh, tripped over a root. You know how clumsy I can be.¡± I offered what I hoped was a convincing smile.


    Both of them exchanged glances. My grandmother did not look convinced but sighed, patting my shoulder. ¡°You need to be careful, anak. These wounds don¡¯t heal as quickly as they used to when you were younger. Let me get some ointment.¡±


    I nodded, thankful they did not press further. ¡°Thanks, Lola. I¡¯ll be more careful next time.¡±


    Since that day, something had undeniably shifted in me. It was not just the lingering soreness from the fight; it was deeper, almost instinctual. I could not ignore the pull to grow stronger. After school, I found myself heading back to the woods in Barangay San Juan to train.


    The isolation of the woods was perfect. Towering trees shielded the area from the afternoon sun, and the air carried a hushed stillness. I could practice my Phantom Prowl Steps without distractions. I would sprint from tree to tree, weaving between them as silently as I could, trying to perfect my footing and timing.


    One afternoon, I decided to test my energy again. Standing before a thick tree, I channeled all the qi I could muster into my right fist, watching as faint wisps of energy coiled around my hand. I punched the tree with everything I had.


    The bark cracked slightly, a small dent forming where my fist landed. I grinned triumphantly but quickly winced as I felt my energy drain.


    ¡°Still not there yet,¡± I muttered, plopping down on a nearby rock to meditate.


    I closed my eyes and started circulating the energy into my dantian. The process had become smoother since my first attempt, but there was always this persistent ache in my forehead whenever I meditated deeply. It was sharp, like something was trying to force its way out.


    ¡°What the heck is this? Is this normal?¡± I grumbled to myself, massaging my temples. ¡°The novels didn¡¯t say anything about your head hurting like crazy. What am I, growing a third eye?¡± I chuckled nervously at my own joke but couldn¡¯t shake the unsettling thought.


    One late afternoon, as I was practicing my movement techniques, I felt it. A presence. The air grew heavy, and my instincts kicked in. My muscles tensed as I scanned the area, expecting another tiyanak or worse.


    Instead, I spotted it. A towering figure stood a few meters away, partially hidden behind a tree. It was a tikbalang.


    Its horse-like face watched me with a curious expression, its mane swaying slightly in the breeze. The body was humanoid but enormous, with muscles that seemed carved from stone. Its fur glinted golden in the dappled sunlight.


    ¡°What the heck,¡± I whispered, blinking.


    The tikbalang tilted its head as if it had heard me, its ears twitching. Then, to my utter surprise, it sat down. Just like that.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I blurted out before I could stop myself.


    The tikbalang didn¡¯t reply. It just continued to watch me, its expression unreadable. I tried to focus on my training, but its unrelenting stare made me self-conscious.


    ¡°You know,¡± I said, pointing at it, ¡°it¡¯s kinda rude to just watch someone like that. Ever heard of personal space?¡±


    The tikbalang neighed softly, which I couldn¡¯t tell was a laugh or an insult. Either way, it didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Fine, whatever,¡± I muttered, trying to ignore it. I resumed practicing my Phantom Prowl Steps, sprinting between the trees and dodging imaginary attacks. Every now and then, I would glance over my shoulder, and it was still there, its head following my every move.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    At one point, I misstepped and tripped over a root, landing face-first in the dirt. The tikbalang let out a loud snort.


    ¡°Are you laughing at me?¡± I shot back, sitting up and glaring at it.


    It neighed again, definitely louder this time.


    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± I muttered, brushing dirt off my clothes.


    As the sun began to set, the tikbalang finally stood, towering over me. It looked at me for a long moment, then raised a hand¡ªor hoof?¡ªand pointed to my forehead.


    ¡°What? What¡¯s wrong with my forehead?¡± I asked, touching it instinctively. The tikbalang didn¡¯t answer. It simply turned and disappeared into the trees, its massive form blending effortlessly with the shadows.


    I sat there for a while, dumbfounded.


    ¡°Great. Now I have tikbalangs judging my training. What¡¯s next? A kapre giving me pointers on punching?¡±


    Still, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the tikbalang hadn¡¯t come by accident. It had been observing me, maybe even testing me. The way it pointed to my forehead¡­ was it trying to tell me something?


    I shook my head, deciding to pack it in for the day. The woods were starting to feel a little too crowded for comfort.


    The next day, I decided to return to the woods to train again. After yesterday¡¯s strange encounter with the tikbalang, I was half-hoping it wouldn¡¯t show up. I mean, sure, it didn¡¯t attack me or anything, but its intense staring was more unnerving than the tiyanak¡¯s ambush. At least the tiyanak had the decency to try to kill me outright.


    As I reached my usual spot, I stretched my arms and cracked my neck. ¡°Alright, focus. No distractions today.¡±


    I started with the basics, weaving through the trees using Phantom Prowl Steps. My movements felt more fluid now, my confidence growing with every pass. Just as I was getting into the rhythm, I felt it.


    That presence again.


    I stopped dead in my tracks, glancing around. And there it was.


    The tikbalang was back.


    This time, it was sitting cross-legged on the ground, leaning casually against a tree, as if it had all the time in the world. Its golden fur gleamed in the sunlight, and it held a long blade of grass between its fingers, twirling it absentmindedly.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I muttered under my breath.


    It didn¡¯t say a word, not that I expected it to, but its large, expressive eyes were locked onto me. It tilted its head slightly, as if silently judging my form.


    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what your deal is, but could you not?¡± I said, waving a hand in its direction.


    The tikbalang just stared.


    ¡°Fine, stay there. See if I care,¡± I huffed, turning back to my training.


    I resumed my movements, darting between the trees as quickly as I could. I could feel my steps getting lighter, my balance improving. But every time I glanced over my shoulder, the tikbalang was there, watching.


    At one point, I tried to ignore it completely, focusing solely on my technique. As I leapt over a fallen log, I miscalculated my landing and ended up tumbling into a bush.


    The tikbalang let out a soft snort.


    I shot up, twigs sticking out of my hair. ¡°Oh, you think that¡¯s funny, huh?¡±


    It didn¡¯t respond, but its ears twitched, and I swear I saw the corners of its mouth twitch upward.


    ¡°Okay, you win this round,¡± I muttered, brushing myself off. ¡°But don¡¯t think I¡¯m giving up.¡±


    I decided to move on to testing my qi punches. Standing before another tree, I gathered energy into my fist, watching as the faint glow of qi enveloped my hand. I took a deep breath, steadied my stance, and threw the punch.


    The tree shuddered slightly, leaves rustling as the bark cracked.


    ¡°Yes!¡± I exclaimed, grinning at my progress.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the tikbalang rise to its full height. It walked over to a nearby tree, a much larger one with a trunk twice as thick as the one I had just punched. Without a word, it raised one massive hand and casually tapped the tree with its knuckles.


    The entire tree toppled over with a thunderous crash.


    I stared at the fallen tree, my jaw hanging open.


    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡±


    The tikbalang turned to look at me, its expression completely deadpan. Then, as if to rub it in, it dusted its hands off dramatically and sat back down, crossing its legs again.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a showoff,¡± I grumbled, glaring at it.


    The tikbalang just twirled the blade of grass in its fingers, completely unfazed.


    Despite my irritation, I couldn¡¯t help but laugh a little. There was something oddly endearing about its smug silence. It was like having an overpowered but quiet gym buddy who couldn¡¯t resist flexing every chance they got.


    As the day went on, I continued my training, doing my best to ignore the tikbalang¡¯s constant presence. But every now and then, I¡¯d catch it mimicking my movements in a weirdly exaggerated way. If I practiced a qi punch, it would pretend to wind up for a punch, its enormous hand moving in slow motion before stopping just short of hitting anything.


    ¡°Are you mocking me?¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes.


    "Gag* ata to." I said in my head.


    The tikbalang tilted its head innocently, as if to say, Who, me?


    I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°You¡¯re impossible, you know that?¡±


    By the time the sun began to set, I was exhausted but oddly satisfied. Despite the tikbalang¡¯s antics, I had made progress. My movements felt sharper, my punches more controlled.


    As I gathered my things to leave, I glanced over at the tikbalang one last time. It was still sitting there, watching me with that same unreadable expression.


    ¡°Alright, see you tomorrow, I guess,¡± I said, half-joking.


    To my surprise, the tikbalang raised a hand in a slow, almost lazy wave.


    I blinked, then shook my head with a laugh. ¡°Yeah, okay. Goodnight, weird horse guy.¡±


    As I walked back home, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a strange sense of comfort. The tikbalang might have been an odd and silent observer, but in its own way, it felt like I wasn¡¯t training alone anymore.


    Little did I know, that silent observer would become an unexpected ally in the challenges to come.

 Eye of the Storm

    Far away in a distant land, the serene mountain that housed the imposing temple of the Azure Cloud Sect was anything but peaceful. The atmosphere crackled with tension as the Master of the sect, Elder Yu Qinglong, stood on the main dais, his piercing gaze scanning the room with cold fury. His flowing robes, embroidered with streaks of gold and deep blue, shimmered ominously in the faint light of the chamber.


    Elder Yu¡¯s expression was as unyielding as stone, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. ¡°The Scroll of the Divine Vessel Ascension Method has been lost. Its carrier has perished.¡±


    The gathered disciples knelt in fear, their heads bowed low, avoiding even the possibility of meeting his eyes. One of the braver ones dared to step forward, his voice trembling. ¡°Master, we lost contact with him after he entered the Philippines. He was ambushed by a creature of the night, but¡­ the scroll may still¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡± Elder Yu¡¯s roar echoed through the chamber as he struck the marble table beside him, shattering it into jagged pieces. The force of his qi sent shards scattering across the floor.


    ¡°Do you understand the gravity of what has been lost? That scroll is no mere artifact. It is a cornerstone of our sect''s power! A treasure that embodies centuries of cultivation knowledge, The Martial God''s inheritance!¡±


    The disciples quivered under the weight of his words, the room thick with tension.


    ¡°You were sent to ensure its safe return, and yet you allowed this disgrace to befall our sect?¡± Elder Yu¡¯s fury was palpable, a storm of energy swirling faintly around him.


    He raised his hand, and the group of kneeling disciples who had accompanied the scroll¡¯s ill-fated carrier were lifted into the air by an invisible force. Their panicked expressions betrayed the knowledge that no amount of pleading would save them.


    ¡°Incompetence,¡± Elder Yu spat, his voice cold and final. ¡°Such failure cannot be tolerated.¡±


    A surge of energy burst from his palm, and the disciples disintegrated into nothingness, leaving only the faintest traces of ash in the air. The remaining onlookers shuddered, their fear carved deep into their hearts.


    Elder Yu turned to a group of elite disciples standing apart from the rest, his eyes narrowing. These were the sect¡¯s most skilled cultivators, handpicked for their loyalty and talent.


    ¡°You will travel to the Philippines,¡± he commanded, his voice a dangerous calm. ¡°Find the scroll. Discover who or what has taken it, and return it to this temple. The reputation of our sect demands it. You are to succeed, no matter the cost. Should you fail¡­¡± His voice trailed off, but the unspoken threat was clear.


    The elite disciples bowed deeply. ¡°Yes, Master!¡± Their voices rang in unison, trembling slightly but resolute.


    As they departed to prepare for their mission, Elder Yu turned his gaze toward the horizon, his expression unreadable. Beneath his fury lay a simmering curiosity. How had a mere mortal or some unknown force¡ªmanaged to claim such a treasure?


    The answer would be found, no matter the cost.


    ~~~~~


    Far away in a towering castle surrounded by lush green hills, the council of the Grand Order of Magisters convened in secret. The council chamber, a circular room adorned with banners of ancient lineages, buzzed with quiet murmurs. A crystalline table at the center projected a shimmering map of the world, where an isolated island in the Pacific region glowed faintly, indicating the source of their urgent discussion.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°This cannot be ignored,¡± said Sir Lancel, a tall man in ceremonial armor, his voice resonating with authority. ¡°The trace of Excalibur¡ªKing Arthur¡¯s legendary sword¡ªhas been detected. Its energy signature matches the descriptions in the ancient texts.¡±


    An elderly woman with a staff made of intertwined silver vines nodded. ¡°The Sword of Kings is no ordinary weapon. If it were to fall into the wrong hands, it could tip the balance of power in our world and perhaps beyond. We must act swiftly.¡±


    A younger knight, skeptical but attentive, raised a question. ¡°How can we be certain? Similar traces have led us astray before.¡±


    Sir Lancel¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°The island¡¯s resonance is unmistakable. This is no ordinary trace. If there is even a chance that Excalibur lies there, we cannot afford hesitation.¡±


    The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation sunk in.


    ¡°To avoid drawing unnecessary attention and alarming the mortal world,¡± the elderly woman added, ¡°we must act discreetly. A large expedition would be too conspicuous. Instead, we will send our disciples under the guise of students, researchers, and travelers. They will infiltrate the island, investigate the source of the energy, and secure the sword.¡±


    One of the younger magicians, a woman with fiery red hair, raised an eyebrow. ¡°You mean we¡¯re sending knights and magicians to blend in with mortals? By enrolling in schools?¡±


    The woman with the staff nodded. ¡°Precisely. They must not draw attention to themselves. The mission is to observe and report, not to stir chaos.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Sir Lancel said, his tone firm. ¡°The preparations will begin immediately. We¡¯ll select only the most capable knights and magicians for this mission. They must be ready for anything.¡±


    The fiery-haired magician smirked. ¡°Knights in a school. This is going to be interesting.¡±


    Sir Lancel shot her a stern look. ¡°This is not about your amusement. Focus on the mission. The fate of the world could rest on this.¡±


    As the council adjourned, the members departed with urgency. The disciples chosen for the mission were unaware that their lives were about to intersect with a young man in the Philippines named Jiro, who had unknowingly become entangled in a grand and dangerous narrative.


    Meanwhile, the organization that Jose belonged to held a private meeting in a dimly lit chamber, its air heavy with tension. A senior member of the group, dressed in formal yet functional attire, addressed the room. ¡°We¡¯ve detected a powerful resonance of energy coming from an island in the Bicol Region. Its nature is unfamiliar but undoubtedly dangerous. It could pose a threat to the people there and beyond.¡±


    Another member, seated at the far end, nodded gravely. ¡°It could be related to the sudden disturbances we¡¯ve been monitoring. Jose, you¡¯re one of our most trusted agents. You¡¯re tasked with investigating this phenomenon.¡±


    Jose, standing silently with his arms crossed, gave a slight nod. ¡°Understood. I¡¯ll prepare to leave immediately.¡±


    The senior member continued. ¡°To provide a cover story and minimize suspicion, we¡¯ve coordinated with Westway University Philippines to organize a two-week tour for students. The tour will include various events for the school¡¯s department, and you¡¯ll be accompanying them as part of the operation.¡±


    Jose raised an eyebrow. ¡°A tour for students? Clever, but risky. I¡¯ll ensure no harm comes to the participants.¡±


    The senior member smiled faintly. ¡°We¡¯re counting on you. Be vigilant.¡±


    The next morning, Jiro was running late to class, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of his training and the mysterious scroll. He hurried into the lecture hall just as his professor made an announcement. ¡°Attention, everyone. I have exciting news. The school will be organizing a department-wide tour lasting two weeks. We¡¯ll be traveling to a location in the Bicol Region. There will be cultural activities, outdoor events, and opportunities for hands-on learning.¡±


    The room buzzed with excitement, but the professor wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Additionally, we¡¯ll have foreign exchange students joining us for this tour. They¡¯ve been enrolled in our school as part of an international program. Please make them feel welcome.¡±


    Jiro sank into his seat, barely processing the information. ¡°Parang nakita ko na to ah, sa anime,¡± he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°This is so clich¨¦.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this was just a coincidence or another piece of the puzzle that his life seemed to be turning into. Whatever the case, it seemed like he was about to be dragged into yet another adventure.

 Trouble at the market

    Jiro sat at the dining table, nervously stirring his bowl of soup while his grandparents watched him with concern. The upcoming school tour was all anyone could talk about, but for Jiro, it came with an extra layer of complications. His wounds from previous encounters with supernatural creatures were still fresh in his grandparents'' minds, and they were understandably hesitant.


    "Are you sure about this trip?" his grandfather asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You''ve been acting strange lately, Jiro. Coming home late, covered in dirt, and now this tour? It sounds dangerous."


    Jiro nodded earnestly. "I¡¯ll be careful, Lolo. It¡¯s a school-organized event. There will be teachers and lots of other students. Besides, it¡¯s a great learning experience."


    His grandmother sighed. "We just want you to prioritize your safety. If you¡¯re going, you need to promise us you won¡¯t do anything reckless."


    "I promise, Lola. I¡¯ll stay safe," Jiro assured them, though deep down, he couldn¡¯t promise that entirely. His training had taught him that danger often found him, even when he wasn¡¯t looking for it.


    Jiro continued his training in the woods, determined to master his newly acquired skills. His movement technique, Phantom Prowl Steps, had become second nature. He could now dart between trees like a shadow, his steps so light they barely disturbed the fallen leaves. His Flame Fist Technique, on the other hand, required precision and control. Each fiery punch left scorch marks on the trunks, and his proficiency with the technique was growing steadily.


    The scroll had also revealed a spell to blind his enemies. Jiro practiced it carefully, focusing on manipulating his qi into a flash of light that would momentarily disorient an opponent. He felt a surge of pride each time he successfully executed it.


    The tikbalang continued to observe him from the edges of the forest. Its tall, imposing figure loomed silently, but Jiro noticed something peculiar. Each time his forehead ached, he felt as though he could almost understand the creature¡¯s intentions. It was as if the tikbalang was trying to communicate, though Jiro couldn¡¯t yet discern its meaning.


    Meanwhile, unsettling news reached the town. Murders were being reported at the Pacific Mall. The victims bore wounds that resembled sword slashes, leading to wild speculation among the locals. Whispers of a serial killer or a violent gang spread like wildfire. The atmosphere in the city grew tense, and additional police patrols were dispatched to reassure the public.


    Adding to the intrigue was the influx of foreigners from China and England. Their presence was conspicuous, and rumors swirled about a major event taking place. Among them, Jiro noticed a new transfer student in his class, a blonde girl with an air of mystery. She was strikingly beautiful, her features so perfect that she could easily pass as an actress or a model. Yet her cold demeanor and sharp gaze made her intimidating.


    Jiro found himself sneaking glances at her during class, feeling his face flush whenever she caught him looking. ¡°Is this what a crush feels like?¡± he thought to himself, slightly embarrassed. At the same time, there was something about her that felt out of place, as though she carried secrets as heavy as his own.


    In a nearby dormitory, the English transfer students held a meeting. The room was filled with whispers and tension as they discussed their mission. A young knight in training stood at the center, addressing the group.


    ¡°The energy readings from the Bicol Region confirm that something significant is there. The swirling qi aligns with the legends surrounding Excalibur. If the sword is truly on the island, we must retrieve it before anyone else does.¡±


    Another student, a magician with bright red hair, raised a concern. ¡°What about the locals? Won¡¯t they notice if we¡¯re poking around?¡±


    The knight nodded. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re disguising this as a school tour. It will allow us to investigate without drawing unnecessary attention. But remember, we are not to engage unless absolutely necessary. Our primary objective is securing the sword.¡±


    The group murmured their agreement, their resolve firm. They had been chosen for this mission, and failure was not an option.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Back in the woods, Jiro felt a surge of energy as he pushed his training to the limit. He was nearing the peak stage of Body Refining and could sense the threshold of the Qi Gathering Stage just within reach. But something puzzled him and his body already seemed to hold qi, even though he hadn¡¯t yet reached the next stage of cultivation.


    ¡°Why do I have this much qi already?¡± he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. ¡°Is this normal, or is it something else entirely?¡±


    Shrugging off the thought for now, he returned to his training, determined to reach his goal. Meanwhile, back in his room, the scroll on his desk began to glow faintly. Chinese characters appeared on its surface, their golden light casting a warm glow in the darkened space. The words described a pill-refining method, one that could strengthen his qi and accelerate his cultivation progress.


    When Jiro returned home later that evening, exhausted from training, he noticed the glowing scroll. His heart raced as he read the new instructions. ¡°A pill for strengthening qi?¡± he murmured. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll need to figure out where to find these ingredients.¡±


    As he contemplated this new challenge, Jiro couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that his life was becoming more complicated by the day. Between the scroll, the murders, the mysterious foreigners, and the blonde girl, he had more questions than answers.


    ~~~~~


    I stood in front of my grandparents, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. Asking for money wasn¡¯t something I did often, but this was important. The scroll glowing in my bag made sure of that.


    ¡°Lolo, Lola,¡± I started, trying to sound casual, ¡°I need to go to Manila this weekend. There¡¯s, uh, a school project I need to work on. It¡¯s cultural, you know, history and stuff.¡±


    My grandfather squinted at me suspiciously. ¡°Manila? What kind of school project needs you to go all the way there?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s extra credit,¡± I said, hoping that would do the trick. ¡°You know how competitive school is these days.¡±


    Lola, bless her kind heart, reached into her pocket and handed me some cash. ¡°Be careful, Jiro. Manila isn¡¯t like here. You have to stay alert.¡±


    I took the money, nodding gratefully. ¡°Thanks, Lola. I¡¯ll be fine, I promise.¡±


    Manila hit me like a slap in the face. The noise, the smell, the crowd, and it was overwhelming. Jeepneys honked, vendors shouted about their goods, and the air was thick with the scent of street food. It took me a while to find Chinatown, but when I did, it felt like stepping into another world. The streets were lined with red lanterns, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted ducks and herbal teas.


    I had a list of ingredients to find, courtesy of the scroll. After wandering through the maze of shops, I finally found a tiny, hidden apothecary with jars of strange powders and dried herbs in the window. Perfect.


    Inside, the shopkeeper nodded as I handed him the list. While he worked, I browsed the shelves, trying to make sense of the labels I couldn¡¯t read.


    The door jingled, and a guy in a slick suit walked in. He had the kind of smug face that made you want to avoid eye contact. He was followed by two guys who looked like they belonged in a street fight, not a quiet shop.


    The slick guy glanced at me, smirking. ¡°Hey, kid. You look lost. What are you doing here?¡±


    I ignored him and focused on the jars of herbs. Maybe if I acted like he didn¡¯t exist, he¡¯d go away.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m talking to you,¡± he said, stepping closer. ¡°Don¡¯t you have any manners?¡±


    I sighed, turning just enough to look at him. ¡°I¡¯m just here to buy something. I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡±


    He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. ¡°Trouble? Who said anything about trouble? I just think it¡¯s funny seeing someone like you in a place like this.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what ¡°someone like me¡± meant, but I didn¡¯t care enough to ask. The shopkeeper returned with my bag of ingredients, and I paid quickly before heading out. The guy kept talking, but I tuned him out. I had more important things to do.


    Later that evening, I decided to take a walk near my hotel. The city felt a little quieter under the streetlights, but I still kept my guard up. As I turned into an alley, I froze. The same guy from the shop stepped out of the shadows with a smug grin, and this time, he¡¯d brought backup. At least six guys stood behind him, all looking like they were ready to brawl.


    ¡°Well, look who it is,¡± he said. ¡°Fancy running into you again. You ignored me earlier, and that hurt my pride. I think you owe me an apology.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this. Why don¡¯t you and your friends go find someone else to bother?¡±


    The guy¡¯s grin widened. ¡°You think you can just walk away? You¡¯ve got guts, kid, but let¡¯s see how tough you really are.¡±


    One of his thugs lunged at me, swinging a fist. I dodged easily, my movement technique kicking in without a second thought. It felt like I was gliding past him as I landed an elbow strike to his ribs. He dropped to the ground, groaning.


    The others hesitated, but only for a moment. Soon, they all charged at me. Using Phantom Prowl Steps, I danced around them, delivering quick punches and kicks. It was almost too easy. These guys were strong, sure, but they had no technique. I didn¡¯t even need to use my Flame Fist or blinding spell.


    Within minutes, the alley was filled with groaning bodies. The guy in the suit stood frozen, his confidence shattered. I walked toward him slowly, picking up my bag along the way.


    ¡°You¡­ what are you?¡± he stammered, stumbling back.


    ¡°Just someone who doesn¡¯t like wasting time,¡± I said, brushing past him.


    I didn¡¯t look back as I left the alley. When I reached my hotel, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. Manila was chaotic, but it was definitely entertaining.

 Horror Stories at the bus

    The gymnasium buzzed with energy despite the early hour. At 6 a.m., students were still trickling in, some looking half-awake while others were already chatting excitedly. Teachers moved around with clipboards, checking attendance and occasionally shouting over the chatter to remind everyone to gather in their respective groups.


    I stumbled into the gymnasium, barely awake. My hair was a mess, and my bag felt heavier than usual. Jose was already waiting for me, looking annoyingly chipper. He waved me over, a big grin plastered on his face.


    ¡°Morning, sleepyhead,¡± he said, slapping me on the back. ¡°Excited for the trip?¡±


    I yawned loudly. ¡°Ask me again after I¡¯ve had some coffee.¡±


    Jose laughed, completely ignoring my state of misery. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless. You do know this is a once-in-a-lifetime trip, right? We¡¯re going to Bicol! Think of the food, the sights, the Mayon Volcano!¡±


    I gave him a side glance, still half-asleep. ¡°Yeah, yeah. I¡¯m more worried about the six-hour bus ride.¡±


    Jose started rambling about all the snacks he¡¯d packed, and I just nodded absentmindedly. My mind drifted back to the scroll hidden in my bag. There was so much going on recently that it was hard to relax, even on a school trip.


    ~~~~~


    Back at home, my grandfather stood by the window, looking out at the rising sun. His usually calm demeanor was replaced with a sense of urgency. He whispered to the air, his voice firm yet gentle.


    ¡°The tikbalang is not enough,¡± he said. ¡°Go there and keep watching them. Keep my grandson safe.¡±


    A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, rustling the curtains and papers on the table. It felt almost alive, like it had understood his words. Grandpa closed his eyes and nodded solemnly, as if in silent agreement with an unseen force.


    ~~~~~


    The buses lined up outside the school, ready to take us on the long journey to Bicol. Each student boarded with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. Inside, the seats were already a chaotic mix of saved spots, spilled snacks, and loud conversations.


    I found my assigned seat next to Jose, who had already set up his portable speaker and was blasting music. I sighed, throwing my bag into the overhead compartment before collapsing into my seat.


    ¡°Relax, Jiro,¡± Jose said, nudging me with his elbow. ¡°This is going to be fun. Trust me.¡±


    The bus started rolling, and as the city gave way to highways and open fields, the class began to settle into the trip. It didn¡¯t take long for someone to suggest telling horror stories, which immediately caught everyone¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Have you heard about the White Lady of Balete Drive?¡± one student started. ¡°They say she haunts cars that pass by at midnight.¡±


    ¡°Not that story again,¡± another groaned. ¡°That¡¯s so overused.¡±


    ¡°But what about the White Lady on this road?¡± a girl interjected, her eyes wide with mock fear. ¡°It¡¯s true! My cousin swears he saw her. She was crying on the side of the road, asking for a ride.¡±


    The class leaned in, intrigued.


    ¡°And?¡± someone prompted.


    ¡°She¡¯ll tell you to take her to a certain place,¡± the girl continued, lowering her voice for dramatic effect. ¡°But if you go there, you¡¯ll never come back.¡±


    There was a pause, and then someone tried to laugh it off. ¡°Oh, come on. That¡¯s just an urban legend.¡±


    ¡°Tell that to the people who disappeared!¡± the girl shot back.


    Jose leaned toward me, smirking. ¡°What do you think, Jiro? Scared yet?¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°Please. A crying woman in white? Sounds more like a soap opera than a ghost story.¡±


    The bus erupted in laughter, but there was still an underlying tension. Outside, the sun was starting to set, casting long shadows over the road. I couldn¡¯t help but glance out the window, wondering if there was some truth to the story.


    The horror storytelling continued as the bus rumbled down the highway, the fading sunlight casting an eerie glow over the passing trees. A boy from the back of the bus stood up, clearing his throat dramatically to grab everyone''s attention.


    ¡°Alright, listen up!¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve all heard about the kapre, right? Big guy, smokes cigars, loves hanging out in trees.¡±


    Some students chuckled, but he held up a finger. ¡°This isn¡¯t just any kapre story. My uncle told me this one happened to him, and he¡¯s not the type to make stuff up.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The bus quieted, everyone leaning in to hear.


    ¡°So,¡± the boy began, ¡°my uncle was walking home late one night after drinking with his friends. He had to pass this big old tree, and as he got closer, he started hearing this deep, raspy breathing. He looked up, and there, sitting on a branch, was a massive kapre he is like, as tall as a house, with glowing red eyes and a cigar as big as my arm.¡±


    ¡°Did he run?¡± someone asked, eyes wide.


    ¡°No! He was too drunk to be scared, so he just stared at it. The kapre stared back, and then, without warning, it threw the cigar down at him. My uncle picked it up, thinking it was a joke, but when he touched it, it burned his hand like fire! He ran home after that, and when he woke up the next day, his hand had a blackened mark shaped like the cigar. He still has the scar.¡±


    The bus erupted in nervous laughter and murmurs. Some dismissed it as nonsense, while others exchanged uneasy glances.


    A girl near the front raised her hand, eager to share. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s creepy, but have you heard about the aswang?¡±


    Groans echoed from the crowd. ¡°Another aswang story? Come on, we¡¯ve heard those a million times.¡±


    ¡°This one¡¯s different!¡± she insisted. ¡°It happened in my hometown. There was this pregnant woman who kept hearing scratching on her roof at night. She thought it was just a cat, but one night, her husband went up to check and saw¡­ something. It had glowing eyes, long claws, and wings like a bat. The creature tried to attack him, but he had a bolo knife and managed to scare it off.¡±


    ¡°What happened next?¡± someone asked.


    ¡°The next day, they found claw marks all over the roof and strange footprints leading into the woods. My lola said it was definitely an aswang, trying to eat the baby in her stomach.¡±


    The bus fell silent, the weight of the story sinking in. Outside, the trees seemed to close in, their gnarled branches casting shadows that looked almost alive.


    Jose, ever the joker, decided to break the tension. ¡°Alright, alright! Enough of these weak stories. Let me tell you about the manananggal in my dad¡¯s barangay.¡±


    The students groaned, but Jose waved them off. ¡°Trust me, this one¡¯s good. My dad swears it happened to him. He was out drinking with his buddies when they saw this beautiful woman walking down the road. She was so pretty they couldn¡¯t believe their eyes. But when they called out to her, she ignored them.¡±


    Jose leaned forward, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. ¡°So, they followed her. Bad move. She walked into a dark alley, and when they peeked around the corner, they saw her transform and her body split in half, and wings sprouted out of her back! She flew off into the night, leaving her legs behind.¡±


    The class burst into laughter, though some looked visibly uneasy.


    ¡°What did your dad do?¡± someone asked.


    ¡°He ran, of course! You think he¡¯s brave? He left his sandals behind and never looked back!¡±


    As the laughter died down, the mood turned somber again. A quiet voice from the corner piped up. ¡°Do you guys know about the balete tree spirits?¡±


    The bus went silent, and all eyes turned to the speaker, a girl with a serious expression.


    ¡°They say that if you pass by a balete tree at night and don¡¯t ask permission, you might not make it out. The spirits there can confuse you, make you lose your way. My cousin once rode his bike past a balete tree on his way home. He said he kept pedaling, but no matter how far he went, he ended up back at the same tree. It wasn¡¯t until he apologized out loud that he was able to leave.¡±


    A chill ran through the group. Even Jose stopped grinning.


    The storytelling continued, each tale weaving together an atmosphere of dread and curiosity. Outside, the last rays of sunlight faded, leaving the bus surrounded by the deep, inky black of the countryside. Every creak of the wheels and rustle of the wind seemed louder, and for a moment, the students wondered if their horror stories had invited something to join their journey.


    The bus filled with hushed whispers as someone pointed towards the blonde transfer student sitting near the window. "Hey, maybe the new girl has a story," one of the students suggested, their curiosity piqued.


    Jiro looked over, intrigued but trying not to make it obvious. The blonde girl, who introduced herself earlier as Emilia, raised an eyebrow as the attention shifted to her.


    "Do you know any scary stories?" someone asked in Tagalog, half expecting her not to understand.


    To everyone¡¯s surprise, Emilia nodded. "Yes, I do," she replied in perfect, albeit slightly accented, Tagalog. The students gasped and laughed nervously, impressed by her fluency.


    Emilia smiled faintly. "You want to hear a story from my home? Very well, but don¡¯t blame me if it makes you regret asking."


    The bus grew quiet, the class leaning in closer to hear her speak.


    ¡°In my hometown, there is a legend about a place called Blackwood Manor. It¡¯s an old, crumbling mansion on the edge of the forest, surrounded by fog almost year-round. The story goes that centuries ago, the lord of the manor, a man named Edmund Blackwood, was obsessed with alchemy. He wanted to create an elixir for immortality.


    ¡°Edmund used his own family as experiments he uses his wife, his children. They were never seen again. The villagers grew suspicious and stormed the manor, demanding to know the truth. Edmund denied everything, but when they searched the house, they found secret rooms filled with vials, strange machines, and¡­ well, body parts preserved in jars.


    ¡°The villagers set the manor on fire, but before it burned completely, Edmund appeared at the highest window. He shouted something that no one could understand, then disappeared into the flames. Some say he cursed the land before he died.¡±


    Emilia paused, her blue eyes scanning the now silent crowd. ¡°After that, strange things began happening. Travelers who passed through the area would hear whispers in the woods or see shadows in the windows of the burned manor. People who dared to go inside never came out, except for one man, a grave robber. He claimed to have seen Edmund Blackwood, his body charred and his eyes glowing like embers. The man died a week later, his body burned from the inside out.¡±


    The students exchanged uneasy glances, some clutching their seatmates¡¯ arms. Even Jose, always the joker, seemed unusually quiet.


    One of the braver students spoke up. "What about you, Emilia? Have you seen it?"


    Emilia¡¯s smile turned wry. "No, I haven¡¯t, but¡­" She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "My grandmother told me she did when she was young. She and her friends dared each other to visit the ruins at night. She said she saw a figure standing in the doorway, watching them. They ran, of course, but when she looked back, it was following them its footsteps didn¡¯t touch the ground. My grandmother said it stopped at the edge of the forest, but even now, she refuses to speak more about it."


    The bus erupted into nervous chatter, some students dismissing the story as just another creepy tale, while others whispered about how different it felt coming from Emilia. Jiro stayed quiet, glancing at Emilia out of the corner of his eye.


    She leaned back in her seat, her expression unreadable, but Jiro couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that her story wasn¡¯t just for entertainment. It had weight, like it was more than just a legend.

 A Missing Classmate

    As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the winding road, the night fell, and the cold air seeped into the bus. I leaned against the window, pretending to sleep, but in reality, I began cultivating. Closing my eyes, I focused on drawing the ambient energy around me into my dantian, circulating it carefully. The hum of conversation and the eerie ghost stories being shared by my classmates provided the perfect cover for my meditative state.


    Eventually, the storytelling dwindled, and the bus grew quieter. A few classmates noticed something unusual and perhaps the faint ripple of energy gathering around me but they didn¡¯t ask. I sensed another presence, though, among the transfer students. Arthur, Emilia¡¯s cousin, had been observing me. Unlike Emilia, who kept her interactions minimal, Arthur¡¯s gaze was sharper. I could feel it. There was something familiar about his presence, almost like the aura of a seasoned practitioner.


    China was renowned for its powerful cultivators, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder if Arthur had some connection to that world. Still, I chose to ignore it for now and kept my focus inward.


    As the hum of conversation faded, the bus was filled with the rhythmic sound of the engine and soft snores. Most of the class had dozed off, including Arthur, who leaned back in his seat, though his expression suggested he was still alert. I remained in my meditative state, but an unsettling sensation gnawed at me. It wasn¡¯t the bus¡¯s bumpy ride or the cold night air, it was something darker.


    A chill ran down my spine as the atmosphere thickened. The bus felt heavier, like a weight had descended on it. My instincts screamed at me to open my eyes, and when I did, I froze. Standing in the middle of the aisle was a woman cloaked in shadows. Her silhouette flickered like a dying flame, and her face was obscured by a veil of darkness. This wasn¡¯t just any spirit. It was a Black Lady its an infamous entity said to be far more malevolent than the White Ladies whispered about in ghost stories.


    The air grew colder, and the muffled sound of crying filled the bus, though it was clear none of my classmates were awake enough to notice. I gritted my teeth. Fighting her here would be disastrous. The bus was cramped, and too many innocent lives were at stake. But she hadn¡¯t come for them, her eyes, hollow and endless, locked onto me.


    Before I could make a move, a low hum of energy pulsed from another seat. Jose. I glanced sideways and saw him sitting upright, his hand gripping a silver necklace. He didn¡¯t look at the spirit but instead focused on chanting something under his breath. His voice was steady, laced with authority and resolve.


    The Black Lady hissed, her form rippling as if being pushed back by an unseen force. Her long, jagged fingers reached out toward me, and I instinctively gathered my energy, preparing to defend myself. Jose, however, was already ahead. With a sharp gesture, he held the necklace high, and a burst of pale blue light filled the bus.


    The Black Lady recoiled, her shadowy form writhing as she let out a piercing wail. My classmates stirred slightly, some murmuring in their sleep, but the light seemed to calm them, keeping them from waking in panic. I clenched my fists, suppressing the urge to leap into action. Jose¡¯s method was working, and I didn¡¯t want to interfere.


    The chanting grew louder, and the necklace glowed brighter. The Black Lady¡¯s form began to disintegrate, piece by piece, until she was nothing more than a faint wisp of darkness. The oppressive atmosphere lifted, and the bus returned to its usual hum as if nothing had happened.


    Jose exhaled, tucking the necklace back under his shirt. He glanced at me and gave a slight nod, as if to say, "It¡¯s handled." I nodded back, but my heart still pounded. That wasn¡¯t an ordinary encounter. Something was out there, and it had marked me.


    I glanced at Arthur, who seemed to have stirred during the commotion. His eyes flickered open for a moment, meeting mine, but he said nothing and closed them again, feigning sleep. Was he aware of what had just happened? If he was, he didn¡¯t show it.


    Leaning back against my seat, I tried to settle my nerves. This trip was already shaping up to be far more dangerous than I¡¯d anticipated, and we hadn¡¯t even arrived at our destination yet.


    As the bus rolled to a stop at a quiet roadside rest area, everyone stirred awake, stretching and yawning. The professors announced a quick break for snacks, restroom trips, or just to stretch their legs before continuing the journey. I stepped out, my muscles stiff from sitting too long, and walked toward a shaded bench near the forest''s edge.


    The night air was cool, but something felt... off. The trees rustled lightly in the breeze, but it almost seemed as if the forest was whispering. I shook off the thought, chalking it up to the lingering unease from earlier.


    Arthur, however, wasn¡¯t about to let me enjoy my peace. He approached with an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance, standing a little too close for comfort.


    ¡°So, Jiro,¡± he started, crossing his arms and tilting his head. ¡°You seem awfully familiar with Emilia. Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re being a little too... forward?¡±


    I blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Forward? I barely talk to her,¡± I replied, keeping my tone calm. I didn¡¯t want to escalate anything, but his confrontational stance made it hard to ignore.


    Arthur scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk. ¡°Right. That¡¯s why she¡¯s always looking your way. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed. I don¡¯t know what game you¡¯re playing, but don¡¯t get any ideas.¡±


    I frowned, my patience thinning. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what your problem is, but I¡¯m not playing any games. If Emilia looks my way, that¡¯s her business, not mine or yours.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯re awfully cocky for someone who barely knows her. Do you think you¡¯re special or something?¡±


    I clenched my fists but took a deep breath to keep my composure. ¡°I¡¯m not looking for trouble, Arthur. Maybe you should focus on yourself instead of worrying about me.¡±


    Before the tension could escalate further, Emilia stepped between us, her arms outstretched. ¡°That¡¯s enough, both of you,¡± she said firmly, her gaze sharp as she looked at Arthur. ¡°Arthur, stop picking fights. And Jiro, don¡¯t let him get to you.¡±


    Arthur huffed but backed off, muttering something under his breath before walking away. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°Thanks, but I can handle myself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you can,¡± Emilia said, her tone softer now. She tilted her head slightly, studying me. ¡°You¡¯re... different, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what she meant. ¡°Different how?¡±


    She smiled faintly but didn¡¯t elaborate, walking off to rejoin the others. Her lingering curiosity left me uneasy, but I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on it.


    The break went on, and most of the class was either eating snacks or chatting in small groups. I leaned against a tree, trying to shake the strange feeling that had been hanging over me since the bus stopped. That¡¯s when I heard it a faint sound, like laughter. At first, I thought it was just my classmates, but it was too soft, too... unnatural.


    The forest seemed to shift, the trees swaying in a rhythm that didn¡¯t match the breeze. Shadows danced among the trunks, and the laughter grew louder, echoing in an almost taunting way. A chill ran down my spine.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The professors noticed the shift too. One of them clapped their hands, calling everyone to gather near the bus. ¡°Alright, everyone, let¡¯s stick together and get back on the bus. No wandering off.¡±


    As the group assembled, someone spoke up. ¡°Wait, where¡¯s Carlo?¡± It was one of my classmates, looking around nervously.


    The name sent a ripple of concern through the group. Carlo was a quiet student who often kept to himself. The last anyone saw him, he had wandered toward the edge of the forest to take a phone call.


    The professors exchanged worried glances before one of them called out, ¡°Carlo! Carlo, if you can hear us, come back now!¡±


    The laughter in the forest grew louder, and the shadows seemed to deepen. A sense of dread settled over the group, and I could feel the energy in the air shift. Whatever was in the forest, it wasn¡¯t friendly.


    The professors decided to handle Carlo¡¯s disappearance with urgency and care. After a brief discussion, they announced a plan to search the forest in teams of three, emphasizing the importance of staying together for safety.


    Arthur was the first to speak up, his voice brimming with confidence. ¡°I¡¯ll go look for Carlo. I¡¯ve been trained in outdoor navigation, so it shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡±


    His words weren¡¯t entirely convincing, though. It was clear to anyone paying attention that Arthur was more interested in impressing Emilia than actually finding Carlo.


    The professors, however, were not swayed. One of them, a stern-looking woman with glasses, crossed her arms and shook her head. ¡°Absolutely not, Arthur. This is a team effort, not a solo hero moment. Besides, venturing into the forest alone is too dangerous.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s face flushed red, and he stammered, ¡°I... I wasn¡¯t trying to be a hero.¡±


    The students around us chuckled quietly, and I couldn¡¯t help smirking a little. Emilia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. Arthur shot me a glare, his frustration boiling over. ¡°What are you laughing at, Jiro? You think this is funny?¡±


    I shrugged, keeping my voice calm. ¡°I¡¯m not laughing, Arthur. Just focus on the task at hand.¡±


    His glare deepened, but before he could say more, the professors began dividing us into teams. Coincidentally or maybe fate had a twisted sense of humor where I ended up in a team with Jose and Emilia. Arthur, of course, noticed immediately, and I could feel his anger radiating from across the group.


    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± he muttered under his breath, loud enough for me to hear. I ignored him, knowing that arguing would only make things worse.


    Our group headed into the forest, flashlights cutting through the thick darkness. The air was heavy, and the eerie laughter from earlier seemed to linger in the distance, faint but ever-present. Jose led the way, his movements careful but confident, while Emilia stayed close to me, her eyes scanning the surroundings with curiosity and unease.


    ¡°Be on guard,¡± Jose whispered, his voice low but firm. ¡°This forest doesn¡¯t feel right.¡±


    I nodded, my senses on high alert. As we pushed deeper into the woods, the atmosphere grew colder, and the shadows seemed to shift unnaturally. Emilia kept glancing at me, her expression a mix of curiosity and something I couldn¡¯t quite place.


    ¡°Jiro,¡± she said softly, ¡°you¡¯ve been quiet. What are you thinking?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking we need to find Carlo and get out of here,¡± I replied, my voice steady. ¡°This place feels... wrong.¡±


    Before she could respond, a sudden sound froze us in our tracks. It was a low, guttural growl, followed by the faint sound of a baby¡¯s cry. Jose raised his flashlight, and its beam landed on three small figures standing in the shadows.


    ¡°Tiyanaks,¡± he hissed.


    The creatures stepped into the light, their twisted, childlike faces contorted with malevolence. Behind them, in the dim glow of our flashlights, we saw the figure of the Black Lady standing silently, her long black hair covering most of her face. She pointed upward, and there, hanging from the branches of a tree, was Carlo. He was unconscious but alive, his body suspended by dark tendrils that seemed to writhe like living shadows.


    Emilia gasped, her grip tightening on her flashlight. ¡°What do we do?¡±


    ¡°We fight,¡± Jose said grimly, pulling out his necklace and chanting under his breath.


    I stepped forward, my fists clenched as I began circulating my energy. ¡°Stay close and don¡¯t let them separate us.¡±


    The tiyanaks snarled and lunged at us. I moved quickly, using my movement technique to sidestep one of them and land a solid punch. The Flame Fist technique flared to life, and the creature shrieked as it was engulfed in a burst of fire. Jose¡¯s chanting grew louder, and the necklace around his neck glowed brightly, creating a barrier that blocked the Black Lady¡¯s dark tendrils from reaching us.


    Emilia surprised me by staying calm, grabbing a branch from the ground and using it to fend off one of the tiyanaks. ¡°Jiro, behind you!¡± she shouted.


    I turned just in time to dodge another attack, using the Phantom Prowl technique to evade and counter with a swift strike. The tiyanak crumpled to the ground, hissing as it dissolved into smoke.


    The Black Lady let out a chilling scream, her form flickering like a glitching image. She seemed to hesitate, as if deciding whether to retreat or escalate the fight. Jose took the opportunity to finish his chant, sending a wave of purifying light toward her. The light struck her, and she screeched, disappearing into the shadows along with the remaining tiyanak.


    With the immediate threat gone, we rushed to the tree where Carlo was hanging. I climbed up quickly, cutting the dark tendrils with my energy-infused hands and catching him as he fell. He was pale but breathing, and we carried him back to the group as fast as we could.


    As we emerged from the forest, the professors and other students ran to meet us, their faces a mix of relief and worry. Arthur¡¯s glare was the first thing I noticed, but I was too tired to care.


    Emilia stayed close, her gaze lingering on me. ¡°You¡¯re... something else, Jiro,¡± she said quietly, her voice filled with genuine admiration.


    I shrugged, trying to downplay it. ¡°Just doing what needed to be done.¡±


    But deep down, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.


    As the last remnants of the tiyanaks dissolved into smoke, the eerie forest seemed to grow even darker, as if the very shadows were closing in around us. Just as we were catching our breath, a low rumble shook the ground. I looked up and froze. Towering above the trees was a massive figure, its features obscured by the darkness. It was holding a cigarette the size of a log, the ember glowing faintly as it exhaled a plume of smoke that seemed to carry the scent of burning leaves and earth.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Emilia whispered, her voice trembling.


    ¡°A kapre,¡± Jose muttered grimly, gripping his necklace tightly. ¡°And it¡¯s not happy.¡±


    The kapre¡¯s glowing eyes locked onto us, its gaze filled with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and malice. Carlo groaned weakly in my arms, starting to stir. It was clear we couldn¡¯t stay here any longer.


    ¡°We have Carlo,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice steady. ¡°We need to signal the others and get out of here now.¡±


    Jose nodded and pulled out a small flare gun from his backpack, firing it into the sky. The flare burst into a bright red light, cutting through the oppressive darkness. The kapre let out a guttural growl, clearly agitated by the sudden brightness. Its massive hand twitched as if debating whether to reach for us.


    ¡°Move!¡± Jose shouted, and we sprinted back toward the bus stop, Carlo¡¯s weight slowing me down slightly. Emilia stayed close, her flashlight sweeping the ground to ensure we didn¡¯t trip over any roots or obstacles.


    As we ran, the Black Lady appeared once more, her form flickering in and out like a distorted shadow. She glided after us, her long hair trailing like smoke, while the kapre followed at a slower but no less menacing pace. The two creatures seemed to be working together, their combined presence turning the forest into a nightmare.


    ¡°Just keep going!¡± I yelled, my heart pounding as I pushed myself harder.


    When we finally reached the bus stop, the rest of the group was already on edge. The professors were herding the students toward the bus, their voices tense and urgent. The air was thick with unease, and it was clear that even those without powers could sense something was wrong.


    ¡°Get on the bus!¡± one of the professors shouted, waving us over.


    We barely made it aboard before the doors slammed shut. The driver didn¡¯t wait for everyone to settle down before stepping on the gas, the bus lurching forward as it sped away from the cursed stop. I glanced out the window and saw the Black Lady and the kapre standing at the edge of the clearing, their forms gradually swallowed by the darkness. They didn¡¯t follow us, but their presence lingered like a bad memory.


    The bus was silent for a moment, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from some of the students who had been spooked by the strange atmosphere. Most of them didn¡¯t know what had really happened¡ªand they couldn¡¯t. The truth about the creatures that lurked in the shadows of the world wasn¡¯t something ordinary people could handle. As someone once said, if you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you too.


    I shifted in my seat, careful not to wake Carlo, who was now resting against me. Emilia sat across the aisle, her gaze fixed on me with an expression I couldn¡¯t quite read. Jose, sitting behind me, leaned forward and whispered, ¡°We got lucky. If they had decided to follow us...¡±


    I nodded silently, understanding exactly what he meant. This wasn¡¯t over. The creatures we encountered weren¡¯t just random threats but they were drawn to something. To us. To me.


    As the bus sped down the road, putting distance between us and the horrors of the forest, I couldn¡¯t help but feel that this journey was only going to get more dangerous.

 King Arthurs descendant

    As we settled back into the bus, the hum of the engine and the murmur of idle chatter filled the air. I leaned toward Jose, lowering my voice to a whisper. ¡°What do you know, Jose? And how did you do all that back there?¡±


    Jose glanced at me, his usual calm demeanor masking any surprise. He paused for a moment, as if deciding how much to reveal. ¡°In time, Jiro,¡± he said, his tone steady. ¡°All in time. For now, just know that I¡¯m here to help.¡±


    Before I could press him further, Emilia chimed in. Her sharp, confident voice cut through the conversation like a blade. ¡°You¡¯re not exactly normal either, are you, Jiro?¡± She leaned forward slightly, her piercing gaze making me uneasy.


    I stiffened. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re gathering qi,¡± she said matter-of-factly, her voice quieter now but still commanding. ¡°I¡¯ve seen people do it before. Back home in England, we call them practitioners. But that¡¯s not all. You move differently, like someone who¡¯s trained.¡±


    I tried to deflect, but she wasn¡¯t having it. She smirked, a hint of pride flashing across her face. ¡°I should probably introduce myself properly. I¡¯m Emilia Pendragon, a knight from the lineage of King Arthur. My family has guarded his legacy for centuries. We came here looking for the legendary sword, Excalibur.¡±


    Her words left me stunned. Knights? Excalibur? It felt like something straight out of a novel.


    Jose interrupted, his tone a little sharper now. ¡°Emilia, maybe this isn¡¯t the time for grand declarations.¡±


    Emilia shrugged. ¡°He was bound to find out eventually. If he¡¯s involved in all this, he has a right to know.¡±


    I opened my mouth to ask more, but someone from the back of the bus broke the tense silence. ¡°Alright, no more horror stories from now on! That was way too creepy for me!¡±


    The class laughed nervously, the comment easing the tension that lingered after our harrowing encounter. Most of them had no idea what really happened, chalking it up to nerves or overactive imaginations. But I couldn¡¯t laugh. My thoughts swirled with Emilia¡¯s revelations and the looming sense of danger.


    The words of a phrase I once read echoed in my mind: If you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you too.


    I leaned back in my seat, watching the dark road ahead through the bus window. Something was coming, something far worse than what we¡¯d already faced. And somehow, I knew I was right in the middle of it.


    ~~~~~


    In the dense, shadowy forest, a ferocious battle unfolded far from the bus''s view. The eerie wails of the Black Lady echoed through the air, mingling with the guttural growls of the Kapre. Standing in defiance of them both was the towering figure of the Tikbalang, his horse-like face illuminated by the pale glow of the moon.


    The Black Lady glided forward, her dark, spectral form exuding malice. Her voice dripped with venom as she hissed, ¡°Why do you protect them, creature? What allegiance binds you to those mortals?¡±


    The Tikbalang snorted, his glowing eyes narrowing as if silently mocking her question. Without a word, he reared up on his hind legs, his powerful hooves crashing down with enough force to split the earth beneath him.


    The Kapre, leaning casually against a gnarled tree with his ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips, chuckled. ¡°You don¡¯t talk much, do you, Tikbalang? Or are you too proud to answer?¡±


    The Tikbalang let out a loud, defiant neigh that echoed like a war cry through the forest. His muscles tensed as he squared off against the two supernatural beings. Then, with deliberate disdain, he raised one long arm and extended his middle finger at them, a gesture that left the Black Lady seething with rage.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°How dare you!¡± she shrieked, her form rippling with fury. Dark tendrils of shadow shot out from her, aiming to ensnare the Tikbalang.


    The Tikbalang dodged nimbly, his movements surprisingly agile for his size. With a swift twist of his body, he summoned a gust of wind that disrupted the shadows, scattering them like smoke. He followed it with a powerful strike, stomping the ground with such force that shockwaves rippled outward, causing the Kapre to lose his balance momentarily.


    The Kapre scowled, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke that formed into a massive hand, reaching out to grab the Tikbalang. The Tikbalang countered with a sharp, resounding neigh, releasing a concentrated blast of energy that disintegrated the smoky appendage.


    The battle raged on, neither side willing to relent. The Black Lady hovered in the air, her dark eyes fixated on the Tikbalang. ¡°Why do you side with them? Answer me!¡±


    The Tikbalang, still silent, snorted again. With a swift motion, he stomped the ground once more, sending a burst of golden light surging toward the two enemies. The light forced them to retreat momentarily, shielding themselves from its intensity.


    In the brief pause, the Tikbalang stood tall, his gaze unwavering. The message was clear. He wasn¡¯t going to let them near the humans, no matter the cost.


    As the Black Lady and the Kapre regrouped, the Tikbalang¡¯s ears twitched, catching the distant sound of the bus¡¯s engine fading into the night. His defiance had bought enough time for Jiro and the others to get away.


    The Black Lady sneered, her form flickering with irritation. ¡°This isn¡¯t over, beast.¡±


    The Kapre chuckled, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot. ¡°We¡¯ll see how long you can keep playing the hero.¡±


    The Tikbalang simply neighed again, his middle finger raised high in unyielding defiance as they disappeared into the shadows, leaving the battlefield eerily quiet once more.


    As the professors organized the check-in process, I noticed Jose slipping away discreetly after receiving his room key. Something about his expression told me he had unfinished business. Meanwhile, the rest of us lingered in the lobby, marveling at the opulence of the Avenue Plaza Hotel.


    The students were busy chatting, taking selfies, and exploring the space. Emilia, however, excused herself quietly, heading towards the elevators. My curiosity piqued, but I decided not to follow there was enough on my mind after everything that had happened earlier.


    Jose entered his room, locking the door behind him. His face, usually calm and collected, now showed signs of worry. He pulled out a small, intricate device that resembled a compass but glowed faintly with symbols. Pressing its center, the device emitted a holographic projection of a middle-aged man with a commanding aura.


    ¡°Sir,¡± Jose began, his tone serious, ¡°I¡¯m reporting the events from earlier. We encountered a Black Lady and a Kapre near the bus stop. They were accompanied by several Tiyanaks. It seems they were specifically targeting our group.¡±


    The hologram narrowed his eyes. ¡°Were there any casualties?¡±


    ¡°None. We managed to rescue the missing student and retreat safely. However¡­¡± Jose hesitated before continuing. ¡°I suspect these attacks are linked to the energy signature in the Bicol region. It¡¯s growing stronger.¡±


    The man on the other end of the projection nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Continue your observations. Ensure the safety of the civilians. And Jose¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir?¡±


    ¡°Watch over Jiro. There¡¯s more to him than meets the eye.¡±


    In a separate part of the hotel, Emilia was seated by the window of her room. She held an ornate, gold-embossed mirror that shimmered faintly in the dim light. As she gazed into it, the surface rippled like water, revealing the face of an older woman with a regal demeanor.


    ¡°Grandmother,¡± Emilia greeted, her voice steady but respectful.


    The woman¡¯s piercing blue eyes softened slightly. ¡°Emilia. What news do you bring?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve arrived in Naga City, close to the source of the energy. But earlier, there was an attack by the local entities. A Black Lady and a Kapre.¡±


    The older woman frowned. ¡°And your group? Did anyone sense your true purpose there?¡±


    Emilia shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. But there¡¯s a boy, Jiro. He¡¯s¡­ unusual. He was able to sense the entities far earlier than anyone else. And his strength it¡¯s growing rapidly. I can¡¯t confirm yet, but he may be tied to the energy.¡±


    ¡°Keep an eye on him,¡± her grandmother instructed. ¡°The Sword of King Arthur must not fall into the wrong hands. Your mission is of the utmost importance, Emilia. Remember, you are not just a knight but a Pendragon. Fulfill your duty with honor.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Grandmother,¡± Emilia replied, bowing her head slightly as the mirror returned to its normal state.


    She placed it down and sighed, glancing out at the city lights. Her thoughts lingered on Jiro. Just who was he, and why did he feel so¡­ significant?


    Back in the Lobby


    I didn¡¯t see Jose or Emilia again that evening. As the keys were distributed and we all headed to our respective rooms, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something big was happening behind the scenes. All I knew was that the deeper we ventured into this journey, the stranger and more dangerous it would become.

 A Glimpse of the Divine and the Battle of the Dishes

    The morning light spilled into the hotel lobby as the professors gathered the students, the bustling energy of the class contrasting with the ominous storm visible in the distance. Thunder rumbled faintly, a reminder of the mysterious events brewing beyond the horizon. Yet, for now, the focus was on the present it was an exciting cooking challenge that aimed to immerse the students in local culture.


    The professors explained the rules: each team would create a dish using the main ingredient they purchased. For everything else, they had to venture into the nearby mountains and forests to gather fresh, natural ingredients. Our team chose to prepare laing, a Bicolano specialty made of taro leaves and coconut milk, complemented with shrimp paste or meat. Our main ingredient? Fish. But instead of buying it outright, we decided to catch our own near a tranquil lake nestled in the woods.


    The sun hung low as we set off, the soft rustling of leaves underfoot mixing with the chatter of classmates. The forest air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. Emilia, Jose, and I led the way, with Arthur following reluctantly behind, his frustration barely concealed. He muttered something under his breath about my "luck" in teaming up with Emilia, but I chose to ignore it.


    Jose, ever the practical one, broke the tension. ¡°Let¡¯s divide tasks. Jiro, you and Emilia can gather taro leaves and coconut while I look for the shrimp paste vendor near the market. I¡¯ll meet you by the lake for the fish.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I said, though Arthur¡¯s glare suggested he didn¡¯t think so.


    As Emilia and I moved through the forest, the quiet between us was surprisingly comfortable. She occasionally pointed out plants and landmarks, her knowledge of the area impressive for someone who hadn¡¯t grown up here.


    ¡°You know,¡± Emilia said, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from her face, ¡°I¡¯ve read about Bicol in books, but experiencing it is something else. The forest feels¡­ alive.¡±


    Her words held a double meaning, and I couldn¡¯t help but agree. There was an undeniable energy in the air, as though the land itself was watching us.


    The first challenge was finding the taro leaves, which grew in dense clusters near marshy areas. It was trickier than it sounded that the plants were surrounded by thick undergrowth and buzzing insects that seemed determined to chase us away. At one point, I slipped on a muddy patch, nearly tumbling into the water. Emilia burst out laughing, her clear voice echoing through the trees.


    ¡°Careful, Jiro,¡± she teased, offering me her hand. ¡°We still need you to cook.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I grumbled, accepting her help. ¡°Just you wait. I¡¯ll show you some real survival skills when we catch the fish.¡±


    She smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡±


    Next, we had to find a coconut tree. Spotting one wasn¡¯t the problem but reaching the coconuts was. I climbed up, the rough bark scraping my hands as I struggled to maintain my grip. Emilia stood below, offering encouragement with the occasional sarcastic remark.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fall,¡± she called. ¡°I¡¯d hate to explain to your grandparents why you broke your neck collecting coconuts.¡±


    ¡°Not helping,¡± I shot back, finally dislodging a couple of coconuts. They hit the ground with a satisfying thud.


    When I climbed down, Emilia was already cracking one open with a small blade she carried. ¡°Impressive,¡± I admitted.


    She smiled, her cheeks slightly flushed. ¡°A knight must always be prepared.¡±


    By the time we reached the lake, the sun was high in the sky, casting shimmering reflections on the water¡¯s surface. Jose was already there, holding a makeshift fishing rod fashioned from a sturdy branch and some fishing line he¡¯d brought along.


    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°Hope you¡¯re ready to get your hands dirty.¡±


    We fashioned two more rods and got to work. Fishing, as it turned out, required patience a quality Emilia and I didn¡¯t have in abundance. While Jose calmly reeled in one fish after another, Emilia and I struggled. Her line kept tangling, and mine didn¡¯t seem to attract anything.


    ¡°You said you¡¯d show me survival skills,¡± Emilia said, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I was an expert fisherman,¡± I muttered, focusing on the line.


    Suddenly, there was a tug. My rod bent sharply, and I nearly lost my grip. ¡°I¡¯ve got something!¡± I shouted.


    Emilia scrambled to help, and together we reeled in a wriggling fish the size of my forearm. She cheered, her enthusiasm infectious.


    ¡°Not bad, Jiro,¡± she said, her hand brushing mine as we untangled the fish. I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks, but before I could respond, Jose interrupted.


    ¡°Hate to break up the moment,¡± he said, holding up his own catch. ¡°But we¡¯ve got enough fish. Let¡¯s head back.¡±


    As we made our way back, the atmosphere shifted. The vibrant sounds of the forest grew muted, replaced by an eerie stillness. A faint, unsettling laughter seemed to drift through the trees, though none of us could pinpoint its source.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Emilia asked, her voice low.


    I nodded, gripping the bundle of ingredients tightly. Jose¡¯s expression was serious now. ¡°Stay close,¡± he said. ¡°The professors mentioned forest protectors, but it¡¯s better not to take chances.¡±


    We quickened our pace, reaching the bus just as the first drops of rain began to fall. The professors took a headcount, realizing that one student was still missing. Their expressions darkened, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the forest wasn¡¯t done with us yet.


    For now, though, we had everything we needed to cook laing. As we climbed back into the bus, Emilia glanced at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and determination.


    ¡°Jiro,¡± she said softly, ¡°there¡¯s more to you than you¡¯re letting on. I¡¯ll figure it out eventually.¡±


    I met her gaze, unsure whether to feel flattered or wary. One thing was certain but the real challenges were only just beginning.


    The trek down the mountain was uneventful until a sudden glow caught our attention. Just off the path, a woman dressed in flowing white stood amidst the trees, her presence exuding an otherworldly aura. Her skin shimmered faintly, and her hair seemed to flow as though caught in a perpetual breeze. She was a diwata, a forest deity, and her beauty was breathtaking.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Our team stopped in awe, the weight of her gaze settling on me. Her glowing eyes met mine as if she had found what she was searching for. Without a word, she nodded, her expression unreadable, and then vanished into thin air, leaving a faint shimmer in the air where she once stood.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡± Emilia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Jose said. ¡°That was¡­ something.¡±


    They all looked at me for answers, but I could only shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that was about.¡±


    Before we could linger on it, my watch buzzed, reminding us of the contest deadline. We pushed aside our curiosity and hurried back to the base camp, our focus shifting back to the cooking competition.


    By the time we returned to the campsite, the open field had transformed into a bustling outdoor kitchen. Each team was assigned a station equipped with portable stoves, cutting boards, and cooking utensils. A long table displayed the main ingredients each team had chosen, along with a selection of spices, herbs, and other basics.


    ¡°Alright, team,¡± Jose said, clapping his hands together. ¡°Let¡¯s do this. We¡¯re making laing. Emilia, prep the taro leaves. Jiro, you¡¯re on coconut milk and spices. I¡¯ll handle the fish.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s team, stationed a few spaces away, was preparing Bicol Express, a fiery dish made with pork, shrimp paste, and chili peppers. The air was already thick with the aroma of sizzling meats, boiling broths, and saut¨¦ed garlic as other teams worked on dishes like sinigang, tokwa¡¯t baboy, and adobo.


    The professors circulated among the teams, offering advice and observing the students¡¯ techniques. The energy was electric which is part competition, part celebration of Bicolano cuisine.


    The challenge of laing was in its simplicity. A dish like this required precision and care. Too much coconut milk, and it would be soupy. Too little, and it would be dry. Overcooking the taro leaves could make them mushy, while undercooking them would leave an unpleasant raw taste.


    Emilia carefully washed the taro leaves, her hands swift yet delicate. ¡°You have to do this gently,¡± she explained, ¡°so they don¡¯t tear. It¡¯s like handling fine fabric.¡±


    Meanwhile, I cracked open the coconuts we had collected earlier, draining the water into a bowl before scraping out the meat. Using a traditional coconut grater provided by the professors, I turned the meat into fine shreds, which we pressed to extract the rich, creamy milk. The first squeeze gave us thick cream, and the subsequent squeezes yielded thinner milk, both crucial for layering the dish¡¯s flavors.


    Jose cleaned and filleted the fish, seasoning it lightly with salt and calamansi juice before setting it aside.


    As the taro leaves dried, I heated a pan and saut¨¦ed garlic, onions, and ginger in a bit of oil. The aroma was mouthwatering, drawing the attention of nearby teams. I added shrimp paste and chilies, stirring until the mixture turned fragrant and slightly caramelized.


    ¡°Jiro, you¡¯re a natural,¡± Emilia said, watching me work. Her compliment caught me off guard, but I hid my embarrassment by focusing on the pan.


    Once the base was ready, we layered the taro leaves into the pot, adding the thin coconut milk to simmer them gently. Jose added the fish, nestling the fillets between the leaves. Finally, I poured the thick coconut cream on top, letting it seep slowly into the dish.


    Cooking laing was a test of patience. The dish needed time for the flavors to meld and for the taro leaves to absorb the creamy richness of the coconut milk. As it simmered, we adjusted the seasoning, balancing the saltiness of the shrimp paste with the natural sweetness of the coconut.


    Around us, other teams were bustling. Arthur¡¯s team was expertly slicing chilies and pork for their Bicol Express, their pan sizzling loudly as they cooked the meat in shrimp paste and coconut milk. Arthur kept throwing smug glances our way, as if daring us to beat him.


    Meanwhile, teams working on sinigang tasted their tamarind broths, and the smell of soy sauce and vinegar filled the air from teams making adobo. The professors moved among the stations, nodding approvingly and offering tips.


    When it was time to plate, we carefully spooned the laing onto a serving dish, garnishing it with a sprinkle of crispy garlic and a wedge of calamansi for a touch of acidity.


    As the dishes were presented, the professors tasted each one, their expressions ranging from impressed to contemplative. When they reached our station, they took small bites of our laing, nodding as they whispered to each other.


    ¡°This is excellent,¡± one professor said. ¡°The balance of flavors is spot on, and the fish is perfectly cooked. Well done.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s team also received high praise for their Bicol Express, though I noticed Emilia giving a small, satisfied smile when our dish was mentioned.


    After the contest, as everyone relaxed and shared their dishes, Emilia leaned closer to me. ¡°You¡¯re full of surprises, Jiro. First the forest, now cooking. What else are you hiding?¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°Guess you¡¯ll have to stick around to find out.¡±


    Her cheeks turned slightly pink, but she didn¡¯t look away. For a moment, the competition, the storm in the distance, and even Arthur¡¯s constant glare faded away.


    In that quiet moment, amidst the laughter and camaraderie of our classmates, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something bigger was brewing¡ªsomething far beyond a simple cooking contest.


    As the evening settled in, the camaraderie from the cooking contest slowly began to wane. The professors announced the winners, our laing earned second place, while Arthur¡¯s Bicol Express took the top spot. He gloated just enough to make me roll my eyes, but it was hard to take him seriously when Emilia gave me an encouraging nudge and whispered, ¡°We should¡¯ve won.¡±


    Despite the lighthearted banter among the students, I couldn¡¯t ignore the storm clouds gathering over the distant island. The lightning flashing across the sky seemed unnatural, almost rhythmic, as though marking the pulse of something alive.


    Back in our assigned hotel rooms, the class was buzzing with excitement and exhaustion from the day¡¯s events. I tried to relax, but my mind was racing with thoughts about the diwata, the storm, and the strange energy I¡¯d been sensing ever since we arrived in Bicol.


    Jose knocked on the door and stepped inside, his usual serious expression softening for a moment. ¡°Good job today,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re not thinking about the contest.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be right,¡± I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. ¡°That storm isn¡¯t normal, is it?¡±


    Jose shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not. And it¡¯s drawing everything toward it, creatures, energy, even people. That island¡­ it¡¯s like a beacon, and not just for us. You need to stay on guard, Jiro.¡±


    Before I could respond, Emilia entered the room without knocking, her usual composed demeanor replaced with urgency. ¡°We need to talk,¡± she said, glancing between Jose and me. ¡°There¡¯s something I didn¡¯t mention earlier. My family has been tracking the energy on that island for generations. It¡¯s tied to Excalibur, the sword of my ancestor, King Arthur.¡±


    Jose¡¯s eyebrows shot up, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.


    ¡°The sword¡¯s power is vast, and if it falls into the wrong hands¡­¡± She paused, her eyes meeting mine. ¡°We believe the storm is tied to the sword¡¯s awakening. If that¡¯s true, then the creatures around it will do anything to protect or claim it. I need to know, Jiro, what¡¯s your connection to all this? That diwata earlier¡­ it was looking for you.¡±


    Her words hung in the air, heavy and demanding. I didn¡¯t have an answer, but I knew one thing and I couldn¡¯t keep pretending I was just an ordinary student. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°But I¡¯ll find out. Whatever¡¯s happening, I won¡¯t back down.¡±


    Emilia nodded, her gaze steady. ¡°Good. Because I think we¡¯ll need you.¡±


    Later that night, as the students settled into their rooms, I stepped out onto the balcony for some air. The storm on the horizon seemed closer now, its lightning illuminating the waves in eerie flashes. I could feel the energy crackling in the air, faint but unmistakable.


    A movement in the distance caught my eye, a dark figure standing on the roof of a nearby building, watching me. I tensed, ready to call for Jose or Emilia, but the figure disappeared before I could react. My instincts screamed that this was just the beginning, that the storm was bringing more than just bad weather.


    The next morning, the professors announced the day¡¯s itinerary, a visit to Barangay Tagbon, where we¡¯d learn about local culture and traditions. The class was excited, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the storm and the island were linked to something far bigger than a school trip.


    As the bus rolled out, I caught Emilia¡¯s eye. She gave me a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that we were on the same page. Whatever was waiting for us in the Bicol region, we would face it together.

 Lightning Island

    The air at Barangay Tagbon was vibrant, filled with the sounds of chattering tourists and locals as we stood at the base of the 500-step climb to the Mother Mary statue. The towering monument loomed above us, its serene gaze watching over the bustling scene below. The task was simple in theory: climb the stairs, retrieve a flag, and return it to the professors. The catch? The flag could be taken by anyone, and the professors encouraged us to use strategy, cunning, or even competition to keep it.


    As soon as the signal was given, we bolted up the stairs. My legs burned as I pushed myself forward, but the qi circulating within me eased the strain. Jose kept pace easily, his calm demeanor belying the speed he maintained. Emilia was right beside me, her steps light and precise like a trained athlete.


    We reached the top quickly and claimed the flag. The bright red fabric fluttered in the breeze as we turned back to descend the stairs but that''s when Albert''s team intercepted us.


    Albert stood at the head of his team, his face contorted in a mix of jealousy and determination. His teammates flanked him: a taijutsu user with a build like a martial artist and an introverted boy who kept his head low, his eyes darting nervously but glowing faintly with an unsettling energy.


    "You''re not walking away with that flag," Albert sneered, his gaze locked on me. "Not after you''ve been parading around like you own this trip."


    I sighed, tightening my grip on the flag. "Seriously, Albert? This is a school activity, not some life-or-death tournament."


    "That''s easy for you to say," he snapped. "You''ve been getting all the attention lately, and I''m sick of it."


    Jose stepped forward, raising a hand in a calming gesture. "Let''s not make a scene. We can all just..."


    Albert lunged before he could finish, his fist hurtling toward me. I sidestepped easily, the qi in my body sharpening my reflexes. "Fine," I muttered. "If you want to do this, let''s go."


    Albert came at me with brute force, his strikes wild but heavy. I dodged and deflected, careful not to let him land a hit. His movements were fueled by anger, making them predictable, but the raw power behind them meant I couldn''t let my guard down.


    The taijutsu user, meanwhile, engaged Jose. Their clash was like a dance, each strike and counter flowing seamlessly. Jose''s fluid movements kept him just out of reach, but the taijutsu user''s relentless attacks forced him to stay on the defensive.


    Emilia faced the introverted boy, who finally raised his head. His shadows came alive, stretching and writhing like living tendrils. They lashed out at Emilia, trying to entangle her, but she moved with precision, her training as a knight evident in every step. Her hands glowed faintly as she struck at the shadows, dispersing them momentarily.


    Albert''s attacks grew more reckless as I continued to evade him. "Stop running and fight me!" he roared, swinging his fist in a wide arc. I ducked, countering with a swift palm strike to his chest that sent him stumbling back.


    "You''re too focused on brute strength," I said, keeping my tone calm. "If you don''t control your anger, you''ll never land a hit."


    The taijutsu user called Manny managed to catch Jose off guard with a spinning kick, but Jose recovered quickly, flipping back and landing lightly on his feet. He smiled faintly. "Not bad, but let''s see how you handle this." He feinted to the left before sweeping low, knocking the taijutsu user off balance.


    Emilia, meanwhile, closed the distance between herself and the shadow manipulator. She aimed a sharp kick at his legs, disrupting his focus. The shadows faltered, and she took the opportunity to grab his arm and pin him, effectively neutralizing him.


    Albert, frustrated by my continued evasion, let out a roar and charged again. This time, I met his attack head-on, sidestepping at the last moment and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air.


    "Enough," I said, holding the flag high. "This isn''t worth it."


    Albert''s teammates helped him to his feet, their expressions a mix of frustration and embarrassment. The taijutsu user muttered something under his breath about needing more practice, while the shadow manipulator called John avoided eye contact altogether.


    Albert glared at me, his pride clearly wounded, but he didn''t say anything as his team retreated. Emilia and Jose joined me, and we resumed our descent, the flag still securely in hand.


    "That was unnecessary," Emilia said, shaking her head. "But you handled it well."


    "Thanks," I replied, though I couldn''t shake the uneasy feeling that this rivalry with Albert was far from over.


    The victory in the flag challenge had boosted our spirits, and dinner that evening was a lively affair. The professors, seated at a long table nearby, appeared deep in conversation as we enjoyed a buffet of local dishes. The aromas of adobo, fresh fish, and grilled vegetables filled the dining area, making the atmosphere both comforting and festive.


    As I helped myself to a plate of laing, I couldn''t help but notice the occasional glances the professors exchanged. They were clearly planning something for tomorrow, but the nature of it remained a mystery.


    Seated beside me, Emilia was uncharacteristically quiet, her fork moving absentmindedly across her plate. I leaned in slightly. "You okay?"


    She hesitated before nodding. "Yeah, just thinking about tomorrow."


    "Don''t worry," I said with a small smile. "If it''s anything like today, we''ve got this."


    Her lips twitched upward in a faint smile, but her eyes remained distant.


    After dinner, I decided to take a short walk around the hotel grounds. The cool evening air and the soft murmur of the nearby river provided a welcome reprieve from the day''s excitement. That''s when I noticed them: a group of foreigners gathered near the hotel''s side entrance. Their appearance was nondescript, but something about their movements caught my attention.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    As I drew closer, pretending to scroll through my phone, I noticed subtle details. One of them adjusted what appeared to be a normal jacket, but to my eyes, a faint glint of metal was visible beneath it. Another carried a bag slung over his shoulder, but its outline suggested it contained more than just clothes.


    It didn''t take long to confirm my suspicions. These weren''t ordinary travelers and they were armed, though their weapons seemed hidden from mortal sight. I instinctively activated a bit of my qi, heightening my senses. Their auras were subdued but potent, similar to practitioners I had encountered in Chinatown.


    They didn''t notice me or at least they pretended not to. I walked away, my mind racing. Who were they? And why were they here?


    The announcement of the race to the nearby island filled the air with a buzz of excitement. Professors gave clear instructions: locate an item hidden on the island and return to the starting point. The challenge was a mix of strategy, endurance, and teamwork, designed to encourage cooperation among the students. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, I couldn''t shake the unease I felt. The ominous silhouette of Lightning Island in the distance loomed like a foreboding omen, with storm clouds swirling above it as though the heavens themselves were in turmoil.


    As the boats lined up at the docks the next morning, I felt a nudge on my shoulder. It was Emilia, her expression serious.


    "Jiro, we need to talk." Her voice was low, barely audible over the chatter of students.


    Before I could ask what she meant, Jose walked up beside her, his usual calm demeanor intact. "It''s about the island," he said cryptically.


    "What about it?" I asked, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.


    "I need to investigate something there," Jose said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at the stormy horizon. "There''s more going on than the professors are letting on."


    "And I need to confirm something," Emilia added. Her voice carried a weight I hadn''t heard before. "I think the sword we''re looking for Excalibur which might be tied to that island."


    I froze, the words hitting me like a sudden gust of wind. "You want to abandon the challenge and go to Lightning Island? Are you insane?"


    Emilia''s blue eyes locked onto mine, unwavering. "I wouldn''t ask if it wasn''t important."


    Before I could argue further, Jose interrupted. "We''ll be discreet. We can leave during the chaos of the race and return before anyone notices. You''re strong enough to handle this, Jiro. And we''ll need your help."


    I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "This is crazy. If we get caught..."


    "We won''t," Emilia cut in. "Trust me."


    As the race began, our classmates scattered across the island the professors had chosen for the challenge. It was alive with vibrant greenery, bustling wildlife, and a series of natural obstacles designed to test both endurance and intellect. The professors had been meticulous in their planning, ensuring the island was challenging yet safe for the students.


    Despite the lively energy of the race, my thoughts were elsewhere. From this vantage point, the looming presence of Lightning Island across the churning sea was impossible to ignore. Its dark silhouette against the stormy horizon sent shivers down my spine. A low, almost imperceptible hum of energy emanated from the island, tugging at something deep within me.


    We worked as a team to solve the first clue quickly, navigating the dense forest and rocky terrain to locate an ornate wooden box containing a key. Emilia, Jose, and I moved with efficiency, our instincts sharper than the average student.


    "Let''s take this opportunity," Emilia whispered as we reached the forest''s edge, glancing back to ensure no one was following us.


    I hesitated but nodded. The moment felt right and other teams were still scattered across the main island, far from the shore where we now stood.


    "Are you sure about this?" I asked as Jose unfolded a tattered map, pointing to the quickest route to Lightning Island.


    "I''m certain," Emilia said firmly. "There''s something on that island we need to uncover."


    A small boat was hidden in a rocky cove, seemingly abandoned but sturdy enough for our purpose. Jose must have prepared it in advance, his foresight proving invaluable once again.


    "Keep your voices low," he warned as we pushed the boat into the water. "We don''t want to attract any attention."


    The crossing to Lightning Island was perilous. Waves crashed violently against the hull, and the oppressive air seemed to thicken with each passing moment. Lightning crackled in the distance, illuminating the jagged shoreline ahead.


    "We''re almost there," Emilia said, gripping the side of the boat tightly. Her confidence was unwavering, but I could see the tension in her posture.


    When we finally reached the island, the energy shift was palpable. The air felt heavier, as if the island itself were alive and watching us. The dense forest ahead was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves.


    "We need to move quickly," Jose said, leading the way.


    As we ventured deeper into the forest, shadows began to stir unnaturally among the trees. A faint, high-pitched laughter echoed around us, sending chills down my spine.


    "They''re here," Emilia whispered, drawing her dagger.


    Tiyanaks. The twisted spirits of stillborn children, their grotesque forms were small but terrifying. They moved with inhuman speed, their clawed hands reaching out from the darkness.


    The first one lunged at Jose, but he sidestepped with practiced ease, delivering a sharp kick that sent the creature crashing into a tree. Emilia engaged another, her movements swift and precise as her blade sliced through its shadowy form.


    I focused my qi, channeling it into my fists. When a tiyanak lunged at me, I countered with a palm strike, the force of my energy dispersing its body into a mist-like vapor.


    "They''re fast," I muttered, barely dodging another attack.


    "Stay together!" Jose called out.


    The battle intensified as more tiyanaks emerged from the shadows. They attacked relentlessly, their high-pitched laughter grating on our nerves. One managed to grab Emilia''s leg, dragging her toward the undergrowth.


    "Emilia!" I shouted, rushing to her aid.


    She slashed at the creature with her dagger, freeing herself just as I reached her. Without thinking, I grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.


    "Thanks," she said, her voice breathless but steady.


    Jose unleashed a burst of energy, using a pendant which creates a shockwave that knocked several tiyanaks back. "We need to finish this quickly," he said, his tone urgent.


    Pooling my qi into a concentrated strike, I punched the ground, creating a tremor that destabilized the remaining tiyanaks. Emilia and Jose seized the opportunity to finish them off, their attacks swift and coordinated.


    When the last of the creatures dissolved into mist, we stood in the clearing, our breaths coming in ragged gasps.


    "That was too close," Emilia said, wiping sweat from her brow.


    As we regrouped, a faint, glowing light caught my attention. It was coming from a clearing further ahead, pulsating softly like a heartbeat.


    "What is that?" I asked, pointing toward the light.


    "Let''s find out," Emilia said, her determination unwavering.


    The clearing was dominated by a massive stone pedestal, atop which rested a fragment of an ancient sword. The blade was broken and only the hilt can be seen, but its aura was undeniable which looks powerful and otherworldly.


    "This must be it," Emilia said, her voice tinged with awe.


    Before we could approach, the ground beneath us began to tremble. A low, guttural growl echoed through the forest, and the shadows began to shift once more.


    "We''re not alone," Jose said, his eyes scanning the darkness.


    Emilia stepped forward, her grip on her dagger tightening. "Whatever it is, we''re ready."


    I nodded, steeling myself for the next challenge. The journey to Lightning Island had been fraught with danger, but I knew this was only the beginning. The true test was yet to come.

 Battle for the Ruins

    Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the chaotic scene on Lightning Island. From every direction, people and creatures emerged. Foreigners armed with concealed weapons, mythical beings like beastmen with furred limbs and sharp claws, sirens whose haunting voices sent chills through the air, and even aswangs leading armies of tiktiks and tiyanaks.


    Among them, I spotted familiar faces. Some of my professors, usually calm and composed, now wore expressions of steely determination. Their once-hidden auras flared to life, betraying their supernatural abilities. Strangest of all, a contingent of finely dressed foreigners stood apart, clearly from England, their crest-decorated cloaks marking them as knights or sorcerers. Several of them seemed to recognize Emilia.


    ¡°Emilia Pendragon,¡± a silver-haired knight called out, his voice carrying authority. ¡°What are you doing here? Your mission was not to involve yourself directly!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing what I must,¡± Emilia replied, her tone cold but resolute. ¡°The hilt of Excalibur is here, and I won¡¯t let it fall into the wrong hands.¡±


    Their exchange was cut short by a thunderous growl that seemed to shake the island to its core. Emerging from the thick mist was a giant serpent-like creature with claws, its body shimmering with black and silver scales. Its head resembled that of a dragon, but its elongated body and glowing red eyes made it unmistakable and it was the Bakunawa, the moon-eating serpent of Filipino myth.


    The Bakunawa let out a deafening roar and raised its head, releasing a shimmering barrier around the entire island. The force of it sent a pulse through the air, causing weaker creatures and humans to stagger.


    The pedestal that held the sword''s hilt trembled violently. Cracks formed around it, and the ground split apart, revealing an enormous stone structure beneath. Slowly, a massive ancient ruin emerged from the earth, its spires and carvings glowing faintly with energy. The hilt of Excalibur, once visible, was swallowed into the depths of the structure.


    ¡°The ruins¡­ it¡¯s a dungeon,¡± Jose muttered, his sharp gaze scanning the scene.


    Tension rippled through the gathered parties. Everyone seemed ready to strike, their eyes locked on the ruins. From the shadowed distance, an aswang of high bloodline strode forward, his pale skin glistening in the dim light. He was flanked by a horde of tiktiks and tiyanaks, their grotesque forms creating an unsettling atmosphere.


    Jose stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. ¡°Jiro, Emilia, we¡¯re at the center of a power struggle far beyond what we expected. If we fall back now, we lose any chance to retrieve the hilt.¡±


    I hesitated, glancing at the gathering forces. Beastmen sharpened their claws, sirens sang haunting tunes to bolster their allies, and even our professors stood at the ready, their stances betraying hidden skills. The foreigners from England whispered among themselves, their hands subtly moving as if casting spells.


    ¡°We¡¯re outnumbered,¡± I said, my voice tight. ¡°And outmatched.¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Emilia countered. ¡°We¡¯ve come this far. I won¡¯t back down.¡±


    Before I could argue, the Bakunawa¡¯s glowing eyes locked onto me. It stared with an intensity that made my skin crawl, and for a moment, everything around me blurred. My forehead burned, as if something inside me was trying to emerge. I stumbled, clutching my head.


    ¡°Jiro!¡± Emilia exclaimed, rushing to support me.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I gasped, though the pain was overwhelming. But deep within, I felt a surge of energy, a force breaking through barriers I hadn¡¯t realized existed.


    ¡°You¡¯re breaking through,¡± Jose observed, his voice tinged with amazement.


    As the pain subsided, I felt my qi surge to new heights. My body hummed with power, and I realized I had skipped several minor realms, reaching the peak of the Body Tempering Realm. But something was still missing and I couldn¡¯t yet step into the Qi Gathering Realm.


    Meanwhile, on the mainland, a group of cultivators observed the scene unfolding on Lightning Island. They were dressed in flowing robes embroidered with intricate dragon motifs, their presence exuding authority and power.


    ¡°The energy from that boy¡­¡± one of them murmured, his sharp eyes fixed on me through a pair of enchanted binoculars.


    ¡°He possesses the scroll¡¯s energy,¡± another added, his voice laced with intrigue.


    These cultivators were elite disciples of Elder Yu, sent from China to track down the stolen cultivation scroll. By a twist of fate, they had found not only me but also the ruins housing the hilt of Excalibur.


    ¡°This is an opportunity,¡± their leader said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. ¡°The boy may lead us to the scroll, and the sword¡¯s hilt is an artifact of immense power. If we act now, we can claim both.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± one of the disciples asked.


    The leader smiled coldly. ¡°We¡¯ll let the chaos on the island play out. When the ruins open, we¡¯ll strike. The boy will have no choice but to surrender to us.¡±


    Back on the island, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation. As the ruins settled into place, the barriers surrounding the hilt pulsed rhythmically, reacting to the power surges from the island¡¯s inhabitants.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much time,¡± Jose said. ¡°Once the ruins open, it¡¯ll be a free-for-all.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll need to be faster,¡± Emilia said, her voice resolute.


    I nodded, steeling myself. The odds were against us, but if we wanted to retrieve the hilt and uncover the truth behind this conflict, we had no choice but to face whatever lay ahead.


    The ground beneath us trembled again, signaling the impending opening of the ruins. I clenched my fists, feeling the renewed power coursing through me. This was the moment of truth.


    The tension on Lightning Island was palpable, thick as the storm clouds swirling overhead. As more parties arrived cultivators, foreigners, mythical creatures, and entities from various mythologies as the atmosphere became suffused with barely restrained hostility. The ruins, glowing faintly with ancient energy, stood at the center of it all like a silent arbiter, its secrets locked away behind the shimmering barrier.


    While chaos brewed, Jose, Emilia, and I huddled behind a cluster of boulders, observing the growing crowd. The power surges from the island were causing the tension between factions to bubble dangerously close to violence.


    ¡°We¡¯re not strong enough to face everyone here head-on,¡± Jose began, his tone calm but urgent. ¡°But we can use their greed against them.¡±


    ¡°You mean to play the oriole?¡± Emilia asked, her brow furrowed.


    Jose nodded. ¡°Exactly. Let the factions fight among themselves, expend their strength, and once the ruins open and they¡¯re distracted, we strike.¡±


    ¡°The mantis stalks the cicada,¡± Emilia murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips. ¡°But the oriole watches from the shadows. Clever.¡±


    ¡°And risky,¡± I added, glancing at the writhing hordes of tiktiks and tiyanaks flanking Clint, the high-bloodline aswang. He was clearly one of the most dangerous players in this gathering. His aura was suffocating, and his presence commanded fear even among his own kind.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much of a choice,¡± Jose replied, his gaze steely. ¡°We stick to the shadows, wait for the right moment, and strike fast.¡±


    Across the battlefield, Clint surveyed the scene with a predator¡¯s gaze. Despite the numerous factions vying for the hilt, he remained calm, confident in his superiority.


    ¡°Time to thin the herd,¡± he muttered.


    From a cut on his palm, he let a single drop of blood fall to the ground. The droplet writhed and expanded, morphing into a grotesque creature, a blood minion unlike any of the tiktiks or tiyanaks. It was a hulking, crimson monstrosity with elongated limbs and jagged claws, its body pulsating with unholy energy.


    Clint smirked. ¡°Let them entertain themselves with this while I claim what¡¯s mine.¡±


    The blood minion let out an ear-splitting shriek, drawing the attention of the gathered parties. As it charged into the fray, Clint¡¯s tiktiks and tiyanaks surged forward, their grotesque forms moving with inhuman speed.


    As the first skirmishes broke out, more groups arrived on the island. A group of heavily armed foreigners, their weapons shimmering faintly as if enchanted, approached the ruins cautiously. Among them, I recognized the man I¡¯d seen the night before at the hotel, a tall, sharp-eyed figure whose presence exuded authority.


    From the east, a squad of Chinese cultivators, their robes bearing intricate dragon motifs, emerged from the forest. Their leader, a stern man with a long white beard, exchanged tense glances with Clint.


    Even the beastmen and sirens seemed to form uneasy alliances, their leaders snarling or singing commands to their respective factions.


    ¡°It¡¯s a powder keg,¡± Emilia muttered, watching the factions jostle for dominance.


    ¡°And the match is lit,¡± I added, my eyes darting to the glowing ruins.


    The barrier around the ruins began to flicker, its once-steady hum now erratic. The energy pulses grew more frequent, signaling the imminent collapse of the protective field.


    ¡°They¡¯re all waiting for the same thing,¡± Jose said, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Once that barrier drops, it¡¯s going to be chaos.¡±


    I nodded, my gaze lingering on Clint. He stood apart from the fray, his expression unreadable. His strategy was clear and it was to let his minions stall and weaken the others while he waited for the ruins to fully open.


    Suddenly, the barrier shattered with a deafening crack, sending a shockwave across the island. The factions erupted into motion, their leaders barking orders as chaos descended.


    The blood minion roared, swatting aside a group of cultivators with terrifying ease. Sirens sang melodies that disoriented their enemies, while beastmen charged into battle with primal ferocity.


    Clint watched it all with a satisfied smirk. ¡°Let them kill each other,¡± he murmured.


    Meanwhile, Jose, Emilia, and I stuck to the shadows, weaving through the chaos. Despite our best efforts to avoid conflict, a group of tiyanaks intercepted us, their grotesque forms cackling with malicious glee.


    The tiyanaks came at us in a flurry of claws and teeth. Emilia moved first, her blade flashing as she cut down two of the creatures with precise strikes. Jose followed, his movements fluid as he used his qi to enhance his speed, delivering powerful blows that sent the tiyanaks reeling.


    I focused on the largest one, its twisted face contorted into a malicious grin. It lunged at me, its claws aiming for my throat. I sidestepped, channeling my qi into my fists, and struck it square in the chest. The force of the blow sent it crashing into a nearby tree.


    Despite our efforts, more of the creatures kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless.


    ¡°Jiro, behind you!¡± Emilia shouted.


    I turned just in time to see another tiyanak leaping toward me. Before it could reach me, Jose intercepted it with a powerful kick, sending it flying into the fray.


    ¡°We can¡¯t keep this up,¡± Emilia said, her breathing heavy.


    ¡°Just a little longer,¡± Jose replied. ¡°The ruins are open now. We need to move!¡±


    As the dust settled from the initial chaos, the ruins revealed their true form and a massive underground structure that seemed to pulse with an ancient, otherworldly energy.


    Clint made his move, leaping into the ruins with inhuman speed, his blood minion following close behind. Other factions followed suit, their leaders barking orders as they fought to be the first to claim the hilt.


    ¡°We go now,¡± Jose said firmly.


    Emilia nodded, her grip tightening on her blade. ¡°Stay close. This isn¡¯t over yet.¡±


    I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The battle for the hilt of Excalibur had only just begun, and the stakes had never been higher.

 Balete Tree

    The chaos on Lightning Island erupted in an instant, like the breaking of a dam. Clint, the high-bloodline Aswang, had vanished into the shadows, his figure dissolving into the inky blackness as if the darkness itself welcomed him. His plan was clear: to reach the ruins before anyone else. But before retreating, he left a horrifying parting gift, an army of summoned minions and familiars tasked to buy him time.


    The minions, grotesque amalgamations of Tiyanaks and Tiktiks fused with Clint¡¯s dark blood magic, surged forward with unrelenting ferocity. Their shrieks and growls echoed across the battlefield, a cacophony of terror that set even the bravest hearts on edge.


    Among the first to fall was a proud Beastman warrior, his fur bristling as he swung a massive club at the approaching swarm. For a brief moment, he held his ground, his raw strength scattering the smaller minions. But they were relentless, their numbers overwhelming him as they lunged and tore at his flesh. The air filled with the sound of snarls and the wet, sickening squelch of flesh being ripped apart. He roared in defiance to the very end, but it was futile. The creatures drained him dry, leaving nothing but a bloodied husk.


    Elsewhere, a cultivator from China, cloaked in golden robes and exuding an aura of immense power, fought valiantly. His swordsmanship was precise and elegant, each swing cutting down dozens of Clint¡¯s vile creations. Yet, even he was unprepared for the sudden attack of a Manananggal, its bat-like wings propelling it forward at blinding speed. Its razor-sharp claws tore through his defenses, slicing cleanly through his neck. His headless body collapsed to the ground, the golden robes now soaked in crimson.


    While the battlefield became a blood-soaked melee, not everyone succumbed to the chaos. Those with cunning and quick wits took advantage of the distraction, slipping past the carnage and darting into the ruins. Among them were teams of cultivators, sorcerers, and even a pair of sirens who used their hypnotic voices to lull the minions into momentary submission before making their escape.


    But for every team that made it to the ruins, dozens more remained trapped in the chaos, forced to fight for their lives. A group of beastmen warriors formed a defensive circle, their claws and weapons slashing through the unrelenting wave of enemies. Nearby, a human knight in gleaming armor held his ground, his shield battered and dented as he swung his broadsword with unwavering determination.


    In the midst of the chaos, our trio Emilia, Jose, and I stuck to our plan. We hung back, observing the carnage while remaining undetected.


    ¡°Clint¡¯s trying to outplay everyone,¡± Jose muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched the Aswang¡¯s minions wreak havoc. ¡°If we go in now, we¡¯ll be caught in the crossfire.¡±


    ¡°Then we wait for the opening,¡± Emilia said firmly. Her sword was drawn, its polished blade glinting faintly even in the storm¡¯s dim light. ¡°When the ruins open, we move.¡±


    I nodded, though my gaze lingered on the battlefield. I couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of guilt as I watched the others fall. But there was no room for hesitation or misplaced heroics. Clint¡¯s true power lay ahead, and if we were to face him, we needed every advantage we could get.


    The storm above intensified, the winds howling as lightning illuminated the battlefield in blinding flashes. Each bolt revealed the horrors unfolding below bloodied bodies, shattered weapons, and the unrelenting tide of Clint¡¯s monstrous creations.


    Suddenly, the earth trembled. A low, guttural growl echoed from the direction of the ruins, and the energy surrounding the area shifted. The barrier protecting the ruins flickered, then began to dissolve. All eyes turned toward the entrance, even the minions hesitating momentarily as if awaiting their master¡¯s command.


    The ruins were opening. The real battle was about to begin.


    The Bakunawa¡¯s roar echoed across the island, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated in my chest. It was as if the great serpent-dragon was signaling the beginning of something monumental, an event that would change the fate of everyone present. Lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating the ruins that had just emerged from beneath the ground. The barrier protecting them shimmered one final time before dissolving into thin air.


    For a moment, the battlefield paused in eerie silence, the warring parties stunned by the sheer power of the Bakunawa¡¯s presence. Then, chaos erupted once more. Teams surged forward, desperate to claim the ruins and the treasures hidden within. Battles broke out as groups clashed, each determined to be the first to enter. Clint, the cunning Aswang, had already slipped through the entrance, his shadowy figure disappearing into the depths. His minions remained behind, snarling and snapping as they blocked the path for others.


    Amidst the chaos, I heard it a voice, soft yet commanding, speaking directly into my mind.


    You must go now. The path you seek is not where others tread.


    The sensation was overwhelming, a pull deep within my soul. My gut churned with certainty, urging me to turn away from the fray and head elsewhere. My instincts pointed to a different part of the island, one away from the main ruins.


    I grabbed Jose and Emilia¡¯s arms, pulling them close. ¡°We can¡¯t fight through this. There¡¯s another way.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Emilia asked, her brows furrowed as she glanced toward the ruins. ¡°That¡¯s where the hilt is. If we don¡¯t act now, Clint will get it.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I replied, my voice firm. ¡°But I have a feeling¡­ something¡¯s guiding me. There¡¯s another path a better path. Around the corner of the island. There¡¯s supposed to be a balete tree. We need to go there.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Jose tilted his head, his expression contemplative. ¡°You¡¯re serious about this, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to explain it, but I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    Emilia hesitated, looking between me and the chaos unfolding near the ruins. ¡°If you¡¯re wrong about this¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    Emilia sighed, sheathing her sword with a reluctant nod. ¡°Fine. But this better be worth it.¡±


    Jose didn¡¯t need any more convincing. He shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. ¡°You¡¯ve got my vote. Lead the way.¡±


    We turned away from the battlefield, slipping into the shadows of the dense forest. The sounds of battle faded behind us as we made our way around the edge of the island. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation.


    The forest grew thicker as we moved, the air colder and heavier. It was as if we had crossed into another realm entirely. The moonlight barely penetrated the canopy above, and the ground was tangled with roots and vines. Despite the eerie atmosphere, I felt a strange sense of purpose, as though this was where we were meant to be.


    After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at the balete tree. It stood tall and imposing, its gnarled roots twisting like the limbs of some ancient creature. The tree seemed alive, its leaves rustling despite the absence of wind. A faint glow emanated from its trunk, pulsing like a heartbeat.


    ¡°This is it,¡± I said, my voice barely above a whisper.


    Jose stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the tree. ¡°There¡¯s something¡­ strange about this place. It¡¯s almost like¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, the tree¡¯s glow intensified, and the ground beneath us trembled. A section of the roots shifted, revealing a hidden passageway descending into darkness.


    Emilia unsheathed her sword again, her grip tightening. ¡°Well, that¡¯s convenient.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said, stepping forward. My instincts hadn¡¯t led me wrong so far, and I wasn¡¯t about to doubt them now.


    We descended into the passageway, the air growing colder with every step. The faint glow of the tree above faded, leaving us in near-total darkness save for the light emanating from Jose¡¯s orb of fire.


    ¡°What do you think we¡¯ll find down here?¡± Emilia asked, her voice echoing off the walls.


    ¡°Answers,¡± I replied. ¡°And maybe a way to stop Clint.¡±


    The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: we were on a different journey now, one that would take us deeper into the mysteries of the island and the forces that had drawn us here.


    The ruins had transformed into a labyrinth of vast chambers and endless corridors, each filled with ancient carvings and glowing symbols. Those who entered through the main entrance were scattered across this vast dimension-like space, each group facing unique trials and dangers. Meanwhile, at the base of the Balete tree, our confrontation was about to begin.


    As the white portal shimmered before us, the Diwata her ethereal form radiant in the moonlight emerged from the Balete tree. Her every movement exuded grace and power. She pointed toward the portal, her expression serene but commanding, urging us to step through.


    Before we could move, a rustling sound from the forest caught our attention. The shadows thickened, and from the undergrowth emerged three figures. They were clad in ornate robes, their presence exuding an air of authority and danger. These were no ordinary warriors.


    ¡°You¡¯ve led us on quite the chase, boy,¡± the one in the lead said, his voice calm but edged with menace. His eyes were sharp, and his aura crackled with suppressed energy. ¡°Hand over the scroll.¡±


    I hesitated, my mind racing. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I lied, my voice steady despite the tension in the air.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb,¡± another cultivator sneered, stepping forward. She was smaller in stature but radiated an equally deadly aura. She held up a jade talisman, which began to glow faintly. ¡°This artifact doesn¡¯t lie. It¡¯s resonating with the scroll¡¯s energy on you.¡±


    I cursed inwardly. There was no denying it now.


    The leader stepped closer, his hand hovering over the hilt of a sleek, curved blade. ¡°We don¡¯t want unnecessary bloodshed. Give us the scroll, and we¡¯ll let you leave in one piece.¡±


    Jose cracked his knuckles, stepping between me and the cultivators. ¡°You¡¯re in the wrong place if you think threats will work.¡±


    Emilia drew her sword, her movements fluid and deliberate. ¡°Three against three. Fair enough.¡±


    The tension snapped like a taut string. In an instant, the three cultivators attacked, their movements precise and synchronized.


    The first cultivator lunged at me, but Jose intercepted him, conjuring a wall of fire that forced the man to leap back. With a flick of his wrist, Jose sent a barrage of fireballs flying toward his opponent, who skillfully dodged each one, his speed almost inhuman.


    The cultivator retaliated with a wind technique, creating razor-sharp gusts that sliced through the air. Jose grinned, his confidence unshaken, and countered by heating the wind itself, turning it into searing waves of heat that forced his opponent to retreat.


    Emilia faced off against the smallest of the three cultivators. Despite her opponent¡¯s size, she was lightning-fast, her twin daggers flashing as she struck at Emilia from multiple angles.


    But Emilia was a knight of Arthurian lineage, her movements honed through years of training. She parried the daggers with ease, her longsword a blur as it deflected each strike. The clash of steel echoed through the forest as the two engaged in a deadly dance, neither gaining the upper hand.


    The leader of the cultivators targeted me, his movements calculated and relentless. He didn¡¯t draw his blade, instead relying on powerful bursts of energy that sent shockwaves through the ground. I dodged clumsily, barely managing to avoid the brunt of his attacks.


    ¡°You¡¯re out of your depth, boy,¡± he taunted, his voice calm even as he attacked.


    I clenched my fists, drawing on my qi to reinforce my body. My recent breakthrough had granted me increased strength, but it wasn¡¯t enough to match his experience. I tried to counter with strikes of my own, but he deflected them effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± he sneered, unleashing a wave of energy that sent me sprawling.


    As I struggled to get up, the Diwata raised her hand. A soft, melodic hum filled the air, and golden vines erupted from the ground, entangling the leader and pulling him back. He growled in frustration, slashing at the vines to free himself.


    ¡°Go!¡± the Diwata commanded, her voice echoing in my mind. ¡°The portal will not remain open for long.¡±


    Emilia and Jose disengaged from their opponents, retreating toward the portal.


    ¡°Jiro, now!¡± Emilia shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.


    I scrambled to my feet, my body aching from the leader¡¯s attacks. The cultivators were regrouping, preparing for another assault. With a final glance at the Diwata, who was holding them off with her golden vines, I turned and sprinted toward the portal.


    The moment we stepped through, the world around us shifted. The air grew colder, and the forest vanished, replaced by the ruins¡¯ interior. It was a vast, otherworldly space, its architecture ancient and alien. Glowing runes lined the walls, and the faint hum of energy resonated through the air.


    I collapsed onto the ground, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

 Inside the Ruins

    ¡°That was too close,¡± I muttered.


    Emilia sheathed her sword, her expression grim. ¡°They¡¯ll find a way to follow us. We need to keep moving.¡±


    Jose helped me to my feet, his usual smirk replaced with a look of concern. ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, straightening up. ¡°Let¡¯s find that hilt.¡±


    The ruins stretched before us, a labyrinth of possibilities and dangers. But for now, we had survived. And the true challenge was just beginning.


    The interior of the ruins was a labyrinth of corridors, chambers, and towering columns etched with glowing runes. The air hummed faintly, charged with a mystical energy that made every hair on my body stand on end. The walls seemed to pulse, their intricate carvings shifting subtly whenever we looked away.


    ¡°This place is like a maze,¡± Emilia muttered, her voice echoing faintly in the vast, eerie space. She kept her sword drawn, her sharp eyes scanning every shadow.


    Jose trailed his fingers along the wall, studying the carvings. ¡°These symbols¡­ they¡¯re guiding us somewhere, but I can¡¯t make sense of them. It¡¯s like they¡¯re written in some forgotten language.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t paying attention to their conversation. My forehead throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, the sensation growing stronger with every step we took. It wasn¡¯t just pain, it was like a tug, an invisible thread pulling me toward something deeper within the ruins.


    ¡°Jiro, are you okay?¡± Emilia asked, glancing back at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I lied, pressing a hand to my head. The warmth emanating from my forehead felt almost alive, as if something beneath my skin was trying to break free. ¡°Let¡¯s just keep moving.¡±


    The corridors twisted and turned in seemingly endless loops. No matter which direction we chose, we always seemed to end up in a familiar chamber or cross paths with the same glowing mural. The frustration was palpable.


    ¡°This is pointless!¡± Jose snapped, slamming his fist against the wall. ¡°We¡¯re going in circles.¡±


    ¡°There has to be a way forward,¡± Emilia said, her tone calm but strained. She crouched to examine the floor, her fingers tracing faint grooves that formed an intricate pattern.


    The pain in my forehead flared suddenly, sharp and insistent. I stumbled, clutching at the wall for support.


    ¡°Jiro!¡± Emilia rushed to my side, steadying me.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s like something is pulling me,¡± I managed to say through gritted teeth. I pointed down a narrow corridor, its entrance partially obscured by hanging vines. ¡°That way. I can feel it.¡±


    Jose raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you sure? It looks like a dead end.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± I said firmly.


    Emilia hesitated for a moment before nodding. ¡°Let¡¯s trust him. We don¡¯t have a better lead.¡±


    We followed the corridor, the air growing colder with every step. The walls here were smoother, their glowing runes forming patterns that seemed almost deliberate, like a map. The pain in my forehead eased as we moved deeper, replaced by a sense of clarity.


    Finally, we emerged into a circular chamber. At its center stood a small, gnarled figure no taller than my knee. It had a bulbous nose, pointed ears, and a mischievous glint in its beady eyes. A dwende.


    Jose tensed, stepping forward with his fists raised. ¡°Another one of Clint¡¯s minions?¡±


    The dwende raised a tiny hand, and a shimmering shield of light sprang up around it. Before Jose could react, the shield expanded outward, slamming into him with enough force to send him sprawling across the chamber.


    ¡°Jose!¡± Emilia exclaimed, rushing to help him up.


    The dwende tilted its head, its expression one of mild amusement. ¡°Violence will not aid you here, travelers,¡± it said in a high-pitched voice. ¡°Only wit and wisdom will suffice.¡±


    I stepped forward cautiously, keeping my hands raised to show I meant no harm. ¡°What do you want from us?¡±


    The dwende smiled, revealing a row of tiny, sharp teeth. ¡°A trial of riddles awaits. Answer correctly, and you may pass. Fail, and¡­ well, let us not dwell on unpleasant outcomes.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The air in the chamber grew heavy, the runes on the walls dimming as the dwende spoke. It gestured with its tiny hand, and a clay jug filled with a shimmering white liquid appeared on a pedestal beside it.


    ¡°This is what you seek,¡± the dwende said, its tone almost teasing. ¡°Solve the bugtong to claim it.¡±


    It cleared its throat and began:


    ¡°Bugtong, bugtong, itinanim ko dito, tumubo doon.¡±


    The riddle hung in the air like a challenge, the weight of its meaning pressing down on us.


    Jose, still shaken from the shield¡¯s attack, groaned as he sat up. ¡°A riddle? Seriously?¡±


    Emilia frowned, deep in thought. ¡°It¡¯s a metaphor,¡± she said slowly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. ¡°But it could mean anything.¡±


    I stared at the dwende, my forehead throbbing again as if urging me to focus. The sensation wasn¡¯t painful this time; it was almost¡­ guiding. ¡°There¡¯s something more to this,¡± I said quietly. ¡°We¡¯re not just answering a riddle. We¡¯re proving something.¡±


    The dwende smiled, its eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°Take your time, travelers. But not too much time. The ruins are alive, and they do not wait for anyone.¡±


    The sound of distant rumbling echoed through the chamber, as if the ruins themselves were shifting. Time was running out.


    The room was tense with the weight of the riddle, the glow from the runes flickering dimly as though the ruins themselves were waiting for our response. The dwende, perched on its small pedestal with a mischievous smirk, seemed to take great pleasure in our hesitation.


    Jose stood up, brushing himself off, and glared at the dwende. "Why don''t you just let us take that thing and move on? A riddle¡¯s just wasting time."


    The dwende tilted its head, its sharp teeth flashing in another smile. "Ah, impatience. It is a common flaw in mortals. But no, child of the tempering arts, the rules here are immutable. Solve the bugtong, and you will be rewarded. Fail, and..." It let the sentence hang ominously in the air.


    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s try a different approach,¡± Emilia said, stepping forward cautiously. ¡°What happens if we don¡¯t answer? Do we just stay here forever?¡±


    The dwende chuckled, the sound like leaves rustling in the wind. ¡°No, my dear. If you leave, you lose your chance at the white liquid. And trust me, you will need it for what lies ahead.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not really reassuring,¡± I muttered, rubbing my throbbing forehead.


    ¡°Could you give us more clues?¡± Emilia tried, her tone hopeful.


    The dwende tapped its chin theatrically, pretending to ponder the request. ¡°Hmm, no. That would defeat the purpose of the trial. However,¡± it said, raising a tiny finger, ¡°I can offer a... privilege, let us say. A glimpse of the others who wander these halls. Perhaps their struggles will inspire you.¡±


    Before we could answer, the dwende waved its hand, and the air shimmered like a heatwave. Suddenly, we saw moving images floating before us, like a window into the trials of the other participants.


    The first image was of Clint, the aswang of noble blood. He moved like a shadow through the maze, his minions spreading out to obstruct others. He stopped briefly before a glowing pedestal similar to ours, his sharp eyes narrowing as he examined a strange device before swiftly solving whatever challenge it presented.


    ¡°Great,¡± Jose muttered. ¡°Clint¡¯s probably miles ahead of us already.¡±


    The scene shifted to a group of beastmen. One, a hulking figure with fur streaked with scars, was furiously attacking a swarm of Tiyanak minions. He fought valiantly, his claws and teeth tearing through the creatures, but the sheer numbers overwhelmed him. Blood spattered the walls as he fell, his comrades retreating in horror.


    ¡°That¡¯s brutal,¡± Emilia whispered, her hand tightening around her sword.


    Another image appeared this time, it was the foreigners we had seen earlier. They were gathered in a large chamber, their leader holding a glowing orb that seemed to grant them insight into their surroundings. One of them muttered something in a language I didn¡¯t recognize, and their group split into two, moving with military precision through the ruins.


    ¡°Why do they seem so coordinated?¡± I asked, frowning.


    ¡°They¡¯re experienced,¡± Jose said grimly. ¡°Not like us.¡±


    The dwende clapped its hands, and the images disappeared. ¡°There. A taste of the chaos unfolding in these halls. Do you feel the urgency now?¡±


    The three of us exchanged uneasy glances. The dwende wasn¡¯t just testing us, it was toying with us, reminding us of the stakes.


    ¡°Do you enjoy this?¡± I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. ¡°Watching people fight and struggle just for a chance to survive?¡±


    The dwende shrugged, its grin never fading. ¡°I exist to guard these trials, mortal. What you see as struggle, I see as purpose. And remember, this is not a place for the faint of heart. If you lack the strength to continue, the exit is always open.¡±


    Jose stepped forward, glaring at the creature. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving. We¡¯ll solve your stupid riddle and move on.¡±


    ¡°I admire your determination,¡± the dwende said, clapping its tiny hands mockingly. ¡°But determination alone will not suffice. Think carefully, children of fate. The answer is simpler than you think.¡±


    We huddled together, whispering urgently as the weight of the trial pressed down on us.


    ¡°It planted here but grows somewhere else,¡± Emilia repeated, her brow furrowed. ¡°What could that mean? A seed? A tree?¡±


    ¡°It could be symbolic,¡± I said, my voice strained. ¡°Something that starts in one place but has an effect somewhere else.¡±


    Jose sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°It¡¯s too vague. And what if it¡¯s some kind of cultural thing? A riddle meant for someone familiar with this place¡¯s traditions?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s possible,¡± Emilia admitted. ¡°But riddles usually have logical answers, even if they¡¯re phrased poetically.¡±


    The throbbing in my forehead returned, sharper this time, as if urging me to speak. I pressed my palm against it, trying to concentrate. ¡°What if¡­¡± I started, hesitating.


    ¡°What if what?¡± Emilia prompted.


    ¡°What if it¡¯s something connected to this place?¡± I said slowly. ¡°Something the ruins themselves are trying to tell us?¡±


    The dwende chuckled softly, clearly enjoying our struggle. ¡°Time is ticking, little travelers. The ruins grow restless.¡±


    The sound of distant rumbling returned, this time louder, as if the maze itself was shifting again. Whatever we were going to do, we had to act fast.

 Spirits of the Past

    The dwende smirked as the weight of the trial settled over us. Its mischievous eyes seemed to glimmer with anticipation, knowing we were close to the brink of either success or failure. The riddle echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat: ¡°Itinanim ko dito, tumubo doon¡± it means ¡°I planted it here, but it grows there.¡±


    We had three chances, and the first attempt rested on Jose¡¯s shoulders.


    Jose stepped forward, rolling his shoulders like a fighter psyching himself up. His expression was resolute, but I could see the strain in his clenched jaw. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    The dwende watched him with an amused smirk. ¡°Very well. Speak your answer.¡±


    Jose crossed his arms, his tone firm. ¡°A tree. You plant a seed here, and it grows somewhere else in time. That has to be it.¡±


    The dwende froze for a moment, its expression neutral. Then it burst out laughing, the sound high-pitched and grating. ¡°Wrong!¡± it declared gleefully, clapping its tiny hands. ¡°A valiant effort, but incorrect nonetheless. Two chances remain!¡±


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Jose hissed under his breath, stepping back with a frustrated scowl


    My heart pounded as I tried to think through the riddle logically. What could grow somewhere else after being planted? I considered metaphors, symbols, even magic but every thought spiraled into uncertainty. Finally, the pressure became unbearable.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± I said, stepping forward.


    The dwende leaned in slightly, its beady eyes fixed on me. ¡°And what is your answer, mortal?¡±


    ¡°A river,¡± I blurted, feeling a pang of desperation. ¡°You dig a path here, and the water flows and grows downstream. That has to be it, right?¡±


    The dwende tilted its head, then shook it slowly, savoring the moment. ¡°Wrong again! Oh, this is delightful!¡± It laughed, the sound grating against my already frayed nerves. ¡°One chance remains. Use it wisely, or your trial ends here!¡±


    I stepped back, my chest tightening as despair began to creep in. ¡°I thought for sure that was it...¡±


    Emilia stood quietly, her gaze fixed on the ground. She didn¡¯t look frustrated or panicked like Jose and I. Instead, she seemed... thoughtful. Her fingers tapped against the hilt of her sword rhythmically as if working through a mental puzzle.


    ¡°Emilia?¡± I asked, my voice tentative.


    ¡°Give me a second,¡± she murmured, her brow furrowing deeper. ¡°It¡¯s something simple. Something we¡¯re overthinking. It planted here... and grows there...¡±


    The dwende yawned dramatically. ¡°Tick-tock, little mortals. The ruins are waiting.¡±


    Suddenly, Emilia¡¯s head snapped up, her eyes widening. ¡°I¡¯ve got it!¡±


    Jose and I turned to her, our expressions hopeful but skeptical. ¡°What is it?¡± Jose asked.


    She stepped forward, confidence radiating from her every movement. ¡°A flashlight,¡± she said firmly.


    The dwende froze, its smirk dropping into an expression of genuine surprise. For a moment, it was completely still. Then, a slow, approving smile spread across its face.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± it said, clapping its hands softly. ¡°The lady is correct. A flashlight it is! You plant the light here, and it grows there. Clever girl.¡±


    Relief and triumph surged through us as Emilia turned back to us, a grin breaking across her face. ¡°Told you I had it.¡±


    Jose let out a whoop of excitement, clapping her on the back. ¡°You¡¯re a genius, Emilia!¡±


    ¡°I could kiss you right now,¡± I said, grinning.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck, Jiro.¡±


    The dwende snapped its fingers, and a small vial of white liquid appeared on its pedestal. Emilia picked it up, cradling it carefully in her hands.


    As the vial was claimed, the runes on the walls flared brightly before dimming again. The dwende flicked its fingers once more, and a low rumble shook the room. Slowly, a hidden door slid open, revealing a dark, narrow passageway.


    ¡°Your path continues,¡± the dwende said. Its tone was less mocking now, almost reverent. ¡°But beware, this is only the beginning.¡±


    We exchanged a glance, the triumph of solving the riddle tempered by the ominous warning.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Emilia said, leading the way into the passage.


    The corridor was cold and damp, the air heavy with the scent of moss and decay. As we moved deeper, torches lining the walls flared to life one by one, their flames flickering like spectral sentinels.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t feel welcoming,¡± Jose muttered, his voice low.


    ¡°It¡¯s not meant to be,¡± Emilia replied. ¡°It¡¯s more like... a warning.¡±


    The further we walked, the heavier the air seemed to become. A faint, ghostly whisper echoed through the passage, sending chills down my spine.


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± I asked, gripping my sword tightly.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Jose said, his eyes scanning the shadows. ¡°We¡¯re not alone.¡±


    The whispers grew louder, unintelligible but distinctly human or at least, they had been human once. Suddenly, a cold breeze swept through the corridor, extinguishing the torches behind us and plunging the passage into darkness.


    ¡°Great,¡± Jose muttered. ¡°Just what we needed.¡±


    Ahead of us, faint shapes began to materialize. Ghostly figures, their translucent forms glowing faintly in the dark. They wore tattered robes, their faces obscured by shadow.


    ¡°Multo,¡± Emilia whispered, her voice tense. ¡°Spirits of the past.¡±


    The ghosts hovered silently, their eyeless faces fixed on us. One raised a skeletal hand, pointing further down the passage.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they want us here,¡± I said, swallowing hard.


    ¡°No,¡± Emilia replied. ¡°I think they¡¯re trying to guide us. Or test us again.¡±


    With no other choice, we pressed forward, the ghosts silently drifting beside us like an ethereal escort.


    As we moved deeper into the corridor, the flickering torchlight cast long, distorted shadows on the damp stone walls. The faint whispers of the multo¡ªghostly spirits of the past¡ªgrew louder, echoing like distant cries in a vast chasm. Their translucent forms shimmered just beyond the edge of the light, their expressions obscured but undeniably watchful.


    Jose, who had been unusually quiet since we encountered the spirits, suddenly stopped. He glanced at the nearest multo, his jaw tightening.


    ¡°Do you know what these are?¡± he asked, his voice low and steady.


    ¡°They¡¯re ghosts, right?¡± I replied, my grip on my weapon tightening. ¡°Spirits trapped here or something?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re more than just spirits,¡± Jose said, his gaze fixed on one of the multo. It hovered silently, its eyeless face turned toward him. ¡°In some traditions, multo aren¡¯t just echoes of the dead¡ªthey¡¯re bound by regret, unfinished business, or deep hatred. They don¡¯t just haunt places. They guard them.¡±


    ¡°Guard?¡± Emilia asked, her tone skeptical but curious.


    Jose nodded. ¡°If they¡¯re here, it means this place isn¡¯t just dangerous. It¡¯s sacred or cursed. Either way, they¡¯re not going to let us through easily.¡±


    One of the multo drifted closer, its spectral form glowing faintly. Jose didn¡¯t flinch, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. ¡°Some stories say multo can see into your heart. They¡¯ll test you, not with strength or skill, but with your intentions. If they think you¡¯re unworthy¡­¡± He trailed off, his expression darkening.


    ¡°What happens if they think we¡¯re unworthy?¡± Emilia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Jose¡¯s eyes narrowed as he met the multo¡¯s eyeless gaze. ¡°You don¡¯t want to know.¡±


    The air around us grew colder, the whispers intensifying into a low, mournful wail. One of the spirits raised a skeletal hand, pointing further down the passage.


    ¡°What do you think they¡¯re guarding?¡± I asked, my voice unsteady.


    ¡°Whatever it is,¡± Jose said, his tone grim, ¡°it¡¯s powerful enough to keep them here. And if we¡¯re not careful, they¡¯ll make sure we stay here too.¡±


    The ominous weight of his words hung over us as we continued forward, the multo drifting silently beside us like an ever-present warning.


    As we moved deeper into the dimly lit corridor, the oppressive silence was broken only by the faint whispers of the multo. Their ethereal forms flickered like candlelight, but their presence was unsettling. Around us, skeletal remains lay scattered on the cold stone floor. Ancient bolos blade weapons used by warriors long past rested among the bones, their rusted edges a haunting reminder of battles long forgotten.


    I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the multo were trying to warn us. They moved in deliberate, almost pleading patterns, their gestures pointing ahead and their voices rising in urgency. But their language was incomprehensible, leaving us only with the heavy sense that something dreadful lay ahead.


    As we neared a fork in the path, the pain in my forehead returned, sharper than ever. It wasn¡¯t just pain it was a warning. My vision blurred briefly, and an image flashed in my mind: Emilia turning on us, her eyes devoid of color.


    I stopped in my tracks and turned to Jose, urgency in my voice. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong. Emilia¡¯s going to¡ª¡±


    Before I could finish, Emilia let out a sharp gasp. Her entire body went rigid, and when she turned to face us, her eyes were no longer the vibrant blue I knew¡ªthey were completely white, glowing faintly in the dim light. Her expression was blank, devoid of the warmth and determination she always carried.

 Possession

    ¡°Emilia?¡± Jose called out, stepping forward cautiously.


    But she didn¡¯t respond. Instead, she raised her hand, and a sudden force surged toward us like a gust of wind. Jose and I were thrown back, slamming into the cold stone wall.


    ¡°Emilia, stop!¡± I shouted, pushing myself to my feet.


    She stepped forward, her movements unnaturally fluid. Her voice, when she spoke, was layered with an otherworldly echo. ¡°You should not have come here. Leave now, or be destroyed.¡±


    Jose reached for his weapon, but his pendant, an amulet he always wore around his neck, suddenly glowed with a golden light. The light enveloped him, preventing him from making an immediate attack.


    ¡°It¡¯s not her!¡± Jose exclaimed, his eyes wide. ¡°Something¡¯s controlling her!¡±


    The realization hit me like a lightning bolt. Whatever was manipulating Emilia wasn¡¯t just using her as a puppet, it was using her strength against us. I had to think fast.


    ¡°Jose, distract her!¡± I yelled, dodging another wave of energy Emilia sent our way.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± he called back, narrowly avoiding a swipe of her blade as she lunged toward him.


    Inside my head, I frantically pieced together what little I knew about spirits and possession. The multo were they trying to warn us about this? Could they help? I glanced at the glowing pendant around Jose¡¯s neck. It had stopped him from attacking Emilia. Could it work on her?


    A memory surfaced: the whispers of the multo, their gestures and warnings. They weren¡¯t trying to harm us as if they were trying to guide us. I gritted my teeth, formulating a plan.


    ¡°Jose, keep her busy, but don¡¯t hurt her!¡± I shouted, my voice steady despite the chaos.


    He nodded, lunging forward to engage Emilia. Her movements were precise, almost inhumanly so, as she parried his strikes and countered with frightening speed. But Jose held his ground, using his agility to stay one step ahead.


    Meanwhile, I focused on the multo around us. Their forms flickered, and their whispers grew louder as I concentrated on them. ¡°Help me,¡± I murmured, my voice a desperate plea. ¡°If you¡¯re warning us, show me how to save her.¡±


    One of the multo drifted closer, its translucent form shimmering like smoke in the torchlight. It raised a skeletal hand and pointed at Jose¡¯s pendant. The glowing amulet, it wasn¡¯t just protecting him; it was a tool.


    ¡°Jose! The pendant!¡± I called out, rushing toward him.


    He turned to me briefly, dodging another attack from Emilia. ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Use it on her!¡±


    Jose didn¡¯t hesitate. As Emilia lunged again, he sidestepped her and reached out, pressing the glowing pendant against her forehead.


    The moment the amulet made contact, a blinding light filled the corridor, and Emilia let out a bloodcurdling scream. The force controlling her seemed to recoil, its presence retreating like a shadow fleeing the sun. She collapsed to her knees, the glow fading from her eyes as she gasped for breath.


    ¡°Emilia!¡± I rushed to her side, helping her up.


    She looked at me, her blue eyes filled with confusion and fear. ¡°What... happened?¡±


    ¡°You were possessed,¡± Jose said, his voice steady but laced with concern.


    Emilia¡¯s gaze darted between us and the multo, her expression softening. ¡°I think they were trying to protect us. Whatever¡¯s ahead... it¡¯s worse than we thought.¡±


    The corridor ahead seemed endless, the flickering torchlight casting ominous shadows on the damp stone walls. The faint whispering of the multo still lingered in the air, a haunting melody that echoed in our minds. Emilia, shaken but determined, held onto Jose¡¯s glowing pendant, her grip firm as if drawing strength from it.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°We need to keep moving,¡± she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.


    As we continued, the oppressive atmosphere only grew heavier. The whispers of the multo became more urgent, their incorporeal forms darting around us like restless phantoms. My forehead throbbed again, the sharp pain nearly buckling my knees.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Emilia asked, glancing at me with concern.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I lied, clutching my head. ¡°Just... something about this place. It¡¯s like it¡¯s pulling at me.¡±


    Jose walked a few steps ahead, his usual calm demeanor intact, but his silence was unnerving. He hadn¡¯t said much since handing over the pendant, and there was a stiffness to his movements that set my nerves on edge.


    ¡°Jose,¡± I called out, ¡°you good?¡±


    He stopped abruptly, his back to us. For a moment, he didn¡¯t respond. Then, he turned his head slightly, just enough for us to see the faint glow of white overtaking his eyes.


    ¡°No...¡± Emilia whispered, clutching the pendant tighter.


    Before we could react, Jose spun around, his expression void of emotion. The glowing white eyes were the only indication that something had taken hold of him.


    ¡°Leave now,¡± he said, his voice layered with a chilling, otherworldly echo.


    ¡°Jose, fight it!¡± I shouted, stepping toward him.


    But he didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he lunged at me with lightning speed, his movements unnaturally precise. I barely had time to dodge as his fist smashed into the wall behind me, cracking the stone.


    ¡°Emilia, get back!¡± I shouted, positioning myself between her and Jose.


    ¡°But...¡±


    ¡°Just do it!¡±


    Jose¡¯s strength was overwhelming, and every strike felt like it carried the weight of a boulder. I ducked and weaved, avoiding his blows while trying to think of a way to restrain him without hurting him.


    ¡°Emilia!¡± I called out. ¡°Use the pendant! Maybe it can stop this!¡±


    She hesitated, then stepped forward, holding the glowing amulet out like a shield. ¡°Jose, stop! This isn¡¯t you!¡±


    Jose¡¯s eyes flickered briefly, the white glow dimming for a split second before returning in full force. He let out a guttural growl and swiped at Emilia, sending her tumbling to the ground. The pendant slipped from her hand, skidding across the floor and coming to rest at my feet.


    I grabbed it, my mind racing. If this thing worked on Emilia, it should work on him too... right?


    I rushed forward, aiming to press the pendant against Jose¡¯s forehead, but he was faster. He grabbed my wrist in an iron grip and flung me across the room. I hit the wall hard, the air knocked out of my lungs.


    ¡°Jiro!¡± Emilia cried, scrambling to her feet.


    Jose turned his attention to her, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. The spirit controlling him wasn¡¯t just powerful, it was malevolent.


    ¡°Jose, listen to me!¡± Emilia pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re stronger than this! Don¡¯t let it control you!¡±


    For a brief moment, his body froze, and his eyes flickered again. ¡°E...Emilia?¡± His voice was faint, buried beneath the layers of the spirit¡¯s influence.


    But the reprieve was short-lived. The spirit surged back with renewed ferocity, and Jose let out a roar, his aura flaring with an unnatural energy that sent shockwaves through the corridor.


    I forced myself to my feet, clutching the pendant tightly. Think, Jiro. Think! My forehead throbbed again, the pain sharper than ever. I could feel something no, someone whispering in my mind, guiding me.


    ¡°The multos,¡± I muttered under my breath, realization dawning on me.


    The spirits had been trying to guide us all along, warning us of dangers and showing us paths. Maybe they could help us now.


    I closed my eyes, focusing on the whispers. The pain in my forehead intensified, and a vision flashed before me: Jose standing in a circle of light, his true self trapped and struggling against the dark tendrils of the possessing spirit.


    ¡°Emilia!¡± I shouted. ¡°Distract him! I think I can reach him!¡±


    She nodded, her resolve firming as she stepped forward. ¡°Hey, Jose! If you¡¯re gonna fight, fight me!¡±


    Her words seemed to provoke the spirit, and Jose lunged at her. She dodged and weaved, using the narrow corridor to her advantage.


    I focused on the pendant, holding it tightly as I stepped toward Jose. The multo appeared again, their forms flickering in and out of existence. One of them pointed at the pendant, then at Jose, as if urging me forward.


    I took a deep breath and charged. Just as Jose turned to face me, I pressed the pendant against his chest.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a blinding light erupted from the amulet, illuminating the entire corridor. Jose screamed, his voice layered with both his own and the spirit¡¯s. The light seemed to push the dark energy back, but it wasn¡¯t enough to expel it entirely.


    The spirit fought harder, and Jose¡¯s movements became more erratic. ¡°You... can¡¯t... win,¡± it hissed through his lips.


    I gritted my teeth, refusing to let go. ¡°Jose, fight it! You¡¯re stronger than this!¡±


    But the light began to fade, and the spirit¡¯s hold seemed to strengthen. The pendant fell from my hands, its glow extinguished.


    Jose stood there, his breathing heavy, the white glow in his eyes more intense than ever. The spirit hadn¡¯t been defeated¡ªit was still in control.


    ¡°Jiro,¡± Emilia said, her voice trembling. ¡°What do we do now?¡±


    I clenched my fists, determination surging through me. ¡°We don¡¯t give up. If the pendant didn¡¯t work, there has to be another way. We¡¯ll find it.¡±


    The trial wasn¡¯t over, and Jose was still under the spirit¡¯s control. But I wasn¡¯t about to leave him behind. Whatever it took, I would find a way to free him even if it meant facing the darkness head-on.

 Evil spirits grip

    Jose stood before me, his tattoos glowing golden against his skin like ancient symbols of power. His eyes burned with an otherworldly intensity, and his aura was suffocating, pressing down on me with the weight of a mountain. Emilia looked at me with worry, her lips trembling.


    ¡°Go,¡± I said firmly, locking eyes with her. ¡°Get to the path. I¡¯ll hold him off.¡±


    ¡°But...¡±


    ¡°Just go! I¡¯ll catch up!¡±


    She hesitated but finally nodded, her trust in me unspoken but absolute. She turned and sprinted toward the path, her figure disappearing into the shadowed corridor.


    Now, it was just Jose and me.


    He cracked his neck, a grim smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have sent her away, Jiro. Now you¡¯re alone.¡±


    I took a deep breath, steadying myself. The Phantom Prowl Steps technique coursed through my mind, a movement style I¡¯d honed in secret. I adjusted my stance, readying myself for the battle to come. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one hiding their strength, Jose.¡±


    The Clash of Power


    Jose was the first to move, his speed blinding as he closed the distance between us. His fist shot out like a bullet, but I sidestepped using Phantom Prowl Steps, his strike grazing my shoulder. I retaliated with a quick jab to his ribs, my knuckles igniting with flame as I activated my Flame Fist technique. The flames licked at his clothes but left no visible damage, as though his aura was shielding him.


    ¡°Nice try,¡± he taunted, spinning and launching a roundhouse kick aimed at my head.


    I ducked just in time, the air around his kick whistling with raw force. Using the momentum from my dodge, I struck upward with a flaming uppercut, aiming for his jaw. He leaned back just enough to avoid the hit and countered with a palm strike to my chest that sent me skidding across the stone floor.


    My back hit the wall, and I coughed, tasting blood. ¡°That¡¯s... new,¡± I muttered, wiping my mouth.


    Jose¡¯s tattoos flared brighter, and I could feel his energy surging. ¡°I¡¯ve been holding back for too long,¡± he said, his voice layered with the spirit¡¯s echo. ¡°You have no idea what I¡¯m capable of.¡±


    He charged again, his fists a blur. I barely managed to block his strikes, each one reverberating through my arms like hammer blows. He was stronger than before much stronger and it was taking everything I had to keep up.


    Jiro¡¯s Counterattack


    I couldn¡¯t win this fight head-on. I needed to outmaneuver him, to use my techniques strategically. With that thought, I activated Phantom Prowl Steps, my movements becoming fluid and unpredictable.


    I darted to his left, feinting an attack before vanishing to his right. Jose¡¯s eyes darted around, trying to track me, but my technique was too erratic. I saw an opening and struck, my Flame Fist colliding with his side. This time, the fire broke through his aura, and he staggered back, clutching his ribs.


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± I said, a smirk tugging at my lips.


    But Jose wasn¡¯t done. He roared, his tattoos glowing so brightly they illuminated the entire corridor. His speed and strength doubled, and he lashed out with a fury I hadn¡¯t seen before.


    As Jose¡¯s aura flared brighter, I knew I needed to pull out everything I had. My body ached, every muscle screaming for rest, but my mind was sharp. The fight wasn¡¯t just about strength and it was about strategy and timing.


    I steadied myself, drawing upon the Phantom Prowl Steps technique to lighten my stance. My movements became fluid, unpredictable, as if I were a shadow slipping between cracks of light. At the same time, I summoned the energy for Flame Fist, channeling it into both my hands.


    But this time, I pushed the combination further.


    Using the quick, evasive movements of Phantom Prowl Steps, I began circling Jose at an incredible speed, creating afterimages that danced like flickering flames. The heat from my fists built up as I wove intricate patterns in the air, each step adding momentum. My fists ignited into dark, swirling flames embers crackling with a sinister intensity as they combined with the shadows created by my rapid movements.


    The result was the Shadow Flame Spiral, a deadly cyclone of dark fire and shadows spinning around me, distorting the air with heatwaves and flashes of light.


    Jose¡¯s eyes narrowed as he watched the flames spiral around me. ¡°Impressive,¡± he muttered, his voice layered with the spirit¡¯s echo. ¡°But it won¡¯t save you.¡±


    He charged, his golden tattoos glowing even brighter as he unleashed a flurry of strikes aimed at disrupting my spiral. I ducked, sidestepped, and twisted, each movement seamlessly integrated into the spiral¡¯s flow. His punches missed by mere inches, the air around them vibrating with raw power.


    As he overextended on a punch, I seized the opportunity. With the momentum I¡¯d built, I dashed in close, delivering a powerful Flame Fist straight to his ribs. The impact sent a shockwave through the corridor, and Jose staggered back, clutching his side.


    But he recovered quickly, his aura flaring again as he lunged at me. I spun mid-step, using the spiral¡¯s momentum to avoid his strike, and delivered a low kick to his knee. He grunted, his balance momentarily disrupted.


    Taking advantage, I flipped backward, releasing a burst of dark flames toward him. The fire swirled and converged, engulfing him in the Shadow Flame Spiral.


    The flames licked at Jose, but his golden tattoos pulsed with energy, creating a shield that pushed back against the fire. With a roar, he broke free, his aura blasting outward and dispersing the flames.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than that!¡± he shouted, his voice carrying the spirit¡¯s unnatural resonance.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    He dashed toward me, faster than before, his movements almost a blur. His punches and kicks came in rapid succession, each one carrying enough force to shatter stone. I weaved and dodged, using Phantom Prowl Steps to stay just out of reach.


    But he was adapting, anticipating my moves. A sudden punch caught me in the side, sending me tumbling across the floor. I gasped for air, clutching my ribs as I scrambled to my feet.


    I had to end this quickly. The Shadow Flame Spiral wasn¡¯t enough to overpower him outright, but perhaps it could create an opening.


    ¡°Time for round two,¡± I muttered, reigniting the flames around my fists.


    I launched myself forward, feinting to the left before spinning to the right. Jose followed my movements, his glowing eyes tracking me with unnerving precision. But as he prepared to counter, I abruptly reversed direction, my Phantom Prowl Steps allowing me to pivot mid-stride.


    The sudden change caught him off guard, and I delivered a powerful uppercut with my Flame Fist, the dark flames erupting on impact. He staggered back, his tattoos dimming slightly.


    Before he could recover, I activated the full power of the Shadow Flame Spiral. The vortex of fire and shadows surrounded me once again, and I directed it all toward Jose. The flames coiled and struck like serpents, each wave of fire aimed at breaking through his defenses.


    Jose¡¯s tattoos flared brighter than ever, and he let out a guttural roar as he pushed back against the flames. His strength was overwhelming, and I knew I couldn¡¯t hold him off much longer.


    In that moment, I turned toward the path Emilia had taken and shouted, ¡°Go! I¡¯ll handle this!¡±


    The golden glow from his tattoos pulsed with fury, and he broke through the spiral, charging at me with devastating force. I braced myself, dodging his strike at the last second and countering with a spinning kick infused with dark flames.


    The impact sent him reeling, but he recovered almost instantly, his strength seemingly limitless.


    I clenched my fists, the flames around them flickering weakly. I was running out of energy, but I couldn¡¯t give up. Not yet.


    As Jose advanced again, his tattoos glowing brighter than ever, I prepared myself for one final stand. The corridor shook with the force of our battle, the air thick with heat and energy.


    And I wasn¡¯t giving up. Not yet.


    Jose¡¯s aura flared again, and I knew I couldn¡¯t keep this up much longer. My body was at its limit, and I was out of techniques to use. But I couldn¡¯t let him win. Not here, not now.


    I glanced toward the path Emilia had taken, hoping she was far enough away to be safe. Then, an idea struck me, a desperate and reckless idea.


    I took a deep breath and steadied my stance. ¡°Come on, Jose,¡± I said, my voice steady despite the exhaustion. ¡°Let¡¯s finish this.¡±


    He charged at me, his fists glowing with golden light. I waited until the last second, then sidestepped using Phantom Prowl Steps. As he passed, I grabbed his arm and redirected his momentum, slamming him into the ground.


    He roared in frustration, his tattoos flaring brighter than ever. But before he could get up, I planted my foot on his chest and pressed the pendant against his forehead.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the glow of his tattoos began to dim, and his struggles weakened. I could feel the spirit¡¯s hold loosening, but it wasn¡¯t gone yet.


    ¡°Fight it, Jose,¡± I said through gritted teeth. ¡°I know you¡¯re in there. Don¡¯t let it win.¡±


    His eyes flickered, the golden light fading slightly. But the spirit wasn¡¯t giving up. It surged back with renewed strength, and Jose¡¯s tattoos flared again, forcing me back.


    As I stumbled, I saw him rise, his body still under the spirit¡¯s control. My plan hadn¡¯t worked but I wasn¡¯t giving up. Not yet.


    ¡°Emilia,¡± I whispered under my breath, hoping she was far enough ahead to find a way to end this. ¡°I¡¯m counting on you.¡±


    Jose stood before me, his aura blazing and his tattoos glowing like molten gold. The fight wasn¡¯t over and I was prepared to give it everything I had.


    The memory of the duwende¡¯s cryptic words about the white liquid flickered in my mind like a beacon in the chaos. ¡°This will be useful in the next trial.¡± I immediately leaned toward Emilia, whispering frantically, ¡°Use it now! Pour it on him before it¡¯s too late!¡±


    Emilia hesitated for only a moment before her resolve hardened. She retrieved the small vial of shimmering liquid from her pouch. The possessed Jose was closing in, his steps deliberate, the sharp edge of the bolo gleaming ominously in the flickering torchlight. His malicious grin stretched unnaturally wide, and his voice, layered with the spirit¡¯s echo, dripped with menace.


    ¡°You think this little trick will save you?¡± he sneered, raising the bolo for the fatal strike.


    Just as he lunged forward, Emilia, with a shout of desperation, splashed the contents of the vial onto him. The liquid spread across Jose¡¯s skin in an instant, glowing faintly before turning a blinding white.


    Jose froze mid-strike, his entire body convulsing as an otherworldly scream tore through the air. His voice, distorted and agonized, echoed through the corridor as smoke began to rise from his body. The black, tar-like essence of the ghost possessing him surged outward, writhing and twisting as if fighting against an invisible force.


    ¡°No!¡± the ghost wailed, its shape momentarily visible a dark, grotesque shadow with burning red eyes. It clawed at the air, its form unraveling as it was forcefully expelled.


    Jose collapsed to the ground, lifelessly crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.


    I hesitated, my body tense as I inched closer. ¡°Is it gone?¡± I asked, my voice trembling.


    But the spirit wasn¡¯t entirely gone. It lingered for a moment, a swirling black cloud of malevolence, before vanishing into the shadows. Unlike the faint, pale spirits floating around us, this one exuded a sinister aura that sent a chill down my spine.


    Jose remained unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. I crouched next to him, my own body weak from the fight. The adrenaline that had kept me moving drained away, leaving me lightheaded. Before I could check him for injuries, a wave of exhaustion crashed over me, and everything went black.


    When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the dim glow of torches, their flickering light casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. My body felt like lead, and every movement was a struggle.


    Emilia sat nearby, her expression a mix of relief and concern. ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± she said softly, handing me a small canteen of water.


    ¡°Jose?¡± I croaked, my throat dry.


    She gestured to the other side of the room, where Jose lay resting. ¡°He¡¯s alive. Still out cold, but his breathing¡¯s better. Whatever that liquid was, it saved him¡ªand us.¡±


    I nodded weakly, grateful for the momentary reprieve.


    The pale, floating ghosts that had been warning us earlier still lingered in the air, their translucent forms flickering like candle flames. Unlike the malevolent spirit that had possessed Jose, these ghosts seemed calm, almost gentle.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been trying to tell us something,¡± Emilia said, her voice hushed. ¡°After you and Jose collapsed, they started pointing toward that corner.¡±


    She gestured to a shadowed alcove at the edge of the room. A faint glimmer of light was visible, as though something was hidden there.


    Emilia led me to the alcove, where we found a small, secluded space shielded from the main corridor. It was dimly lit by bioluminescent moss growing along the walls, casting a soothing green glow.


    ¡°This feels¡­safe,¡± she murmured, her gaze darting around the room.


    I nodded, though I couldn¡¯t shake the eerie feeling that lingered in the air. ¡°It¡¯s the best place we¡¯ve got for now.¡±


    With great effort, we moved Jose into the alcove, laying him down on a makeshift bed of soft moss. Emilia and I took turns keeping watch, our eyes occasionally drawn to the ghosts that hovered just beyond the alcove¡¯s entrance.


    ¡°Why did that one ghost look so different?¡± I wondered aloud, breaking the heavy silence.


    Emilia¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But it wasn¡¯t like the others. It felt¡­evil.¡±


    We both fell silent, the weight of the ordeal settling over us.


    As I sat there, keeping watch over Jose, the ache in my forehead returned, faint but insistent. I rubbed at it absently, a nagging sense of foreboding creeping into my thoughts. Whatever lay ahead in this trial, it was clear we hadn¡¯t seen the worst of it yet.


    For now, though, all we could do was wait and hope that Jose would recover before the next challenge began.

 Vengeance

    Jose was weak, leaning heavily on Emilia as we stepped forward. The air grew colder with each step, the oppressive aura around the throne palpable. Sitting there was a figure cloaked in tattered robes, its head bowed as if in slumber. But the second we approached, its head rose, revealing hollow, glowing eyes brimming with hatred.


    The multos that had been lingering, their translucent forms shifting nervously, vanished the moment the figure lifted its hand in a commanding gesture. The action sent a shiver down my spine, their disappearance an ominous sign.


    The figure rose from the throne with deliberate slowness, its movements heavy with malice. Despite his ragged appearance, his presence was suffocating. His voice was deep and resonant, carrying centuries of pain and anger.


    ¡°Why¡­¡± he began, his gaze fixed squarely on me. ¡°Why do you carry his blood?¡±


    ¡°Whose blood?¡± I managed to ask, though my voice trembled.


    ¡°The blood of the king who abandoned his people!¡± he roared, the walls of the chamber vibrating with his fury.


    Emilia flinched, gripping Jose tighter. My body tensed as the figure stepped closer, his shadow stretching unnaturally across the room, like it was alive and hungry.


    ¡°I was supposed to be a guardian,¡± he continued, his tone shifting, becoming almost mournful. ¡°A protector of the weak. A shield for the innocent. That was my vow. And for years, I kept it. I stood against the tides of darkness, a beacon for those who had none.¡±


    His glowing eyes dimmed slightly, as though lost in memory, before flaring brighter with rage. ¡°But what did it amount to? My king, the one who swore to lead us into a better age, turned his back on us! He made promises of salvation, of a future where we would no longer live in fear. And then¡­ he fled. He took the power meant for our people and abandoned us to ruin!¡±


    He took another step, and I felt an invisible force press against my chest, like a blade poised to pierce my heart. ¡°And now, after all these centuries, someone with his cursed blood dares to stand before me? Does he think I¡¯ve forgotten? Does he think I¡¯ve forgiven?¡±


    His voice dropped to a venomous whisper, ¡°I will not be ignored again.¡±


    With a flick of his wrist, I felt a sharp, invisible force graze my neck, knocking me to the ground. My breath hitched as I clutched my throat, the sting of near-death searing through me.


    ¡°You have no idea what it feels like,¡± he said, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and anguish. ¡°To give everything, to sacrifice your body, your soul, for a cause¡­ only to be left behind. To watch your people starve, your lands burn, while the one you trusted most vanishes into the night.¡±


    Using Phantom Prowl Steps, I dodged as another invisible force sliced the air where I had been. My movements were sluggish, my body still aching from the fight with Jose, but I couldn''t afford to falter.


    ¡°You think I wanted this?¡± he continued, his voice rising again. ¡°To become this twisted shadow of myself? The malice you feel, it isn¡¯t mine. It¡¯s his! It¡¯s the legacy he left behind, a curse that festers and consumes. All I am now is a reminder of his betrayal!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know who you¡¯re talking about!¡± I shouted, evading another strike.


    ¡°Lies!¡± he bellowed. ¡°If you carry his blood, you carry his guilt!¡±


    I needed a plan, fast. My movements were draining my Qi reserves, and every blow from the figure felt like it carried the weight of his centuries of resentment. Emilia and Jose were in no condition to help, and the figure was relentless.


    ¡°Stop this!¡± I tried to reason with him, keeping my distance. ¡°You¡¯re angry at him, not me! I¡¯m not your enemy!¡±


    But he wouldn¡¯t listen. His hatred had consumed him so completely that logic and reason were drowned beneath its weight.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°You are the only connection I have to him,¡± he snarled. ¡°And I will destroy that connection with everything I have!¡±


    I readied myself, focusing what little Qi I had left. If he was determined to vent his rage on me, I would fight back with everything I had.


    But as I moved to counter his next strike, I caught a glimpse of his face of the anguish etched into his every feature. He wasn¡¯t just a villain. He was a man broken by betrayal, consumed by a pain that had festered for lifetimes.


    And somehow, I had to find a way to end this fight without becoming another victim of his wrath or worse, without letting his rage claim me as its next vessel.


    The figure¡¯s attacks came in a relentless torrent, each movement a blur of shadows and malice. His strikes carried an almost imperceptible force, as though the air itself turned into blades slicing through the chamber. I twisted and turned with Phantom Prowl Steps, narrowly evading his onslaught, but my legs burned with exhaustion, and my Qi reserves were running low.


    ¡°You cannot escape justice, child of a betrayer!¡± he bellowed, his voice reverberating like thunder. ¡°Every breath you take is an insult to the people he left behind!¡±


    I ducked under another strike, the invisible force ruffling my hair as it missed my head by a fraction. ¡°I¡¯m not him!¡± I shouted back, summoning my Flame Fist Technique and igniting my hands with blazing energy. ¡°And I¡¯m not going to let you take out your anger on me!¡±


    With a roar, I charged forward, driving a flaming punch toward his chest. The room brightened as the flames illuminated his dark figure, casting eerie shadows on the ancient walls.


    But he caught my fist with ease, his clawed hand gripping so tightly that I felt the flames falter. ¡°Is this the best his bloodline can muster?¡± he sneered, tightening his grip until I thought my bones might snap.


    I gritted my teeth, twisting my body and disengaging with a Phantom Prowl Step. As I retreated, Emilia leapt into the fray, her spear glowing with an icy-blue light. She struck with precision, aiming for his flank.


    Her spear connected, a burst of frosty energy erupting upon impact. The figure staggered back, his blackened robes hissing as they absorbed the frost. ¡°You dare meddle in matters beyond your comprehension, girl?¡± he snarled, his glowing eyes locking onto Emilia.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about your vendetta,¡± Emilia snapped, her voice steady despite the danger. ¡°But you¡¯re not taking him down while I¡¯m here!¡±


    The figure waved a hand, sending a shockwave toward her. She braced herself, but the force hurled her across the room. She hit the wall with a pained grunt and slumped to the floor.


    ¡°Emilia!¡± I shouted, my heart pounding. But she forced herself back up, using her spear for support. ¡°Don¡¯t count me out yet,¡± she said, her voice hoarse.


    I turned back to the figure, fury building in my chest. My Qi flared brighter as I activated the Shadow Flame Spiral, merging the Phantom Prowl Steps and Flame Fist Technique into a seamless dance of flames and shadows. I darted around him, my movements creating spiraling trails of fire.


    With a burst of speed, I launched myself upward, spinning mid-air and delivering a powerful kick wreathed in flames. ¡°Take this!¡± I roared, the impact sending a shockwave through the chamber.


    The figure staggered, his dark aura flickering. ¡°You... fight like him,¡± he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze grew more intense, his hatred renewed. ¡°But you¡¯ll never be like him. He was a coward. You¡¯ll fall as he should have!¡±


    He lunged at me, his attacks even more ferocious. I barely managed to parry his strikes, each blow sending painful vibrations through my arms. I glanced at Emilia, who was circling behind him.


    She thrust her spear toward his back, and this time, it pierced through the shadows. The figure howled, his form flickering. ¡°You insolent...¡± He swung around, but I seized the opening.


    ¡°Shadow Flame Spiral!¡± I shouted, unleashing a barrage of fiery strikes. Each hit landed with a resounding thud, forcing him to stumble back. But the more we pushed him, the stronger his rage seemed to grow.


    And then, unexpectedly, Jose stirred. His weak voice was barely audible amidst the chaos. Emilia noticed first, her eyes widening. ¡°Jose!¡±


    The figure turned his head sharply toward Jose, his glowing eyes narrowing. ¡°What did you say?¡± he asked, his voice quieter but no less menacing.


    Jose¡¯s lips moved again, forming words we couldn¡¯t hear. His voice was faint, almost lost to the charged air around us.


    The figure froze, his hand mid-swing as if gaining clarity in his clouded mind. His fiery eyes widened, the glow dimming slightly. ¡°I see,¡± he said softly, his tone shifting from rage to something almost contemplative. ¡°So the time has come.¡±


    His dark form began to dissolve, his outline shimmering like a mirage. The oppressive aura that had filled the chamber lifted, leaving behind an eerie silence.


    ¡°I have waited for centuries for this moment,¡± he said, his voice resonating in my mind. ¡°The debt of the past still lingers, but it is not your burden to bear, child. You may not know it yet, but the path you walk is intertwined with his.¡±


    With that, his presence faded completely. The air shimmered, and an ancient garment appeared, floating gently before me. Its intricate fabric glowed faintly with a soft, golden light. The moment I touched it, a surge of energy coursed through me, as though it carried the wisdom and strength of countless generations.


    Jose collapsed again, and Emilia and I rushed to his side. ¡°What¡­ just happened?¡± Emilia asked, her voice trembling.


    I looked at Jose, then at the garment in my hand. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said, my voice heavy. ¡°But whatever it was¡­ it¡¯s far from over.¡±

 Dreams

    As I stepped through the door into the light, a wave of warmth washed over me. I blinked, trying to adjust to the brightness. When my vision cleared, I froze. Before me was a scene I hadn¡¯t seen in years, one that I thought only existed in my imagination.


    It was a home. My home but not the broken and quiet one I¡¯d grown up in. This was vibrant and alive. I saw my parents there, their faces etched with love and care. My father stood tall, his hands calloused but steady as he worked on a wooden piece, a bolo resting on the table beside him. My mother, her soft laughter echoing like a melody, was tending to a pot of simmering adobo on the stove. The scent wafted through the air, warm and comforting.


    I was there too, when I was a baby, barely able to walk, toddling around the bamboo floor of our bahay kubo. My tiny feet tapped against the polished wood as my father scooped me up, lifting me high into the air. His laughter was deep and hearty, a sound I had never truly known but instantly recognized.


    ¡°Jiro, anak, be careful!¡± my mother called out, but her voice held no real concern only the teasing tone of a doting parent.


    ¡°Let the boy learn!¡± my father replied, tossing me gently before catching me again. I squealed with joy, and my mother rolled her eyes, though she couldn¡¯t hide her smile.


    The scene shifted. I was a little older now, maybe six or seven. My father was teaching me how to use a yantok stick, his movements precise and deliberate. ¡°Focus, anak,¡± he said, his voice firm but kind. ¡°You have to learn to protect yourself and those you love.¡±


    I stumbled, the stick slipping from my grip. He knelt down, wiping the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. ¡°It¡¯s okay to fall,¡± he said, his hand on my shoulder. ¡°What matters is that you get back up.¡±


    The perspective shifted again, and this time I saw my mother teaching me to pray before meals. Her voice was calm and soothing, her hands guiding mine as we pressed them together. ¡°Always be grateful, anak,¡± she said, her eyes reflecting the light of the evening lamp. ¡°No matter how little we have, it is a blessing.¡±


    The warmth of these moments wrapped around me like a blanket. I saw how my parents would celebrate every little achievement of mine, a drawing I¡¯d made, a simple word I learned to spell. They clapped and cheered as though I had won a great prize. My father¡¯s boisterous pride and my mother¡¯s quiet encouragement filled the house with an unshakable joy.


    Then came the discipline. I saw myself as a mischievous child, sneaking a mango from the counter when I thought no one was watching. My father¡¯s stern voice stopped me mid-bite. ¡°Jiro, we share, remember?¡± he said, his tone firm but not harsh. He took the mango from my hands, cut it into equal pieces, and handed me one. ¡°Always think of others before yourself,¡± he said. My mother nodded approvingly, placing a gentle hand on my head.


    Filipino parents have a way of raising their children that is both tender and strict, balancing discipline with affection. I saw how they instilled in me the values of utang na loob (debt of gratitude), pakikisama (harmony with others), and bayanihan (community spirit). These lessons were not taught with lectures but through their everyday actions, the way my mother shared food with neighbors, the way my father offered help without being asked.


    The scene shifted again. I was a teenager now, facing the usual struggles of adolescence. I saw my father guiding me as I tried to carve a piece of wood, his patience endless despite my frustration. My mother was nearby, her soft humming calming the storm brewing in my chest.


    And then¡­ the warmth began to fade. The vibrant colors dulled, and the scene started to dissolve. I reached out, desperate to hold onto it, but my fingers passed through like mist.


    ¡°No,¡± I whispered. ¡°Not yet.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The vision swirled, and the sounds of their laughter, their voices, began to fade into silence. All that was left was me, standing in the empty light, clutching at a memory that could never be real.


    It was then that I realized the trial was not one of combat or intellect. It was of the heart, a test of my will to move forward despite the life I¡¯d lost. My parents had given me everything, even in their absence. Their love, their lessons, their spirit¡ªthey lived on in me.


    As the swirling light began to settle, I felt a strange pull. My body felt weightless, as though I were drifting through a dream. When the haze cleared, I was no longer a mere observer. I was in the scene itself. My hands, my body¡ªit was me, as I am now. Not the child toddling on the bamboo floor, but the Jiro who had endured trials, fought battles, and carried scars both inside and out.


    I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers. They felt solid, real. The soft glow of the lanterns, the earthy scent of the bamboo walls, the warmth of the evening breeze, it was all vivid, alive. I turned, and there they were.


    My parents.


    My father sat on a low wooden bench, carving something from a block of wood. The sharp scrape of his blade filled the air, rhythmic and purposeful. My mother was by the stove, stirring a pot of steaming stew. She turned to me, her face lighting up with a smile so warm it made my chest ache.


    ¡°Jiro, anak,¡± she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. ¡°You¡¯re home.¡±


    Home. The word struck a chord deep within me, reverberating like the toll of a distant bell. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came. My father looked up from his work, his face breaking into a grin.


    ¡°Finally decided to take a break from all your adventures, huh?¡± he said, his voice rich and full of life. ¡°Come, sit. Tell us everything.¡±


    I hesitated, my mind racing. This wasn¡¯t real. It couldn¡¯t be real. And yet, it felt so much like home, like everything I¡¯d ever wished for.


    ¡°Sit, anak,¡± my mother urged, patting the seat beside her. Her eyes held a tenderness that seemed to erase every hardship I¡¯d ever faced. ¡°You must be tired.¡±


    I took a step forward, unable to resist the pull of their love. The weight of my journey seemed to vanish, replaced by the simple, pure joy of being in their presence. My mother handed me a bowl of stew, the rich aroma filling my senses.


    ¡°Eat,¡± she said softly. ¡°You¡¯ve grown so much, Jiro. You¡¯ve been so strong. But you don¡¯t have to fight anymore. You can stay here. With us.¡±


    Her words were like a balm, soothing the cracks and fractures in my spirit. My father chuckled, placing his carving tools aside. ¡°There¡¯s nothing out there you need that you don¡¯t already have here, son,¡± he said. ¡°Everything you¡¯ve ever wanted and it¡¯s right here.¡±


    The warmth of their words wrapped around me like a cocoon, enticing me to let go. To rest. To stay. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine it, life free of trials, of danger. A life where my parents were alive, where we were a family.


    But something stirred in the back of my mind. A flicker of unease. This wasn¡¯t right. This wasn¡¯t real.


    ¡°Why now?¡± I asked, my voice trembling. ¡°Why show me this now?¡±


    My mother reached out, placing a hand on mine. Her touch was soft, comforting. ¡°Because you deserve happiness, anak,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough. Let the world carry on without you. Stay here. Be with us.¡±


    I pulled my hand away, my heart pounding. ¡°But¡­ I can¡¯t,¡± I said, my voice firming. ¡°There are people out there who need me. I have a purpose.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough,¡± my father said, his tone suddenly sharp. ¡°Let someone else take the burden. You don¡¯t owe the world anything.¡±


    The warmth in the room began to feel stifling, oppressive. Their faces, once so kind and familiar, seemed to twist ever so slightly. My father¡¯s grin was too wide, his eyes too intent. My mother¡¯s softness took on an edge, her voice dripping with a sweetness that felt like poison.


    I stood, the bowl of stew clattering to the floor. ¡°This isn¡¯t real,¡± I said, my voice cutting through the thick air. ¡°You¡¯re not my parents.¡±


    They stood as well, their movements eerily synchronized. The love in their eyes was gone, replaced by something darker.


    ¡°Why would you leave?¡± my father said, his voice low and dangerous. ¡°Why fight for a world that doesn¡¯t care about you?¡±


    My mother stepped closer, her eyes gleaming. ¡°Stay with us, Jiro,¡± she said, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to be happy?¡±


    I stepped back, my resolve hardening. ¡°This isn¡¯t happiness,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s a lie. My parents¡­ my real parents would never ask me to give up.¡±


    The scene began to distort, the walls of the bahay kubo rippling like water. My parents¡¯ forms twisted, their features warping into something grotesque. Their voices layered over each other, a cacophony of pleas and demands.


    ¡°You¡¯ll regret this!¡± they snarled as the world around me collapsed into darkness.


    I stood firm, my fists clenched, my heart steady. ¡°I already regret not having them,¡± I whispered. ¡°But I won¡¯t betray this memories of what if.¡±

 Nightmares

    The distorted figures of my parents lunged at me, their once-warm presence now replaced by a malevolent aura. I braced myself, the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. My fists clenched tightly as I drew on the last reserves of my willpower.


    "This isn''t real," I muttered to myself. "It''s a test. I have to get through this."


    The creatures that had once resembled my parents attacked in unison. My father swung his carving knife, the blade glinting with an unnatural light, while my mother lunged with claw-like hands. Their movements were eerily synchronized, like puppets controlled by the same string.


    I dodged the knife, stepping to the side with the Phantom Prowl Steps. My movements were fluid, my body moving almost on instinct. As my mother''s claws swiped toward my face, I countered with a swift Flame Fist Technique, flames bursting from my hands and forcing her back. The fire illuminated their twisted faces, the flickering light casting eerie shadows on the warped dreamscape.


    "Jiro!" they hissed in unison, their voices layered with an otherworldly echo. "Why fight us? We''re your family!"


    "No," I growled, stepping back into a defensive stance. "My family would never try to hold me back. They would want me to move forward, to fight for what''s right."


    The figures snarled, their forms flickering like static. The world around us twisted further, the cozy bahay kubo morphing into a nightmarish void filled with floating fragments of memories. I saw flashes of my real parents'' smiles, their laughter, and the warmth of their love, but these images were distorted, tainted by the darkness that surrounded me.


    I leapt forward, unleashing a combination of Phantom Prowl Steps and Flame Fist strikes. My fists burned with fiery energy as I aimed at the figures'' chests, trying to break through their defenses. They countered with a ferocity that matched my own, their attacks relentless and fueled by some deep-seated malice.


    Despite my determination, the fight was wearing me down. My movements slowed, my breath came in ragged gasps. Each strike felt heavier, each dodge more sluggish. The figures seemed to feed on my despair, their attacks growing more powerful as my resolve wavered.


    But then, amidst the chaos, a memory surfaced, a real memory. My mother, cradling me as a child, whispering words of encouragement. My father, teaching me how to stand up after a fall. Their voices, their love, their true essence filled my mind.


    "You''re not them!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the void. "You''re nothing but lies!"


    Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I combined the Phantom Prowl Steps and the Flame Fist Technique into the Shadow Flame Spiral. Flames swirled around me as I moved with precision and speed, creating a vortex of fiery energy. The flames engulfed the twisted figures, their screams piercing the void as their forms disintegrated into ash.


    As the last remnants of the nightmare faded, the world around me began to shift. The oppressive darkness lifted, replaced by a soft, golden light. I found myself standing in the same dreamscape, but it felt different, calmer, more peaceful. In the distance, I saw the faint outlines of my real parents, their forms bathed in warm light.


    "Jiro," my mother''s voice echoed gently. "We''re proud of you. Keep moving forward."


    My father nodded, his smile full of pride. "You carry our love with you, always."


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    Tears welled up in my eyes as their forms began to fade. "Thank you," I whispered. "I''ll make you proud."


    The light grew brighter, engulfing me completely. When it faded, I found myself back in the chamber of the second trial. Emilia and Jose were still unconscious, the ancient garment draped across my arm. My heart was heavy, but my resolve was stronger than ever.


    The next trial awaited, and I was ready.


    As I woke from the trial-induced nightmare, I had no time to catch my breath. The chamber''s air grew heavier, thick with the rancid smell of decay. Doors on the far side of the room creaked open, and shadows emerged, figures shambling forward, their movements unnatural and jerky. The stench hit me like a physical force, making my stomach churn.


    "Zombies," I muttered under my breath, recalling the urban legends whispered about this place. Stories of the restless dead which those who had lost their way and became trapped in this cursed labyrinth. A bite would doom you to join their ranks.


    Jose and Emilia were still unconscious, their faces pale from the trials. I had to buy them time, to keep the undead from getting anywhere near them. My hand instinctively reached for the ancient garment draped over my arm, the prize from the previous trial. I focused, willing it to change form.


    The fabric shimmered, responding to my thoughts. Threads of golden light extended and solidified, forming a gleaming blade in my hand. A sword, perfect for keeping the zombies at bay.


    The first of the creatures lunged at me, its milky eyes vacant and its mouth hanging open, exposing rotted teeth. I sidestepped, using Phantom Prowl Steps to evade its grasp, and slashed downward with my new weapon. The blade cut cleanly through its neck, the body collapsing in a heap of decayed flesh.


    More emerged from the darkness, their groans growing louder, echoing through the chamber. Their sheer numbers were overwhelming, but I couldn''t let fear take hold. My focus narrowed.


    I lunged into the horde, using a combination of Flame Fist strikes and precise swordsmanship. The blade''s golden glow seared through the undead flesh, each swing accompanied by bursts of flame. The stench grew worse as I hacked through them, the acrid smell of burning decay filling the room.


    "Stay back!" I shouted, glancing over my shoulder at my unconscious friends. "I won''t let you get to them!"


    The zombies showed no signs of slowing. Every time one fell, two more would stagger forward. My movements grew desperate, the fight becoming a chaotic dance of survival. But I had to hold on. I had to protect them.


    Emilia''s Nightmare


    While I fought to keep the undead at bay, Emilia was trapped in her own dream, a haunting reminder of her burdens.


    In her mind, she stood in a grand hall, the walls adorned with banners bearing the sigil of King Arthur. The air was thick with tension as rows of armored knights and noblemen stared down at her, their gazes filled with doubt and disdain.


    "You''re a girl," one of the lords sneered. "What can you possibly hope to achieve as the descendant of King Arthur?"


    Another voice chimed in, cruel and dismissive. "The bloodline ends with you. There''s no way a woman can carry the weight of this legacy."


    Emilia''s fists clenched, her body trembling with both anger and the sting of their words. She had spent her entire life under this weight, constantly being underestimated, constantly proving herself. But no matter how many victories she achieved, the shadow of doubt never disappeared.


    Suddenly, the scene shifted. She was standing in the tomb of King Arthur, the sacred resting place of the legendary king. The air was heavy with an otherworldly presence. The ancient stone sarcophagus lay before her, its surface etched with symbols of honor and strength.


    "Why can''t they see my worth?" Emilia whispered, her voice cracking. "Why can''t they believe in me the way I believe in myself?"


    As if in response, the tomb began to glow. The symbols on its surface lit up with an ethereal blue light, and a voice echoed in her mind.


    "You seek guidance," the voice said, calm and resonant. "But guidance comes at a price."


    Before Emilia could react, the blue light intensified, engulfing her. The air turned cold, and whispers filled her ears, accusatory and venomous.


    "Unworthy!"


    "A disgrace to the bloodline!"


    "You''ll never be more than a shadow of the king!"


    She clutched her head, falling to her knees as the whispers grew louder, overwhelming her senses. The tomb shattered, and from its broken pieces emerged a figure, a nightmare version of King Arthur. His once-noble visage was twisted and cruel, his eyes glowing with malice.


    "You are not worthy of my legacy," the nightmare Arthur said, his voice cutting like a blade. "You will only bring ruin."


    Emilia staggered back, fear gripping her heart. She tried to summon her courage, to fight back against the apparition, but it was as if the weight of her lineage was crushing her.


    "Am I really unworthy?" she whispered, tears streaming down her face.


    The nightmare Arthur raised his sword, its blade crackling with dark energy. "Prove to me you deserve to carry my bloodline!" he roared, lunging toward her.


    Back to Reality


    In the real world, I was barely holding my ground against the relentless horde. My breaths were shallow, my arms heavy from the constant swinging of my blade.


    "Emilia, Jose¡­" I murmured, glancing back at them. "Please¡­ wake up."


    Emilia stirred slightly, her brow furrowed as if she were fighting her own battle. I could only hope that whatever nightmare she was facing, she would find the strength to overcome it.


    A particularly large zombie lunged at me, its rotted arms reaching for my throat. I sidestepped and drove my blade through its chest, flames erupting and reducing it to ash.


    "Come on," I whispered to myself, gritting my teeth. "I can do this."


    But deep down, I knew I couldn''t hold out much longer. The horde showed no signs of thinning, and my strength was rapidly fading. Yet, despite the odds, I refused to give up.


    I had to protect them.

 KKK

    Jose found himself standing in the middle of a dense, moonlit jungle. The air was thick with the sound of cicadas and the distant rustling of leaves. His heart raced, his young body trembling under the weight of the bolo in his hands.


    "Focus, Jose," his father''s voice came from behind him, firm yet encouraging. A towering man with a commanding presence, his father had always been a symbol of strength and discipline. "You are not just fighting for yourself. You are fighting for your people. The KKK has always protected the Filipinos from the shadows, from the creatures that would see us harmed. It''s your duty to carry on this legacy."


    Jose nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. The words were heavy, almost suffocating. He was still a child, barely able to wield the weapon in his hand, yet here he was, being trained to hunt and protect.


    The jungle shifted, and suddenly, a tiyanak burst forth from the underbrush, a grotesque creature, its sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. It let out a piercing cry that froze Jose in place.


    "Strike!" his father commanded.


    Jose hesitated, his hands trembling as the tiyanak lunged at him. In a desperate move, he swung the bolo, severing the creature''s head. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was almost unbearable, but the pride in his father''s eyes was unmistakable.


    "Good," his father said, patting his shoulder. "You''ll become a great protector one day."


    But the scene changed. The jungle faded into a small village where screams echoed through the night. Fires lit up the sky as an aswang soared above, its bat-like wings casting monstrous shadows. Jose, now a few years older, stood alongside his father and other members of the KKK.


    "You know what to do," his father said, handing him a wooden stake.


    Jose''s movements were more confident now, his training taking over as he darted into the chaos. The aswang screeched, diving toward him. He rolled to the side and thrust the stake into its chest, the creature shrieking as it disintegrated into ash.


    The villagers cheered, but the joy was short-lived as the scene shifted again. This time, Jose was hunting alone, his father''s voice echoing in his head.


    "Never let your guard down. Always remember who you''re protecting."


    A shadow moved in the distance, and Jose followed it cautiously. He came upon a figure, a man with bloodied hands dragging a sack. The man turned, his face pale with fear, and pleaded, "Please, don''t hurt me! I''m not one of them!"


    But Jose''s instincts screamed danger. The stories of human traffickers working alongside supernatural creatures were all too common. Without thinking, he struck, his bolo cutting through the air.


    The man fell, lifeless.


    For a moment, Jose felt relief, until he saw the contents of the sack: stolen goods, not bodies. The man had been a trafficker, but human nonetheless.


    The weight of his actions crushed him. His father''s voice echoed again, but this time it was cold, judgmental. "You must know who your enemies are, Jose. Protectors do not kill the innocent."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The village around him faded, replaced by a sea of accusing faces, men, women, and children, all staring at him. "Murderer," they whispered. "You''re no protector."


    Jose fell to his knees, clutching his head. "I didn''t mean to¡­ I was trying to protect¡­"


    But the faces didn''t relent, their whispers growing louder, drowning him in guilt.


    In a realm far removed from the physical world, a man sat cross-legged in meditation. His long white hair cascaded down his back, his presence serene yet powerful. The chamber around him was sparse, illuminated by the soft glow of floating orbs.


    Suddenly, one of the orbs pulsed with a golden light. The man opened his eyes, revealing an ancient wisdom within them. He looked toward a scroll resting on a pedestal idenrical to Jiro''s, its surface glowing faintly.


    "It has begun," he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. "The scroll has chosen its successor."


    He closed his eyes again, returning to his meditation. "The scroll will guide him. For now, I must prepare."


    I stood at the entrance of the room, my sword blazing as I held off wave after wave of undead. My body ached, my breaths shallow as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me.


    Jose and Emilia were still unconscious, their faces twisted in discomfort as they endured their own nightmares.


    "Come on," I muttered, slashing through another zombie. "You''ve got to wake up."


    The stench of decay was overpowering, but I couldn''t let it distract me. Each swing of my blade felt heavier than the last, but I refused to let the undead reach my friends.


    A particularly large zombie lunged at me, its rotted hands reaching for my throat. I sidestepped, driving my blade into its chest, flames erupting and reducing it to ash.


    "Jose¡­ Emilia¡­" I whispered, glancing back at them. "Please¡­ wake up."


    The zombies showed no signs of thinning, their groans filling the air. My strength was fading fast, but I couldn''t give up. I had to protect them, no matter what.


    Emilia stood at the tomb of King Arthur, the weight of her ancestors'' expectations pressing down on her. The cold stone radiated an eerie energy, and her reflection in the polished surface of the tomb seemed to mock her.


    "Unworthy," the reflection hissed, its voice dripping with disdain. "A mere girl pretending to carry the blood of legends."


    Emilia clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "I''ve spent my life proving people wrong. You''re just another voice in the crowd."


    The reflection smirked, stepping out of the tomb''s surface as a physical manifestation. It towered over her, a monstrous amalgamation of doubt and fear. "Then prove it again," it challenged, brandishing a sword made of shadows.


    Emilia drew her blade, her heart pounding. The clash echoed in the tomb, each strike resonating with the echoes of her struggles. She fought with every ounce of strength, but the monster seemed to anticipate her every move.


    "You''ll never be enough!" it taunted, knocking her to the ground.


    Emilia''s breathing was ragged, her vision blurred. For a moment, she wanted to give up, to let the weight of expectations crush her. But then she remembered Jiro and Jose, her friends who believed in her. She remembered the battles they had fought together, the sacrifices they had made.


    "I am enough," she whispered, her voice gaining strength. She rose to her feet, her grip on her blade firm. "I am Emilia, a descendant of King Arthur. And I don''t need your approval to prove my worth."


    With a final surge of determination, she struck, her blade glowing with a golden light. The monster let out a piercing scream as it disintegrated into nothingness.


    The tomb''s oppressive energy faded, replaced by a warm, comforting glow. Emilia opened her eyes, her nightmare dissolving into reality.


    Jose stood in the jungle, the accusing faces of the villagers surrounding him. Their whispers of "murderer" grew louder, drilling into his mind.


    "You failed," his father''s voice boomed. "You have dishonored the KKK."


    Jose fell to his knees, his head in his hands. "I didn''t mean to¡­ I thought I was doing the right thing."


    The faces loomed closer, their eyes glowing with malice. "You can''t protect anyone," they sneered.


    But amidst the chaos, a single memory surfaced in Jose''s mind, a memory of his father, not as the stern trainer, but as a man who once told him, "Being a protector isn''t about being perfect. It''s about learning from your mistakes and never giving up on those you care about."


    Jose took a deep breath, steadying himself. He stood, facing the accusing faces with a newfound resolve. "I made a mistake, but it doesn''t define me. I am more than my failures."


    The faces faltered, their whispers fading. The jungle began to shift, the darkness lifting. His father''s voice softened, pride evident in his tone. "You are ready, my son."


    Jose opened his eyes, his nightmare dissolving into the real world.


    I turned as Emilia gasped awake, her eyes wide with clarity. A moment later, Jose stirred, his body tense before relaxing as he regained consciousness.


    "You''re back," I said, relief washing over me.


    "What happened?" Emilia asked, looking at the smoldering remains of zombies around us.


    "Nightmares," Jose muttered, his voice hoarse. "But we''re awake now."


    The three of us stood, battered but resolute. The door to the next trial loomed ahead, its surface glowing faintly as if urging us forward.


    "We''ve come this far," I said, gripping my sword tightly. "There''s no turning back now."


    Jose and Emilia nodded, determination etched on their faces. Together, we stepped through the door, ready to face whatever awaited us next.

 Trials and memories

    The aswang, with its sharp features and glowing red eyes, sat calmly at the threshold of the next trial. Despite its fearsome appearance, its demeanor was surprisingly welcoming. The creature tilted its head as we cautiously approached, its voice smooth and composed.


    "Congratulations," it said, its smile revealing sharp teeth. "You¡¯ve passed the third trial. Not many make it through."


    We exchanged wary glances but didn¡¯t let our guard down. I stepped forward, careful to keep a hand on my sword. "Why are you here? What¡¯s your role in all of this?"


    The aswang chuckled, a sound that was both unnerving and strangely friendly. "Ah, always suspicious. I¡¯m simply here to guide you. The trials are fair, though I hear whispers you took a... less traditional route to get here. No matter, the rewards you¡¯ve earned are yours."


    With a wave of its clawed hand, three bracelets materialized in midair, hovering before us. Each glowed faintly with a protective aura, the intricate designs on them radiating a quiet strength.


    "These will shield you once from any fatal blow or attack," the aswang explained. "Wear them wisely."


    We each took a bracelet, the metal warm against our skin. As I fastened mine, I felt an immediate sense of safety, as though an invisible barrier had formed around me.


    "But you¡¯ll have to wait," the aswang continued, leaning back. "The fourth trial requires all participants to face it together. In the meantime, let me show you something."


    The air around us shimmered as the aswang waved its hand again. A cascade of moving images appeared, floating like holograms. Each one displayed a different person in the throes of their nightmares, their fears and regrets laid bare.


    We watched in silence, the atmosphere heavy. One of the first dreams we saw was of Clint. He wasn¡¯t among the current group because he had already passed. The aswang smirked. "He¡¯s quick, that one. Though I wonder how long he¡¯ll last in what¡¯s to come."


    The professors from my school were next, their struggles vivid and raw. One was in his empty apartment, pacing back and forth, consumed by the loneliness of his divorce. The other was perched on a rickety suspension bridge, the height making him break into a cold sweat. Every step he took was agony, the fear of falling tangible even from where we stood.


    "Interesting," Emilia muttered. "It¡¯s not just fears but regrets too. This trial is about facing the things that haunt us."


    A particularly comical scene appeared, momentarily lightening the mood. A man, one of the challengers, was running through his nightmare with an older woman chasing him wielding a slipper. The iconic tsinelas, the weapon of choice for many an Asian mother.


    "Ah, childhood trauma," Jose said with a half-smile, though his voice was heavy with exhaustion. "That one¡¯s universal."


    The holograms shifted to another group, the cultivators who had been strong contenders throughout. But something about their dream stood out, it wasn¡¯t individual. They all seemed to be sharing the same nightmare.


    A towering figure of an elderly Chinese man appeared, his long robes and flowing beard marking him as someone of importance. His face was stern, and his eyes gleamed with cruelty.


    "That¡¯s Elder Yu," the aswang said, its voice tinged with curiosity. "An infamous cultivator from their world. His methods were brutal, even for their kind."


    We watched in horror as the elder used medicinal concoctions on his students, forcing them to endure excruciating pain. Those who failed his trials didn¡¯t escape, they were used to create pills, their lives sacrificed for his twisted experiments.


    The cultivators¡¯ fear and reverence for Elder Yu were evident. Despite his atrocities, it was clear they had been conditioned to obey him. Even in their dreams, they flinched at his commands, their wills broken under his tyranny.


    "How could someone like that exist?" Emilia whispered, her face pale.


    The aswang shrugged. "Cruelty takes many forms. And often, those who endure it carry the scars for life. Whether they overcome them or not¡­ well, that remains to be seen."


    As the images continued to play, I couldn¡¯t help but feel the weight of the trial we had just passed. Watching others struggle made me realize how close we had been to losing ourselves. Yet there was no time to dwell on the past and there is something even more challenging lay ahead.


    "Rest while you can," the aswang said, its voice taking on a cryptic tone. "The fourth trial will test more than your strength. It will test your bonds, your resolve, and the very core of who you are."


    I glanced at Jose and Emilia, both still processing their own nightmares. We had come this far together, but the journey ahead felt more uncertain than ever.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    While waiting for the others to wake, I decided to break the silence. ¡°What did you guys see in your nightmares?¡± I asked, glancing at Emilia and Jose. I figured if I wanted them to open up, I¡¯d have to go first.


    I took a deep breath. ¡°I guess I should start with my past. The thing is... I don¡¯t remember much from when I was three to eight years old. It¡¯s like those years are just gone. What little I do remember is fleeting, flashes of my parents, fragments of their faces, and echoes of their voices. My grandparents used to tell me stories about them, saying they were kind and strong-hearted people. They claimed my parents had many followers and that they died in some tragic accident.


    ¡°But even as a kid, I felt like they were lying. Something about their story never sat right with me. My instincts told me there was more to it.¡±


    I paused, glancing at my hands as memories surfaced. ¡°What I do remember are the lessons my parents taught me in those early years on how to be kind, how to understand others, and how to be more human than most. That¡¯s all I have left of them.¡±


    I sighed, my voice growing quieter. ¡°In my dream... it was like a glimpse of what my life could¡¯ve been. I saw myself growing up with them, a happy, normal life. My parents were there to guide me, to celebrate my successes and comfort me in my failures. It was everything I¡¯ve ever wanted.


    ¡°But then it all twisted. They started enticing me to stay with them, promising me the life I¡¯d always wished for. I almost believed it... but deep down, I knew it was just a dream. The memories I¡¯ve made here, the battles, the trials and none of it could be denied. That¡¯s when the nightmare began. My parents¡¯ forms shifted, their faces melting into grotesque creatures, unwilling to let me go. It was horrifying.¡±


    I shook my head, snapping out of the memory. ¡°That¡¯s how I escaped, by holding onto the hope of returning to reality, back to you guys. Back to my grandparents.¡±


    I turned to Jose. ¡°How about you? I¡¯ve been friends with you for two years, and honestly, I thought I knew you pretty well. But now I¡¯m starting to think you¡¯ve been keeping some secrets from me.¡±


    Jose hesitated, his expression unreadable. ¡°Because you¡¯re my friend, I¡¯ve tried to protect you from this world,¡± he finally admitted. ¡°But in the end, you got involved anyway. And now, it seems you¡¯ve tapped into a power far beyond what I expected. You¡¯ve become a cultivator, but you need to be careful.¡±


    ¡°Careful of what?¡± I asked, leaning closer.


    ¡°Careful of them,¡± he said gravely. ¡°Cultivators from that country, China, they won¡¯t tolerate an outsider wielding their power system. And... there¡¯s something else.¡± He paused, his gaze sharp. ¡°You carry his blood.¡±


    ¡°Whose blood?¡± I asked, but Jose shook his head, refusing to elaborate.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about that later.¡±


    I didn¡¯t push further and instead changed the subject. ¡°What about your nightmare? What did you see?¡±


    Jose leaned back, exhaling deeply. ¡°It¡¯s tied to my family,¡± he began. ¡°We¡¯re part of an ancient organization called the KKK. You¡¯ve probably heard of it was called the Kataastaasang Kagalanggalangang Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan. But what people don¡¯t know is that the KKK didn¡¯t start with Andres Bonifacio. The history books have it wrong.


    ¡°The KKK existed long before the colonizers arrived. Bonifacio just found traces of the original organization in some ruins and used the idea to inspire his rebellion. But the ancient KKK wasn¡¯t about fighting colonizers and it was about fighting the mythical creatures of our folklore. They were the protectors, keeping humanity safe from creatures like the aswang, kapre, manananggal, and tiyanak.


    ¡°My family has been part of the KKK for generations, dating back to the time of the datus. Every member carries a special bloodline, but one particular family, mine carries the most unique of them all. Our ancestors helped create a sealed world to trap the most dangerous creatures. Even now, some of those creatures escape through cracks in the seal, and that¡¯s where the legends and stories come from.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s incredible,¡± Emilia said, her voice tinged with awe. ¡°But what was your nightmare?¡±


    Jose¡¯s face darkened. ¡°My father is part of the KKK too. Growing up, he put me through endless trials, training me to take up the mantle. My nightmare started there, reliving those grueling moments. But then it took a darker turn.


    ¡°I was on a hunt, tracking a creature that had been preying on humans. When I finally cornered it, I thought it was a monster. But it wasn¡¯t, it was a human. I killed him before I realized the truth. He was a trafficker, selling people as livestock to the creatures. But still... he was human. That moment haunts me, even though I know he wasn¡¯t innocent. In my nightmare, he came back to torment me, his face twisted with pain and accusation.¡±


    The room fell silent as Jose finished, his words hanging heavy in the air.


    ¡°I guess we all carry burdens,¡± I said finally. ¡°But at least we¡¯re still here. We made it through, and that has to count for something.¡±


    Jose nodded, his expression softening. ¡°Yeah, we did. But I have a feeling things are only going to get harder from here.¡±


    "How about you Emilia?" Jose asked curiously.


    Emilia shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flicking between Jose and me. She seemed hesitant, as if unsure whether to share. I offered her a reassuring nod.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Emilia,¡± I said gently. ¡°We¡¯ve all gone through something. We¡¯re here for you.¡±


    She sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ¡°Alright,¡± she began. ¡°I guess it¡¯s only fair. But where do I even start?¡±


    She paused, gathering her thoughts. ¡°You both know I¡¯m a descendant of King Arthur, right? It sounds like a grand legacy and it is but it¡¯s also a burden. As the only direct bloodline to Arthur, everyone expects me to be something... extraordinary. Something perfect.


    ¡°But there¡¯s one glaring issue: I¡¯m a girl. And to some people, that disqualifies me entirely.¡±


    She clenched her fists, her voice trembling. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe the persecution I¡¯ve faced because of that. Constant whispers, doubts, and outright dismissal. Every step I¡¯ve taken has been a fight to prove them wrong. To prove that I belong.¡±


    She looked away, her voice softening. ¡°My nightmare brought all of that back. It began with me standing before my family, their eyes full of disappointment. They said I wasn¡¯t good enough, that I was a disgrace to Arthur¡¯s legacy.


    ¡°I tried to argue, to defend myself, but they wouldn¡¯t listen. Then, suddenly, I was in the tomb of King Arthur himself. I prayed for guidance, for strength, for anything. And that¡¯s when the nightmare really began.¡±


    Her voice faltered, and I leaned forward. ¡°What happened?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The tomb started to crumble, and Arthur¡¯s sword Excalibur appeared before me. I thought it was a sign, that he was granting me his blessing. But when I reached for it, the sword shattered. And then... he appeared.¡±


    Her hands trembled as she spoke. ¡°King Arthur. Or at least, a twisted version of him. He said I was unworthy, that I was a disgrace to his bloodline. His words cut deeper than any blade ever could.


    ¡°He told me that the blood of heroes ran thin in me, that I was too weak to carry his legacy. And then he attacked. I fought back, but no matter what I did, it wasn¡¯t enough. He overpowered me, mocking me with every strike.


    ¡°Finally, he cornered me, his sword at my throat. I thought it was the end. But then... I remembered something. Something my mother told me before she passed.


    ¡°She said, ¡®You don¡¯t need to be a king to lead. You don¡¯t need to be perfect to inspire. What matters is your heart, your determination, and your willingness to fight for what¡¯s right.¡¯


    ¡°Those words gave me strength. I stood up, even though I was battered and broken, and faced him one last time. I told him he was wrong. That I was worthy, not because of my blood, but because of who I am.


    ¡°And then... he smiled. Just for a moment. And the nightmare faded.¡±


    Emilia looked up at us, her eyes glistening. ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy. But I think... I think I finally made peace with it. With myself.¡±


    Jose and I were silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. Then I smiled. ¡°Emilia, you¡¯ve always been worthy. Not because of your lineage, but because of the person you are. We¡¯ve seen it, time and time again.¡±


    Jose nodded, his expression softening. ¡°He¡¯s right. You¡¯ve proven yourself more than any of those doubters ever could. And for what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m proud to fight alongside you.¡±


    Emilia¡¯s lips curved into a small smile, and she wiped her eyes. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper.


    In that moment, something shifted between us. The trials we¡¯d faced, the burdens we¡¯d shared, they had forged a bond stronger than any bloodline or legacy. We weren¡¯t just a group of people thrown together by circumstance anymore.


    We were a team.


    And as we prepared for whatever lay ahead, I knew that as long as we had each other, we could face anything.