KASARINLAN : saga of pinoy superheroes

Chapter 31: The Heart of the Sugo in Plaridel's Darkness

The afternoon in Plaridel was shrouded in thick clouds, mirroring the heavy dread enveloping the town. In the squatter area at the edge of Plaridel, ramshackle homes trembled with cries and sobs. Kastila police stormed through, mercilessly dragging people from their houses, forcibly arresting Filipinos suspected of aiding Hustisya.

The dim lights of the shanties barely illuminated the bloodied and bruised faces of the captives, while children wept, clinging desperately to their parents.

"Have mercy, señor! My father hasn't done anything!" cried a nine-year-old girl, as a policeman yanked her father, Mang Tonio.

A harsh slap struck the man's cheek, drawing blood from his lip.

"Stop resisting and come quietly, indyo!" bellowed the policeman, shoving Mang Tonio to the ground. His wife, Aling Susan, screamed, but she too was pushed, collapsing into the mud.

At the other end of the area, Aling Rosa, an elderly vendor, stood trembling. "I know nothing about Hustisya, I beg you!" she pleaded, but a policeman slapped her, and she crumpled to the dirt. Her grandson, Kiko, shouted, "Please, have mercy on my lola, she's ill!" but a policeman kicked him, sending the boy tumbling, sobbing in pain.

The police pressed on, seizing men and women, including youths like Isabela, a student, and Pedro, a farmer. Shanties were torn apart, belongings scattered, and families descended into chaos, powerless except to weep and plead

. "If you don't surrender Hustisya, we'll haul you all to prison!" roared the police leader, a Kastila with a piercing glare.

Amid the turmoil, a shadow emerged at the edge of the squatter area. His white hair glimmered, dancing in the breeze, and his eyes burned with resolve. It was Ifugao, standing atop a shanty's roof, clutching his mystical fan.

His chest weighed heavy with the oppression he witnessed, yet his heart blazed with purpose—to save the innocent.

"Stop this!" His shout echoed across the chaos.

The captives froze, their eyes locking onto Ifugao, his white hair a beacon of hope in the gloom.

A boy whispered, "That's Ifugao! The one who fought terrorists in Pangasinan!" Murmurs rippled through the crowd, filled with awe and hope.

"The hero of Pangasinan, is he here to save us?" one asked.

"You're the one from the news, fighting rebels in the mountains, aren't you?" a policeman barked. "Why are you here, Ifugao?"

Ifugao gazed at them, his voice calm but commanding. "I'm here to warn you to cease your oppression of Plaridel's people."

But the police leader, a Kastila with a smug grin, laughed. "Who are you to swagger here, indyo? These people are criminals, conspiring to kill Kastilas! They're breaking the law!"

Ifugao didn't believe his words. He scanned the captives—farmers, vendors, children—faces of the innocent. "You can't brand them criminals without proof," he said, his voice steady. "I'm pleading with you, release them or give them due process."

"Such arrogance, ordering us around, indyo!" the policeman snapped, his grin fading. "We won't listen to the likes of you! You're a criminal yourself, defying the Kastilas. Of course, you'd side with your fellow criminals!"

"I'm no criminal," Ifugao replied, his eyes unwavering. "I abhor violence, and I believe we don't need to fight if you treat my people justly."

But the policeman laughed again, his men joining in. "We must discipline indyos like you to teach you obedience!" he shouted, pointing at the captives. "If you hadn't broken the law, you wouldn't suffer this!"

Ifugao saw Pedro's bloodied face, Isabela's bruises, and a weeping man clutching his child. He heard the children begging, "Help my mother! I'm begging you!" His blood boiled, but he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I'm giving you one last chance," he said, his voice cold. "Treat them properly and give them due process. If they've erred, prove it by law, not violence."

The police leader scoffed. "We are the law here, indyo! You're in Plaridel, Kastila territory! You have no right to act proud here—you're not even from this place!"

Ifugao closed his eyes, his heart heavy. "If you're this stubborn, I have no choice," he said. "I may not be from here, but I won't stay silent while my kin are abused."

With a swift gesture, two wooden arnis sticks materialized from the air, and he caught them with confidence. "You'll regret your arrogance," he declared, his eyes blazing with determination.

The police leader laughed, mocking the arnis. "Just sticks, indyo? What are those, toys?" he jeered, and his men roared with laughter. Ifugao was surrounded by twelve policemen, their rifles aimed and swords drawn from their scabbards. "You're in our territory, Ifugao! You're no match for us!"

Ifugao challenged them boldly. "Try me," he said, his voice resolute.

The fight erupted as the first policeman fired. In a flash, Ifugao leaped aside, the bullet whistling past, striking a wooden post and scattering splinters. His arnis spun in his hands like twin whirlwinds, and with a swift strike, he felled the first policeman, his rifle clattering into the mud. His comrades froze in shock but quickly charged, their swords slicing through the air.

A policeman lunged from the left, his sword aimed at Ifugao's chest, but Ifugao twirled an arnis, seized the man's wrist, and shoved him back, toppling him into a vegetable cart. Another charged from the right, rifle poised, but with a rapid spin, Ifugao struck his knee, and the man collapsed, howling in pain. The police were helpless against him, flung about like toys with each blow.

The captives, watching from the sidelines, erupted in cheers, their eyes alight with hope, though they dared not voice it. The children shouted, "You can do it, Ifugao!

"Kill that beastly indyo!" the leader roared, and three policemen charged together, firing their rifles. Ifugao vaulted onto a shanty's roof, dodging as bullets splintered the wooden walls below.

Seeing them reload, Ifugao hurled his arnis, striking two policemen in the head, knocking them out. He leaped down, kicking another across the street, but a bullet grazed his forehead, halting him briefly. "Got him!" the shooter crowed, but his triumph turned to shock as Ifugao turned, unscathed, not a scratch on him. "I hit him square in the head!" the policeman stammered.

The arnis flew back to Ifugao's hand, and with a leap, he kneed the shooter in the head, knocking him unconscious. The leader, enraged, bellowed, "Use the shotgun!" A policeman drew a massive firearm, its barrel trained on Ifugao.

As Ifugao fought two others, striking one in the neck and slamming another to the ground, he didn't notice the shotgun aimed at him. It fired, the deafening blast echoing, and Ifugao was hurled back, crashing to the ground. The captives gasped, fear gripping them as silence fell, Ifugao motionless in the dirt.

The police cheered, shouting, "The indyo's dead!" But in an instant, Ifugao somersaulted to his feet, his skin unmarred, his eyes blazing. "No bullet or blade can wound a sugo like me," he declared, his voice brimming with resolve.

The policemen's faces paled with terror. "Impossible!" the leader cried, but Ifugao gave him no chance to act. He charged the leader, his arnis spinning like tempests.

He struck one policeman's shoulder, felling him, and yanked his rifle with his left hand, tossing it far, where it struck a tree.

Another tried to stab Ifugao's back, but he parried the blade with an arnis, ducked behind the man, and struck his back, sending him unconscious to the ground.

The captives cheered, the children chanting, "Ifugao! Ifugao!" Two policemen tried to flee to their vehicle, but Ifugao leaped after them, striking one in the neck and kicking another into a wall, knocking him out. The leader screamed, "Don't run, you cowards!" but fled himself, hiding behind a shanty among trash crates.

Ifugao pursued, his steps calm but purposeful. With a flick of his arnis, he toppled the crates, exposing the leader. "Your arrogance ends here," Ifugao said, and with a swift strike to the neck, the leader collapsed, unconscious in the mud.

The battle ended without bloodshed. Ifugao freed the captives from their bonds, helping elders like Aling Rosa to their feet. Children ran to embrace their parents. "Go home," he said, "and rest. Don't go out tonight."

Ifugao ensured everyone could leave, standing in the squatter area's center, his arnis planted in the ground. The people thanked him as they departed, their eyes brimming with hope. Kiko approached, his eyes shining. "Thank you, Ifugao! Thank goodness you came!" he said, and Ifugao smiled, ruffling the boy's hair.

But suddenly, a chilling presence enveloped the area. The air turned cold, and his shoulders trembled. He knew instantly—a powerful entity was near, yet invisible. His eyes darted, scanning the surroundings, but the squatter area was silent, save for the faint rustle of wind.

"Get out of here now!" he urged the few lingering residents.

He leaped onto a post, gripping his arnis tightly, searching for the source of the presence. "Who are you? Show yourself!" he shouted, but no answer came. His heart raced, sensing this was no ordinary foe.

Then, a presence surged behind him. Before he could turn, a colossal fist emerged from the darkness, striking his back like lightning. The force sent him crashing through a shanty, wood splintering around him, dust and debris flying.

He felt pain—something he hadn't expected. Only power rooted in nature could harm a sugo like him. He thought, Is another sugo behind this? Knowing another attack was imminent, he scrambled up, shoving aside the wreckage, and leaped onto another shanty's roof.

He searched for the giant fist, his eyes sharp in the darkness. His arnis glowed, merging into a red sword with a built-in firearm, ready to counter the next strike. But the area was still, the presence growing stronger, as if taunting him. Suddenly, he noticed a shadow eclipsing his position, as if a massive entity loomed above.

He looked up, eyes widening in disbelief, and saw a monstrous fist—woven of roots and stone, as large as a bus—plummeting toward him. He tried to parry with his sword, its blade pulsing with his power, but the fist's force was overwhelming. His feet sank into the roof, which collapsed, sending him crashing back into the shanty. The fist followed, crushing him, the sound of destruction reverberating through the squatter area.

The fist rose, gripping Ifugao tightly. He struggled to break free, but it flung him to the ground, his body carving a crater in the earth. For the first time, he coughed up blood, stunned by the pain. Yet he knew he couldn't rest—the fist was still near. He stood, gripping his sword tightly, its blade glowing with energy, ready to meet the threat.

As the fist charged again, Ifugao unleashed a strike, his sword releasing a blazing arc of energy that sliced the fist in two. The halves crashed to his sides, and silence fell. He didn't know if the fight was over, but the sugo's presence lingered.

He shouted, "Who are you? Show yourself! What do you want?" No reply came, the silence deafening. Then, he heard the creak of wheels to his left and turned.

There, he saw a figure in a wheelchair, and his heart jolted. He didn't know why, but the presence radiated sugo energy. The figure wore pristine white clothes, suggesting wealth. "Who are you? Are you behind this? Another sugo of the spirits?" Ifugao demanded.

The figure only smiled, silent. Ifugao relaxed briefly but froze when he noticed the insignia on their clothing. "Those markings… like the general in Pangasinan," he realized, recognizing the badges of a Kastila officer. This sugo might be allied with the Kastilas.

He gripped his sword, ready to fight, but froze as the world seemed to slow. Two giant fists, emerging from both sides, closed in on him.

"I can't dodge this," he thought. In an instant, the fists collided, crushing him between them. Silence blanketed the area as he remained trapped within.

When the fists parted, Ifugao fell, weakened, struggling to rise. One fist seized him, hurling him into a shanty. As the sun sank and darkness cloaked the evening, a fist reached into the wreckage, retrieving Ifugao.

The residents, cowering inside, dropped to the floor, praying in terror, helpless to act.

Dust swirled, and as the floating fist emerged, Ifugao dangled unconscious, his white hair swaying in the breeze.

The fist ascended, carrying him into the night's darkness. The witnesses stood stunned, their hearts heavy with fear and questions. Who orchestrated this attack? Where was Ifugao taken?

Plaridel was once again shrouded in the shadow of uncertainty, as the people whispered, praying for the hero who had saved them.

End.