KASARINLAN : saga of pinoy superheroes

Chapter 32: The Heart of Hope in the Shadow of Sorrow

The morning in Plaridel was quiet, but Georgia's heart churned with turmoil. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. The image of Erik standing close to a woman she didn't know haunted her mind, replaying like a cruel loop. That afternoon in the squatter area, when she saw them together, had pierced her chest like a dagger. Worse still were Erik's words—sister—a poison that slowly seeped into her emotions.

"Why do you keep messing with my head, Erik?" she whispered, frustration boiling over as she thrashed on her bed. Her feet struck the thin mattress, and the wooden frame creaked as if echoing her anger. "If you don't want me, why make me feel this way? You're so cruel." Her voice trembled with resentment, and tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back. She wanted to be strong, refusing to cry over a man like Erik.

Sitting up, she clutched her head, trying to quell the storm of thoughts. "What if he's already gone off with that woman?" she asked herself, her heart racing with fear and jealousy. The thought of Erik leaving with the mysterious stranger sent her mind spiraling. Suddenly, she shouted, "Where are you, Erik?!" Her voice echoed in the small room, laced with worry and pain.

Her outburst drew slow footsteps from outside. The door opened, and her grandmother hurried in, concern etched on her face. "Georgia, my dear, is something wrong?" she asked, her voice tender yet tinged with worry.

"Nothing, Lola, I'm fine," Georgia replied, but her sulky tone betrayed her. She avoided her grandmother's gaze, unwilling to reveal the sadness and anger in her eyes.

Her grandmother studied her, as if reading her heart. "If you've got nothing to do, why not sell fish today? Don't you need money for school?" she suggested, adjusting her shawl. "Or is there another reason you don't want to go out?"

Georgia hesitated, unsure how to respond. "Lola, I can't sell today. There are too many Spanish police in town. It's dangerous," she said, her sadness deepening at the thought of not being able to work.

Aling Rosa nodded, her eyes full of understanding. "By the way, why didn't Erik come home last night? Weren't you two together yesterday?" she asked gently, her voice laced with curiosity.

Georgia froze, her heart gripped by an icy hand. "I don't know, Lola," she whispered. "I don't know where he went… or if he's even coming back." The words tasted like poison on her tongue.

Her grandmother's expression softened. "If you're not busy, why don't you help your grandfather sell peanuts? We're getting old, and it's hard for him to carry those sacks alone," she said, her voice brimming with hope that Georgia would join them.

Georgia agreed, though her heart felt heavy. "Alright, Lola," she said lifelessly. She rose from the bed, her movements sluggish, as if the weight of the world pressed on her shoulders.

As she fixed her hair and clothes, her mind swirled with questions. Where are you, Erik? What are you doing?

Meanwhile, in a remote area outside Plaridel, an old, sprawling warehouse stood, filled with rusted machinery and broken crates. Its interior was dark, save for slivers of sunlight piercing through holes in the roof.

In the center of the warehouse, Ifugao awoke, his hands bound to a sturdy post. His head throbbed, and his body ached as if pricked by a thousand needles from last night's battle. He struggled to break free, his hands straining against the ropes, but they held fast.

"Where am I?" he muttered, his voice thick with unease. His eyes darted around, but the darkness concealed most details. Suddenly, a voice spoke from above.

"Good morning, Ifugao," said a man, his tone calm yet commanding. On the warehouse's second floor, Ifugao saw the man in a wheelchair he had faced in battle the previous night. The man, with black hair and sharp eyes that seemed to pierce Ifugao's soul, appeared to be in his mid-thirties. "How are you feeling?"

Ifugao shouted, his voice brimming with anger and confusion. "Who are you? What do you want with me?" He tried to stand, but the ropes kept him in place.

The man smiled, unfazed by Ifugao's fury. "I am Apyong Mabin, a general of the Philippines leading this nation," he said, his voice like a breeze through trees—steady yet powerful. "My duty is to protect the people and eliminate threats to peace, including terrorists and vigilantes."

Ifugao's heart raced with fear. "If you're a general, why bring me here? Are you a sugo like me?" he asked, his voice wavering with doubt.

Apyong nodded, his smile unwavering. "Yes, I am the sugo of Lipa, chosen by the diwata Ada Sua Bati. But that's not why you're here," he said, his gaze fixed on Ifugao.

Confusion replaced Ifugao's anger. "If you're a sugo, why side with the Spanish? Why let Filipinos suffer under them?" he asked, his voice heavy with pain and disappointment.

Apyong's smile took on a hint of sorrow. "You're still young, Ifugao, and naive about the world's complexities," he said, his tone like a teacher addressing a student.

"My role as Lipa's sugo has nothing to do with obeying the Spanish government. The Spanish currently control this nation, and that's a reality I cannot change."

He wheeled closer to the balcony's edge, looking down at Ifugao. "To protect Lipa, I must ensure order. I need people to follow the law. For me, it doesn't matter who rules—Spanish or Filipino—my diwata's command is to keep my territory peaceful. Serving the government has been my way to fulfill that mission."

Ifugao listened, but doubt gnawed at his heart. "I've heard many sugos in the Philippines choose to be vigilantes or terrorists to protect their towns," Apyong continued, his voice calm yet tinged with reproach.

"I don't blame them; they have a point. Filipinos have never accepted the Spanish as equals in their own land. But it's foolish to think we can kill them just because we dislike them."

Ifugao retorted, his voice thick with emotion. "Filipinos do that because they're oppressed! The Spanish abuse them! If they were treated fairly, they wouldn't resort to violence!" His hands strained against the ropes, as if yearning to confront Apyong.

Apyong nodded, as if agreeing. "You're right—some Spanish abuse Filipinos. Life is hard for many, especially in poor places like Plaridel. But violence isn't the answer," he said logically. "Many Spanish want peace, and many cities enforce laws against abuse."

He looked at Ifugao, awaiting a response. "Some believe the Philippines is only for Filipinos. But the truth, Ifugao, is that Filipinos can't survive without the Spanish right now. We lack education and political knowledge. If the Spanish left, Filipinos would fight for power. Amid chaos from hunger and ignorance, many would die."

Ifugao stared, his heart heavy with sorrow. "We Filipino generals aim to run the country alongside the Spanish. We're ready to turn our swords against anyone who opposes this government," Apyong said with resolve.

Ifugao understood but felt something was wrong. "We're hurting our own people, Apyong. All they want is freedom," he said, his voice laced with pain.

Apyong smiled bitterly. "Freedom? It sounds noble, Ifugao, but achieving it requires a bloody, sacrificial path," he said. "Are Filipinos ready for that? Are you ready to sacrifice, Ifugao?"

Ifugao looked down, unable to answer. All he wanted was peace without more bloodshed.

"I just want peace, Apyong. No more violence," he whispered, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Apyong smiled, as if seeing a reflection of himself in Ifugao. "Our beliefs aren't so different, Ifugao. When I was young, I fought for a world where Filipinos and Spanish could coexist without violence. But the world isn't that simple," he said, his voice rich with experience.

"I tried convincing both sides—Spanish and Filipino—that peace was possible. I failed. The Spanish want superiority, and Filipinos want freedom. If I keep chasing an impossible dream, the bloodshed will never stop," he said, his eyes filled with self-reproach.

"Only the law can stop violence, Ifugao. And the law demands obedience, no matter how hard," he added logically.

Ifugao's heart sank. "So, will you arrest me? Lock me up and hand me to the Spanish?" he asked.

Apyong laughed warmly. "I'm not that cruel, Ifugao. I only hunt terrorists and vigilantes. So, tell me—are you one of them?" he asked, his eyes probing Ifugao's soul.

"I'm not a terrorist or vigilante," Ifugao said firmly. "I'm a hero."

Apyong laughed again, intrigued. "A hero? What does being a hero mean to you, Ifugao? What makes you different from terrorists and vigilantes?" he challenged.

Ifugao looked down, his heart heavy. "Like other Filipinos, I want order. I understand why some use violence—because of oppression. But I believe peace is possible. The guilty should be punished, but I don't agree with killing," he said sincerely.

Apyong smiled, pleased. "That's a good answer, Ifugao. I'm not cruel enough to arrest you and hand you to the Spanish," he said understandingly. "But Hustisya is different."

Ifugao's heart raced. "Hustisya? What does she have to do with this?" he asked, alarmed.

"I'm here because of the vigilante called Hustisya," Apyong said, his voice turning cold. "She's killed over twenty Spanish. She must be stopped, no matter what."

Ifugao's worry surged. "Don't kill her, Apyong! Though she's done wrong, I believe she's a good person!" he pleaded.

Apyong's eyes sharpened. "Whether Hustisya is good or bad doesn't matter, Ifugao. As long as she breaks the law and commits crimes, she's an enemy who must be stopped," he said logically. "But you have a chance to save her."

Ifugao's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" he asked, uncertain.

Apyong smiled and issued a challenge. "If you want to save Hustisya, help me capture her," he said. "It's unlikely she'll avoid violence.

She'll likely fight to the death, and I'll have no choice but to kill her. But if you capture her, she can be taken alive."

Ifugao's mind reeled. "You want me to turn Hustisya over to the Spanish?" he asked, distressed.

Apyong didn't deny it. "Yes, you'll hand her to the Spanish. In return, I'll ensure her safety in custody," he promised. "Hustisya can never defeat the Spanish. Within three days, she could die in battle when Bulacan's general moves. You must decide, Ifugao, before it's too late."

Ifugao fell silent, his mind in turmoil. His conscience gnawed at him, unsure if he could trust the man before him. Betraying Hustisya felt like treason, but Apyong's promise of safety offered a glimmer of hope.

Apyong smiled, sensing Ifugao's conflict. "I'm giving you a chance to be a hero, Ifugao. But first, you must pass a test," he said mysteriously.

Before Ifugao could respond, the warehouse door opened, and a woman entered. She wore a military uniform, her hair neatly tied, her eyes sharp and ready for any fight.

"This is Jana, my lieutenant and sugo of Tanauan's diwata," Apyong said proudly. "If you want to be a hero, Ifugao, you must be ready to face sugos like her—those with true skill."

Jana eyed Ifugao from head to toe, sizing him up. "The Spanish are skilled fighters, far beyond street brawlers like you. I want to see if you can face a true warrior," Apyong said confidently. "Jana has trained rigorously and earned the rank of Rook in Spain."

He explained that Spain ranked warriors in five levels: King, Bishop, Rook, Knight, and Pawn. "Last night, you couldn't defeat any Spanish general or trained sugo," Apyong said, challenging Ifugao to defeat Jana. "If you can, I'll let you leave this warehouse."

Jana sighed, clearly displeased. "Why must I do this, General?" she asked, her voice tinged with impatience. "I see no value in giving this kid a chance. I'm tired of fighting weaklings, but I know I have no choice if you command it."

She looked at Ifugao with disdain. "This doesn't happen often, so thank my general's kindness," she said sarcastically. "Get ready. Let's start this fight."

But Ifugao remained bound, his hands still tied to the post. He looked at Jana and asked, "How can I fight if I'm tied up?"

Jana smirked mockingly. "You can't even break those ropes, yet you want to be a hero?" she taunted.

Suddenly, Jana's body surged with energy, startling Ifugao. The energy flowed like vibrant, powerful water. Moments later, massive octopus-like tentacles appeared behind her, like living shadows ready to strike.

One tentacle shot toward Ifugao, slicing the ropes binding him. They fell like paper, and Ifugao collapsed to the floor. He stared in awe, unable to hold back his admiration. "Your power is incredible," he said, his voice full of wonder.

Jana laughed softly. "You're such a child, Ifugao. No matter how impressive this power is, it's still a weapon that can kill," she warned.

"Get ready. I'll attack once you transform into your sugo form."

Ifugao knew he had no choice but to fight Jana to escape. Blue energy enveloped his body as he prepared for battle. As the energy surged, his form changed—his white hair grew more vibrant, and his eyes blazed with determination.

He didn't know how he'd win, but he was resolved to leave that warehouse.

End