The Man the Mountain Kept (M2K)

The Last Breath of Light

The mist began to recede, as if the mountain had just released a long-held breath. The trembling walls of the cave were now still. But the silence was not peace—it was a pause. A pause before something greater.

Rendra crawled through a narrow passage. His hands slid across damp, cold stone as his eyes struggled to adjust to the faint altar light reflecting dimly on the cave walls. He had lost his bearings—but his spirit kept burning. Something inside him, perhaps an ancient instinct or a buried memory, kept pushing him forward without hesitation.

Then—wind.

A faint breeze. Barely audible. But enough to make him stop, bow his head, and smile wide.

"Fresh air," he whispered. "There's fresh air!"

Diah and Hulio followed close behind. Their breaths were heavy, but their eyes immediately locked onto a narrow gap between two large rocks—a crevice exhaling moist air, laced with the scent of damp earth and ancient moss.

"I found it!" Rendra exclaimed. "I found it!"

Diah leaned in, inspecting the gap. "It's not an exit... But it could be a passage. Big enough for us to crawl through."

Hulio straightened his body as much as he could, nearly touching the rocky ceiling. The crevice was too tight for anyone to stand upright, yet he remained composed and firm, as though the narrow space could not restrain him.

Diah and Rendra switched on their helmet lamps. Faint beams danced across the wet stone walls, just enough to reveal their faces.

Three pairs of eyes met.

The light didn't quite reach Hulio's face, yet his eyes glowed on their own—something had changed within him. He stared ahead with a calm intensity, as if he could see through the darkness. As if the void was not an obstacle, but a space he now understood.

"The mountain reveals its opening," he murmured. "But not for escape. Only for those who have changed."

Rendra snapped his head toward him. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone who enters here," Hulio said softly, "won't leave the same."

Rendra sighed. Deep inside, he felt like he had lost a piece of himself, only to discover something else—something he didn't yet understand, but knew was important.

A silence hung between them. No easy decision could be made. But time was no longer on their side.

Above them, the world had scrambled all boundaries. Below, something was awakening. And the three of them stood at the threshold—not just between two rocks, but between two realms.

With a steady breath, Diah said, "If this is the path shown to us, then we can't refuse it."

They kept crawling, leaving the altar light behind—the last light to ever touch their skin before it was consumed by mist and darkness. From that moment, they were no longer just inhabitants of Rinjani's underworld. They had become part of the living secret within it.

A thin mist wrapped around the stone corridor—not just damp vapor, but something like the mountain's ancient breath. It brushed against their skin and seeped into their pores. The air in the earth's belly was not empty; it was alive—watching, testing, and sometimes… guiding.

The three young souls—Diah, Rendra, and Hulio—crept forward slowly, as if embraced by an invisible hand. They had no clear direction, but every so often, the mist parted ever so slightly. The stone ahead felt warmer. Sometimes, a whisper carried through the breeze: "This way…"

They continued, slow and careful. No light, save for the pale gleam off the wet rock. Yet they were not afraid. In that darkness, trust was growing—not in maps or logic, but in something older. Something unspeakable.

And as they moved, their steps fell in rhythm, as if their bodies were now tuned to the same pulse—the hidden heartbeat of the mountain itself.

From deep within the tunnel, a faint echo surfaced. Laughter. Or sobbing. Or both.

And beyond that corridor, something waited. But they knew—there would be no return without leaving a piece of themselves behind.

---

– The Disappearance of the Scientists

Mateo sat in his cold office—far from Rinjani, far from everything... except the gnawing unrest growing inside him. He was waiting for the latest report from James, the head of the special unit dispatched to the mountain. But after more than a week, no message had arrived.

What had happened out there?

He tried to stay calm. Maybe the communication gear failed. Maybe they hadn't found the key site yet. But his gut said otherwise: James and his team had failed. Or worse—they were gone.

"Impossible," he muttered, rising to his feet. "They're elite. They don't fail."

James and his team weren't ordinary guards. They were shadows of the Moreira family's power—silent movers, ghosts in the system, fixing problems no court could ever touch. Trained in infiltration, vanishing without a trace, and leaving no witnesses. And they carried more than weapons. They carried forged documents, fake identities, and diplomatic permits crafted by the clan's dark networks.

If caught by Indonesian authorities, it would be a catastrophe. The Moreira name would be stained. Mateo's position in Brazil would collapse. But if they weren't caught… then perhaps something far worse had happened inside that mountain.

Mateo clenched his fists. He was powerless. He couldn't contact them. Couldn't follow. Couldn't send backup without revealing his entire operation.

But then another possibility crept in—a shadow he refused to acknowledge:

Hulio might still be alive.

Not just alive—but building something. Gathering power. Mateo began to realize: he had gravely underestimated his brother. Hulio wasn't just some mountain-obsessed fool.

Why had he never succeeded in eliminating him? Because Hulio had connections.

There were whispers he had ties to the UN's peacekeeping security division.

"Why am I only finding this out now..." Mateo gritted his teeth. "Damn it."

It wasn't so far-fetched. Hulio's father, Antonio Moreira, was a decorated special forces veteran. A national hero in Brazil. Antonio had strong ties with transnational units. And weren't those shadow troops trained by Antonio himself?

Could James have betrayed him? Was he secretly working for Antonio?

Damn it. Damn it. Why hadn't Father and I seen this coming?

Mateo paced. Outside, the night was quiet. But in his mind, a storm was gathering.

And what terrified Mateo most… wasn't the silence of the mountain. Nor the chance that Hulio was still alive—

It was the wrath of his father.

If this mission failed, the First Branch of the Moreira family—Mateo's branch—would lose everything: its name, its honor, and its claim to the family legacy.

---

– The Ones Who Returned

At the foot of Mount Rinjani, a group of senior climbers had camped for over a week. They sat around a fire when one of them pointed toward the slope.

"Lights," he murmured. "Three lights in the distance."

All heads turned. Through the night fog, descending from the summit's darkness, three small beams moved downward—slow and steady.

"They're back!" one of the climbers shouted.

"Who?" another asked, half-whispering, half in disbelief. "Those foreign scientists? My God… they survived? Rinjani didn't swallow them whole? That's… miraculous."

Then silence fell.

"Wait…" a deep voice cut through the awe. "Why only three?"

Unease began to spread. Everyone started counting silently.

They went up as nine—three foreign scientists, two armed escorts, and four others: local guides, a tracker, and a respected elder from the Sasak and Bima communities.

Nine went up.

Now, only three lights have returned.

"So… who came back? And who… didn't?"

---

– Shocking News

The elders stood as the three figures approached. Their flashlight beams revealed weary faces, mud-streaked bodies, but steady steps.

Suddenly, someone shouted, "Rendra? Is that you?!"

The man in front lowered his light and replied softly, "Grandpa?"

The elder—Udin Bima—stepped forward, wide-eyed. He never expected to see his grandson here.

"Rendra! Why are you here? Weren't you supposed to be on Komodo Island?!"

Rendra lowered his head briefly, then whispered, "I'm sorry, Grandpa. It's a long story. I had no choice. Mateo wanted me gone."

Udin studied his grandson's face—stern, but trembling. "You left without a word. We thought you were lost. And now you return from the belly of a waking mountain…"

Diah and Hulio stood behind Rendra, silent. But Udin knew—this was no ordinary expedition. These three had gone through something profound.

"Who are they?" another elder asked.

Udin didn't answer immediately. He looked at Diah's face, then at Hulio's. This stranger. He sensed something different in the man standing behind Rendra. And in that moment, like a lightning bolt, he understood.

Something had happened. Something beyond words.

"We need to leave. Now," Udin said firmly.

No one questioned him. The group began packing immediately—departing before the sun could rise.

In the eastern sky, the mist began to lift. But they all knew—those who returned from the mountain… were never the same as those who climbed it.

---

– A Voice From Within

The final night before the moon vanished.

The sky above Mount Rinjani was clear, but the wind blowing from the peak carried a strange scent—like ancient burning wood and flowers that only bloomed in dreams.

Beneath the earth, deep within unmapped tunnels, something began to stir.

Not an earthquake. Not gas.

A pulse.

Rhythmic. Deep. Like the heartbeat of something ancient awakening after a thousand years of slumber.

And at the place where the altar had once stood, shadows began to take shape. The gathered mist moved on its own, spinning slowly—dancing to a rhythm only beings born of secrets could hear.

Above the altar, the air shimmered like a cracked mirror. The temperature shifted. And then the voice came again.

From the darkness, an echo.

Not human.

But it called a name.

A single name.

"Hulio…"