The Man the Mountain Kept (M2K)

Cemara Nunggal was not the kind of place anyone would choose to camp.

The eastern slope of Mount Rinjani had begun to split with hairline cracks. The ground was warmer than it should be. And the mist… far too thick. It felt alive, as if it had a will of its own—hiding something that didn't want to be found.

But for Diah Saraswati, this place was perfect.

Everything aligned here. Strange seismic pulses. Sudden underground bursts of heat. And most disturbing of all—faint murmurs picked up by her geophone, only audible past midnight, like whispers crawling up from the depths of the earth.

Diah hadn't come here just for science. She came for Hulio. Or rather, for the truth behind what happened to him.

Her involvement with Antonio Moreira began with a strange coincidence. She never imagined she'd meet the father of the young man who vanished into Rinjani's depths—a Brazilian billionaire rejected by his own powerful family, branded as "the failed branch." But to Diah, Antonio was no failure. He was the key.

For Antonio, the search was personal. But for Diah, it had grown into something far greater. She believed in the legends. That Mount Rinjani wasn't just a volcano—it was a vessel of ancient energy, guarded by something unseen. Antonio's funding kept her research alive, but the deeper she went, the more she realized: this wasn't just myth.

It was a warning.

She knew the danger didn't just come from the mountain. It came from people—especially the Moreira family.

Just days ago, Diah had met Antonio in a hidden location. He didn't want the rest of the Moreiras to know he was in Bali. He came with a false identity.

"We'll find him," Diah had said, her eyes fixed on the morning mist.

"Now that Rendra's joined us."

"You found that man?"

She nodded. "He returned to Rinjani... seeking redemption."

---

Cemara Nunggal.

Diah's thoughts drifted back to Rendra. Anxiety clenched her chest. It had been six days since he promised to follow her to the mountain—but there'd been no word.

She almost forgot—Rendra didn't use a phone. Mateo's men could trace it. All she had was his word. And somehow, that was enough. She believed in him. He wouldn't break a promise.

Diah smiled, recalling her parents' love story—no phones, no messages. Just faith, and a meeting at the promised place. Always on time.

Rendra was likely making the journey through the Torean trail—a path known not just for its treacherous terrain, but because it demanded secrecy. Mateo's agents were everywhere—posing as hikers, park rangers, even search-and-rescue volunteers.

---

Rendra moved like a shadow. Only walking when the mist thickened like temple smoke. Sleeping without fire. Eating dry rations. Driven by sheer determination. He slept only when absolutely necessary.

By the time he arrived at Cemara Nunggal, the forest was drowned in fog. He crouched low, eyes fixed on Diah's tent from afar. His heart pounded—not out of fear, but purpose. He wasn't going to run anymore.

He stepped forward.

And when Diah saw his silhouette emerging from the mist, she smiled—relieved.

---

That night, the air felt heavy.

Diah stared at the silent graphs dancing across her monitor. Rendra sat outside, unmoving. The mist swallowed everything beyond a few steps. The world seemed to fold inward.

Then—dug.

A deep, heavy thud. Like a boulder falling into the earth's core.

Rendra stood up, alert. No wind. No cracking branches. But beneath his feet, the ground trembled—soft and rhythmic, as if something inside the mountain had begun to awaken.

Diah ran out of the tent, gripping her handheld scanner. The screen spiked. Frequencies shot upward—sharp, patterned. Too structured to be natural tectonic movement.

"This isn't a fault line," she whispered. "This… this is a language."

Rendra pointed west.

A soft green light seeped through tree roots, glowing like living veins.

"You see that?" he asked.

Diah nodded, eyes wide. "That's what I came for. But this… it feels alive."

They followed the glow. A narrow dip in the ground led them to a shallow hollow.

At its center stood a stone—carved, ancient… breathing.

Its surface was etched with spirals, intersecting lines, and symbols they couldn't name—but somehow felt familiar, like memories buried deep in human history. The markings pulsed faintly, in rhythm with the trembling underfoot.

"This isn't natural," Rendra murmured.

"No," Diah said. "It could be a marker. Or... a gate."

Rendra scanned the trees, uneasy. "We're not alone. Something's watching."

He sharpened his gaze and whispered,

"Get ready."

Diah understood. She was alert. Not afraid. And Rendra—he now knew. Diah Saraswati wasn't just a scientist.

She was something else entirely.

---

Night passed without danger.

But morning came without birdsong. No insects. The mist hadn't lifted. It clung to the trees like a blanket that refused to let go.

Rendra woke after barely two hours of sleep. Something in the air made his skin crawl. He stepped outside—and saw it.

Footprints.

Still fresh. Neat. Circling their camp. Leading toward the stone they'd discovered last night.

"Diah," he called out.

She emerged, still holding her logbook and temperature chart. One glance at Rendra's face told her everything.

They followed the tracks.

Too clean. Too calm. As if whoever—or whatever—left them felt no need to hide.

By the time they arrived, the green light was gone. But a new wound had been carved into the center of the spiral—a long, jagged slash, like claws tearing through ancient order.

"Someone's been here," Rendra muttered.

Diah nodded, tense.

They turned back toward the camp.

And that's when they heard it—a low hum. Distant. Mechanical.

A helicopter.

Rendra dropped flat, scanning the sky. A shadow passed overhead. Then another.

"Mateo's men?" Diah hissed.

Rendra didn't answer. But he reached into his pack and pulled out a small pistol.

That was answer enough.

"Too fast," Diah muttered. "They shouldn't have found us yet."

"Unless someone told them."

Her heart sank. There were many traitors in the Moreira family. They could have followed Antonio. Or maybe—there were eyes near this very site.

Now, they had found Diah and Rendra.

---

The helicopter didn't land, but five armed men emerged from the eastern trees minutes later. Dark tactical gear. No insignias. No words. Just rifles—and expressionless faces.

"Don't move!" barked one of them.

Then his eyes landed on Rendra—and something changed.

"That's him! Kill him! That's Rendra!"

Gunfire erupted.

Diah screamed, pulling Rendra behind the stone. Bullets tore into the earth and rock. Dust exploded around them. No way out—the slope behind too steep, the forest ahead too thin.

"They know I'm alive," Rendra growled.

"We can't fight them!" Diah shouted. "It's suicide!"

Then—

CRAK!

A stray bullet shattered the tree nearby.

And from behind it… something stepped out.

A figure.

Towering. Shrouded in mist. Over two meters tall. Faceless. Only glowing blue eyes.

Rendra froze.

That was no man.

The being moved—fast and silent. Like a mirage.

Bullets fired—yet stopped in mid-air. Hanging.

As if the air itself rejected them.

"What the hell is that?!" one of Mateo's men screamed.

Another tossed a grenade—but the blast flipped backward, hurling two men into trees. They didn't get up.

Panic. Retreat.

In seconds, the team scattered—carrying the wounded. Fleeing in chaos.

The mist swallowed them whole.

And in the silence that followed, the faceless figure turned to Diah and Rendra.

It didn't speak.

But they heard it.

In their bones. In their chest.

"Go deeper.

Time is running out."

---

And somewhere deep within the mountain's core...

Something opened its eyes.