The Man the Mountain Kept (M2K)

What Once Was, No Longer Is

Diah and Rendra left what remained of their camp—now nothing but ash and scorched stone. They didn't speak. Only their hurried footsteps broke the silence, crunching over broken twigs and charred debris.

Behind them, the remnants of the battle still radiated heat.

In both their minds, one towering, mysterious figure kept returning.

It was cloaked in mist, with glowing blue eyes, walking through frozen bullets and explosions reversed midair.

It was real.

That creature… had saved them.

Yet, amid the chaos, Diah still felt regret. Not just for the tents and supplies, but for her geothermal sensors, magnetic field scanner, and digital soil-layer maps—all gone. She bit her lip, frustrated. But she knew: their lives mattered more.

"What… was that?" Rendra's voice trembled. "It wasn't human… right?"

He couldn't understand it either. The creature had a human-like shape—but wasn't human. It had eyes… blue eyes, but no face. And the bullets—how could they stop midair, then fall to the ground? It was unreal.

Diah slowly shook her head. Her throat was dry, not from exhaustion, but from something else—fear and awe, tangled together.

Their steps quickened, weaving through jagged rocks and narrow trails, away from the main path. As if something unseen was guiding them. Instinct, perhaps. Or a call.

The mist began to thin, but the air remained strange. Too quiet. No birds. No insects. Only pine trees swaying… without a sound.

Diah looked back.

"We can't return the same way," she whispered. "They're still out there."

Rendra nodded.

Their lives had changed in an instant.

No more words were exchanged as they stepped through a narrow crevice between rocks—a passage that had never existed before.

And somehow… they knew: it was the only way forward.

They passed through the crack, tighter than it appeared. Diah had to twist her body, pressing against the damp stone. Jagged edges scratched her skin. Behind her, Rendra followed, his breath echoing in the dark.

Their flashlight was barely useful.

But in the distance, a faint blue glow shimmered—like living phosphor. It pulsed… like it was breathing. The creatures had led the way.

They arrived where the stone changed—from rough to smooth, as if deliberately carved.

Diah stopped.

"There's something here," she whispered.

She raised her light to the wall. Carvings appeared—spirals, suns, open eyes, and claw-like lines. Not letters. But not random either.

She touched it.

Warm.

Too warm for such a cold place.

"This isn't a local script," she murmured. "Not Sasak. Not Old Javanese. I don't recognize it."

Rendra crouched, eyes fixed on one symbol—a vertical eye flanked by two wavy lines.

"I've seen this before…"

Diah turned to him. "Where?"

"When I was a kid," Rendra said quietly. "At my grandmother's house in Bima. It was carved into an old wooden frame. She said… it was the third eye. The eye of the mountain guardian."

He stared longer.

"Dewi Anjani," he whispered. "The spirit of Rinjani."

Then they found it.

The tunnel widened into a circular chamber. Half-collapsed stone pillars lined the room. At the center stood a round altar. One pillar bore the third eye symbol—this time with a tear beneath it.

Diah felt something watching them.

Not from ahead.

But from above.

They locked eyes.

Their hearts raced.

No sound.

No movement.

For a breathless moment… time stopped.

Then—

A gentle hum echoed from the ground.

A subtle vibration.

As if the mountain… was whispering.

---

And then—

At the center of the chamber, someone sat cross-legged. Still. As if he had been waiting for a long time.

His back was to them. Long hair spilled down. His body was firm, as if shaped by nature itself. Not starved—but forged by something ancient.

Rendra clutched Diah's arm. "There's someone."

Diah held her breath and stepped forward.

The figure opened his eyes.

And turned.

Their gazes met.

Time shattered.

That face—it looked like Hulio! But not entirely.

The Hulio they had seen in photos was a tall, athletic young man. Always smiling. Cheerful.

But this man… was taller. Stronger. More still.

His face glowed with a faint blue light.

And his eyes—bright blue, held something far older than memory.

Rendra and Diah froze.

Him!

Was that creature… Hulio? Did Hulio become that thing? No.

Diah's voice trembled, but her heart was certain. "You… you're alive?"

"I… not entirely," Hulio answered. "But I didn't die."

Diah was stunned. It was really Hulio.

Rendra stepped forward. "What happened to you?" He was more convinced than Diah.

"I fell. I shattered. But the mountain… it wouldn't let me go. It saved me… or trapped me. I still don't know."

Diah noticed something on his chest—

The third eye.

Glowing softly beneath his skin.

"You…"

"I'm no longer the Hulio you knew. But I haven't become something else either. I'm… in between."

Hulio looked at Diah and Rendra—as if he'd known them for years, though they'd just met.

"You bring truth, Diah. But also danger.

And you, Rendra…

You carry wounds."

Diah was still frozen. But Rendra stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper.

"We came to bring you home."

Hulio fell silent. A bitter, empty smile tugged at his lips.

"Home? But where is that… for someone who was never truly wanted?"

Diah held her breath.

"Señor Antonio… and Lady Teresa… They're waiting for you," she said gently, like a plea.

Hulio's expression shifted. His shoulders tensed. His eyes closed.

Teresa. His mother. Her gentle smile.

Antonio. His father. The voice that once called him my son echoed again in his ears.

Hulio whispered, "Father… Mother…" Guilt pressed on his chest.

---

Rendra looked around, dazed. "Where… are we?"

Hulio pointed to the floor—spirals carved into the stone, all leading to the altar.

"We're at the threshold.

Between the human world…

and something far, far older."

"What is this place?" Diah asked.

"A place mankind forgot," Hulio replied.

"Before words. Before history."

He looked at her.

"This altar is a crossing.

Between what is seen, and what is hidden.

Between what came from the sky… and what is rooted in the earth."

Diah froze.

The man before her was no longer the one Antonio had described.

Hulio used to be a rationalist.

But now…

He spoke like a hermit.

A bearer of ancient truths.

Maybe because he had stayed too long in Rinjani's belly. Had the mountain shaped him? Changed him into something else?

Could any other man have survived this place?

Hulio smiled, as if reading her thoughts.

"I've learned from silence.

From roots and water that store memory.

Here… time doesn't pass like it does above."

---

Suddenly, a deep rumble grew beneath them. The tremor spread through the entire chamber.

"They're coming," Hulio said. "Maybe… it's time I return." He whispered.

He stepped toward the altar. Its surface pulsed faintly. A glowing handprint appeared upon the stone.

The mist swirled around the walls.

The carvings… seemed to move.

Rendra stared at the main symbol—The third eye, with a glowing tear beneath it.

---

Then, light flared from the altar.

Not their shadows.

But a ghostly figure—mist-like, vaguely human.

Its voice echoed—not in their ears, but within their chests:

"What you seek… cannot be found with eyes.

But with sacrifice."

The walls shook.

The mist spun.

The air thickened.

Diah turned sharply. "What was that?"

"The Guardian," Hulio answered.

"Or… a spirit that chose to stay.

To protect.

Or to wait."

---

Elsewhere…

In a dark office in the heart of Rio de Janeiro, Mateo Moreira hurled his phone against the wall. Glass shattered. Everyone in the room froze.

His face turned red.

His jaw clenched like steel forged in rage.

"You can't even deal with two people?" he roared, venom dripping from his tone. "What the hell am I paying you for? You're all useless!"

On the flickering projector screen, Jack's face appeared—one of Mateo's top men, reporting from Lombok. He looked pale. Shaken.

"S-sir… they're protected… by something. Something not human," Jack stammered.

Mateo stepped closer. His eyes narrowed. "Something? What do you mean?"

Jack swallowed.

"We… don't know. It came out of the mist. Like living smoke. Bullets didn't touch it. Our men—some panicked. One even fainted. Like… it sucked the soul right out of him."

Mateo didn't believe in superstition. Myths. Curses.

To him, everything could be controlled with money and power.

"Damn it!" he growled. "You're all pathetic. I should never have sent you there!"

He turned away, clutching his temples.

An assistant spoke up cautiously, "Perhaps… we should consider a spiritual approach, sir. There are many local legends—"

"Silence!" Mateo snapped. "I don't believe in fairy tales! If they want to play with fire, we'll bring the storm. Call the elite squad. I don't care what it is—whatever's protecting Hulio… will burn."

Jack tried to respond, but Mateo cut him off:

"And Jack. Fail me one more time… don't bother coming back."

The screen went dark.

The room fell into silence.

But outside the tall glass windows of Moreira Corporation…

The wind stirred—soft, but full of whispers.

---

Somewhere far away,

in the belly of Mount Rinjani, Hulio whispered:

They think I'm dead.

They're wrong.