Wira : The Peerless One from Mount Tarakan

Night was growing late. Wira and Laksmi decided to find temporary shelter in the forest, veering slightly off the main path. The cold air began to pierce through, and the sound of nocturnal insects broke the silence of the jungle. Drawing from her experience, Laksmi picked a small hollow beneath the roots of a large, shady tree. They lit a small campfire—just enough to warm their bodies and keep wild animals away.

Wira sat cross-legged near the fire, eating the leftover provisions given by Aunt Suri. His eyes were fixed on the flickering flames, but his thoughts wandered back to the events in Batu Tua Village. His innocence about the world had perhaps been chipped away slightly, replaced by a deeper understanding of cruelty.

"Are you daydreaming, Wira?" Laksmi asked softly, wrapping her body with a thin cloth. "Why?"

"I'm thinking about that old man," Wira replied. "And why they had to die. My grandpa used to say that every living being has the right to live in peace."

Laksmi let out a sigh. "The world isn't that simple, Wira. There's good, but there's also evil. We have to learn to tell the difference." She looked at her jade pendant, the firelight dancing in front of her. "And it seems that evil... is now coming after us."

Wira nodded. "I know. Grandpa said, if there's a strange smell at night, it means enemies are nearby." He took a deep breath, sniffing the air. "It's the same scent as the one from earlier today. But this time, there are more of them. And they're surrounding us."

He glanced toward the forest around them, his eyes alert.

Laksmi tensed up instantly.

She tried to sniff the air, but her nose wasn't as sharp as Wira's. Her eyes widened as she stared into the darkness beyond the firelight.

"Already? That fast?!" she whispered, fear showing clearly on her face.

"Yeah," Wira nodded, unshaken.

He was already standing, his body in a ready stance. A faint pulse of Sura energy flickered around him, as if responding to an unseen threat.

"They haven't moved. Just watching. But there are a lot of them. More than earlier today."

Laksmi drew the small blade tucked at her waist.

Even though she knew it wouldn't do much against that many enemies, her warrior instincts demanded she be ready.

"How do you know? Can you see them?"

"No. But I can feel them," Wira replied.

"Like sensing a wild beast approaching. It's something I learned while training with Grandpa in the mountains."

The forest atmosphere grew increasingly tense.

The sounds of insects suddenly fell silent, replaced by a cold wind carrying unsettling whispers.

Suddenly, from all directions, dozens of glowing red eyes lit up in the darkness.

They weren't the eyes of wild animals, but the sharp, focused gazes of warriors hiding in the shadows of the night—some of them slowly stepping forward.

"Impressive. You seem to have noticed our presence, Wira!"

The deep, raspy voice broke the silence, coming from the front—behind the thick bushes.

"We're not here to pick a fight with you. Hand over the girl, and no one will get hurt."

Wira stepped forward, his fists clenched.

"You again? Why do you keep bothering us? Don't you have anything better to do than harass us and terrorize the villagers?"

A large-built man stepped out from behind the trees, followed by dozens of other warriors who now surrounded Wira and Laksmi's campfire. The man wore a pitch-black cloak, his face hidden behind a silver mask engraved with a crescent moon. A thick Laksa aura radiated from him—far stronger than that of Jati Bewok. This was a different kind of power, something on a higher level. Several warriors behind him wore similar masks, marking them as part of an elite force.

"Hand over the girl, or you'll regret it, boy," said the silver-masked man. His voice was calm, but carried a clear threat. "We don't have time for games."

"She's not some object to be handed over," Wira replied, his eyes locking onto the masked leader with a sharp glare. "And I don't like it when someone messes with my friend."

The silver-masked man let out a mocking laugh. "Friend? You have no idea who you're protecting, boy. That girl... she's a threat to the entire martial world. And you… you are the 'Anomaly' bold enough to stand in our way."

A flicker of Sura lit up in Wira's eyes, a faint bluish-silver glow piercing through the darkness. "Key to destruction? Anomaly? I don't understand any of that. All I know is—you're the ones causing trouble. And I will stop you."

Laksmi could tell that Wira was beyond reasoning now. His anger toward these marauders was building into something dangerous. She could feel it—an overwhelming aura that seemed ready to tear the entire forest apart. A part of her was afraid… not of the enemies, but of Wira's fury.

Without waiting for a command, two masked warriors darted forward, their swords gleaming under the moonlight. Their movements were swift, perfectly synchronized, and their attacks far more powerful than any Wira had faced before. These were the true Laksa masters of the Shadow Night Sect.

Wira welcomed them. He no longer held back as much, sensing the greater pressure from his opponents. The battle in the middle of the forest, under the moonlight, would be a true test for Wira. And this time, the lesson about mankind would be far more brutal.

The two silver-masked warriors launched a coordinated attack. One slashed downward while the other thrust toward Wira's waist. Their movements were synchronized, leaving almost no opening. The Laksa aura emanating from their bodies felt cold and deadly, sending tremors through the surrounding leaves.

Laksmi, witnessing their swift and powerful attacks, held her breath, frozen in place. Fear gripped her—afraid that Wira might be hurt by those strikes.

Wira swiftly raised his hand to deflect the sword aimed at his neck, redirecting the attack's path. At the same time, he shifted his body slightly to evade the slash targeting his torso. The strike was indeed fast, but Wira managed to block the one toward his neck and let the other pass his body with graceful precision.

The two warriors were stunned. Their powerful and well-coordinated assault had been neutralized with only slight movements and minimal effort. They had heard rumors of Wira's strength—but this was far beyond what they expected.

"Hey, Red Eyes and Long Ears," Wira called out, his tone still innocent. He pointed at their silver masks, which had bulging eye engravings and slightly elongated sides. "Why are you attacking so fast? Are you in a hurry to go home?"

The warriors fell silent, stunned by the ridiculous nickname. Anger flashed behind their masks. They attacked again—this time faster and more ferocious—aiming for vital points: the neck, heart, and stomach. They unleashed deadly techniques, ones only mastered by the elite warriors of the Night Shadow Sect.

Wira was no longer just dodging. He began to block. His palms, though they looked soft, emitted restrained Sura energy. Each time their blades clashed with his hands, a sharp clang echoed, and their swords trembled violently. The warriors felt a numbing vibration surge through their arms, as if they had struck solid steel.

Behind him, Laksmi watched nervously. She could see that Wira was holding back, not unleashing his full power like when he defeated Jati Bewok and his men. Wira seemed to be playing—or more accurately, learning. He was analyzing every enemy movement, every opening, every stream of Laksa energy they emitted. Laksmi felt slightly relieved, because if Wira got serious, it felt like the entire forest would be destroyed.

"Your footwork is too slow, Red Eyes," Wira commented as he stepped forward and effortlessly dodged a spinning kick from one of the warriors. He then twisted the man's wrist with a gentle motion, causing the warrior's weapon to fall to the ground.

"And you, Long Ears, don't push yourself. Your breathing is already ragged," Wira continued, sliding his palm across the second warrior's shoulder, making the man stumble backward a few steps, nearly falling. Wira didn't injure them seriously, but each of his touches was enough to numb their arms.

The gang leader, watching from a distance, clenched his fists.

He hadn't expected the young man to hold his own against two of his elite warriors—let alone do it while speaking so casually.

This wasn't just a matter of strength.

It was technique—refined, precise—and a level of understanding far beyond what they had.

He caught a glimpse of a faint bluish-silver glow flickering in Wira's eyes, an energy he didn't recognize, yet one that felt overwhelmingly powerful.

"Enough!" the leader shouted. "Stop wasting time! All of you—attack!"

At his command, around twenty masked warriors surrounding them surged forward.

They came from all directions—swords, spears, and tridents gleaming under the moonlight.

The forest was suddenly filled with the sounds of rushing footsteps, clashing steel, and the deadly pulse of Laksa energy.

This time, there was no room left for words.

Wira took a deep breath.

His once-innocent face was now completely serious.

He could sense real danger—this was no longer just a fight, it was an attempt to break him.

Behind him, Laksmi let out a small gasp.

"Hold on, Laksmi," Wira said, his voice now devoid of any trace of playfulness.

He stepped forward, letting himself fully immerse in the wave of threats surrounding him.

The glint of Sura in his eyes now shone brighter, radiating an aura that was both chilling and mesmerizing.

"Very well," Wira muttered. "If you refuse to talk things through peacefully, then I won't hold back anymore. Tonight's lesson... will be a bit harsh."

The forest around them seemed to hold its breath.

Only the rustling of leaves, stirred by the movement of dozens of warriors, broke the silence.

The moments that followed would change the face of the forest—

and perhaps, the martial world itself—forever.