Wira : The Peerless One from Mount Tarakan

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. In the seconds that followed, the face of this jungle—and perhaps the entire martial world—would be changed forever.

Dozens of warriors from the Night Shadow Sect lunged forward like a pack of starving wolves, surrounding Wira from all directions. Every sword slash, every spear thrust, was accompanied by a cold surge of Laksa energy, forming a deadly vortex. They were an elite combat unit, trained to work in perfect coordination to bring down even the strongest of targets.

Wira watched them closely. His eyes now gleamed with a silver-blue light, no longer faint, radiating a cold yet captivating aura. His grandfather had once said, "If wild beasts come in great numbers with ill intent, don't hesitate to bare your fangs." This was that moment.

Wira sensed all his enemies from every direction. He released his Sura aura, coating his entire body with it, and launched himself forward at full speed. If they were attacking, then it was better to strike back—faster and harder.

Wira deflected the frontal attack by stepping forward, causing the air around him to swirl uncontrollably—leaves scattered, followed by sharp sounds: "Whoosh! CLANG! AARGH!" Five enemies in front were thrown off their path, breaking their formation apart.

Without pausing, Wira dashed to his right. Blow after blow landed on the lesser warriors. In an instant, ten enemies fell. Everyone froze—stunned by the sheer speed and power of Wira's assault.

The remaining thugs watched as the falling leaves, scattered by the clash, descended alongside their fallen comrades. Some of the lower-ranked fighters trembled in fear, but their leaders saw something else—a worthy opponent.

The warriors closest to Wira were thrown back by a force that seemed light—yet struck with devastating power. They weren't just flung away; their bones cracked upon impact. Some crashed into trees, splitting the trunks, while others collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain, unable to rise again. They didn't die, but their internal organs were shaken violently, making every breath feel like agony.

"Puihh! You're impressive, Wira. So the stories about you weren't just baseless rumors after all," said the long-eared one, still unable to grasp the true gap between their strengths.

The other warriors on the outer circle were stunned. They watched their comrades fall with barely any resistance, as if struck by an invisible shockwave. Yet their rigorous training kept them from retreating. Steeling themselves, they launched a second wave of attacks—this time more coordinated—targeting Wira with every deadly technique they possessed.

This time, Wira was no longer playing around. His body moved like a shadow—untouchable, swift, and deadly. He dodged sword slashes with slight shifts of his body, then responded with light punches and swift kicks to his opponents' torsos.

One by one, the warriors were knocked back and fell. Some crashed into trees, others rolled across the ground, overwhelmed by Wira's precise strikes.

"He's... he's not human!" shouted one of the silver-masked warriors, his voice filled with fear.

Meanwhile, Laksmi was still running, trying to fend off two lesser fighters chasing her. Seeing this, the masked warrior chose to go after her instead.

But Wira, noticing the move, picked up a small pebble, placed it on his thumb, and flicked it toward the masked warrior.

The pebble shot forward like a bullet, striking the long-eared warrior's leg. He instantly crashed to the ground, groaning in pain.

Wira dashed forward, chasing the long-eared warrior who was clutching his injured leg.

"What kind of warrior are you? Are you afraid to face me?" Wira said, now standing right in front of the long-eared man.

The once ferocious warrior now looked like a frightened cat, completely overwhelmed by his opponent.

Before Wira could grab the long-eared fighter, the red-eyed warrior rushed in to save his comrade, launching a fierce attack toward Wira with all the remaining strength of his Laksa.

As he ran, the red-eyed warrior focused his Laksa energy into his right hand. A red aura began to swirl around his fist, growing to the size of a basketball.

It was his ultimate move—one capable of crushing an opponent's body in a single blow.

Realizing the danger if that punch landed directly, Wira quickly channeled his Sura energy into his hand, preparing to clash head-on.

This was the first direct collision between Sura and Laksa.

"BOOM!"

Wira's punch met the red-eyed warrior's strike with explosive force.

The long-eared warrior nearby was hurled far away by the sheer force of the energy clash.

The impact created a dense burst of energy that spread outward in waves.

Even Laksmi—who was standing at a relatively safe distance—along with the two who were chasing her, were thrown back.

Fortunately, Laksmi didn't suffer any serious injuries.

The forest nearby sank into a shallow crater, trees around it collapsing outward. The red-eyed warrior was thrown far, his right arm shattered and his body severely torn. He suffered grave injuries, and the long-eared warrior who had also been flung away lay motionless, having slammed into several trees with a forceful impact.

Laksmi turned pale for a moment, seeing two massive forces clash and fearing that Wira might be hurt. Thick dust filled the air around the explosion, but through it, the silhouette of Wira still stood firm. Laksmi let out a sigh of relief and sank down weakly, hiding behind a tree.

Meanwhile, on the other side, the masked leader, thinking both his men had been seriously injured, muttered, "Die, Wira!"

But his joy didn't last long. As the dust began to settle, the figure of Wira emerged—standing firm. The sight shocked him.

The silver-masked leader, who had just given the orders, now watched with wide eyes. Dozens of his elite warriors were being taken down one by one in a matter of moments.

Wira's movements were elegant, brutal, and incredibly efficient. Every strike was a deadly lesson none of them could comprehend. The flickers of Sura, now more frequent, shimmered with bluish-silver light—dancing through the darkness of the forest like a waltz of death.

In just a matter of minutes, the forest that had once been filled with trees and dozens of warriors had turned barren. Several trees nearby had fallen away from the scorched clearing.

Wira stood calmly at the center, while faint groans echoed from the few conscious warriors who now lay sprawled across the ground. Their silver masks were scattered around, revealing pale faces and eyes filled with fear.

The silver-masked leader was the last one standing. He stood frozen, unable to believe the scene before him. He had led countless battles, but never had he experienced such a swift and devastating defeat.

Wira turned toward him, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

"Now it's your turn, Mr. Silver Mask," Wira said flatly. "You've been the biggest nuisance of all."

The leader trembled. He knew he had no hope. Even Jati Bewok wouldn't have been able to withstand this kind of power. This was devastation. He had no other choice but to...

"I... I surrender!" the leader shouted, dropping his sword to the ground. His voice trembled, breaking the silence of the night.

"What do you want?! I'll give you anything!"

Wira tilted his head. "I don't want anything. I just want you to stop bothering Laksmi. And don't ruin any more villages." His eyes, sharp and piercing, seemed to bore right through the silver mask. "Do you understand, rotten mask!"

The leader nodded rapidly, his body trembling. "U-understood! We won't bother you again! We swear it!"

"Good," Wira said, the Sura glint in his eyes fading. "Now leave. And don't come back. Or next time, my Grandpa will come."

The silver-masked leader didn't wait a second time. He immediately turned and, with what little strength he had left, ran as fast as he could into the darkness of the forest, abandoning his fallen subordinates. The warriors who were still conscious slowly began to rise, helping each other up, then dragging their unconscious comrades away from Wira as quickly as possible.

Laksmi emerged from her hiding spot, looking at Wira. "They... they all fled."

Wira nodded, then approached Laksmi, who was still in a state of semi-disbelief. He offered a slight calming gesture. His serious expression slowly faded back to his usual innocence. "Yes. Why? Should I chase them all the way to their homes? Or should we attack their base and destroy them all?"

Wira's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would evil people like that have so many followers?" He took Laksmi's shoulder, gently guiding her to sit back down. "They're troublemakers. Why would anyone want to join them?"

Laksmi let out a long sigh. Wira had just displayed power that could shake the martial world, yet he was completely oblivious to its impact. Their journey was still long, and Wira's lessons about humans had just begun with their most intense chapter yet.

"Look, Wira," Laksmi began, trying to simplify. "In this world, there are many groups, or what we call sects. They each have their own goals. Some are good, some are evil like the Night Shadow Sect."

Wira frowned. "Sects? Like the gangs of monkeys on the mountain that steal bananas?"

Laksmi suppressed a faint smile. "More or less, but much larger and more dangerous. Now, as for why they have so many followers... partly it's out of fear. The Night Shadow Sect is ruthless. They won't hesitate to kill or torture anyone who disobeys."

"So they force people?" Wira asked, a hint of dislike in his tone.

"Some are forced, and some are deceived, Wira," Laksmi continued, pointing to a sword lying on the ground. "They offer power, or wealth, or status. Weak people, those hungry for power, or those who are desperate, can be tempted to join. They believe the false promises of their leaders, or feel they'll be safe within a strong group."

"But they hurt other people," Wira countered, as if it were the most illogical thing. "Like the Old Man in the village earlier. Why would they join if they know it's evil?"

"That's the difficult part, Wira," Laksmi sighed. "Sometimes, people don't care about others, as long as they themselves are safe or get what they want. They think, 'as long as it's not me who gets hurt, it's fine.' Or they believe that what they're doing is right, even if we think it's wrong."

Wira fell silent for a moment, processing this complex information. The concepts of egoism and relative morality were far harder to grasp than martial arts forms or wilderness survival.

"So, if their leader is strong, people will follow?" Wira asked again, seemingly trying to find a simple logic.

"Yes, Wira. The stronger their leader is, the more people will fear them and join," Laksmi explained. "That's why we can't just storm their base. We don't know how many martial artists as strong as Jati 'Beardie' they have, or how powerful their true leader is. It's possible their leader's strength... could rival yours." Laksmi exaggerated slightly, hoping Wira would be more cautious.

Wira nodded slowly, a crease forming on his forehead. "Oh... so they're like the biggest, most powerful apes in their den, then? But these are evil apes."

Laksmi sighed again, a mix of amusement and resignation. "More or less, Wira. Except these 'apes' have swords and techniques."

Wira looked back at Laksmi, his mind now brimming with new questions. The human world was indeed full of oddities and things difficult to comprehend. Thousands of followers for evil people? Power used to hurt others? This was the most confusing lesson so far. He knew his Grandpa must have had a reason why he had to descend the mountain.