Shaman Rangga drew out a wavy sacred blade called a Keris and tried to push the spirit woman back.
Magical energy clashed violently, shaking the air around them.
Blow after blow landed,
But it wasn’t enough.
The spirit was too strong.
The bodyguards attempted to assist, but their efforts were meaningless.
"This thing is spiritual! Physical strength alone won’t work!" Rangga shouted.
"You need to use Entra or Vita! Only magical energy can hurt it!"
Unfortunately, the bodyguards were ordinary humans with no magical affinity.
David and Vianna both actually had magical energy—especially Vita—
But neither stepped forward.
David stayed back, not wanting to reveal his power.
Vianna was frozen in fear—she had always been terrified of ghosts.
Dedy stepped in, channeling Vita into his fists.
His attacks landed, and they affected the spirit... but barely.
The creature was far too strong.
The creature only laughed, toying with its enemies—
Its eyes locked on Nayala, the real target of the night.
Dedy glanced toward Al, hoping the young master would help.
But Al... just sat and watched.
Finally, when both Rangga and Dedy were cornered—
The creature launched a deadly strike, aiming to kill them both.
Its movement stopped mid-air.
The creature turned to look at Al.
"I didn’t want to interfere. But this isn’t your realm," a voice echoed in the spirit’s mind—
"Return to your world. Stop meddling in human affairs... or you’ll be destroyed tonight."
But rather than retreat, the creature went berserk.
It let out a terrifying roar,
A sound that pierced eardrums and made everyone cover their ears in agony.
The creature exploded.
Everyone stood still, stunned.
From behind the explosion, they saw Rangga—still standing—
His Keris raised high.
Everyone believed Rangga had defeated the creature.
Rangga was gasping for breath.
He himself didn’t understand what just happened.
He had been about to strike...
The creature blew up.
Far away, Al casually spun a small pebble on his finger.
No one noticed it was he who had infused it with magical energy
—and thrown it with pinpoint accuracy—
Right into the creature’s spiritual core.
I told you to go home instead of wandering around other dimensions, Al muttered inwardly.
Huff, what a foolish creature.
His gaze drifted to Nayala—
Still lying unconscious in her mother’s arms, surrounded by concerned faces.
Al’s eyes briefly turned golden.
He blinked, startled.
There was still magical interference in Nayala’s body.
Mind manipulation, he realized.
No wonder she’s been acting strangely lately...
At least the real threat is gone now.
A quick flashback played—
Nayala had tried to pluck Al’s hair for the ritual.
But Al had been faster.
He cast an illusion, snipped some of her hair instead,
And made her believe she had succeeded.
They praised Dedy and Rangga.
No one knew the truth.
Finally... I can sleep well tonight.
Daraka—the dark shaman hired by Rudi—was vomiting blood.
His spiritual energy had been shredded.
"Failed... again?! Impossible!" he spat in rage.
He glared at Rudi, who looked terrified.
"Get out of my sight!
Who the hell did you make me curse?!
I nearly died tonight because of that boy!
I want nothing to do with you. Go!"
Rudi nodded quickly and backed away.
But Daraka clawed at the earth and swore:
"Al... that boy... I’ll kill him. No matter what it takes."
Darkness crept across the forest...
And one thing was clear:
This was only the beginning.
The once-grand party now lay in ruins.
Tables that had once held crystal glasses and gourmet dishes were overturned or abandoned.
Guests were being escorted out slowly.
Some servants sat trembling in the corners, still in shock.
The guards remained alert—but their eyes, once sharp, now carried fear.
In the middle of it all—
Al stood quietly, watching the chaos gradually settle.
He looked up at the sky, now clear again.
The moon glowed bright,
As if indifferent to everything below.
From a distance, Al spotted three figures standing atop a tall tree branch.
Their silhouettes were clear under the moonlight:
Two women—one with shoulder-length hair, one with long flowing locks—
All in black uniforms.
Their faces hidden in shadow.
Their presence calm and powerful,
As if gravity didn’t apply to them.
They just... watched.
One of them locked eyes with Al.
Only a gaze full of meaning.
Like leaves caught in the cold night breeze...
Swept into the trees and gone.
Someone was approaching.
A middle-aged man in formal clothing—Rangga, the family shaman—stepped up beside him.
His face calm, but his aura filled with confusion and awe.
Without saying much, Rangga passed by Al, gently patting him on the shoulder.
"You’re Al... right?" he muttered, not even making eye contact.
"So you’re still alive..."
What was that supposed to mean?
But that wasn’t the only strange thing.
When Rangga’s hand touched his shoulder,
A wave of energy—dark and heavy.
Like something that once brushed against his own power, long ago.
But he didn’t seek the answer.
Tonight had been long enough.
He took a deep breath, looked up at the night sky once more,
Then turned and walked out of the ruined garden.
The world of nobles was already beginning to piece together their illusions again.
But a heart that had grown heavier
with the weight of new questions just beginning to rise.
Elsewhere... far from the Virellano estate—
In a remote underground chamber, lit only by blue fire in a stone bowl,
Several hooded figures sat in a circle.
None of their faces were visible.
A red-black magic circle pulsed with ominous light,
Revealing a silhouette—
A horned creature with blood-red glowing eyes.
"Good. They’re the perfect vessels."
"This ritual will be complete with them."
"Just a little longer... until the world weakens... and the gate opens."
One of them raised a black pendant—
Etched with ancient runes that spun on their own.
"Our king will rise. And when he does..."
"None of them will be able to stop him."
The blue fire flared higher.
And the long-sealed demonic shadow—