In the distance, sirens wailed—police, fire trucks, maybe military. Arya didn't flinch. He stood silently as the flames devoured the clinic behind him. The man at his feet—Professor Hadiwijaya—trembled under his grip, tied and broken. But the real war was just beginning.
Arya was now a fugitive. Hunted not only by Serambi Nusantara but by a system too corrupted to protect the innocent. He moved from one shadow to another, gathering intel, exposing secrets, burning everything the organization had tried to keep hidden. They thought they'd created a weapon. Instead, they'd birthed their executioner.
Sometimes, when the nights were quiet, Arya still felt Bayu's voice in the back of his mind—a whisper, not words. A warmth. A presence. He wasn't alone. Not entirely.
And when he looked at himself—veins black, heartbeat doubled, eyes faintly glowing red—he didn't look away anymore.
He'd made peace with what he was becoming.
"For Bayu," he whispered, hand resting on the scar over his heart, pulsing with alien rhythm.
"And for everyone they destroyed."
The parasite stirred inside him—no longer a stranger, but not yet a friend. Just… present. Watching. Waiting.
One month passed.
Arya stood on the balcony of his apartment in Yogyakarta, overlooking Mount Merapi. The volcano slept, for now. But Arya knew that silence could be deceptive. Just like him.
Behind him, Professor Hadiwijaya sat slumped in a chair, no longer a man of power but a prisoner of his own creation. He was helping Arya now—studying the parasite, deciphering how to control it. Not by choice, but by fear.
"They're willing to negotiate," the professor said, voice hollow. "You could end this war. They'll give you anything. Just stop."
Arya turned from the mountain, half of his face shrouded in shadow. His left eye glowed a soft crimson. The veins at his neck pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"You know what's funny, Professor?" he said, voice colder, deeper.
"I spent months trying to fight this thing… trying to destroy it."
A pause.
"But now… I understand. I'm not fighting it alone."
The professor blinked, confused.
"You're alone. Bayu is dead."
Arya raised his palm. Etched into his skin was a shifting symbol—part DNA, part something ancient. Something not human.
"He's still here," Arya said quietly. "In me. In this thing. His consciousness didn't vanish—it fused."
"Impossible," the professor muttered. "No human mind can survive inside the parasite. It's—"
"You don't get it," Arya snapped, his voice layered now—his and Bayu's overlapping. "You created this for control. You never treated it like what it is—a living entity with a will of its own. But it has a will. And I'm part of it now."
Then it happened.
A third voice echoed from Arya's lips—ancient, massive, inhuman. It sounded like the earth itself was speaking.
"We have waited in darkness. Watched you crawl. Now, we rise. Through this vessel… we awaken."
The ground vibrated beneath their feet. The professor paled, realization dawning in his terrified eyes.
"What have I done?" he whispered. "This… this isn't evolution. It's annihilation."
Arya's smile was subtle—tired, grim, unstoppable.
"I still have control," he said, his voice his own again.
"And with Bayu beside me… I'll use this power to burn your world down."
He turned to the mountain, to the calm horizon hiding future chaos.
"This war isn't over. Not until every name behind Serambi Nusantara is erased. Not until every victim is avenged."
In his hand, he clutched a silver locket—Bayu's. Inside, the photo of two young men full of hope, never knowing what they'd become.
As the first black tear slipped down Arya's cheek, the spores in his blood pulsed. A message echoed within him:
The others are awakening. The chosen are rising. The age of mankind… is shifting.
Arya said nothing.
But deep inside, he knew the next chapter of this war would not be between humans and monsters.
It would be between what we are—and what we could become.