Weeks had passed. Arya was back in Indonesia, hidden deep within the heart of Kalimantan's jungle. He had chosen this place with purpose—drawn not by instinct, but by something far older. This was where it all began.
The whispers in his blood were louder now, sharper. The parasite's call no longer came in words, but in pulses, rhythms, urges. It led him to the cave system hidden beneath the rainforest floor—untouched by time, forgotten by man.
The caverns were immense and otherworldly. Stone walls shimmered with moss and crystals, carved with ancient symbols depicting beings not quite human—creatures with luminous eyes and tendrils for limbs, worshipped by long-dead tribes. Each step Arya took echoed through the chamber, like he was walking through the lungs of something still alive.
At the heart of the cave lay a pool—not water, but the same dark, viscous substance he'd seen in Serambi Nusantara's tanks. The lifeblood of Anima Terrae.
When he knelt beside it, the parasite's voice was no longer a whisper. It was a chorus, immense and layered, like stone grinding against the earth.
"You are our chosen."
"You carry our memory. Our will. Through you… we rise."
Arya gripped the silver locket on his chest. His knuckles were white. His heart thundered—two beats, in sync but unnatural.
"I never asked for any of this," he said quietly. "I just wanted to save him. I just wanted to stop them."
The voice did not waver.
"You saved more than you know."
"Your bond with the one called Bayu… it is our strength. His soul lingers in you. Woven into us. Together—you are whole."
Arya's breath caught in his throat. "Bayu's still here?"
He pressed a hand to his chest. The alien pulse beneath his skin felt stronger.
"Bayu?" he whispered. "If you're there... please."
There was silence.
Then—
"I'm here."
Bayu's voice. Faint, but real. Layered with something ancient, but still him.
"Told you," Bayu said gently. "We're always together."
Tears blurred Arya's vision. They weren't clear—thick and black, laced with spores that shimmered under the cave's dim light.
"I thought I lost you."
"You didn't. You gave me peace, Arya. And now… we're something else. Something bigger. Anima Terrae isn't just a parasite. It's ancient. It's alive. It has plans—and we're in them."
Arya gave a dry, bitter laugh. "So what? We're just tools for some prehistoric hive-mind?"
"No," Bayu replied. "We're still us. We just have more firepower now."
Arya stood slowly, wiping his face. His reflection flickered on the surface of the dark pool—red eyes, black veins, human and inhuman all at once.
"We keep fighting?" he asked.
Bayu's voice was steady.
"We fight for the people they couldn't save. We fight for the ones who never got a choice. We're still the Two Eagles, Arya. We just… fly differently now."
Arya nodded.
He didn't know what he was becoming.
But he knew what he was fighting for.