The silence that followed the Sigbin's death was heavier than the noise of the struggle. Leon stood in the center of the flattened grass, his fingers tracing the rough, pitted steel of the Ancestral Bolo. Even in its rusted state, the weapon felt warm, humming with a faint vibration that matched his own pulse.
[ STATUS UPDATED ][ LEVEL: 2 ][ HP: 60 / 120 (REGENERATING) ][ SP: 25 / 60 ][ NEW TRAIT UNLOCKED: "CALM UNDER PRESSURE" – Decreases stamina drain during combat. ]
Leon ignored the blue screen. His eyes were fixed on the edge of the Cogon field where the grass met the treeline. The scent of rotting meat had vanished with the Sigbin, replaced by something sharper, more metallic.
Blood. But not the black, foul ichor of the monster. This was the copper-tang of human blood.
He began to move, his boots treading carefully over the razor-edged stalks. His training as a responder dictated his pace—fast but controlled. He followed the scent toward a cluster of towering Balete trees whose aerial roots hung like the tangled hair of giants.
As he broke through the final curtain of grass, the scene made his stomach wrench.
A wooden cart, ornately carved with symbols of the sun and moon, lay splintered on its side. Two water buffalo—Kalabaw—lay dead in their yokes, their throats opened with surgical precision. But it wasn't the animals that caught Leon's breath.
Scattered around the wreckage were three bodies. They wore colorful, hand-woven fabrics—Inabel patterns he recognized from the northern provinces of his old life. They weren't soldiers; they were traders.
Leon rushed to the nearest figure, a man slumped against a broken wheel. He knelt, his hands moving automatically to the man's neck. "Sir? Can you hear me? I'm a medic."
The man's skin was cold. His eyes stared at the canopy above, glassy and vacant. Leon moved to the second—a woman. Same result.
Then, he heard it. A soft, wet gasp.
He spun around. Tucked beneath the shade of the overturned cart, partially hidden by a fallen silk banner, was a young woman. She wore a deep indigo Baro't Saya, now stained a jagged crimson at the shoulder. Her face was deathly pale, and her hands were clutched around a small, ornate wooden box.
[ OBJECTIVE UPDATED: THE FIRST RESCUE ][ TARGET: MAYA, APPRENTICE BABAYLAN ][ CONDITION: CRITICAL (EXTERNAL HEMORRHAGE) ]
Leon didn't need the System to tell him she was dying. He saw the arterial spray on the leaves nearby.
"Don't move," Leon said, his voice dropping into the calm, authoritative tone he used at crash sites. He reached for his belt, forgetting for a split second that his medical kit was at the bottom of the Agno River.
He cursed under his breath, then looked at his new tunic. Without hesitation, he grabbed the hem and ripped a long, wide strip of the sturdy hemp fabric.
"I'm going to apply pressure," he told her, even though her eyes were fluttering shut. "It's going to hurt, but you have to stay with me. Huwag kang pipikit. Don't close your eyes."
As he pressed the cloth against the wound, a prompt flickered in his vision.
[ SYSTEM INTERFERENCE DETECTED ][ WOULD YOU LIKE TO SPEND 10 SP TO ACTIVATE "ANITO'S TOUCH" (BASIC HEALING)? ]
"Yes! Whatever it takes, just do it!" Leon hissed.
His hands began to glow with a soft, amber light—the same light that had filled the void with Bathala. As he held the cloth, he felt a strange sensation, like a gentle electric current flowing from his palms into the girl's skin. The bleeding didn't just slow; the edges of the jagged tear began to knit together, the flesh pulling tight under his touch.
The girl, Maya, let out a sharp, ragged breath and her eyes snapped open. They weren't brown or black. They were a deep, startling violet, swirling with a mist that looked like starlight.
She looked at Leon, then at the glowing light of his hands, then at the rusted Bolo resting on the dirt beside him. Her voice was a mere whisper, trembling with a mix of terror and disbelief.
"You..." she coughed, her hand trembling as she reached toward his pendant. "The Last... The Red Moon has risen, and the watcher has returned?"
Before Leon could answer, a shadow fell over them.
High above, the canopy of the Balete tree shivered. A low, rhythmic flapping sound—like the beating of heavy, leathery rugs—echoed through the clearing.
"Hide," Maya gasped, her fingers digging into Leon's arm with surprising strength. "The Manananggal... the self-segmenter... she's come back to finish the meal."
Leon looked up. Against the brilliant blue of the sky, a severed female torso with massive, bat-like wings was circling downward, her long, black hair trailing behind her like a hangman's noose.