Wisesa ruminated for a while. "Oh!" he piped up again. “You're the robber who terrorized the village not too long ago, aren't you?"
"Exactly!" replied the self-proclaimed Boko Rombeng, a hint of pride in his tone. "It would be quite odd if nobody in Yawadwipa had heard of me."
"I mean, it wouldn't be all odd if some people don’t recognize you. No one cares after all," Wisesa replied nonchalantly. "But I've seen you, vaguely..."
His mind captured a hazy recollection of the same face, the one quivering with fear to the extent of wetting himself at the village gate. It was only then that Wisesa truly apprehended the form of this individual. "He" had fought this man before... and killed four other cohorts. The notorious bandit faction known as Panca Gendheng. Wisesa only sighed in lieu of annoyance at his tainted deeds.
"As I recall, you should have been taken to Pulomas to be executed," Wisesa said again.
"Do I look like someone who has been taken to Pulomas and executed—"
"Yes, yes, yes. Like I said, no one cares," Wisesa interrupted the memberless gang leader. "What do you want? Revenge? Another round of pillaging? Tumaritis is empty now. Go ahead, loot everything in there, but leave me alone!"
No one could deny how finely carved the exasperation on the young lad's face was. How could he not, the cleft-lipped mocked him with constant cackling, hitting a tree, and tumbling over every time he heard Wisesa speak. What part of his words was hilarious? Never in this lad's wildest dreams did he think of becoming a jester to entertain strangers in the forest.
Boko Rombeng expressed his regret after a while. His voice was sometimes lost, faltering. "I didn't mean to make fun of you. I do not mean to plunder your village either. I come here to bring you news."
"What news?"
Boko Rombeng's voice then took on an ominous tone. "The children in my possession will be returning to their respective villages tomorrow... without their skin!"
And another peal of laughter erupted.
Wisesa's favourite kris slowly came out of its brown sheath. Hearing the inappropriate remarks and ignorant behaviour of Boko Rombeng, who resembled very much him, made the lad realise how despicable he was, as well as making his heart bitter. He thought Boko Rombeng was trying to equate himself to make Wisesa feel like he had a mutual friend.
"It's not funny when you say it," Wisesa stated sternly, his grip tightening on the hilt of his kris.
"That's right. You should have been the one to say that. Please say it again, so I can have another good laugh," taunted the head brigand. Khaos had corrupted him, twisting his behaviour into something monstrous and insane. Barong inside Wisesa might be the cruellest of all, but never it sounded so deranged, at least by Wisesa’s own standard.
The Child of the Beast sent a warning to Boko Rombeng, "If I catch you, I'll make sure to cut off your hands and feet so that you can no longer escape the punishment that awaits you in Pulomas! Now tell me, where are you keeping them?"
"Really?" responded Boko Rombeng. "I thought you were as ignorant as I am—"
The kris leapt up with a flash of gold, embedding itself in a nearby tree. The impact sent smoke rising from the bark, and blood trickled down Boko Rombeng's face where the blade had grazed him!
"People change," declared the young lad. "You just made me realize that I still have a conscience, so thank you, and second warning, Boko Rombeng!"
A smirk was all of Boko Rombeng's response. Suddenly, his arms extended and snaked to the Barong lad like a swift dragon. Wisesa did not back down. He blew a blast of inner strength from both palms intertwined as a flower in bloom. The force rippled the air, deflecting Rombeng's incoming hands. Then with the grace of a dancer, Wisesa let go of one hand, gliding upwards with a ground pounding of Prabhu Siliwangi's heirloom bangles.
While in the air, Wisesa launched the bangles at Boko Rombeng. But the rogue leader did not dodge straightaway. Instead, he elongated his legs to be as soaring as a tree. The bangles struck the tree trunk with a resounding thud, shaking loose a shower of leaves and branches.
"What the fuck do you want?" cried Wisesa on the branch.
"Besides the delivering the news? Nothing special. Just to play with you, and your pet!" Boko Rombeng lunged at Wisesa again with his hands already snaking through the foliage behind the young man. This time, the sinewy cord managed to coil Wisesa's waist, careening him through the canopy with reckless abandon!
"Fucker! You know?" Wisesa snapped.
"You left your witness behind, Wisesa Rukmamenggala. You only have yourself to blame!"
As Wisesa was becoming a rag doll tossed around, an expletive came out of his mouth. "Then you won't live long enough!"
"Come on, bring out that insane beast! I want to see it!" Boko Rombeng replied, unconcerned.
Wisesa clenched his eyes tightly, restraining himself from getting nauseous. His years of torture had hardened him, and his stomach was built to withstand the shock. However, Wisesa certainly did not want to linger in the rogue's arms. To him, Rombeng's rubbery form was too revolting, as his unkempt body gave the impression that his skin grime was also stretching.
Thus, Wisesa's fingers twitched, and the kris lodged in the tree trembled. Boko Rombeng's attention was caught due to the weariness of Wisesa's indifference. However, before he could think of a countermeasure, Wisesa's ancestral dagger erupted the entire trunk! The twisted blade shot upwards, about to slice the rogue open from below. Quickly Boko Rombeng stepped over the dagger, and it flew into the steady grip of Wisesa.
The game was not what the head brigand had expected. He had expected Wisesa to transform into Barong so he could execute whatever devious schemes his mind had concocted. Perhaps an act of revenge for killing his comrade, or wanting to control the beast with his long arms as a leash.
Boko Rombeng foolishly threw Wisesa away, hoping to avoid his knife play, but he underestimated his opponent's forte. Wisesa's feet rubbed against the deciduous leaves. His hand reached for the scabbard and pulled out an assortment of flowers and herbs from his sack. With a mumbling chant, he spat on the scabbard and displayed it to the head brigand.
"I won't let you cast a spell, Wisesa!" shouted Boko Rombeng as his hand sifted through the mound of leaves and dust, blowing them away to block Wisesa's vision. His elastic limbs had yet another use, namely as a double-strength fan to create a whirlwind of debris!
The sand scattered everywhere was a maelstrom that only fueled Wisesa's anger. Profanities reverberated amidst the dusty pandemonium. His concentration was ruffled just like those whirling leaves. Flat leaves struck his eyes. Grit choked his throat. Yet, the harassment failed to appease the filthy rogue, hence a machete clutched between the fingers of his right foot, launching a fierce wind-slashing strike in search of the young shaman.
No. There was no way Wisesa would just cave. Tumaritis was his dominion. He had devised a myriad of ways to escape Boko Rombeng's snares, and this mini storm could not even uproot a tree, so why should he be cowed?
So Wisesa pulled up his shirt to cover his nose and closed his eyes. Even if he went blind, he would still "see" because Tumaritis' terrain was already etched inside his head. Wisesa's feet leapt to grab one tree trunk and then flew to reach another. He managed to roll out of Boko Rombeng's damned dust storm, moving his being only towards the head brigand alone.
At the same time, the same knowledge once was used against Alicia—The Knowledge of Dhemokan Durga—was being invoked.
Mystical smoke billowed from inside the scabbard. Wisesa pierced the smoke through, and Boko Rombeng immediately spurted blood from his mouth! His long arms went limp. His body was forced to his knees. More and more red fluid spewed out as his heart was twisted through a dagger thrust into the smoke. Boko Rombeng screamed, baring teeth and tongue consumed by a tsunami of blood.
Wisesa approached the man. The kris was still dispelling the smoke from its sheath—sometimes stabbing it until Boko Rombeng went into convulsions.
"The cool thing about this spell is that I don't need anything for it to recognise its target. Just letting my life force flow around you, and you're done," Wisesa said. "This is the first spell I've learnt, and before you ask, yes, I've killed with it before. I killed before Barong multiplied my victims again..." Wisesa paused, looking at the brown earth. "Kill... Kill again... Well, never mind. If the target is someone like you, it won’t bother me too much."
He twirled the dagger again until it scattered the smoke's curls. Another stream of blood gushed from Boko Rombeng's mouth. "Okay, okay, I lost. Mercy! I beg of you, Wisesa Rukmamenggala!"
"You want mercy? Tell me where the missing children are, and maybe, if the stars align and I'm feeling charitable—which I'm not right now, unfortunately—I'll consider your plea!"
"Please! Okay, okay...!" Boko Rombeng's hands reverted to their normal size. "I'll tell you."
Boko Rombeng concealed one hand behind his torso, and another cut of his heart continued to torment him.
"What on earth!" snapped Boko Rombeng.
"'What on earth', what? Why are you hiding that hand of yours?"
Boko Rombeng began to faint. "I...I want to give you a clue, you fool!" he spat out.
The filthy robber vomited blood again!
"You said that I’m a fool?
"N-no, no, no! I-I... didn't m-mean to say that! I take back my words...!"
"Take out the clue… slowly!"
Boko Rombeng obeyed Wisesa's direction. His hand slowly came out, grasping a horn attached to a separate body part. Wisesa squinted his eyes in curiosity.
What is this filthy human carrying a deer head for? he thought.
That filthy human was carrying a deer head to be put on his head! A move that Wisesa did not expect. As soon as his suspicions rose anew, it was already too late.
The smoke-stabbing was commenced once more. Hot steam billowed out of the deer's nose; Boko Rombeng groaned loudly behind the mask like a true screeching of a deer! But unfortunately, his body rose valiantly—or perhaps he was just forcing himself to do so.
Within the grasp of the Deer Man was a necklace with a rattan loop, woven together with threads and beads to form an intricate web. An assortment of feathers and bird skulls dangled from its base, swaying in the breeze as the bizarre man rose on his feet. Wisesa's attention remained oblivious to the strange necklace or anything but the mask-clad Boko Rombeng standing tall, despite Durga's curse constricting his heart.
Then, with an unexpected leap, the Rombeng's fingers clamped securely around Wisesa's head!
A startled flinch overcame Wisesa as his eyes came into proximity with the deer's muzzle and the round, eerie eyes on either side. In a trance-like state, he sensed a weight settling around his neck and realised that Boko Rombeng's enigmatic necklace now adorned him. An attempt to reach for his kris was foiled, his hand convulsing uncontrollably by the unwelcome wave of epilepsy coursing through his body.
“W-w-what… are y-you…! S-s-stop!"
The forest rumbled with Wisesa and Boko Rombeng's screeching! []
Wisesa ruminated for a while. "Oh!" he piped up again. “You're the robber who terrorized the village not too long ago, aren't you?"
"Exactly!" replied the self-proclaimed Boko Rombeng, a hint of pride in his tone. "It would be quite odd if nobody in Yawadwipa had heard of me."
"I mean, it wouldn't be all odd if some people don’t recognize you. No one cares after all," Wisesa replied nonchalantly. "But I've seen you, vaguely..."
His mind captured a hazy recollection of the same face, the one quivering with fear to the extent of wetting himself at the village gate. It was only then that Wisesa truly apprehended the form of this individual. "He" had fought this man before... and killed four other cohorts. The notorious bandit faction known as Panca Gendheng. Wisesa only sighed in lieu of annoyance at his tainted deeds.
"As I recall, you should have been taken to Pulomas to be executed," Wisesa said again.
"Do I look like someone who has been taken to Pulomas and executed—"
"Yes, yes, yes. Like I said, no one cares," Wisesa interrupted the memberless gang leader. "What do you want? Revenge? Another round of pillaging? Tumaritis is empty now. Go ahead, loot everything in there, but leave me alone!"
No one could deny how finely carved the exasperation on the young lad's face was. How could he not, the cleft-lipped mocked him with constant cackling, hitting a tree, and tumbling over every time he heard Wisesa speak. What part of his words was hilarious? Never in this lad's wildest dreams did he think of becoming a jester to entertain strangers in the forest.
Boko Rombeng expressed his regret after a while. His voice was sometimes lost, faltering. "I didn't mean to make fun of you. I do not mean to plunder your village either. I come here to bring you news."
"What news?"
Boko Rombeng's voice then took on an ominous tone. "The children in my possession will be returning to their respective villages tomorrow... without their skin!"
And another peal of laughter erupted.
Wisesa's favourite kris slowly came out of its brown sheath. Hearing the inappropriate remarks and ignorant behaviour of Boko Rombeng, who resembled very much him, made the lad realise how despicable he was, as well as making his heart bitter. He thought Boko Rombeng was trying to equate himself to make Wisesa feel like he had a mutual friend.
"It's not funny when you say it," Wisesa stated sternly, his grip tightening on the hilt of his kris.
"That's right. You should have been the one to say that. Please say it again, so I can have another good laugh," taunted the head brigand. Khaos had corrupted him, twisting his behaviour into something monstrous and insane. Barong inside Wisesa might be the cruellest of all, but never it sounded so deranged, at least by Wisesa’s own standard.
The Child of the Beast sent a warning to Boko Rombeng, "If I catch you, I'll make sure to cut off your hands and feet so that you can no longer escape the punishment that awaits you in Pulomas! Now tell me, where are you keeping them?"
"Really?" responded Boko Rombeng. "I thought you were as ignorant as I am—"
The kris leapt up with a flash of gold, embedding itself in a nearby tree. The impact sent smoke rising from the bark, and blood trickled down Boko Rombeng's face where the blade had grazed him!
"People change," declared the young lad. "You just made me realize that I still have a conscience, so thank you, and second warning, Boko Rombeng!"
A smirk was all of Boko Rombeng's response. Suddenly, his arms extended and snaked to the Barong lad like a swift dragon. Wisesa did not back down. He blew a blast of inner strength from both palms intertwined as a flower in bloom. The force rippled the air, deflecting Rombeng's incoming hands. Then with the grace of a dancer, Wisesa let go of one hand, gliding upwards with a ground pounding of Prabhu Siliwangi's heirloom bangles.
While in the air, Wisesa launched the bangles at Boko Rombeng. But the rogue leader did not dodge straightaway. Instead, he elongated his legs to be as soaring as a tree. The bangles struck the tree trunk with a resounding thud, shaking loose a shower of leaves and branches.
"What the fuck do you want?" cried Wisesa on the branch.
"Besides the delivering the news? Nothing special. Just to play with you, and your pet!" Boko Rombeng lunged at Wisesa again with his hands already snaking through the foliage behind the young man. This time, the sinewy cord managed to coil Wisesa's waist, careening him through the canopy with reckless abandon!
"Fucker! You know?" Wisesa snapped.
"You left your witness behind, Wisesa Rukmamenggala. You only have yourself to blame!"
As Wisesa was becoming a rag doll tossed around, an expletive came out of his mouth. "Then you won't live long enough!"
"Come on, bring out that insane beast! I want to see it!" Boko Rombeng replied, unconcerned.
Wisesa clenched his eyes tightly, restraining himself from getting nauseous. His years of torture had hardened him, and his stomach was built to withstand the shock. However, Wisesa certainly did not want to linger in the rogue's arms. To him, Rombeng's rubbery form was too revolting, as his unkempt body gave the impression that his skin grime was also stretching.
Thus, Wisesa's fingers twitched, and the kris lodged in the tree trembled. Boko Rombeng's attention was caught due to the weariness of Wisesa's indifference. However, before he could think of a countermeasure, Wisesa's ancestral dagger erupted the entire trunk! The twisted blade shot upwards, about to slice the rogue open from below. Quickly Boko Rombeng stepped over the dagger, and it flew into the steady grip of Wisesa.
The game was not what the head brigand had expected. He had expected Wisesa to transform into Barong so he could execute whatever devious schemes his mind had concocted. Perhaps an act of revenge for killing his comrade, or wanting to control the beast with his long arms as a leash.
Boko Rombeng foolishly threw Wisesa away, hoping to avoid his knife play, but he underestimated his opponent's forte. Wisesa's feet rubbed against the deciduous leaves. His hand reached for the scabbard and pulled out an assortment of flowers and herbs from his sack. With a mumbling chant, he spat on the scabbard and displayed it to the head brigand.
"I won't let you cast a spell, Wisesa!" shouted Boko Rombeng as his hand sifted through the mound of leaves and dust, blowing them away to block Wisesa's vision. His elastic limbs had yet another use, namely as a double-strength fan to create a whirlwind of debris!
The sand scattered everywhere was a maelstrom that only fueled Wisesa's anger. Profanities reverberated amidst the dusty pandemonium. His concentration was ruffled just like those whirling leaves. Flat leaves struck his eyes. Grit choked his throat. Yet, the harassment failed to appease the filthy rogue, hence a machete clutched between the fingers of his right foot, launching a fierce wind-slashing strike in search of the young shaman.
No. There was no way Wisesa would just cave. Tumaritis was his dominion. He had devised a myriad of ways to escape Boko Rombeng's snares, and this mini storm could not even uproot a tree, so why should he be cowed?
So Wisesa pulled up his shirt to cover his nose and closed his eyes. Even if he went blind, he would still "see" because Tumaritis' terrain was already etched inside his head. Wisesa's feet leapt to grab one tree trunk and then flew to reach another. He managed to roll out of Boko Rombeng's damned dust storm, moving his being only towards the head brigand alone.
At the same time, the same knowledge once was used against Alicia—The Knowledge of Dhemokan Durga—was being invoked.
Mystical smoke billowed from inside the scabbard. Wisesa pierced the smoke through, and Boko Rombeng immediately spurted blood from his mouth! His long arms went limp. His body was forced to his knees. More and more red fluid spewed out as his heart was twisted through a dagger thrust into the smoke. Boko Rombeng screamed, baring teeth and tongue consumed by a tsunami of blood.
Wisesa approached the man. The kris was still dispelling the smoke from its sheath—sometimes stabbing it until Boko Rombeng went into convulsions.
"The cool thing about this spell is that I don't need anything for it to recognise its target. Just letting my life force flow around you, and you're done," Wisesa said. "This is the first spell I've learnt, and before you ask, yes, I've killed with it before. I killed before Barong multiplied my victims again..." Wisesa paused, looking at the brown earth. "Kill... Kill again... Well, never mind. If the target is someone like you, it won’t bother me too much."
He twirled the dagger again until it scattered the smoke's curls. Another stream of blood gushed from Boko Rombeng's mouth. "Okay, okay, I lost. Mercy! I beg of you, Wisesa Rukmamenggala!"
"You want mercy? Tell me where the missing children are, and maybe, if the stars align and I'm feeling charitable—which I'm not right now, unfortunately—I'll consider your plea!"
"Please! Okay, okay...!" Boko Rombeng's hands reverted to their normal size. "I'll tell you."
Boko Rombeng concealed one hand behind his torso, and another cut of his heart continued to torment him.
"What on earth!" snapped Boko Rombeng.
"'What on earth', what? Why are you hiding that hand of yours?"
Boko Rombeng began to faint. "I...I want to give you a clue, you fool!" he spat out.
The filthy robber vomited blood again!
"You said that I’m a fool?
"N-no, no, no! I-I... didn't m-mean to say that! I take back my words...!"
"Take out the clue… slowly!"
Boko Rombeng obeyed Wisesa's direction. His hand slowly came out, grasping a horn attached to a separate body part. Wisesa squinted his eyes in curiosity.
What is this filthy human carrying a deer head for? he thought.
That filthy human was carrying a deer head to be put on his head! A move that Wisesa did not expect. As soon as his suspicions rose anew, it was already too late.
The smoke-stabbing was commenced once more. Hot steam billowed out of the deer's nose; Boko Rombeng groaned loudly behind the mask like a true screeching of a deer! But unfortunately, his body rose valiantly—or perhaps he was just forcing himself to do so.
Within the grasp of the Deer Man was a necklace with a rattan loop, woven together with threads and beads to form an intricate web. An assortment of feathers and bird skulls dangled from its base, swaying in the breeze as the bizarre man rose on his feet. Wisesa's attention remained oblivious to the strange necklace or anything but the mask-clad Boko Rombeng standing tall, despite Durga's curse constricting his heart.
Then, with an unexpected leap, the Rombeng's fingers clamped securely around Wisesa's head!
A startled flinch overcame Wisesa as his eyes came into proximity with the deer's muzzle and the round, eerie eyes on either side. In a trance-like state, he sensed a weight settling around his neck and realised that Boko Rombeng's enigmatic necklace now adorned him. An attempt to reach for his kris was foiled, his hand convulsing uncontrollably by the unwelcome wave of epilepsy coursing through his body.
“W-w-what… are y-you…! S-s-stop!"
The forest rumbled with Wisesa and Boko Rombeng's screeching! []
