The light that slipped through the window was faint, veiled by the clouds that hadn't yet run out of rain.
Kola lay flat on his thin mattress — the kind that rested directly on the cold, tile floor of his small boarding house room — eyes staring at the ceiling with no real thoughts behind them. His limbs ached. Muscles sore in places he didn't even know could hurt. Probably the aftershock of last night's… whatever that was.
The battle. The ruins. The snow.
He didn't know what to call it anymore.
Next to him, curled up against the edge of the blanket, was Oren — the black cat with a soft purr and a heart that somehow felt like it belonged here.
Kola's phone buzzed weakly on the floor next to him. He grabbed it with half a thought.
07:03 A.M. January 6th, 2015.
"Still 2015," he muttered, his voice dry.
When he set the phone down again, his eyes caught something in the corner of the room.
The leather satchel.
It sat quietly where he'd placed it the night before, still full of treasure — golden coins and ancient jewels that felt like they came from a fairytale.
Beside it, the sword.
The slim silver blade with the blue gem glinting just beneath the guard.
"Right… that really happened," Kola said under his breath. He exhaled slowly, rubbed his face, then forced himself to sit up.
As he did, Oren yawned wide and stretched, tail flicking lazily.
Kola reached over and scratched behind the cat's ears. "Sorry, buddy. We're really in it now."
Just then, a voice floated through the room.
"You appear alive. This is good."
Kola flinched.
"Buset…" he muttered, blinking at the figure that floated just above the floor — the miniature form of Omegamon, cape fluttering softly as if touched by invisible wind.
"You startled me," Kola added, picking up the satchel to inspect it briefly.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I'm fine," Kola said, brushing off the concern. "Just... sore. Probably from climbing your giant shoulders and flying through death last night."
He got up, stretched his arms, then stepped over to the little corner of the room where a plastic rack held his clothes and his only towel.
Omegamon drifted closer, hovering beside the sword.
"So," the Digimon asked, "how do you intend to convert that much gold into usable resources?"
"Yeah, about that…" Kola scratched his head.
"Gold like this doesn't have any markings, no certificates. And even if it did, the local pawnshops would think I stole it." He paused. "It's not as easy as just showing up and saying 'Hey, I've got treasure from a hidden realm, mind giving me some rupiah?'"
Omegamon tilted his head. "But surely it has value?"
"Yeah, but too much at once and it becomes suspicious. I need to be careful."
With Omegamon's help — including scanning the current economic data online and cross-referencing it with available resources — they found one option: an old, discreet jewelry trader in the traditional market district who sometimes accepted raw gold and didn't ask questions.
"I'll sell just a little," Kola said. "Enough for food and a replacement laptop. That's it. For now."
Omegamon nodded. "That is wise."
Kola got dressed quickly, putting on his only decent campus outfit — a dark gray hoodie with faded writing and a pair of jeans that fit a little too snug after last year's growth spurt.
He paused before grabbing the satchel. "I'll leave the sword," he murmured. "Too much attention."
Then, his eyes shifted to Oren, who was watching him with lazy curiosity.
"...You're coming too," he said to the cat.
Omegamon blinked. "Is that… wise?"
"I'm not leaving him alone in here," Kola said, slipping Oren gently into a cloth sling he fashioned out of an old shirt. "Besides, I know where he usually hangs out. He can walk home after."
As they left the boarding house, the morning air was warm and thick. Kendari's streets were alive again — people hustling on scooters, food stalls opening, and the smell of fried banana and spices drifting on the wind.
Kola stopped at a small roadside eatery — not really a warung, but more like a makeshift food stall tucked under an awning. A woman in her 50s stirred something in a big steaming pot.
"One portion of yellow rice, please," Kola said with a tired smile.
Yellow rice — or nasi kuning — was a traditional Indonesian breakfast dish, made from rice cooked with coconut milk and turmeric, often served with fried egg, shredded chicken, sambal, and crisp fried noodles on top.
As he waited, he noticed a few students walk past in groups. None of them looked his way.
He wasn't surprised.
At university, he was quiet. Kept to himself. He wasn't part of any club. No social media presence. No parties. His name was probably just a blur on a group assignment.
Some days, he wondered if anyone in his department even knew he existed.
After breakfast, Kola arrived on campus.
His first class was basic quantum mechanics. He sat in the back, like always.
Lectures passed like water — fluid, predictable. He took notes. Answered one question when the lecturer called on him directly. Other students didn't look twice.
But he didn't mind.
He was focused.
After his third class, around noon, he found a spot under a tree near the physics department — a quiet place with a half-broken bench. Oren climbed out of the sling and curled up beside him, purring in the shade.
Kola stared at the sky through the leaves.
That was when someone spoke.
"Hey… Kola, right?"
He turned.
A girl stood nearby — short black hair, round glasses, wearing the faculty's dark blue jacket. Her tone was soft, curious, unsure.
"Yeah," Kola replied.
"I thought so. You're in my statics class too, right?"
He nodded. "I think so."
She stepped closer, then sat down at the edge of the bench. "I've seen you a lot. You don't talk to many people."
Kola blinked. "...Is that a bad thing?"
"No," she smiled faintly. "Just… mysterious."
He raised an eyebrow. "I think that's the first time anyone's called me that."
She laughed. "I'm Dian."
Kola gave a short nod. "Nice to meet you… again, I guess."
She leaned a little closer, curious.
"What's his name?" she asked, gently scratching under the cat's chin.
Kola glanced down at theShe leaned a little closer, curious.
"What's his name?" she asked, gently scratching under the cat's chin.
Kola glanced down at the cat in his arms, then looked back at her.
"Oren," he said flatly.
Dian blinked. Her expression didn't shift much, but something about the blank look in her eyes screamed: Really?
She tilted her head just slightly — not enough to be rude, but definitely confused.
Kola noticed. He raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I know," he said with a dry grin. "He's black. But I found him near an orange motorbike the first time we met, so... Oren. Guess it stuck."
Dian stared a second longer. Then she laughed — a soft, amused chuckle that slipped out before she could stop it.
"That's… kind of dumb. But also kind of sweet." cat in his arms, then looked back at her.
"Oren," he said flatly.
Dian blinked. Her expression didn't shift much, but something about the blank look in her eyes screamed: Really?
She tilted her head just slightly — not enough to be rude, but definitely confused.
Kola noticed. He raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I know," he said with a dry grin. "He's black. But I found him near an orange motorbike the first time we met, so... Oren. Guess it stuck."
Dian stared a second longer. Then she laughed — a soft, amused chuckle that slipped out before she could stop it.
"That's… kind of dumb. But also kind of sweet."
Still, Kola sat beside her, arms resting over his knees. His eyes, however, weren't on the cat. He kept glancing sideways at Dian, frowning slightly, as if trying to decipher something that didn't make sense.
Omegamon, still hovering in his small form just above Kola's shoulder, noticed it.
"Your face looks confused," he said in a whisper only Kola could hear.
Kola shrugged. "I am confused."
Omegamon tilted his head. "Why?"
Kola hesitated. He watched Dian giggle as Oren climbed up into her lap.
"I don't know," he murmured. "It's just... weird. A girl like her, sitting next to someone like me. Like this is normal."
Omegamon looked at Dian, then back at Kola. "It is normal."
Kola smirked a little. "Not for me."
Dian looked over. "You said something?"
Kola quickly shook his head. "Nah. Just... thinking out loud."
She tilted her head curiously. "You're, like, top of the class or something, aren't you? My friend said you get straight A's."
Kola scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable. "I just... try hard. Need the grades for the scholarship."
Dian chuckled. "Well, it's working. Kinda impressive, honestly. Everyone else is barely surviving midterms."
He shrugged. "No one really notices. Or cares."
"Well," Dian said, giving him a small smile, "I noticed."
That made Kola pause.
She stood up, brushing cat hair off her skirt. "C'mon. Let's go find something to eat. My brain's fried. I need actual food, not instant noodles."
Kola was about to answer, when—
A voice.
Sharp. Strange. And way too clear for someone they hadn't noticed arriving.
"I heard you're the one who found the twin trees."
Kola and Dian both turned.
A boy stood there. Small—maybe ten years old—but the weight he carried in his stance was anything but childish. He wore an outfit so unusual it looked like it belonged on a stage or in an old painting—black and white garments woven into a regal pattern, laced and layered like something out of time.
His hair was paper white, falling straight over his forehead and brushing the sides of his face. His eyes—golden and piercing—were too sharp. Too still.
He didn't blink.
Dian blinked instead. "Huh? Are you… talking to me?"
The boy didn't even glance her way. His eyes were fixed directly on Kola.
"I'm not talking to you," he said coldly.
Kola's throat tightened.
Beside him, Omegamon floated a little higher. His voice whispered low, directly into Kola's ear.
"This child is dangerous."
Kola could tell. It wasn't just the strange clothes or the way he spoke. It was the way the world seemed to quiet around him. Like something old had just stepped into the present.
The boy tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Well?" he asked. "Are you the one?"
Kola didn't move.
This wasn't normal. Not even close.
Someone knew about the twin trees.
And they had come looking for him.
Kola froze.
His mind raced, trying to make sense of everything. The boy in front of him, the strange clothes, the golden eyes—and now this question.
"I... I guess I did," Kola finally said, his voice cautious. "I'm the one who found the twin trees."
The boy smiled.
"Good," he said. "Then I want them."
Kola blinked. "Want them? What do you mean?"
"The twin trees," the boy continued. "The worlds they connect to. The lost layers. The forgotten lands. They're more than just mystery, Kola. They're power. Resources. Entire ecosystems waiting to be harvested."
Kola felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"You see," the boy went on, casually brushing dust from his sleeve, "a single twin tree is a treasure beyond measure. With one, a kingdom could rise. A nation could reign. An empire could thrive."
His words weren't loud, but they filled the air with weight.
"You're talking about using it?" Kola asked, trying to steady his breath. "All of it? The land, the water... everything?"
"Why not?" the boy said, smiling. "It doesn't belong to anyone. Yet. But you, Kola—you saw it first. Which means only you can grant access. The rules are quite ancient."
The boy stepped forward slightly. "You could gift it to me. Or... tell me what you want in return. I can offer you anything."
Kola swallowed.
His thoughts returned to Klaus. To the sword. The grave. The world that shouldn't be torn apart.
He forced a weak smile. "Eh... sorry. I can't."
Before he could say more, a sudden gust swept through the courtyard.
And beside the boy, as if appearing from nothing, stood a tall figure.
A man.
Dressed in black from foot to throat, with a pristine white cloak draped behind him. A mask covered his face—plain, pale, featureless.
A sword rested quietly at his hip.
Kola took a step back.
"Who... who is that?" Dian whispered, now visibly shaken.
More of them appeared.
One by one.
White-masked, cloaked, silent.
Within seconds, a circle formed around Kola and Dian. Dozens of them. As if the world itself had summoned ghosts.
Kola clenched his fists.
The boy—still calm, still unmoved—spoke once more.
"There are two ways to claim a twin tree. The first is peaceful—the Seer, you, gifts it freely."
He paused. "The second is... less pleasant. A Transfer. Meaning the Seer must be removed."
The masked soldiers took one step forward.
Swords slid from sheaths.
Oren hissed, fur bristling.
The boy raised his chin slightly.
"I am Kardias," he said, voice smooth and cold. "Kardias Salmenra Kaleostro the Third. Sovereign of the White Palace. The one who will bring order to the world."
Kola didn't move. He couldn't breathe. The ring of blades grew closer.
And then—
Wind.
A gust, sudden and violent, whipped through the courtyard. It howled past their ears, scattering dust and leaves, making the world blur like a broken painting.
The next instant, the wind vanished.
And Omegamon was there.
A towering figure of white and steel, twenty meters tall, red cape billowing behind him. His eyes blazed like twin stars, and both sword and cannon hummed with power.
Without a word, he reached down.
In a single, fluid motion, he scooped up Kola and Dian in one massive hand—gentle, but firm—and launched into the sky.
The masked soldiers didn't have time to react.
Within seconds, Omegamon was gone, soaring into the clouds, leaving only wind and silence behind.
Kardias stood unmoved. His face unchanged.
He simply turned, and whispered:
"So, that's how it is."