The sea was still breathing.
The sun hovered low now — its golden light washing the beach in a soft, sleepy orange. Shadows grew longer. Laughter from children scattered through the salty wind. A faint call to prayer echoed from the nearby mosque, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant creak of a fishing boat returning to dock.
Kola sat cross-legged on a wooden bench just outside a small shop facing the plaza of Palabuhan Ratu. Next to him, Dian leaned back against the stone edge, her eyes fixated on Blumon — the blue, jellied creature that now sat on her palm like a curious piece of living pudding.
Oren was a few meters away, digging furiously at a patch of soft sand near the waterline. Omegamon, in his compact form, floated nearby, arms folded, watching the cat like a scientist trying to understand a chaotic element.
Kola watched all of it — the colors, the wind, the smell of sea and satay and sun-warmed dust. For a moment, it felt… peaceful.
Strange. But peaceful.
He wasn't used to this — not people, not moments like this. Sitting in the open. Not running. Not calculating what he had to sacrifice next.
He let the warmth seep in for a few seconds longer before finally murmuring, "Omegamon."
The Digimon didn't look away from Oren.
"Yes?"
"Did you pick this spot on purpose?"
"Of course," Omegamon replied, still not blinking. "This location is near a minor leyline fracture. A place where data—spiritual and environmental—tangles. I detected a cluster of anomalies earlier today."
Kola raised an eyebrow. "...So, danger?"
Omegamon floated slightly higher, eyes narrowing. "No. Not danger. Just… echoes. But still. Worth watching."
Kola sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. "Cool. That's comforting."
A soft ding echoed from the sling bag beside Dian. She glanced down, pulled out her phone. One new message. She barely skimmed it before locking the screen and sliding it back into her bag like it meant nothing.
Instead, she focused again on Blumon, who had now perched gently on her thigh. It blinked up at her with large watery eyes, its entire body softly pulsing with color.
Kola noticed. "You're really into that thing."
"I mean, it's weird," Dian said, not looking up. "But also kind of cute?"
"That's how most horror movies start," Kola muttered.
Before Dian could reply, a soft crunch of sandals on stone drew their attention.
An old man stood just a few feet from them, leaning on a bamboo cane. He wore a worn batik shirt, sarong wrapped loosely around his legs, and a peci cap resting neatly on his head. Beside him stood a boy — maybe eight or nine — with bright brown eyes, a wide grin, and a little rattan backpack strapped tight over his shoulders.
They weren't just passing by. They were staring directly at Kola.
Kola immediately slipped the glowing green marble from his hand back into his pocket. Dian instinctively shifted, casually setting her phone down on top of Blumon as if she were playing a game.
The old man didn't blink.
He stepped forward, voice calm but firm.
"Forgive me, but… are you truly human?"
Kola stiffened. Dian straightened. Blumon squirmed slightly under her hand.
Omegamon, for some reason, remained oddly focused on Oren — who was now digging deeper, tail twitching, before suddenly lying down flat inside the sand pit he'd made for himself.
Kola took that as a sign. If Omegamon wasn't alarmed, then this guy wasn't a threat.
Finally, Omegamon turned — slowly, scanning the old man and the child beside him.
"There's… something strange," he said aloud. "They are not hostile. But their presence does not align with this world. Their data… doesn't make sense."
The old man tilted his head slightly. "Oh? So you can see us after all."
Neither he nor the boy reacted to Omegamon's presence. As if he weren't there. As if he were just another shimmer in the air.
Kola and Dian exchanged a glance.
"I'm not here to harm anyone," the old man continued. "I only came for the marble."
Kola's hand instinctively tightened around the sphere in his pocket.
The boy beside the man just grinned — an almost-too-wide grin, innocent and eerie all at once.
"That object," the old man said gently, "is not a toy. It is dangerous. Very much so. Especially if mishandled."
His hand extended — wrinkled, calloused, steady.
"Please. Let me take it. I promise it'll be safer in our hands."
Kola hesitated.
The marble pulsed gently, as if it could hear what was being said.
Still… something in the old man's eyes — deep, worn, maybe sad — made it harder to say no.
Reluctantly, Kola reached into his pocket and handed the marble over.
The boy took it carefully, with both hands, and slipped it into a small leather pouch attached to his rattan bag.
For a long moment, the old man simply stared at the three of them.
Kola. Dian. Oren.
Then he spoke again.
"You're not normal," the man finally said, voice low. "You've seen what the world tries to hide. That alone makes you… rare."
Dian's voice broke the silence this time. Quiet, but sharp.
"What do you mean by that, sir?"
The old man smiled again — a little bittersweet — and looked out toward the sea.
"We shouldn't even be talking like this," he murmured.
Kola took a breath. "Then who are you really?"
The boy beamed.
The old man answered, slow and clear.
"Let's just say… we are citizens. Of another world."
The minutes passed slowly, and the beach softened under the changing light. The elderly man, calm and unhurried, ordered a cup of coffee for himself and a bright-colored drink — maybe some local syrupy ice treat — for the boy beside him.
The whole thing struck Kola as... odd. Not threatening, but surreal. After that strange conversation earlier, the old man now sat like it was all normal. Ordinary, even. And judging by the expression on Dian's face, she was thinking something similar.
"You two?" the old man asked casually. "Want something to drink?"
Kola blinked, a little startled. "Uh… just some hot tea, if that's okay," he replied hesitantly.
"Same," Dian added.
They moved to sit at the simple wooden table in front of the small beachside shop. The boy who accompanied the old man dashed off to order some snacks — egg rolls and batagor, fried dumplings popular in the area — his steps light and cheerful like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Even Oren looked at peace, trying to climb onto the table before being gently nudged back down by the boy.
Just then, Dian leaned closer to Kola and whispered, "Um… I think something's happening to my phone."
Kola frowned. "Huh?"
They both looked at her phone screen. Small, glowing blue motes of light circled the edges. On the display, a new icon shimmered — the exact same map interface that Kola had seen earlier on his own phone.
Kola stared. "I… uh… I have no idea what that is."
It was a lie, of course. But he had a feeling it was better not to explain things just yet. The old man might have seemed harmless, but they were still strangers.
A few more minutes passed. The drinks and snacks arrived. The warm tea smelled like jasmine.
Kola hesitated, then finally asked the old man, "That glowing marble earlier… what is it, really?"
The old man took a sip of his coffee before answering. "That's called Dust of Sea."
Dian perked up. "But earlier… you said it was dangerous?"
"Yes," the old man replied calmly. "Very. Dust of Sea is formed from the karmic residue of human sins — the burdens that wash away when people touch the ocean. This one," he gestured with a nod, "is quite small. But if it were to shatter… well, let's just say half of Java might vanish."
Kola and Dian both froze.
He continued, now pulling the green sphere from a leather pouch. "See the shape? It's perfectly round. But Dust of Sea doesn't come like this on its own. It needs guidance — someone trained in the old arts. That's my job. My family's duty, passed down through generations. We collect and seal them here, in this region."
Dian narrowed her eyes. "And what happens if they're not collected?"
"Then they start to infect the minds of anyone who touches them. Slowly. Quietly. People become unstable. Violent. Cruel." He paused, then added, "And monsters love them."
"Monsters…" Kola echoed.
"They find it… delicious," the old man said. "It heightens their power. Makes them... worse."
Then, without warning, he pointed to the sky.
"Ah. There's one now."
They looked up.
A massive creature drifted across the sky above the sea. It swam through the air like it belonged there — its sleek, pale-white form cutting through the clouds. Its shape resembled a shark, but its body was twisted with unnatural ridges, and its eyes glowed faintly from under plated armor-like skin.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
Dian clutched the table, unable to look away. Kola's breath caught in his throat.
The boy returned just in time and looked up casually. "Oh, that's Lament," he said cheerfully, like announcing a weather forecast. "Class 5. If it gets mad, it could wipe out a whole city."
The boy held up the pouch he had stashed the marble in earlier. "If this little thing had been out in the open long enough for Lament to find it, Grandpa would've had a real mess to clean up."
Kola blinked. "Wait—grandpa?"
"Yep! Let me introduce us!" the boy said proudly.
"My name is Jalu… Jalu Fenrear Reksapati!" he said with a toothy grin.
"And this," he said, gesturing to the old man beside him, "is my grandpa — Pak Wirya Agrama, but here, the people call him Master Agrama."
The old man smiled gently, offering them both a small nod of respect.
"We're just ordinary citizens, really," he said. "But when the veil between worlds thins… ordinary doesn't stay ordinary for long."
Night had come at last.
The sky over Palabuhan Ratu was awash in velvet black, with stars glimmering like distant fires. The air was thick with salt and the soft whisper of waves rolling against the sand. There were no tall city lights here, no skyscrapers or blinding signs—only the warm, yellowish glow from small coastal homes and warungs, barely brushing the night sky.
And because of that, the stars could truly shine.
Kola sat cross-legged beside the shoreline, with Dian beside him and Oren lying curled against her leg. Omegamon hovered a short distance away, his smaller form drifting quietly above the waterline. He had been silent for some time now, watching the tide like it held the answer to a question only he could hear.
Omegamon's voice finally reached them, low and steady.
"We'll return at ten tonight," he said.
Kola nodded.
Then leaned slightly toward Dian, whispering, "Hey… your parents aren't looking for you or anything?"
Dian shrugged without even looking at him. "Nah. They're always busy. It's been like that since forever."
Her tone wasn't bitter—just tired. Like it was something long accepted.
For a moment, Kola didn't know what to say. He just stared at the waves, listening to the soft, rhythmic crash.
Funny. He had always assumed that he was the one with the hardest life. That others, with their shoes intact and their gadgets uncracked, had it easy. But maybe… he'd been too selfish. Maybe everyone was carrying something.
And that thought—it stuck with him.
He turned his eyes toward Omegamon again. The knight was now watching a group of fishermen haul a small wooden boat up the beach, ropes dragging across wet sand. The glow of their headlamps blinked like fireflies in the dark.
A strange, peaceful night.
But then—
"So, you two aren't locals, huh?" came a voice.
Sir Agrama.
The elderly man now stood beside them, puffing on a clove cigarette. His batik shirt fluttered slightly in the breeze, and his sarong rustled around his ankles. Beside him stood Jalu, the wide-eyed boy who grinned like he was part of a joke only he understood.
"Yeah," Jalu added. "You guys talk kinda weird."
Kola rubbed the back of his neck. "We're from Sulawesi. Kendari, to be exact."
Sir Agrama raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a distance. Why here?"
Kola glanced at Dian. She gave a small nod, silent agreement.
He cleared his throat. "Omegamon brought us. He… detected something strange around this place."
Sir Agrama looked toward Omegamon, who had now returned to their side.
He nodded thoughtfully. "You're a Summoner then. Makes sense. But your Omegamon… he's powerful. Not many can handle that."
Kola gave an awkward laugh. "I… wouldn't go that far, Sir."
But before anyone could say more, a shiver ran through the sand.
A tension. Unseen—but felt.
Omegamon straightened.
Jalu tilted his head. "They're here."
Sir Agrama tapped the ash from his cigarette. "Well. That's early. Guess I'll get to bathe on time tonight."
Kola and Dian exchanged confused glances.
"What do you mean—?"
And then they saw them.
Figures, tall and monstrous, stepping from the edge of the dark. Humanoid in shape, but their heads… were those of fish. Elongated. Gleaming scales. Dead eyes. Their limbs were sinewed with damp flesh, weapons in their hands—some spears, others jagged swords, and one even held what looked disturbingly like a rusted firearm.
They walked on two legs but moved like the ocean itself—flowing, heavy, inevitable.
No one else saw them.
No one screamed. No one ran.
Only Kola, Dian, Jalu, and Sir Agrama reacted.
The old man stood, still smoking.
Then, without ceremony, he raised his right hand.
The sand beneath him shifted. Lifted. Spun.
Grains of earth twisted into shape—coalescing, morphing—and became a long-barreled rifle of strange design, with glimmering runes across its side.
Sir Agrama leveled the weapon calmly.
The fish-men saw him. They howled.
And charged.
But the old man didn't flinch.
He pulled the trigger.
A burst of light erupted from the barrel—loud, sharp, like thunder underwater.
The monsters were hit mid-run. They didn't bleed. They shattered.
Exploded into drifting dust and fading blue sparks.
Kola stood frozen.
He had seen strange things now. Other worlds. Living swords. Dragons.
But this…
This was magic of another kind.
Something old. Something terrifying. Something hidden just beneath the world they thought they knew.
He turned to Jalu, who was clapping and grinning like he'd just watched fireworks.
"That was so cool, Gramps! You blew 'em up again!"
Sir Agrama lowered the rifle, now crumbling back into sand in his hand.
He didn't look at Kola.
But he did say, "This world is older than you think. And it's full of things no one bothers to see."
Kola opened his mouth to speak.
But before he could—
The remains of the slain fish-headed creatures began to shift.
Not with blood. Not with decay.
Their bodies, twisted and monstrous just moments before, now began to dissolve — not violently, but gently. Slowly. The way petals fall or memories fade. Their forms melted into streams of soft green light, shimmering like ribbons in the air. Dust-like motes of glowing emerald spiraled upward, dancing on the breeze.
Oren stared.
Even Dian looked stunned — not from horror, but something deeper. Sadness, maybe. Or awe.
"They've returned to Anima," Sir Agrama said softly. "No matter how monstrous, all life flows from it... and all returns to it."
The green light rose toward the stars, fading quietly into the night sky.
And then—
A shadow fell over the beach.
A deep, slow hum vibrated through the sky.
They looked up.
Above the sea, just on the horizon, something vast approached. A flying vessel—no, a fortress. Towering, angular, glowing with pale energy. Like a warship plucked from a dream of gods.
A ship.
The airship of Kardias Salmenra Kaleostro III.
Coming closer.
Coming for them.