The evening air hung heavily between them. Gugum's eyes met the woman's, locked in a silence louder than a thousand clashing blades. No words were exchanged. The woman stood tall, her silhouette cutting across the slanting sunlight. Her gaze remained sharp, piercing into Gugum as if trying to unravel who this young man truly was. But just as Jaka and Lila rushed over, their breath ragged and faces full of gratitude, that intense eye contact broke.
"Thank you," Jaka said softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper among the trees. "Without you, we might've..."
Lila nodded, her face still pale but brimming with sincerity. "You saved us. If there's anything we can do to repay—"
Gugum simply shook his head. "I didn't help for a reward," he said, voice calm and honest. He looked toward the horizon, where the twilight was beginning to paint the sky in shades of gold and amber. "I was just passing through."
Without another word, he turned and walked away. His steps were steady. Behind him, the woman remained still. She didn't speak. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if holding onto a question. But the next moment, she exhaled softly and looked away.
Morning wind stirred gently as Gugum approached the gates of the sect. Before him stood four young men clad in pale blue robes, stationed beside the old stone gate mossed over by time. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the trees, reflecting dimly on the teardrop-shaped badges hanging on their chests.
One of the guards, the tallest, stepped forward. His eyes narrowed, assessing the unfamiliar figure emerging from the woods.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice firm and full of vigilance. "What business do you have approaching the Gates of Tirta Nirmala?"
Gugum stopped three paces away. He bowed respectfully, then looked directly at the young man who had spoken.
"I seek an audience with the Sect Leader," he replied, calm yet resolute.
At that, the four guards glanced at one another, then scanned Gugum from head to toe. Their expressions hardened, a mix of suspicion and barely veiled amusement.
"Only elders, great warriors, or official envoys from other sects ever request to meet the Leader directly," another guard remarked. "And you... don't quite look like any of them."
Their eyes were sharp, nearly scornful, but their demeanor remained courteous. Though young, they had been raised in Tirta Nirmala's ways, trained to uphold manners, even while stripping someone of their pride.
"I understand," Gugum said, unoffended. "But this is a request from my master. Her name is Andini. I carry a message that must be delivered to the Leader personally."
"Andini...?" one of the guards repeated, frowning. He looked to his comrades, then back at Gugum. "Never heard of her. Any of you?"
They all shook their heads.
"If she's truly a renowned master, her name would be recorded in the Grand Alliance," the first guard said. "If it's not, then she's nobody."
Another guard crossed his arms. "The Leader is not available. If you have no official business, it's best you leave this place."
The words weren't shouted, but they struck like a hammer to the chest. Gugum fell silent. For a moment, it felt as if he were once again lost in a thick fog, like when he stood at the edge of that valley of memories, unsure of where to go.
Still, he had no intention of causing a scene. He nodded slowly, then turned to leave.
He had taken only three steps when a voice rang out from within.
"Hey! Isn't that the guy who attacked us yesterday?"
Gugum stopped in his tracks. He turned, and from the stone path leading into the sect, four young men approached. He immediately recognized them, the people from the lakeside yesterday.
His brows furrowed. These punks... are disciples of Tirta Nirmala?
But what made his breath catch slightly was the fifth figure walking among them, a tall young man with a well-tied ponytail and eyes as sharp as a spear's tip. The aura around him was like still water, calm on the surface, but hiding deadly currents beneath.
"Big Brother, that's him! He ambushed us yesterday when we weren't ready!" one of the four shouted.
The proud youth stared at Gugum for a long moment, then stepped forward. His gaze was cold.
Gugum clenched his fists. Damn it... they're framing me.
He opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could speak, the proud youth's arrogant voice cut through.
"You're not from around here, and clearly, you don't know who you're dealing with. You hurt my brothers... and in Tirta Nirmala, we don't let such things slide."
The four behind him grinned maliciously. Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction, their revenge would soon be avenged.
"Wait. I didn't do what you're accusing me of," Gugum said. "It was you who—"
"Nonsense!" the youth barked. "Pay for your deeds, now!"
In a flash, he moved. His steps were light but swift, like water slicing through earth. The air around them shifted, growing damper, colder. His fist clenched and swung toward Gugum like a hammer forged of a flood's fury.
Gugum let out a deep breath. He knew, words would change nothing now.
His elements responded. Earth and air stirred at his call. With a steady breath, his feet tapped the ground softly. A breeze wrapped around him, and the strength of the earth grounded his stance.
The strike came, and Gugum dodged, his movement as graceful as a leaf carried by wind. But the young man was like a river, never ceasing. Blow after blow, attack after attack, came in waves, each laced with a biting chill.
Water suddenly surged from a storage jar near the guards' post. With a flick of his hand, the youth controlled it. The liquid turned into tiny droplets that floated in the air before shooting towards Gugum from all directions.
Gugum countered with chunks of stone pulled from the ground, but his fingers were losing warmth. His muscles stiffened. His movements grew sluggish. The freezing air seeped into his breath.
This won't work…
Gugum narrowed his eyes. He crouched low as a vortex of wind began to spiral around him. Pebbles and dust danced upward. The combination of Wind and Earth, techniques he had honed in hunger and sweat, over the course of his long journey.
Just as he was about to release the power...
A voice cut through the air.
"Enough!"
It rang with authority—clear, commanding. Not shouted, but carrying weight that couldn't be denied. Instantly, the wind around Gugum trembled… and then dispersed, swallowed by silence.
All eyes turned toward the voice.
At the stone gate, a woman stood. Her figure was bathed in the morning light. Her hair flowed long, tied simply, and her white robe with silver linings swayed gently in the breeze. Her beauty was unmatched, but not the soft, delicate kind. It was a beauty born of resolve and calm, one that needed only a glance to quiet a storm.
Gugum recognized her face. His heart thudded.
It's her… he whispered inwardly. The woman from the lake…
She walked forward, slowly, toward them.