With the panther crisis averted for the time being, Janu—following Jantaka's earlier advice—began his search for the source of the looping spell that had trapped them both inside an infinite loop. The same force keeping them tethered in this cursed patch of jungle… and binding the panthers alongside them.
He started close, sweeping the Badik low across the forest floor, pointing it toward the ground and waving it back and forth like a makeshift metal detector. Then, unsure, he lifted the blade skyward and repeated the motion, as though trying to catch a signal from the trees.
Jantaka's voice rang out, dry and unimpressed.
"Kid, I know I said to use the Badik like some sort of scanner, but don't wave it around like you're guiding traffic. What are you, some airport traffic marshal?"
Janu groaned, feeling annoyed, refusing to let the slander slide.
"What the hell?! How was I supposed to know! You said 'use it like a scanner,' not 'perform a sacred ritual or anything necessary!' Maybe give clearer instructions next time, you prick ghosts. So, what do I do then?"
Jantaka chuckled, already preparing his comeback.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Genius. Maybe if you didn't live by the motto shoot first, question later,' I'd have time to explain. But alas, I'm just a lowly babysitter ghost caught in your own world of whirlwind trial and error."
Realizing the banter was getting them nowhere, Janu took a deep breath and relented. Taking initiative to break the debate.
"Okay, okay—my bad. Now please, tell me how to actually use this thing. Pretty~ please?~~"
Jantaka snorted, clearly amused.
"Hahaha, now that's the tone I like. I take it my little therapy session worked if you could play along with just now, huh? Feeling more relaxed? You can tip me later too, if you ever feel generous that is."
Janu narrowed his eyes.
"You fucking smug ghost. Keep pushing cheap tricks, and I'm chucking this Badik into the wilderness. Just answer the damn question."
Jantaka let out a satisfied sigh, finally turning serious when seeing the shifted tone of Janu.
"Alright, alright. Remember back when you fought that tall pocong for the first time? You remember how the Badik started glowing—like it had a life of its own?"
Janu squinted, puzzled by Jantaka's claim, trying to recall through the haze of adrenaline and fear.
"Glowing? Huh... wait. Yeah. There was some kind of indigo aura. I thought I imagined it at the time—chalked it up to panic or a trick of the light. That was real?"
"Very real," Jantaka said. "That indigo glow is the same kind of spiritual aura I used to scare off the panthers earlier. Only difference is, you can't see mine—yet. But it's all the same principle."
Janu's brow furrowed. Inside his mind begins to surface with so many questions and he tries to wrap his head around it.
"But why could I see the aura from the Badik, but not yours? Aren't they both spiritual energy or whatever?"
"Excellent question," Jantaka replied, now in full smug lecture mode. "Badik in general isn't just a fancy blade or dagger. It's been steeped in mysticism for generations—crafted, used, and honored in rituals. That kind of spiritual exposure changes things. Gives it a presence. What you saw wasn't my energy, it was the blade's own."
"Wait, wait—it has its own aura? Even though it's just... an inanimate object? How does that even work? I thought you said only living beings have it, right?"
"Not exactly, think of it this way," Jantaka began, slipping easily into teacher mode. "You humans adapt to your environment, right? Cold weather, hot deserts—you survive, you change. It's the same for objects that are repeatedly exposed to spiritual or mystical energy. The Badik started off as just a well-made dagger. But because it was used in rituals, in battles, in offerings... it absorbed that energy. And over time, it developed its own resonance."
"So... it's like a possessed blade with muscle memory, yeah? And all of those exposure making it like this now?"
Jantaka gave an approving hum.
"Close enough. At first, it was subtle—standing on its own, vibrating faintly, that sort of thing. But eventually, people started feeding it. Literally. Offerings, prayers, incense... now it's a proper spiritual conductor. Small in quantity, yes, but potent."
"Okay. That somewhat explains the blade. But your aura—it's the same stuff, right? Why can't I see yours?"
"Because I haven't used that ability in ages, kid. It's rusty. The force is still there, but I can't project it cleanly anymore. If I were in my prime, you'd see it flaring like a beacon. It could even lure certain... bold folks... from the living world into the spirit realm."
That last part caught Janu off guard.
"Wait. Someone did that? Actually crossed over—just because of your aura?"
"Mmhmm," Jantaka said casually. "Got curious. Followed the guy around for a bit. One thing led to another, and here I am."
Janu blinked. It didn't click at first—until it did.
"Wait... with me? You mean my ances—"
"Ah, ah, ah!" Jantaka cut him off. "Don't rush. Answers will come in time. For now, let's keep dancing in the dark with the mystery. It's more fun that way."
Janu sighed. "You really are a cheapskate ghost. But still—if I could control your aura like that, I'd basically be one step away from unlocking banka*, huh? Might as well apply to So*l Societ* while I'm at it."
"Tch. Those old Sunday morning Japanese cartoons marathons really did a number on you. But sure, if that helps you comprehend it with that brain of yours, then why not."
"Hey, don't mock my childhood dream! That show taught me the value of shouting my problems into power."
Chuckling, Jantaka brought the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"Alright, back to business. To use the badik for scanning, you need to infuse it with a controlled dose of aura. Just like the first time—only now, no more emotional outbursts. You're aiming for finesse, not fireworks. Remember how it pulsed when you fought the pocong? That's your baseline."
"Yeah, I felt something. Like a heartbeat in my palm..."
"Exactly. This time, you regulate it. No spontaneous bursts. Just a steady stream."
Janu took a breath, glancing around to make sure the area was clear. He scanned the tree line, his torch held high.
"Okay. Looks safe enough. Jantaka, what about the panthers?"
"Hold on..."
A moment of silence passed—Janu recognized it now as Jantaka focusing. Then the voice returned.
"They're still circling, but farther off. Avoiding us. I'd say this is your best window. Give it a shot."
"Alright... here goes nothing."
Janu drew the Badik, gripping the sheath tightly with his torch-bearing hand. In the flickering light, he finally gave the blade the attention it deserved.
Until now, Janu didn't really pay much attention to his Badik through this whole ordeal, but upon closer inspection the dagger's length spanned just about the distance from his wrist to elbow. It felt heavier than it should, dense with an invisible weight, why? Because of the many stories this dagger held, its mystical power, or some belief of his male friends from South Sulawesi believing that their Badik is like their missing rib, a soulmate that must be with them anywhere and anytime they go.
The sheath was carved from dark, aged wood, polished not by oil but by generations of hands. The surface gleamed like antique furniture, worn yet dignified. Red-tinged veins streaked the grain, and old metallic bands at the mouth and tip clung like ancient restraints—tarnished, green with age.
He unsheathed the blade.
It didn't sing like polished steel, but breathed—a dry, breathless whisper. Its edge shimmered faintly, dulled with time yet undeniably lethal. Along the blade's spine ran a looping engraving—part serpent, part current. It twisted in and out of itself, as though writhing against an invisible tide. Janu squinted.
Was it a snake? A river? Both? Or neither? It didn't matter. It unsettled him. The way it seemed to shift subtly in the torchlight—like it remembered motion. Or waited for it.
"Alright," Janu said quietly. "What now?"
"Close your eyes. Focus. Remember the feeling from the first time. Don't force it—just let it rise. You're not attacking. You're listening and feeling it becoming one with you. Like the extension of your arm."
Janu nodded and closed his eyes. He drew a breath. The sounds of the forest filled his ears—rustling leaves, distant branches creaking. The wind against his skin felt sharper. Crisper. He's at the peak of his senses right now.
Then it came.
A sensation, faint at first. Like a stream trickling beneath his skin. A current. It flowed through his fingers, his wrist, up his arm—rising fast. Too fast.
His eyes snapped open.
The Badik flared indigo.
Wide. Radiant. Like a torch.
"Too much!" Jantaka snapped. "Pull it back!"
Startled, Janu's grip faltered. The aura snuffed out instantly.
He blinked, breath caught in his throat. "Damn... That scared me."
"You're not supposed to make a lightsabe*, kid! You'll blow the spell to pieces at this rate!"
"I thought destroying it would work!"
*sigh…. "Sure, imagine you're a bomb squad and you have to neutralize a bomb but you just said 'Hey, why not solve this bomb defusal by setting it off?' Brilliant plan."
"Alright, alright, that makes sense. I get it," Janu muttered. "Controlled dose. Got it."
"That's more like it. Think of it like holding glass. Too tight, you shatter it. Too loose, you drop it. Same thing here. Some spells are designed so that when being destroyed forcefully, it would harm or even kill the adversaries. Others straight up triggering another dangerous trap and many more shenanigans. And remember our Badik might break if you flood it with too much energy. It needs time to adapt. Remember that. It might come in handy in the future."
Janu nodded, lips pressed tight. "Damn… that's a lot to swallow. But screw it. Let's try again."
"Well, I never said it was easy, did I? You want out of this nightmare, don't you?"
That line landed. Janu straightened, resolved flaring in his chest. He wasn't about to spend another second in this cursed jungle longer than he had to.
"Thanks for the insight. So... it's all about being gentle, huh?"
"Exactly. Now get to it. Time's ticking."
Janu closed his eyes and took a slow breath, started concentrating again. He could feel it again—this time the same sensation. A stream surging under his skin, pulsing faintly. Now, he knows that it needs to be controlled, trying to keep it steady. The flow grew stronger, rising like a tide. Just as it reached the tipping point, he clamped it down, forcing the energy to slow.
Janu opens his eyes and sees a weak, faint indigo shimmer flickered around the blade.
"Wrong!" Jantaka snapped. " Too weak. Try again!"
Janu gritted his teeth, started to concentrate again, growled under his breath, and closed his eyes again. The stream returned—faster this time. And just as he let a trickle escape, testing it. The stream's sudden surge of spikes started to explode. Realizing that it's too much, he slammed it shut again, cutting it off and opens his eyes again.
"Nope," Jantaka said, tone like a strict parent correcting a toddler. "Too hesitant. You let it go, then panicked and crushed it again. That's why the flow keeps failing. You need to learn finesse."
Janu's patience grew thinner, Somewhat annoyed by this whole ordeal, Janu starts complaining.
"Argh, fuck this—okay, again!"
Janu's feeling a bit impatient at the time, but he dove back into the feeling, into the pulse. It built again, like water behind a dam. This time, as it crested, he remembered something—an old memory. A childhood accident with a bathtub. He'd plugged a leak with his finger, held it there until help came. But he'd learned: if you yanked your hand out too fast, the water blasted free. But if you ease off slowly...
He pictured it. The energy as pressure. His control as the plug.
And this time, as the surge neared the edge, he eased the flow instead of choking it. It almost burst. Almost slipped. But he held on, wrestling the current until it settled into something manageable.
"Nice one kid,"Jantaka said, voice impressed. "Usually it take someone more tries than you but looks like you're so eager to leave this huh"
"Well fucking duh~ Whew, that so much work just to make this dagger glowing like a Goddamn glow stick!"
"Well, enjoy your small win. You deserved it kid.
Janu let out a laugh, breathless and half-wild. "Hahahaha yeah, thanks for the help."
'Your wel–"
Just when Jantaka wanted to finish the words, he became alerted by something. His voice returned sharp, urgent.
"Get ready kid! I sensed unusual movement from the pack. Looks like they are desperate."
"Desperate on what again? Didn't they completely give up on me?"
"Yeah, well…. Remember animals sense the supernatural too well, right? Looks like they already noticed that they are being trapped here by some supernatural forces too. And thought you're the cause of it. Their movement explain it all"
"What the fuck! How do you even know that?"
"Just my educated guess. But hey, remember this, animals are not that stupid. And just like I said they're acting like something spooked them bad."
Janu narrowed his eyes. "Okay then, you're right. So what about their movement again?"
"Yeah, looks like they split up. Expanding their formation. From the looks of it, they're planning to surround you—wear you down, isolate you, then pounce when you're too tired to fight."
"Sick bastard…." Janu muttered. He adjusted his grip on the Badik. "Okay then. Looks like we're in the race now. Find the source of this spell—or become their meal."
"Exactly," Jantaka said, voice taut. "This time, don't forget—use both the torch and the Badik. Things are going to get a whole lot dirtier."
The jungle swallowed their voices again, falling into that eerie, unnatural silence became silent witness of survival for the fittest. Somewhere in the dark, glowing eyes waited. Watched. Moved.
And once more, the hunt began.