The silence lingered just a moment too long after Jalu's question.
Kola hadn't answered.
Of course he would join the hunt—there was no real question about that. But even now, as the others waited for his reply, his expression seemed distant, like his thoughts had wandered elsewhere. His brows were faintly furrowed, lips pressed into a hard line, as if some other weight sat just behind his eyes.
Then came the sound.
A small, tinny ringtone from the pocket of his faded jeans—metallic, old, and unmistakably out of place in this half-magical world. Kola's battered second-hand phone vibrated softly, the screen flickering for a second before settling into life.
He dug it out, tapped the power button. A single text message blinked across the cracked glass:
"Brother, aren't you coming home today?"
His breath caught.
The sender: Sella.
Omegamon drifted beside him, peeking over Kola's arm like a curious bird. He said nothing, but his golden visor seemed to dim slightly.
The ringtone—that one had been custom set. Kola had configured it specifically so he'd always know when it was from home.
He stared at the message.
And then, slowly, he exhaled.
The time in the upper corner read: 3:50 PM.
The Kendari air was heavy with that sleepy late-afternoon hue—motorcycles buzzed past like mosquitoes, the shadows of tangled electric cables stretching across the sidewalk. The salty air from the bay lingered faintly in the distance, mixed with the scent of dust and fried snacks from roadside vendors.
"Are you okay?" Jalu's voice broke gently into the moment.
Kola blinked, locking the phone.
"Huh? Yeah. I'm fine. Just... spacing out."
Jalu didn't look convinced.
Omegamon hovered silently behind, analyzing Kola's body language—the slight hitch in his breathing, the stiffness in his shoulders. He said nothing, but Kola knew that the knight could probably sense the tremors in his pulse if he wanted to.
Still, he respected the silence.
"Hey," Kola finally said, pocketing the phone. "Before the hunt tonight... would you guys mind coming with me for a bit? I need to visit someone."
Lila looked up first. Jalu tilted his head.
"Sure," the boy said. "We've got time."
There was concern in their eyes, but also patience. Kola appreciated that. He didn't want to explain just yet.
They headed back toward the kost.
Kendari in the afternoon was busy but relaxed—young boys kicking a soccer ball near a drainage canal, old women sweeping leaves off narrow sidewalks, motorcycles weaving through gaps in traffic. The storefronts were sun-faded, their awnings flapping gently in the breeze. The buildings were low, painted in soft pastel shades now dulled by years of sun and rain.
The kost, when they reached it, was tucked inside a tight alley just behind the university. Room 14 sat on the second floor of a peeling concrete building, its door marked by a faint brass number and a worn doormat. A single clothesline stretched between two windows, dotted with shirts that hadn't dried right. The hallway smelled faintly of detergent and damp walls.
Inside, the room was small—just wide enough for a bed, a desk, and a single shelf stacked with books and folded laundry. The mattress was thin, the fan old and yellowing. But it was clean, meticulously so. Kola lived with quiet pride, even in the smallest spaces.
Jalu and Lila hadn't bathed since morning, and it showed. When they reached Room 14, they cleaned up quickly—Jalu using the shared bathroom across the hall, Lila tying her hair up in a towel afterward like a little warrior monk.
While waiting, Kola rinsed his face at the corner sink, staring at himself in the cracked mirror.
"Still look alive," he murmured.
The group stepped back into the afternoon light, heading toward the edge of town.
As they passed a narrow alley lined with satay smoke and clattering cutlery, Lila suddenly asked:
"Why don't you live with your mom and sister?"
Kola gave a short laugh. "Cheaper this way. I don't have a motorbike, and it's too far to go home every day. The kost's right near campus."
"Ah... I see," Jalu said casually. He didn't ask more.
But Kola caught Lila's sideways glance—soft and lingering.
The truth was, his kost wasn't just about saving money. It was about space. Breathing room. The weight of home wasn't always something he could carry daily.
"What about your dad?" Jalu added.
Kola gave a shrug, eyes forward. "Gone. Long time ago. Walked out."
Jalu blinked. "Like... to buy soy sauce or forever forever?"
Kola smirked faintly. "Pretty sure it was the forever kind."
Lila stifled a snort.
A few minutes later, Kola turned to glance over his shoulder. In the distance, far behind them now, he could still see the vague outline of the convenience store—the door to the Clan Outpost hidden in plain sight. Just right behind a normal door inside that normal building.
He paused.
"I still can't believe this world is like that," he murmured.
Jalu slowed beside him, following his gaze.
"Yeah," he said. "I never knew anything else. But now... everything's different. My family's gone. The people I grew up with... gone. The Twin Trees. Kardias. The White Palace. And you."
Kola looked at him. "Me?"
"You're the change," Jalu said simply.
They reached the intersection—the same one where they had first met just a few hours earlier, when Kola had returned from the market after selling the gold coin.
And there, standing under the same sun-drenched corner, was a familiar figure.
"Eh? Dian?" Kola called.
The girl turned. Sure enough—it was her, her white sneakers scuffed and her expression bored. On her shoulder, Blumon gave a little wave with its gooey stub of an arm.
"I was looking for you guys," Dian said, walking up. "I went home for a bit, but it was dead quiet. Nobody asked where I'd been. Dad's working late, mom's on a business call. So I thought, why sit around?"
She held up her phone. "Also, I have one of those weird maps too. Same one as you, Kola. App just showed up. Like it's synced or something. Remember?"
"That's... normal now, huh," Kola muttered.
"Well we have our own map, so... yeah." Said Jalu.
Their reactions were less shock, more mild surprise.
"That's... normal now, huh," Jalu muttered.
Lila tilted her head at Blumon. "Your blob thing's still alive."
Blumon grunted.
And with that, the group of four began walking again—toward something quiet, and something heavy, waiting just a little farther down the road.
"So, where do you live exactly?" Lila asked as the four of them turned the corner near the university intersection.
Kola kept walking, his eyes half-lost in thought. "A little outside the city—Langgea Village, in Ranomeeto District. It's pretty far. Southeast Kendari, just before the city border."
"Wait, you live in Ranomeeto?" Dian raised an eyebrow.
Kola nodded without much expression. "Yeah."
Jalu squinted. "So, how are we getting there? Bus? Taxi? Omegamon?"
Omegamon turned, clearly caught off guard. "Me?"
Kola chuckled softly, then looked up at the cloudy afternoon sky. "We'll take the local transport vans. They're called 'angkot'—a sort of public minivan service. Cheap but we'll have to switch routes a few times."
"Uh... I know what angkot is, I mean, you remember right? We have Wi-Fi in our home, so no need to explain that far, Kola." Jalu said, stretching his arms behind his head. "Anyway this is good chance to see more of Kendari."
Lila smiled a little. It was brief and barely there, but enough to catch Kola's attention.
In that flicker, something clicked in him.
They really were just kids.
And he had pulled them into all of this.
It had only been three days.
Three days since Omegamon stepped out of shadow and memory.
Three days since the first miracle arrived in his collapsing world.
But somehow, it felt like he had lived through months. Or years.
Kola adjusted the strap of his old backpack. Hidden inside, wrapped carefully beneath the plastic bag of leftover snacks, were two gold coins. He had taken them out earlier at the kost—quietly, methodically. Planning to sell them soon.
He didn't know why that moment stuck with him now. Maybe because the absurdity had become normal.
He still remembered the cold air behind the twin trees.
He still heard the dragons.
But what surprised him the most... was how fast he had adapted.
"So... why are we going to your house?" Dian asked, adjusting Blumon on her shoulder.
"To see my mom and sister," Kola replied.
Dian blinked. "But... isn't Kardias hunting you? Doesn't that put them in danger too?"
Kola froze mid-step. His mind flashed to Sella's message.
"He wouldn't..." he said uncertainly.
Jalu shook his head with quiet certainty. "No. That'd break the core law. Hurting humans—true humans—is forbidden. Not just by the Council of Two Worlds. It's a World Law. Even the White Palace isn't above that."
Kola blinked. "World Law? Is that a thing?"
"I'll explain later," Jalu said. "But for now, they're safe."
Dian exhaled. "Good. I guess."
But her tone was calm, unreadable.
Her eyes flicked toward the road—and then lit up.
"Hey, there's one!" she said, pointing.
A bright blue angkot—a local public minivan—rumbled down the street. Each angkot in Kendari had a stripe of color to mark its route. This one had a yellow line across its side.
Just as Dian stepped forward to wave, a soft rustle came from a bush near the sidewalk.
A familiar black cat emerged, tail held high, eyes golden and alert.
"Oren?" Kola blinked.
The cat walked straight toward them like he had never left, brushing past Kola's ankle before hopping into Dian's arms with practiced grace.
Dian laughed in surprise, then instinctively cradled him. "Guess he's coming too."
Oren purred, content as ever.
The angkot slid to a stop beside them, its door rattling open.
"To Wua-Wua?" Dian asked.
The driver, a stocky man with a cigarette behind one ear, grinned. "Yeah, hop in!"
The four of them—and now one cat—climbed aboard.
Inside, there was just enough space. The bench seats were cracked vinyl. The windows barely closed all the way. A small sticker of an anime girl with a sword adorned the ceiling above the driver's seat.
As they settled in, Jalu leaned toward Kola and whispered, "This is my first time in one of these."
"Same," Lila added, her voice soft.
Outside, the city blurred past.
Kendari's downtown morphed into rows of older homes, tight alleys, and scattered stalls selling bottled water and cigarettes. Power lines dangled low like spiderwebs. Street dogs wandered freely.
Jalu and Lila were practically glued to the windows.
Their eyes flicked from one shop to another, then up at passing street signs and painted murals on crumbling walls.
Kola glanced at them.
He had never noticed how foreign they looked.
Their skin was pale, untouched by the sun. Jalu's hair had a faint cinnamon hue in the daylight. Lila's was darker but shimmered blue at the tips. Their eyes were the most striking—Lila's blue, Jalu's deep green.
The other passengers—two women and an older man—were clearly trying not to stare.
But Kola didn't really notice.
And Dian didn't seem to care.
Then came the sound.
A low growl.
Lila's stomach.
"Wait, you haven't eaten?" Dian asked.
Jalu answered for her. "We kind of forgot. Been... thinking about Palabuhan Ratu all day."
"Ah... Yeah, that one." Dian scratched the back of her neck. She feeling a little bit guilty now.
Kola blinked. Then, like a man struck by inspiration, he reached into his bag.
Out came a plastic sack—translucent and crinkled—filled with fried snacks. Empanada-like puffs, battered tempeh, some with red chili tucked inside.
Unfortunately, something else fell out with it.
A gold coin.
It hit the angkot floor with a soft but unmistakable clink.
Everyone looked.
Kola froze, then scrambled to pick it up.
He gave an awkward laugh. "H-heh. Just a... lucky coin."
Nobody said anything, but one of the ladies kept her eyes on him a little longer than the rest.
He shoved the coin back into his bag and handed out the fried food.
"Here," he said.
Lila took one with both hands. Jalu smiled in relief. Even Dian grabbed a piece.
As they chewed, Omegamon's voice buzzed gently in Kola's ear.
"Weren't those snacks meant to be sold for Ms. Lasti?"
"It's fine," Kola muttered. "I sold one gold coin earlier today, remember? Got two million. Spent one on bamboo crafts... still have a million left. We're good."
Omegamon paused. "...Very well."
The sound of munching filled the van.
Dian leaned back with Oren nestled comfortably in her lap, his eyes slowly blinking as the rhythm of the road lulled him to sleep.
And the city rolled on, unaware.
The angkot rolled steadily through the streets of Kendari, swaying gently with every bump and pothole. The city still had its charm, but it was the kind that clung to chipped paint and rusted railings—quiet, weathered, and hanging on by threads.
Out the window, Kola watched a passing mural of marine life painted along a crumbling wall—half-faded fish swimming between rust stains. Stores lined the main roads: minimarkets with flickering signs, old cellphone shops, street vendors under tattered umbrellas. Laundry flapped above alleyways, tethered between windows like half-forgotten prayers.
The heat was real.
And the dust hung thick.
Kola wiped his palm against his jeans.
As they approached a traffic light near the Wua-Wua area, something at the corner caught his eye.
A bear.
Not a real one. A mascot suit.
The costume was oversized and sagging, the fake fur caked in grime. The color—once maybe a cheerful brown—was now somewhere between rust and sadness. The head bobbled awkwardly as the person inside danced a clumsy little routine in the heat.
It was a child.
From the size and the thinness of the limbs sticking out from the frayed sleeves, it could only be a child.
They spun slowly, then held up a tiny plastic bucket.
A passing motorbike didn't even slow down.
Kola's throat tightened.
His hand clenched into a fist on his lap, knuckles whitening. He hadn't even realized it. His jaw had locked, and his breathing deepened. It always happened—this feeling. Whenever he saw something like this.
Anger. Shame. Recognition.
That suit could've been him.
In another life—maybe even this one—it was him.
Or his mother.
Or Sella.
The fear came suddenly, irrationally. Just the idea of going home again—of seeing Sella and his mother again—made something cold and ancient stir in his chest. That fear of returning to a place where everyone is still surviving, and somehow, you are not helping enough.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a folded 100,000 rupiah note. Crisp and clean.
Quietly, he leaned out the window as they approached the corner.
"Hey," he called.
The bear turned.
Kola smiled faintly and dropped the bill into the child's bucket. "For you."
The bear froze, the large head tilting, almost unsure. Then a small hand shot up in a gesture of thanks.
It was unbearably hot.
The sun beat down, and the asphalt shimmered. The air was thick with heat and motor exhaust. Kola imagined how that costume must have felt on the child's body—wet with sweat, suffocating under synthetic fur and a helmet that barely let you breathe.
He sat back.
Omegamon, floating silently by the window, finally spoke. "You do realize that giving away money without cause may be unsustainable, yes?"
Kola didn't look at him.
"It's not without cause," he said quietly. "You know right? I promised myself I wouldn't become like this world. Just because I'm poor doesn't mean I can't give something back."
Omegamon tilted slightly, as if processing that.
"You still have money from the gold coin, then?"
Kola nodded. "Yeah. I've got enough. I mean, before i meet you, i normally don't have anything, you know?"
Still, the scene clung to him.
He stared out the window again. Watched the passersby—indifferent, tired, barely slowing. The city was full of people like that. Busy surviving. Blind to anything outside their own oxygen.
It made Kola feel sick.
No, not just sick.
Disgusted.
"People are disgusting," he muttered, more to himself. "Human... They're really disgusting."
Dian turned from her seat. "Huh? You okay?"
Kola blinked and looked down at Omegamon. The small knight floated in front of him, still and watchful.
He reached out and took him gently into his hands.
The paint had chipped a little on the edge of Omegamon's helmet. The plastic had yellowed in places. His joints squeaked faintly when moved.
"You're old, huh," Kola murmured.
He thought of Michael.
Of the day he was given this toy.
Of the boy who treated him like an equal when no one else did.
He shook his head slowly. "No problem," he said to Dian, offering a half-smile. "I'm good."
The angkot kept rolling forward, carrying them closer and closer to home.