Chapter 19
Nille's mind raced, but his body moved on instinct. The scarf pulsed softly at his neck, feeding him vital information. Attack in three… two… now. The Buso had chosen its moment.
Without hesitation, Nille grabbed Lin Meiying's arm, yanking her back just as the old woman—once frail, hunched, and seemingly harmless, shifted violently. In an instant, the delicate frame twisted into something unnatural. Her skin stretched thin, almost translucent, veins standing out like black threads. Her face elongated grotesquely, the eyes bulging and yellow, pupils like slits. Long, jagged nails jutted from gnarled fingers, dripping with thick, greenish saliva that hissed as it hit the polished chapel floor.
Her back arched unnaturally, taller now, pushing her height close to two meters, towering over both Nille and Lin. The thin gray hair whipped like tendrils as she lunged, the sound of her breath harsh and wet, a low gurgle that made the hairs on Nille's neck stand on end.
Nille tightened his grip on the twin knuckles, the metal cool and familiar in his hands. He swung, striking the Buso squarely in the face. A crack echoed, and the monster staggered slightly, but it wasn't enough. Its inhuman form recoiled only to launch another attack, fast and feral, claws slashing through the air where Lin had been standing moments before.
The scarf's voice was calm but urgent. This creature… far beyond normal strength. Even with your full power here in reality, it is like facing an armature boxer, resilient, unpredictable. You cannot win by strength alone.
Lin scrambled, her hands brushing over the edge of a small pedestal near the chapel's altar. Her breaths were sharp, quick. She froze for a moment, catching sight of the creature's drooling maw and elongated limbs, its grotesque visage almost filling the space between the pews and altar. The frail-looking old woman she had passed moments ago had become a nightmare come to life, all the more horrifying because it had walked among humans without raising suspicion.
Nille steadied himself, keeping his body between the Buso and Lin. His knuckles flexed, ready. The scarf fed him each minute detail, the arc of the claws, the pattern of the monster's breath, the subtle shifts in weight that betrayed its next move. The only thing he could do now was create distance, buy the girl a chance to reach safety, and survive long enough to find an opening.
Every muscle in Nille's body was tense. Sweat slicked his back, heart pounding in his chest, but he didn't hesitate. The monster lunged again, claws snapping toward him, saliva flying in wet strands, and Nille shifted his stance, ready to intercept, ready to protect Lin at any cost.
The chapel, once a quiet sanctuary of prayer, now held only tension, fear, and the deadly promise of the Buso's hunger.
Nille planted his feet firmly on the chapel floor, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. The scarf's soft pulse in his mind reminded him again: Do not move. You are the wall. The Buso cannot reach her while you stand.
The monster lunged, claws extended, scraping across the wooden floor with a screech that echoed in the chapel walls. Lin Meiying froze, gripping the edge of the pedestal, her wide eyes fixed on the grotesque figure that had once seemed like a frail, harmless old woman. Its long, jagged nails glimmered under the dim light, each one capable of rending flesh like paper. Its fangs protruded at uneven angles, dripping saliva that hissed when it hit the polished wood. And it moved in a way no human could, every step unnatural, joints bending at impossible angles, weight shifting like it was floating on air.
Nille struck again with the twin knuckles, his small fists slamming against the monster's jaw with the force he had learned to generate. The creature reeled back for a fraction of a second, but then its head snapped forward, shrugging off the blows as though they were nothing. Even with all your strength, it will not break from force alone, the scarf whispered.
The boy's heart pounded as he read the monster's movements, dodging strikes meant to catch him off guard. Each swipe of the long nails created gusts of air that tugged at his hair and clothes, each hiss and growl a warning that the creature was learning, adapting to his style. Lin Meiying could barely breathe as she watched the four-foot-six boy stand like a tiny, defiant wall, fists flying against something far beyond ordinary. She noticed the way he gritted his teeth, how every muscle in his young body tensed with focus, and yet he never wavered.
The Buso lunged again, this time targeting Lin, claws aimed at her chest. Nille reacted instinctively, intercepting with a rapid punch that collided with the monster's arm. The impact didn't stagger it much, but it bought her a fraction of a second to move. She stumbled back toward the pedestal, heart racing, realizing just how vulnerable she was in comparison.
Nille's mind raced as the scarf fed him continuous updates: Its strength is immense, but predictable. Its attacks are calculated, testing your resolve. Stand firm, your presence alone is the barrier. He adjusted his stance, shoving his weight into his legs, and let the twin knuckles guide his fists. Every punch, every block, every feint was precise, not enough to destroy, but enough to manipulate the creature's momentum, to keep it from reaching Lin.
The Buso hissed, a grotesque, wet sound that made Lin flinch, and its unnatural limbs whipped forward again. Nille dodged, narrowly avoiding a swipe that would have torn his shoulder open, and countered with a rapid hook to its jaw. The monster growled low, saliva flying, and spun its body, striking at the boy with a clawed hand. Nille took the hit square on the forearm, pain lancing through him, but he gritted his teeth and held his ground.
Lin Meiying's stomach churned as she watched. She couldn't believe her eyes, the small, young man, barely taller than her, was standing toe-to-toe with what she now understood was not human. And yet, he didn't retreat. He punched, dodged, endured blows, all while protecting her. For the first time, she understood what the scarf had meant, he was the wall, and without him standing firm, the Buso's claws would have already found her.
The air in the chapel thickened with tension. Each strike, each swing, each hiss of the Buso made it clear: Nille wasn't just fighting for himself. He was the only thing between the young girl and a fate she could never survive. And though the monster adapted, calculated, and struck with relentless precision, the boy's determination, the strategic guidance of the scarf, and sheer willpower kept the line unbroken.
Every moment stretched, each second a test of endurance. The young man's small fists and quick reflexes met the monster's inhuman power in a deadly dance, a ballet of survival that no ordinary human could endure. Lin Meiying crouched behind the pedestal, heart racing, realizing that the boy she once assumed was weak or insignificant was the only thing keeping her alive.
And above it all, the scarf whispered softly in his mind: Stand firm, Nille. Stand firm…
Nille felt the creature's next strike coming a heartbeat too fast. Instinctively, he let go of the twin knuckles, and in a fluid motion, focused through the scarf to manifest a new weapon in his hand, a butterfly knife, its blade gleaming sharp as if forged from pure intent.
The Buso lunged again, fangs bared and claws extended, expecting another punch. But Nille twisted his body and slashed upward with the butterfly knife, aiming straight for its chest. The moment the blade pierced the monster, a tremor of energy pulsed through the chapel. The Buso froze, eyes widening in shock, then a black smoke erupted from its form. Its flesh seemed to dissolve, smoke curling from its claws and fangs as it screamed in a sound that echoed between a growl and a hiss. Within seconds, what had been the monstrous old woman disintegrated completely, leaving only ash scattered on the floor.
The scarf hummed softly, almost approvingly in Nille's mind. "Well done. You utilized my abilities perfectly, instantly manifesting the weapon, striking with precision… that is how power is meant to be used."
Before Nille could even catch his breath, the scarf shifted, reaching out like a phantom hand and grasping the Buso's bead, the core of its being, before it could vanish entirely. In its grip, the essence of the demon was sealed, neutralized.
Nille's own body was not untouched. A few scratches and deep slashes ran across his arms and torso, some still bleeding. He stumbled back, clutching at a wound on his side. Calmly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small vial of herbal medicine the scarf had just prepared. Pressing the salve to the deepest cuts, he felt the warm sting, then the slow knitting of the flesh. The wounds weren't fatal, but his shirt now bore streaks of blood, and drops ran down onto the chapel floor.
Lin Meiying, who had been crouched behind the pedestal, finally dared to look up. Her eyes widened at the sight: the young boy, barely taller than her, covered in blood, breathing hard, yet standing victorious against a creature no ordinary human could have faced. For a brief moment, she didn't move, frozen between awe and fear, realizing the enormity of what she had just witnessed.
The chapel was silent again, save for Nille's ragged breathing, the faint scent of ash lingering in the air, and the soft hum of the scarf settling back around his neck, almost like a protective sigh.
Nille glanced at Lin, his expression tense but calm. "Be ready," he said quietly, "they'll come… but not for you. They're coming for your grandfather." Lin's eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing her face, but she nodded, gripping her hands together as if anchoring herself.
"I'm Nille," he said, offering a small, awkward smile, trying to ease some of the tension.
"Lin… Lin Meiying," she replied softly, still caught between awe and apprehension from the fight she had just witnessed.
Before either of them could say more, the chapel doors creaked open. Junior, the janitor, stepped inside, pausing as he noticed the fine gray ash scattered across the floor. He crouched down, inspecting it with a casual curiosity. "Ah… it's just dust," he said, scratching his head and laughing. "The chapel's new. Ceiling's still open, ventilation exposed, accumulated dust is normal. I've seen this a many times."
" and cleaned it many time also"
He looked up with a grin. "Hay, Nille, who's your lovely friend here?"
Before Nille could respond, Lin's maid burst through the soundproof chapel doors, panic written across her face. "Miss Lin! Your grandfather… he's in critical condition right now!"
Nille's eyes narrowed, and he turned to Lin. "Stay with me. They'll come for him."
Without another word, both Junior and the maid bolted toward the second floor, leaving Nille and Lin behind. Through the chapel's large windows, the faint sounds of medical equipment and hurried footsteps reached them as the nurse attempted resuscitation on her grandfather.
The scarf pulsed softly around Nille's neck, its voice threading through his mind. "The bean is potent. The residual memory of the female remains… she was once a Babaylan healer, a truly skilled one. A psychic healer. Her knowledge… it can now be combined with mine. Together, we can create a stronger, more effective healing potion."
Nille nodded to himself, a cold resolve settling in. Not only would he need to defend the young girl and the chapel, but now he also had a tool, an ancient wisdom infused into the scarf, to prepare for what was coming next. The air seemed heavier, charged with tension, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
The hallway outside the ward was filled with hurried footsteps, the tension still clinging to the air like a storm that had just passed but not yet cleared. Inside the room, the nurse worked quickly, hands steady despite the pressure. Moments later, the doctor arrived, his presence calm but commanding.
He moved beside the bed, checking the monitors, examining the old man's condition with practiced precision. After a tense silence, he exhaled and nodded.
"Good work," he said to the nurse. "Your response stabilized him. That bought us time."
The nurse let out a quiet breath, relief flickering across her face.
But the doctor's tone shifted, more serious now. "He's still in danger. We need to see improvement soon. The internal bleeding must either stop completely or reduce to a manageable level. Until then… he's not out of risk."
Outside, Lin stood frozen, her hands trembling slightly as she listened. The words still in danger echoed in her mind, heavier than anything she had heard that day.
Not far from the room, Nille stood beside Granny Amparo's bed, silent and still. To anyone watching, he looked like a boy simply waiting. But within him, something far deeper was happening.
The scarf pulsed.
The bead is being processed…
A quiet hum filled Nille's senses, not sound, but something deeper, like a vibration inside his very being. The knowledge from the Buso's core began unfolding, not as words, but as instinct, memory, and understanding.
Residual memory confirmed, the scarf whispered. Former Babaylan healer. Highly skilled. Psychic-based restoration methods. Herbal synergy… spiritual infusion… life-thread stabilization…
Images flashed in Nille's mind, the hands glowing faintly as they hovered over wounds, leaves crushed into paste with precise ratios, chants that weren't spoken but felt. Knowledge layered upon knowledge, ancient and refined.
This… this was something Nille had been hoping for, but not in a way he fully understood until now.
As he stood there, leaning slightly against the wall near Granny Amparo's bed, fragments of knowledge surfaced in his mind, clear, organized, and usable. Not vague memories. Not guesses. Actual understanding.
It reminded him of the books Doctor Miyako had given him. He could see the pages in his head, the diagrams, the notes, the explanations, but something didn't add up.
He had only skimmed those books.
He remembered flipping through them quickly, brushing past paragraphs, not truly reading every line. And yet now… it felt like he had finished them. Studied them. Understood them.
Nille frowned slightly. That's not possible…
The scarf responded, its voice calm, almost patient, as if it had been waiting for this realization.
It is now possible.
A faint pulse ran through the fabric around his neck.
As I evolve, my functions expand. I can now acquire, process, and store information not only through direct input… but through kinetic interaction.
Nille's brows furrowed. "Kinetic… interaction?" he whispered under his breath.
The scarf clarified.
When you touch, move, or interact with an object—such as turning pages, holding materials, or even brief exposure, I can capture fragments of information embedded within them. Not perfectly at first… but enough to reconstruct their essence.
Nille's eyes widened slightly.
"So when I was flipping through those books…"
You were providing access, the scarf confirmed. Previously, I could only store what was fully given. Now, I can extract partial data and complete it through pattern reconstruction and accumulated knowledge.
The implication settled heavily in his chest.
It wasn't just memory. It wasn't just storage.
It was learning but faster… deeper… and far more unnatural.
Additionally, the scarf continued, the integration of the Babaylan healer's essence has enhanced this process. Her knowledge of herbs, the body, and spiritual flow has refined my interpretation capabilities. What was once fragmented… can now become coherent.
Nille looked down at his hands.
That meant every object he touched… every book he skimmed… every tool he handled… could become knowledge.
Not instantly. Not perfectly. But enough.
Enough to grow.
Enough to adapt.
Enough to survive.
For a brief moment, the image of the melting orb in the enclave flashed again in his mind—the slow drip of energy feeding the seedling.
Now he understood, just a little more.
That seedling… was him.
And everything he touched… everything he fought… everything he learned… was feeding it.
Nille exhaled slowly, his expression sharpening with quiet resolve.
The scarf didn't just store the information, it was teaching him by helping him.
A wave of warmth surged inward, flowing through Nille's chest and settling deep within him, into a place he had never fully understood. The melting orb.
Though Nille didn't realize it, the orb pulsed, slow, heavy, alive. The same orb he had seen within the enclave, dripping its strange liquid toward the seedling, now reacted to the infusion. The spiritual energy from the Babaylan knowledge seeped into it, stabilizing parts of it, refining it… feeding it.
His breathing slowed.
For a moment, the world around him dimmed.
Integration successful, the scarf murmured. Your internal core has accepted the infusion. Your capacity has increased. With this… we can create something far more effective than before.
Nille opened his eyes slowly, his gaze sharper now, more focused. He looked toward Lin, who stood near the doorway, caught between fear and hope.
"They'll come again," he said quietly, his voice steady. "And next time… my luck wont be enough."
Nille clenched his hand slightly, feeling the pull of healing flesh beneath his skin. The wounds were closing, slowly, steadily, but they still burned. Not enough to stop him, just enough to remind him that he wasn't invincible.
A faint warmth pulsed in his chest.
Internal spiritual energy: 16%.
It had risen. He could feel it, not as strength in his muscles, but as something deeper, quieter… like a reservoir that had grown just a little wider.
"From twelve to sixteen…" he murmured under his breath. "So that bead really did something."
The scarf shifted lightly against his neck, confirming without words.
Nille exhaled, running a hand through his hair before letting it fall back to his side. For a moment, the chaos, the fight, the monster, the chapel, felt distant. What replaced it was something heavier. Something harder to ignore.
"Hey…" he said quietly. "After this is settled… we need to talk. Properly."
The scarf remained silent, listening.
"I mean it," Nille continued, his tone more grounded now. "These surprises? They're fine… sometimes. But I'm still trying to process everything."
He glanced toward Lin and the hospital room beyond, where life and death still hung in the balance.
"Everything looks normal," he said, almost to himself. "Same hospital. Same people. Same world."
His fingers curled slightly.
"But then there's that…"
The memory of the Buso, its claws, its fangs, the way its body twisted against the rules of nature—flashed vividly in Nille's mind.
And not just that.
The scarf… the things it could do.
Weapons appearing out of nothing. Knowledge flowing into him like he had studied for years. Healing that didn't follow medicine. Energy that had no measurable source.
It felt wrong.
Not evil, just… impossible.
As if something far beyond him had placed an overpowered artifact in his hands and simply said, survive.
Nille looked down at his arms. The wounds were real. The blood was real. The pain was real.
But the outcome?
He should have died.
Or at least… lost.
Instead, he stood there with nothing more than cuts and non-fatal injuries, as if the world itself had bent just enough to let him walk away.
His fingers tightened slightly.
"…It's too much," he admitted under his breath. "It doesn't make sense."
For someone like him—someone who relied on logic, observation, and what little structure he could find in life, this was overwhelming in a different way. Not fear. Not panic.
But imbalance.
Luck like this didn't feel natural.
It felt assigned.
"The supernatural realm…" he muttered again, shaking his head faintly. "It's too weird. None of it follows anything scientific. No logic. No rules people can understand."
The scarf remained quiet for a moment, as if allowing him to finish processing. Then, gently, it responded.
That is not entirely correct.
Nille's eyes narrowed slightly.
It does follow rules, the scarf continued. But not the ones your current understanding recognizes.
A faint pulse echoed from it.
What you call "unrealistic luck"… is not luck. It is alignment.
"Alignment?" Nille repeated.
You survived because your actions, timing, and decisions aligned with the flow of events. The weapon you chose. The position you held. The moment you struck. All of it formed a sequence.
Nille fell silent.
If even one part had been different, the scarf added, the outcome would have changed.
That… sounded closer to logic.
Not comfort, but structure.
Still, he exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Then explain this," he said. "Why me?"
For the first time, the scarf didn't answer immediately.
Its silence lingered, heavy, deliberate.
And when it finally spoke, its voice was quieter than before.
That… is something even I am still determining.
Nille let out a small breath, somewhere between a sigh and a tired laugh.
"Great," he muttered. "Even the thing keeping me alive doesn't fully know."
But despite that…
He didn't let go of the scarf.
Because whether it was luck, alignment, or something far bigger,
It was the only reason he was still standing.
His voice lowered, more serious now.
"If other people saw what I just saw… they'd go insane."
There was no exaggeration in his tone, just a quiet certainty.
The scarf finally responded, its voice softer than before, almost thoughtful.
That is why most do not see it.
Nille stilled.
And why those who do… must learn to stand between both worlds.
Nille didn't reply immediately.
He simply stood there, feeling the weight of those words settle in.
Between both worlds.
Not fully part of either.
His gaze hardened slightly, not out of fear, but acceptance.
"Yeah…" he said quietly.
"I figured as much."
Nille reached into the fold of the scarf, his fingers brushing against something small and warm. When he pulled his hand out, a compact herbal sphere rested on his palm, smooth, dark green, no bigger than a standard marble, yet faintly releasing a clean, earthy scent.
He stepped closer to Lin Meiying and held it out.
"If your grandfather absorbs this," he said quietly, "he'll be out of critical danger."
Lin's eyes lowered to the small medicinal ball. Under normal circumstances, she would have questioned it immediately, refused it, even. Nothing about this was standard, nothing about it was medically approved.
But nothing about what she had just witnessed was normal either.
The image of the Buso dissolving into ash… Nille standing unharmed… the impossible becoming real right in front of her, those memories silenced any outright rejection.
Instead, hesitation took its place.
When the doctor and nurse stepped out of the room, Lin turned to her maid. "Stay here. Don't let anyone come in for a moment."
The maid, still shaken, nodded quickly and stood guard outside.
Inside, the room felt heavier.
Lin approached the bedside slowly, the small herbal ball still in her hand. Her grandfather lay there, fragile, machines quietly assisting his breathing. The nasogastric tube was still in place, a clear sign of how serious his condition had been just moments ago.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
What if this makes it worse…?
He had just survived a critical moment. Introducing something unknown, something unexplainable, could push him back over the edge.
She hesitated.
Sensing this, Nille didn't speak right away. Instead, he turned and walked to the adjacent bed OF Granny Amparo side
He gently took out another herbal ball in his pocket, the scafr place it on his hand , to look he has it in his pocket the whole time,
"Watch," he said simply.
Leaning down, he spoke softly, his voice carrying a quiet warmth. "Granny… I'm here."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, faintly, barely noticeable, Granny Amparo's lips parted slightly. Though her eyes remained closed, there was awareness there… a subtle response, as if she had heard him even in her resting state.
Nille carefully placed the herbal ball into her mouth.
She swallowed.
No resistance. No choking. No reaction of distress.
Her breathing remained steady.
Her body, if anything, seemed to relax just a little more.
Lin watched closely, her hesitation cracking. Granny Amparo was older… frailer… and yet nothing bad happened.
That was enough.
Taking a quiet breath, Lin turned back to her grandfather. Her movements were careful, precise, as she gently placed the herbal ball into his mouth, guiding it just enough to ensure it wouldn't interfere with the tube.
He swallowed.
The room remained still.
No alarms. No sudden drop. No visible distress.
Lin exhaled slowly, tension leaving her shoulders as she stepped back.
At that exact moment, Nille had already moved.
He stood near the window, his gaze fixed outside.
And what he saw made his expression harden.
Beyond the hospital walls, in a dense vacant lot overgrown with tall grass, movement stirred. At first, it looked like shadows shifting, but then shapes emerged.
Dozens of them.
The Gabunan.
Their forms were hunched and elongated, limbs too long for their bodies, moving with a predatory patience. Their heads tilted unnaturally as they sniffed the air, drawn by the scent of weakness… of those lingering near death.
One by one, they lifted their gaze,
Toward the hospital.
Toward this room.
Their hollow eyes locked onto the window.
Nille's grip tightened slightly.
Unlike the Buso, these creatures weren't hiding. They weren't bound to human hosts or limited by physical laws. These were full-fledged entities, free, instinct-driven, and patient.
Scavengers.
They didn't hunt the living.
They waited for the dying.
And now… they were climbing.
Their clawed limbs latched onto the hospital walls, scaling upward with eerie silence, like vultures gathering before a corpse even cooled. They positioned themselves along ledges, corners, shadows, watching, waiting.
Only Nille could see them.
Because unlike the Buso, which used a human body as a disguise, still anchored to the rules of the physical world, these creatures existed beyond that boundary.
Lin saw the Buso because it borrowed reality.
But the Gabunan?
They ignored it.
Nille's eyes narrowed as he counted them silently.
"They're here…" he muttered under his breath.
Behind him, Lin remained focused on her grandfather, unaware that just beyond the glass, a silent swarm of death had already gathered, waiting for the moment his life would slip.
But this time…
Nille was already standing guard.
Nille had already opened his third eye the moment he stepped into the room.
He stood by the window, unmoving, quiet, steady, his small frame silhouetted against the dim evening light.
Outside… they had gathered.
Dozens of Gabunan clung to the hospital walls, their elongated limbs gripping concrete and steel like insects on glass. Their bodies were gaunt, their movements twitching and unnatural, heads tilting as they sniffed the air. The entire window was filled with them, layer upon layer, silent, patient, waiting for the exact moment life would slip from the old man inside.
They did not rush.
They did not attack.
They waited.
Because that was their nature.
Scavengers of death.
Inside the room, the air shifted.
The moment Lin's grandfather swallowed the medicinal herb ball, the one the scarf had created using the knowledge of the possessed Buso, the change was subtle… but real.
Nille saw it.
With his third eye open, the world revealed more than just flesh and bone. He saw the faint threads of life, fragile, flickering, wrapped around the old man's body.
Moments ago, those threads had been thinning… breaking… calling something from beyond.
Now…
They were stabilizing.
Slowly knitting back together.
The scent that had drawn the Gabunan, the presence of someone standing at death's door—began to fade.
Outside, the creatures reacted.
One by one, their heads lifted. Their hollow eyes narrowed. Their movements grew restless.
Some of the stronger ones, the larger, more defined Gabunan, paused and stared directly at Nille.
They knew.
He could see them.
A low, almost inaudible tension spread among them. Not fear… but caution.
Predators recognizing something that did not belong among prey.
Then,
Something else appeared.
Faint at first. Gentle.
A presence near the old man's bedside.
Nille's gaze softened slightly as he focused.
There, standing quietly, was the spirit of the old woman, the one who had been possessed. No longer twisted. No longer monstrous. Just… human.
A Babaylan healer.
Her form shimmered faintly, her expression calm, grateful. She looked at Nille, then at the old man, then back at him again.
And she bowed her head.
No words.
Just gratitude.
Then, slowly, her form dissolved into soft particles of light, fading away like ash carried by a gentle wind, this time, not into darkness… but into peace.
Nille closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them again, his focus returned to the window.
The Gabunan were leaving.
One by one, they released their hold on the walls, dropping silently back into the tall grass below. The pull was gone. The dying scent had vanished. There was nothing left for them here.
Even the wary ones gave Nille a final glance before retreating into the darkness.
Within minutes…
The window was clear.
The night returned to normal.
Inside the room, the machines continued their steady rhythm. Lin stood beside her grandfather, unaware of how close death had truly come.
Nille remained by the window for a moment longer, his third eye slowly closing, the hidden world fading back into silence. He didn't need to see anymore, there was nothing left to see. The creatures that fed on the dead were gone, slipping silently back into the shadows, knowing their prey was no longer available to them.
Yet, even in their absence, a subtle complication lingered.
The stronger Gabunan, the ones that had lingered closest, watching him with sharp, calculating eyes, had seen something they hadn't expected. The weapons in his hands were no ordinary tools of combat. Their edges shimmered faintly, their forms shifting in a way that made them almost ethereal.
"They're… Buntala," the Gabunan elder softly growled in its mind. "Or Taeng-bituin class weapons. "These are creations that channel power… and created to kill our kind" the elder Gabunan know who wields them."
" a babaylan warrior?" then a long pause " no! its a Death servant" Mamatay-Lingkod.
Nille felt a ripple of energy pulse through the jungle bolo , as he flexed his grip. It wasn't just their weight he was aware of, it was the resonance. The moment the Gabunan had recognized the weapons' class, even from a distance, they had faltered in their instincts, hesitation flickering through their predatory minds.
The scarf continued, calm yet analytical: "The stronger ones always watch closely. They can sense what lies beyond mere flesh and steel. To them, these weapons mark you as something… different. Something not to be underestimated. That alone will make them wary for them to stay any longer"
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
"It's over…" he murmured.
Not a victory.
Not a triumph.
Just… a moment where things didn't fall apart.
Behind him, life continued, fragile, uncertain, but still there.
And for a quiet moment, the tension melted away. Granny Amparo's eyes, usually heavy with fatigue, twinkled faintly as she spoke, her voice steady despite everything.
"Apo… you did a great job!"
Nille turned toward her, a small, relieved smile forming on his face. The weight of the night, the monsters, the third eye, the Gabunan… all of it pressed lightly against him, but in that instant, it felt manageable.
He dropped the jungle bolo he had been holding, and in a blink, it vanished from his hands, folded into the scarf's pocket of infinite storage. Without hesitation, he gently took Granny Amparo's frail hand in his. "Thank the heavens… your medicine worked," he whispered, a hint of relief in his voice.
Granny Amparo let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head at the stubbornness of youth. "Apo… next time, maybe add a little sugar," she teased, her eyes brightening with the spark of mischief only someone who had seen much of the world could carry.
Nille laughed softly, squeezing her hand. The bitter taste, the long hours, the near-death battles, it was all worth it. For her, as for Lin Meiying, for the fragile thread of life that had almost been lost… he help her grand father to have a fighting , its something she can never forget