Chapter 23
Nille finally made his way back to his warehouse indoor farm. The lights were still on, and the first pale hues of sunrise were beginning to streak the sky. He walked slowly, letting his thoughts settle as he approached home. Mang Tomas had taken Aling Rosario back to her place, which Nille didn't mind, he preferred to think in solitude.
As he entered the warehouse, he saw Granny Amparo still seated on her tumba-tumba, resting quietly. He considered placing a blanket over her but paused, remembering it was unnecessary. Instead, he picked up a wooden chair and sat near her, the tumba-tumba creaking slowly as it moved.
Granny Amparo's eyes fluttered open. "Apo, kumain ka na ba?" she asked softly. (Grandson, have you eaten?)
Nille smiled, shaking his head. "Di po, Lola." (Not yet, Granny.)
He took a deep breath, glancing at her face before speaking. "Lola… today, something happened. " He paused, searching for the words. "I faced a maligno. There were… so many, and I had to protect the Dela Cruz family. I… I killed more than ten of them, all at once."
Granny Amparo's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing, letting him continue.
"I don't fully understand it myself, Lola. I just focused, and it… it happened." He hesitated, then asked softly, "Lola, when you were young… could you cast magic? Did you ever learn spells?"
Amparo shook her head slowly. "I never had the opportunity, Apo. Those days… they were unpredictable. The war took everything. We didn't have time for learning like this." She paused, her eyes distant. "Back then, life was hard. I lacked so many things… and I had to raise your grandfather alone. I never married, you know… in my heart, the only man I ever wanted was Takeshi Tsukuyomi."
Nille listened quietly, absorbing her words. "Now, I have the time, Lola. I can practice… learn what I need, and see what I need to work on."
Amparo's gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You're fortunate, Apo. The world has given you a chance that I never had. Use it well… but remember, strength without understanding can be dangerous."
Nille nodded solemnly, feeling both the weight of her words and the promise of what he could become.
Nille leaned back slightly in the chair, watching the pale morning light spill across the warehouse. His mind replayed the night's events, every shriek, every spark of energy, the fear and courage of the Dela Cruz family. Yet, amidst all the chaos, a single thought gnawed at him.
"Lola," he began cautiously, "I've seen so many things… spirits, maligno, beings that shouldn't even exist in our world. Some of them, the Encanto, gain physical form… and even some bear children with motal women.
I thought… I thought the segregation and isolation law your kind made was absolute. That they couldn't cross over or interact with humans. Why do some of them break that rule?"
Granny Amparo's eyes glimmered, but there was a softness in them, almost playful. She let out a light laugh that echoed faintly, as if carried from some distance beyond the veil.
"Silly boy," she said, voice warm but tinged with an otherworldly resonance. "Do you really think they will all follow their rules? Even humans break their own laws, don't they?
These beings… some were once human themselves. They carry the same desires, the same weaknesses. Look at me, Apo. I have been gone three years, yet here I am… still talking to you as if it's a normal day."
Nille's eyes narrowed, studying her carefully. His pragmatic mind tried to separate truth from illusion, reality from spirit, yet something in the familiar curve of her smile, the softness in her eyes, tugged at a part of him that logic could not reach.
"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with emotion, "but for me… it's a blessing to see you, Lola. Even like this… even if you're not fully here. I've faced so many things lately—things I can't explain, things I don't always understand. And to see you… to hear you… it makes me feel… grounded. Like, no matter how crazy the world gets, some things don't change. You're still here, in some way, watching over me."
Amparo smiled faintly, the rocking of the tumba-tumba slow and deliberate, a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat bridging two worlds. "Yes, Apo. I am… in-between. Not fully here, not fully gone. There are things that tie me, lessons I still must impart. And you… you need guidance more than ever. But seeing you speak with such clarity, such thought… it warms what remains of my heart. You are more than I could have hoped for, Nille. Strong, yes, but… mindful. That is the part that matters most."
Nille shifted slightly, his hands resting on his knees, the early morning light spilling over his face. "I try to be, Lola. I really do. But sometimes… I feel like the world is too chaotic, too full of things I can't control. Seeing you, even like this… it reminds me that wisdom, patience… those are the anchors I need. Not just power."
Amparo's gaze softened further, and for a moment, the weariness of her long life seemed to ease. "That is why I linger, Apo. To remind you… that even in a world of shadows and danger, even when the night seems endless, some things, love, care, responsibility, remain. You carry them, and in doing so, you honor all that has come before. And you… you give hope that what comes after will be brighter."
Nille's chest felt heavier with both warmth and purpose. He allowed himself a small, genuine smile, something he hadn't done in hours, maybe days. "Thank you, Lola… for staying, for teaching me, even now. I… I'll do my best, I promise."
Amparo's faint laugh, soft but full of affection, echoed through the quiet warehouse. "I know, Apo. I know."
Nille leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I've faced them tonight. I've killed more than ten of their kind in a single night. And yet… I know this isn't the end. Every act of defense breeds more… more chaos, more beings testing limits. If these Encanto can manifest physically, bear children, cross realms… then our world is… fragile. Fragile in ways humans can't comprehend."
Amparo's gaze softened further, her voice a whisper, but the weight of it pressed on him like a tangible force. "Fragile, yes… but strength without wisdom is fragile too. You have the power, Nille, but power alone will not protect those you care for. It is your mind, your choices… your pragmatism that will shape whether this world survives, or falls."
Nille's jaw tightened. He was seventeen, yet the burdens of centuries of spirits, curses, and battles pressed down on him. "I know, Lola. I can't rely on hope or faith alone. I have to calculate, to anticipate, to act decisively. Emotions are weaknesses when dealing with them. That's why I survived tonight. That's why young Mariella survived."
Amparo's spectral eyes glimmered, almost approving. "And yet, Apo… even pragmatism has its limits. Do not let your mind become a cage. There is a line between control and coldness. You must learn where to place that line… before it is placed for you."
"You are walking between two worlds, the real and the unreal," she continued softly. "Isn't it difficult to live like that? To remain practical, sensible, and results-oriented, focusing on what works in reality rather than on theories or ideals?"
Nille's gaze softened, and he let out a small breath. Inside, his mind was already running calculations, patterns, and probabilities, as if the very air could be dissected into logic and consequence. And yet… there was something more, something that could not be measured or reasoned with numbers. The warmth of a life saved, the fear in Mariella's eyes, the quiet pulse of the seedling within his orb, they were intangible, yet they weighed heavily on him.
"It is difficult," he admitted quietly, almost to himself. "But that's why I keep my mind grounded. I need to know what can be controlled, what I can influence. But…" His fingers brushed over the scarf beneath his shirt, and a faint hum resonated. "…there are things I cannot predict, cannot plan for. That's where trust and instinct come in. And love, too, what I feel for those I protect. It teaches me the rules of action even when logic alone cannot."
Amparo's faint smile deepened. "Yes, Apo. That is the balance you must seek. The mind guides the body; the heart guides the spirit. Magic, like life, does not bend to one alone. You have grown… but remember: even the strongest pragmatist can falter if they forget the pulse of what is human, what is real. That is your anchor."
Nille nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle like sunlight over his shoulders. He let himself imagine the family he had protected tonight, the bamboo grove, the remnants of the night's chaos. Logic told him to prepare, to plan, to anticipate every threat. But something deeper—the quiet, unmeasured instinct that Granny Amparo had always embodied, reminded him why he fought: not for glory, not for power, but to hold the fragile line between what is mortal and what should remain untouched.
"I understand, Lola," he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I will keep both worlds in sight. I will stay pragmatic… but I will not forget the pulse that guides the rest of me."
Amparo's rocking slowed, the tumba-tumba swaying with deliberate serenity. "Good, Apo. That is the boy I raised. The one I will always guide, even if I am… in-between."
Nille exhaled, feeling the tension of the past night slowly ease, but not completely. He looked at her, at the faint aura surrounding her presence, and asked the question that had been in his mind since he first began practicing the arcane.
Nille's gaze lingered on Granny Amparo, his voice quiet but curious, probing the line between her memories and her spirit.
"Lola… when you were young, did you ever try to master spells like the ones I have? Or were you… bound by circumstance? Could you have done what I did tonight?"
Amparo's eyes softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Her rocking slowed, almost as if she were taking a deep breath across time itself.
"Apo, I… I never had the opportunity to truly learn, not like you can now," she said, her voice gentle but edged with the weight of memory. "Those days were… unpredictable. War, scarcity… fear. Life demanded survival first, magic second, or not at all. I had responsibilities. I raised your grandfather, alone, without a husband. Every day was a lesson in endurance, in careful planning, in knowing what could be done with what little I had."
Nille listened intently, absorbing the quiet strength in her words, his pragmatic mind framing it like data. "So… you never got to test your limits? Never pushed yourself to the edge of what you could do?"
Amparo shook her head slowly. "No, Apo. I had no time for grand experiments. My magic, if it can be called that, was… practical. Healing, protection, guidance. Not the… spectacle you just wielded. But that is your gift. You have the space, the moments, the… freedom to learn, to explore, to master what you need. I never did."
Nille's jaw tightened slightly, thoughtful. "Freedom… yes. That's what I have now. But it's also dangerous. The more I grow, the more mistakes I can make… or worse, the more harm I can cause. I saw it tonight. I didn't intend to kill so many, but my energy… it did what I willed it to do. How do you know when enough is enough?"
Amparo's voice was softer now, a gentle whisper threading through the quiet of the warehouse. "Apo… intuition, discipline, and respect. You can measure, you can plan, but some things—some power, will always test you. That is why I linger. That is why I watch. And that is why I trust you… to learn, to understand, and to hold yourself accountable."
Nille exhaled slowly, letting the weight of her words sink in. "I… I'll try, Lola. I want to do it right. I want to protect, not destroy unnecessarily. But… I also need to understand everything. Even the dark, the dangerous, the… impossible."
Amparo's faint laugh, melodic and soft, carried a hint of pride. "Then you are my grandson. Wise, careful, and yet brave. You have my guidance, Apo. And even in this in-between… I will continue to teach you."
Nille allowed a small, genuine smile to break through the tension he carried. "Thank you, Lola… for staying, for teaching me… even now. I won't waste it."
Nille leaned back slightly on the wooden chair, letting the quiet of the warehouse settle around him. The dim morning light seeped through the cracks of the windows, brushing across the stacks of plants and shelves. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and let his mind focus.
Disintegration… he thought. The way it tore through the maligno… the chalk, the burn… what triggered it? Was it anger? Intent? Focus?
He pictured the spell in his mind, breaking it down like a machine he could study. First, the energy, concentrated, compact, pure. Then, the connection, between his intent and the target. Last, the release, the destructive cascade. He replayed the night's events in careful detail, noting the exact moments of fear, the surge of protection, the clarity of purpose.
He tested it mentally, imagining a small, inert object, a piece of wood sitting on the floor. He focused, trying to feel the energy moving through him, concentrating only on the visualization. The wood remained untouched. He adjusted, adding layers: focus, emotion, intent, all held in strict balance. Again, nothing changed.
Nille exhaled sharply. "I can't just force it," he muttered to himself. "It's not mechanical. It's… responsive. Conditional."
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, running a hand through his hair. Conditions… state of mind… purpose… emotional alignment… He dissected each factor like a scientist studying an unknown chemical reaction. Then he asked himself the question he had avoided: Did my anger trigger it? He shivered at the thought but admitted it. Yes, the surge of protective fury, the near panic for Mariella's safety, it had aligned with his focus, creating a resonance he hadn't consciously known he could produce.
He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound carrying a hint of relief. "Pragmatism… it has its strengths, but also its limits," he said softly. "I always believed that being logical, controlled, and precise would keep me safe. But sometimes… it's instinct, emotion, the moment itself, that reveals what I'm truly capable of."
He fell silent for a moment, his thoughts drifting to Granny Amparo. "Lola… have you ever experienced that? When something comes from within you, not because you planned it, but because it simply had to happen?"
A faint smile formed on his lips, as if he could almost hear her reply in the stillness around him. In his mind, she nodded gently. Yes, Apo. That is where true understanding begins, the point where preparation meets necessity.
Nille took a slow breath, letting the realization settle within him. He knew he couldn't fully recreate the spell yet, not with precision or certainty. But he could study it, break it down, and improve. Step by step. He could identify its conditions, trace the emotions tied to it, and learn its boundaries without losing control.
For the first time, he sensed a harmony forming between his analytical thinking and his emerging instincts. It wasn't just about power anymore, it was about discipline, awareness, and responsibility.
Leaning back slightly, a small, genuine smile crossed his face. He felt steady, yet aware of the untapped potential still within him.
"This… is only the beginning," he murmured. "I don't just want to use it, I want to understand it. And I will."
The warehouse remained still as sunlight slowly filled the space. For once, Nille allowed himself a moment of calm, reflecting, planning, and trusting that Granny Amparo's guidance would help him navigate whatever lay ahead.
A few more months remained before the school year began again, and Nille found himself lingering on a question he had been quietly avoiding, whether he even wanted to go to college.
Even with a demanding routine, managing his indoor farm, dealing with supernatural disturbances, and taking on anything that required his growing skill, he had never neglected his studies. If anything, his lifestyle had shaped the way he learned. Nille approached knowledge the same way he approached everything else: practical, grounded, and results-oriented. He didn't study just to memorize, he studied to understand, to apply, to solve.
Because of this, he maintained consistently high grades throughout his high school years. Despite the chaos surrounding his life, he graduated with a record that surprised even his teachers.
With the help of Lin Meiying, who continued to support him from China, Nille was able to take entrance exams for several universities across the National Capital Region. She had guided him through the application process, helping him organize requirements, schedules, and review materials, ensuring that he didn't fall behind in opportunities beyond his unusual life.
Now, with those exams behind him and acceptance results slowly approaching, Nille found himself at a crossroads, not because he lacked options, but because for the first time, he had to choose a future that went beyond survival.
He sat near the entrance of his warehouse home, watching the morning light stretch across the ground. Life, as it was now, had become… manageable. Stable, even. He didn't have to worry about most things people his age struggled with.
Electricity wasn't a problem, the solar panels installed years ago made sure of that, something Lin Meiying's grandfather had insisted on. Water flowed clean and filtered straight from the wall. His indoor farm produced more than enough, food for himself, and surplus he could sell or trade. Seeds, feeds, cycles of growth, everything followed a system he understood.
In many ways, he was already living a complete life.
And yet…
Nille leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the quiet rows of plants.
Is this enough?
Being a shaman wasn't something he could just walk away from. Not after what he had seen. Not after what he had done. The line between the human world and the unseen had already crossed him, there was no returning to ignorance.
"I can't just stop," he murmured to himself. "Not when I know what's out there."
But even as he said it, another thought surfaced, one colder, more grounded.
Will there even be a reason to continue?
The connection between the human world and the supernatural realm was thinning. Encounters were becoming rarer, weaker, more fragmented. The old stories, once rooted in fear and reverence, were fading into myths. Sooner or later… the need for someone like him might disappear entirely.
And if that happened,
"What then?" he asked quietly.
His mind shifted, pragmatic as ever. If the supernatural faded, the threats wouldn't vanish. They would just… change. Humans, after all, had always been capable of harm. War, greed, violence, those didn't require spirits or curses.
"Humans are still a threat to other humans," he said under his breath. "Maybe even more than anything else."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling now, thinking beyond the identity that had begun to define him.
College. A future. A place in a world that functioned on systems, careers, expectations.
Could he sit in a classroom again, pretending that none of this existed? Could he study something ordinary while carrying knowledge that most people would never even believe?
Or… could he use that path differently?
"Maybe it's not about choosing one or the other," he muttered. "Maybe it's about preparing for both."
His gaze returned to the farm, to the steady growth of the plants, predictable, reliable, understandable. Unlike the supernatural, this was a system he could fully control, fully optimize. It gave him independence. Stability.
But it didn't answer everything.
Nille exhaled slowly, his expression calm but thoughtful.
"I need a future that works… even without this," he said, referring not just to his abilities, but the entire hidden world he had stepped into. "Something real. Something sustainable."
Yet deep inside, he already knew,
Even if the supernatural disappeared…Even if the world moved on…
He wouldn't. Not completely.
Because once you learn to see beyond the veil, you never truly stop looking.
And maybe… just maybe…
His role was not only to fight what exists now,but to prepare for what comes after.
Nille let out a slow breath, the weight of his thoughts settling into something quieter, more manageable.
"Later," he murmured to himself. "I'll think about it properly later."
For now, he needed rest, not just for his body, but for his mind. Too many variables, too many unknowns. He knew better than to force decisions when he wasn't at his best. That was one of his rules: never decide under fatigue.
He stood up from the chair and glanced toward the tumba-tumba.
It was empty.
Granny Amparo was no longer there.
No trace, no lingering presence, just the stillness of wood gently swaying as if someone had just left. Nille didn't panic. He already understood.
"She comes and goes…" he said quietly.
This wasn't permanent. It was never meant to be.
He closed his eyes slowly, bringing his focus inward. The scarf beneath his shirt pulsed faintly, as if responding to his intent. It had already told him before, keeping his third eye open for too long was dangerous.
Not because of what he could see…but because of what could see him.
The spirit world was not passive. It observed, reacted, and sometimes… reached back. Leaving his spirit eye open meant constantly exposing himself to that layer of reality, inviting attention, draining his energy, and blurring the line between what was real and what was not.
Awareness without control becomes vulnerability, he recalled.
There was also the strain. The longer it remained open, the harder it became to separate physical senses from spiritual perception. Sounds overlapped. Movements distorted. Emotions that weren't his could bleed into his own.
For someone like him, someone who relied on clarity, precision, and control—that was unacceptable.
"I can't afford noise," Nille muttered. "Not in my head."
Slowly, deliberately, he closed it.
It wasn't a physical action, but a mental one, a narrowing of perception, like shutting a door that only he knew existed. The faint pressure behind his eyes eased. The unseen faded. The world returned to something simpler, quieter, grounded.
No whispers.No lingering presences. No second layer pressing against reality.
Just the warehouse. Just the morning light. Just him.
Nille exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
"Control," he reminded himself. "Open when needed. Closed when not."
It was another rule. Another boundary. Another way to keep himself from being consumed by the very thing he was trying to understand.
He glanced one last time at the empty tumba-tumba, a faint smile touching his lips.
"Rest first… then think," he said softly.
And for once, he allowed himself to follow that decision, choosing silence over questions, and stillness over the endless pull of both worlds.