The morning after trials brought the tedious bureaucracy Rama had been dreading.
The Hunter Association’s regulatory board eting convened at nine AM in a sterile conference room that slled of stale coffee and political maneuvering. Rama and Sekar sat on one side of a long table. Hendra Wijaya and his legal team sat on the other. Between them, Director Hartono and four board mbers who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.
"Let’s begin," Hartono said tiredly. "We’re here to address escalating tensions between Eternal Bond and Dragon’s Gate guilds. Recent events—champion trials, sabotage allegations, public accusations—have created instability in the hunter community. Both guilds need to de-escalate."
"We’re not the ones who need to de-escalate," Sekar said imdiately. "Dragon’s Gate sent saboteurs to murder our trial candidates. We have confessions. Evidence. They should be facing criminal prosecution, not regulatory diation."
"Alleged saboteurs," Hendra corrected smoothly. "Making unsubstantiated claims. Our legal team has reviewed your so-called evidence. Coerced confessions. Circumstantial brain scans. Nothing concrete."
"Two candidates are dead because your operatives attacked them ntally during trials."
"Two candidates died from System rejection. Tragic but expected. You claid fifteen percent mortality. Five deaths from thirty-eight candidates is thirteen percent. Within your predictions. Where’s the sabotage?"
Rama watched Hendra perform. Calm. Professional. Completely shaless in denying everything. The man was a skilled liar when caras weren’t rolling.
"The sabotage is docunted," Rama said. "Fajar confessed to being recruited by Arif Santoso. Dimas showed dual-processing brain patterns consistent with attacking other candidates while maintaining his own trial. We terminated his trial and ntal attacks stopped imdiately. Cause and effect."
"Or coincidence. Or your own incompetence creating phantom threats to excuse poor trial managent." Hendra looked at the board mbers. "Rama Kusuma has also made public threats against my life. Stating he intends to let die in three months. That’s terroristic threatening. Criminal behavior."
"I didn’t threaten to kill you," Rama said flatly. "I declined to warn you about your fate. There’s a legal difference."
"You publicly declared you’re letting die. That’s a threat."
"It’s prophecy. System visions show multiple possible futures. In most tilines where you refuse to prepare for void entities, you die. I’m choosing not to prevent that specific future. That’s moral decision-making, not threatening."
One of the board mbers—an older woman nad Kartika—raised her hand. "Mr. Kusuma, you understand how that sounds? ’I’m letting you die’ is functionally a threat regardless of prophetic framing."
"Then every doctor who says ’I can’t save this patient’ is making threats. Every person who chooses not to help soone is threatening them. That’s absurd legal logic."
"Context matters. You made the statent in response to Mr. Wijaya’s public criticism. It appears retaliatory."
"It is retaliatory," Rama admitted. "He called dead weight. Insulted my wife. Used murdered candidates for political theater. So yes, I’m retaliating by declining to save him. But declining to help isn’t the sa as actively harming."
Hartono rubbed his temples. "Both of you need to stop. The public feuding. The accusations. The prophecies of death. It’s destabilizing the hunter community when we need unity."
"Unity against what?" Hendra asked. "Against imaginary void entities? Rama’s delusions about extinction in thirty-one days?"
"Thirty-one days," Rama repeated. "When the Herald arrives exactly as predicted, everyone here will understand who was delusional. Until then, we prepare. Those who believe survive. Those who don’t—" He looked at Hendra. "—face consequences."
"That’s another threat!"
"That’s reality. I’m done arguing semantics." Rama stood. "Are we facing charges? Sanctions? Actual consequences? Or is this just performative diation?"
Hartono sighed. "No formal charges at this ti. But both guilds are under observation. Further escalation will result in sanctions. Guild license suspensions. Personal hunter rank demotions. We’re serious about maintaining order."
"Noted. Can we leave now?"
"eting adjourned."
The two guilds filed out separately. As they passed in the hallway, Hendra leaned close enough for only Rama to hear.
"Thirty-one days. When nothing happens, I’m going to enjoy watching you collapse under the weight of your own delusions."
Rama smiled coldly. "Ninety-two days. When you die screaming, I’m going to enjoy knowing I could have prevented it and chose not to."
They separated. Sekar grabbed Rama’s arm, pulling him toward the elevator.
"That was productive," she said sarcastically. "Accomplished nothing except making everyone angry."
"Expected. Hartono wants peace. Hendra wants vindication. I want him dead. Incompatible goals." Rama checked his phone as they descended. "At least we’re not facing imdiate sanctions."
"Yet. Further escalation triggers consequences. Which ans we need to be careful about public conflicts."
"Agreed. No more press conferences declaring his fate. I’ll let prophecy prove itself in thirty-one days."
They returned to guild headquarters to find administrative chaos waiting. Fourteen Champions needing training schedules. Five grieving families requiring support. Legal team preparing criminal cases. dia requesting interviews. The aftermath of trials seed endless.
Rama excused himself around noon, claiming he needed air. Which was true. But also convenient cover for what happened next.
The courier found him in the guild’s training courtyard.
Young man, nondescript, wearing motorcycle helt that obscured his face. He approached directly, handed Rama a black envelope sealed with red wax, and departed without speaking.
Rama turned the envelope over. No markings. No sender information. Just weight suggesting thick paper stock inside.
He opened it carefully.
The invitation was printed on expensive black cardstock with red foil text:
UNDERGROUND HUNTER TOURNANT
Jakarta Underground Arena
Date: Three Days Hence
Prize Pool: 500,000,000 Rupiah
Grand Prize: Special Item from System Cache
Rules:
Single elimination bracket, 32 fighters No killing (permanent injury acceptable) Masked identities required (anonymity guaranteed) All ranks welco (B-rank minimum recomnded) Register within 24 hours
Confird Participants Include:
Dragon’s Gate Guild Master (S-rank, Lv 62) Multiple A-rank hunters from major guilds Several underground circuit champions
To Register: Reply to this invitation with fighter alias and accepted level declaration.
Rama read it twice. Underground tournant. Illegal but tolerated through bribes and elite participation. Big prize money he didn’t need. System cache item that intrigued but wasn’t critical.
But one line caught his absolute attention:
Dragon’s Gate Guild Master (S-rank, Lv 62)
Hendra was competing.
Rama felt sothing cold and calculating settle in his chest. This was opportunity. Perfect opportunity.
Fight Hendra. Masked. Anonymous. No legal consequences. No Association sanctions. Just pure combat where he could humiliate the man who’d called him dead weight.
And if masked properly, no one would know Bayangan was Rama Kusuma.
Plausible deniability. Perfect cover.
He pulled out his phone, calling Yanto.
"I need your help with sothing illegal."
"Of course you do. What now?"
"Underground hunter tournant. I need false identity. Fake credentials. Mask that hides everything. Can you arrange it?"
Silence. Then: "You’re seriously considering entering illegal fighting tournant three days after completing champion trials?"
"I’m considering publicly destroying Hendra Wijaya in a fight where he can’t claim I threatened him afterward because he won’t know it was ."
"That’s insane."
"That’s strategic. He called dead weight. Used murdered candidates for politics. Filed criminal charges claiming I threatened him. Now he’s entering underground tournant where anything goes. I can fight him. Beat him. Humiliate him. And he’ll never know who did it."
"Unless your mask slips. Or soone recognizes your fighting style. Or Sekar figures it out."
"Sekar won’t know. I’ll tell her I’m training with Network. She’s busy with guild managent. Won’t question it."
"You’re lying to your wife to enter illegal tournant to fight your rival anonymously. You see how this sounds?"
"I see opportunity to resolve conflict without legal complications. Are you helping or not?"
Yanto sighed heavily. "What do you need?"
"Fighter alias. I’m thinking ’Bayangan’—Shadow. Fake System registration showing Level 40 so I look like underdog. Full face mask with voice modulator. Untraceable credentials. Can you arrange it?"
"The Network has... resources for this kind of thing. Underground contacts. Forgers. We’ve helped mbers create false identities before for sensitive operations." Another pause. "But Rama—if this goes wrong, if you’re exposed, the legal problems multiply exponentially. Criminal charges for tournant participation. Association sanctions. Sekar’s reputation damaged. Are you sure?"
"Completely sure. Hendra needs to be humiliated. Shown he’s not as strong as he thinks. This is perfect opportunity."
"And the System cache item prize? You interested in that?"
"Secondary concern. Primary goal is beating Hendra."
"Okay. I’ll arrange everything. et at the warehouse tonight. We’ll create your Bayangan identity."
"Thank you."
"Don’t thank . If Sekar finds out I helped you lie to her, she’ll kill both of us."
The call ended.
Rama looked at the invitation again. Three days until tournant. Thirty-two fighters. Single elimination ant five rounds to reach finals.
If brackets were kind, he’d face Hendra in the final round. Perfect stage for maximum humiliation.
If brackets were unkind, earlier round. Less dramatic but still effective.
Either way, Hendra Wijaya was about to learn that the "dead weight" he’d mocked was far more dangerous than he’d ever suspected.
That evening, Rama told Sekar he was eting with Network for classified training exercise.
"How long?" she asked, looking up from administrative paperwork that seed to multiply hourly.
"Few hours. Maybe overnight depending on exercise complexity. Yanto’s coordinating."
"Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid."
"Never." The lie ca easier than it should have. But necessary. She’d forbid tournant participation if she knew. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.
He kissed her goodbye and headed to the Network warehouse.
Yanto had everything prepared. False credentials. Fighter registration docunts. A mask that covered his entire face—black material with silver accents, built-in voice modulator that would make him unrecognizable.
"Bayangan," Yanto said, handing over the identity packet. "Bayangan. Level 40 B-rank fighter. No guild affiliation. Mysteriously appeared on tournant scene. Perfect underdog story."
"Level 40 instead of my real 50?"
"Makes you look weaker. Better for underdog narrative. Also hides Champion status. If you register as 50, people might connect dots."
Rama tried on the mask. It fit perfectly. Sealed completely. Voice modulator activated.
"Testing," he said. His voice ca out distorted. Deeper. Unrecognizable. "Perfect."
"Outfit’s here too. Dark tactical gear. Unmarked. Anonymous. Nothing traceable to you or Eternal Bond."
"And registration?"
"Already submitted. Bayangan, Level 40, accepted into tournant. You fight day after tomorrow. First round draw happens tomorrow night."
"Excellent work."
"Yeah, well, when this blows up in your face, rember I warned you." Yanto crossed his arms. "Seriously though—are you sure about lying to Sekar? She’s your wife. Your partner. Deception feels wrong."
"It’s temporary deception to protect her. Plausible deniability. If Association investigates tournant and discovers participants, she can honestly say she didn’t know her husband competed. That protects her guild master position."
"Or she figures it out, realizes you lied, and the yandere wife energy turns against you."
"Risk I’m willing to take. Beating Hendra is worth it."
Yanto shook his head but handed over the final docunts. "Your draw number is 17. You’ll find out your first-round opponent tomorrow night. Tournant starts the day after. Good luck. You’ll need it."
"I won’t need luck. I have Tiline 1 experience and Champion abilities. These underground fighters are amateurs compared to what I’ve faced."
"Overconfidence is dangerous."
"It’s not overconfidence when you’ve literally died fighting Level 167 void entities and ca back. Underground tournant fighters are children’s gas by comparison."
Rama left the warehouse with his Bayangan identity secure. Three days until he could fight Hendra anonymously. Three days until he could prove the "dead weight" was anything but.
He returned ho late to find Sekar already asleep. Exhausted from administrative chaos. He slipped into bed beside her, guilt gnawing slightly.
Lying to her feels wrong. But protecting her from legal complications feels right. Temporary deception for greater good.
His phone buzzed. ssage from tournant organizers.
The Syndicate:Registration confird. BAYANGAN (Lv 40). First round draw tomorrow 8 PM. Arena location will be sent 24 hours before first fight. Welco to the Underground.
Rama deleted the ssage and set his phone aside.
Tomorrow night he’d learn his first opponent. The day after, tournant began. And sowhere in the bracket, Hendra Wijaya waited.
The man who’d called him dead weight.
The man who’d insulted Sekar publicly.
The man who’d murdered trial candidates for political leverage.
But before that death, Hendra would face humiliation. Defeat. The realization that he’d mocked soone far stronger than himself.
And he’d never know it was Rama who destroyed him.
Because Bayangan—left no traces.
Just broken opponents and shattered arrogance.
Perfect.
Rama closed his eyes, already planning strategies for potential matchups.
Three days.
Then the underground tournant began.
And Hendra’s humiliation countdown started.
The Association wanted de-escalation?
They were about to get escalation. Just anonymously delivered.
Sotis the best revenge was the kind your enemy never saw coming.
And Bayangan was about to demonstrate exactly that.
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