WORLD OF THE BEASTS

The First Death

Chapter 004: The First Death

A few moments later, another lighter was finally found. Rafandra immediately lit it. The dim point of light danced within the darkness, cutting through the thin fog inside the bus. Using that tiny flame, he began checking the situation around them.

The bus was still tilted sharply.

Fortunately, the students who had been clinging to the seats had not been thrown much farther. Their bodies remained trapped in place, though their breathing was still ragged and their hands continued trembling.

Then the lighter’s glow shifted downward.

Rafandra’s heart instantly felt strangled.

Chaos.

The students’ bodies were piled on top of one another across the floor of the bus. Their positions were mangled from the impacts and the bus’s steep angle. Some were pinned beneath seats. Others were trapped between the rows. Blood, bruises, and limbs bent at unnatural angles made the muscles in Rafandra’s neck tighten.

Damn it... he cursed inwardly, his jaw hardening.

This is bad... really bad.

“Bang?” Rezvan called softly.

His voice sounded hesitant, almost drowned beneath the sound of breathing and the faint screeching of metal.

“Stay calm!” Rafandra shouted.

His steps remained steady even though his entire body ached.

The serious expression on Rafandra’s face immediately triggered alarm bells inside Rezvan’s mind.

Something was truly wrong.

Rafandra gently pulled Rezvan forward, guiding him toward the lower section of the bus that had now become the lowest point. The lighter’s glow reflected across the tilted floor, briefly illuminating the injured bodies below.

The light was too dim.

All they could see were vague shapes, overlapping bodies, and flashes of blood that tightened the chest.

Rezvan still had not fully realized how terrible their condition was.

“Pak, can you move?” Rafandra asked Pak Marta.

Pak Marta still looked dazed, but he tried climbing out of the driver’s seat.

Rafandra immediately supported him so he would not slip because of the tilted bus.

“I think so...” Pak Marta answered after checking whether his body could still move.

“Pak, please help us...” Rafandra said again.

His voice was quiet.

But the pressure behind it was heavy.

Pak Marta stiffened briefly before nodding and following them.

“Watch your footing, or you’ll slide down and make things worse...” Rafandra ordered firmly but calmly as they carefully moved across the slippery, slanted floor.

The closer they got, the sight below struck Rezvan and Pak Marta like an icy blow.

Their bodies stiffened.

Their breaths caught.

Cold sweat streamed down their temples.

Tears instantly appeared without warning.

Below them there was only injury, blood, bodies piled over one another, and panic so overwhelming it no longer even had shape.

That brutal reality made their hearts feel as though they had stopped beating for a moment.

Rafandra glanced at Rezvan.

The young teacher was trembling. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face. His complexion had gone pale, his empty eyes staring at his fallen students below.

Pak Marta looked sturdier.

Perhaps because Rezvan carried a far deeper emotional bond with those children.

But they had no time to drown in shock.

Rafandra took a long breath, enduring the pain in his own body, then looked directly at Rezvan.

“Pak guru, listen to me... We can handle this.”

His voice was calm.

Firm.

Controlled.

Rafandra’s hand pressed against Rezvan’s shoulder, giving him support atop the slanted, slippery floor.

“Don’t collapse now, or the survivors will lose hope.”

Rafandra’s eyes were sharp beneath the trembling lighter flame.

And amid the panic, a realization slowly emerged inside Rezvan—

Fear would not save anyone.

But the right actions still might.

“Watch your steps...” Rafandra said while handing one lighter to Rezvan.

The tiny flame danced again, giving them faint visibility of the injured bodies.

“Don’t think about the worst-case scenario yet. We’ll check them one by one. Maybe there’s still something we can do.”

Rafandra’s tone remained stable, trying to calm Rezvan while also keeping the other students from panicking.

“Especially... if there are still people we can save.”

His voice lowered.

He knew even the slightest panic could spread.

“Move quickly, but carefully. If someone’s still alive and has broken bones, moving them carelessly could be dangerous.”

Rafandra steadied his breathing while maintaining balance atop the nearly vertical floor.

One wrong movement could worsen everything.

Every step they took now determined someone’s survival.

Rafandra, Rezvan, and Pak Marta slowly began moving.

Their bodies were covered in bruises and scrapes.

Their breathing was heavy.

Their trembling hands endured constant pain.

Every movement felt like forcing their bodies to walk through an internal storm.

At the very top of the pile, Pratama and Kemal slowly stirred, their faces twisted in pain.

“Tama... Kemal... come on, move slowly... We’ll help you,” Rezvan called gently.

His voice was nearly swallowed by the cracking sounds of the bus frame.

With help from Rafandra and Pak Marta, they carefully began moving the students one by one, making sure not to step on those still trapped beneath.

The bus itself remained still.

But the sound of metal grinding against metal never stopped—long, piercing screeches that kept the tension from ever easing.

“Pak Rezvan... let me hold the lighter.”

Damar’s voice came from near the door.

His small voice trembled, but there was courage in it—forced out through fear.

Rafandra and Rezvan exchanged glances.

Pak Marta held his breath.

A moment of silence followed.

Then Rafandra made a quick decision.

“Take it.”

He handed the lighter to Damar.

“Stay there. Too many people moving around will only make this harder... watch where we go, then point the light toward wherever we need it.”

“Okay...” Damar nodded quickly.

His face remained pale. His lips trembled. But he forced himself upright while gripping the lighter tightly.

One by one, the piled-up students were moved away.

Some regained consciousness.

Their eyes filled with tears.

Some cried quietly.

Heavy breathing echoed throughout the bus.

And for a brief moment, there was a small trace of relief on the faces of Rafandra, Rezvan, and Pak Marta.

At least...

Some of them could still be saved.

But that relief did not last long.

At the very bottom of the pile, two bodies lay completely motionless.

Their positions were unnatural.

Horrifying.

Pak Marta immediately moved quickly, blocking Damar’s view with his arm so the boy would not see.

Rezvan froze.

His body trembled.

Guilt slammed directly into his chest.

Every second felt like being stabbed.

Meanwhile, Damar only looked confused, continuing to point the light where Rafandra instructed without understanding what they were hiding from him.

“Nak! Give me the lighter!” Rafandra ordered sharply.

His voice cut through the panicked breathing inside the bus.

“Huh?! Sorry, but Pak Supir blocked it—it wasn’t on purpose, Om!”

Damar immediately misunderstood.

His face became even paler.

His lips shook in fear.

Rafandra stared at him briefly before letting out a heavy breath.

“Your job’s done for now. Stay here and hold on,” he said while taking the lighter back.

Damar nodded slowly.

His eyes remained fixed on Rafandra, trying to suppress his trembling.

Pak Marta immediately crawled toward the two bodies.

Both were crushed between the seat frames and shattered windows.

One body was wedged between seats, the head hanging at a horrifying angle.

The other lay sprawled over a seatback like a discarded doll.

Pak Marta gently tapped the first student’s shoulder.

No response.

The chest did not move.

He checked the neck pulse.

Nothing.

He moved to the second body.

Still no response.

No breathing.

Both remained still.

Pak Marta slowly turned toward Rezvan.

Then quietly shook his head.

His face was filled with grief.

That confirmation struck like a direct blow to the chest.

The thick smell of blood filled their noses.

Metallic.

Salty.

Sharp.

It clawed all the way into their throats.

Rafandra held his breath.

Pak Marta briefly looked away before lowering his head again.

With the little strength they had left, the two men slowly straightened the bodies beneath the trembling lighter flame.

Without saying much, Rafandra grabbed a curtain cloth that had come loose from the window.

Torn.

Dirty.

Covered in dust.

But enough to cover their faces.

He looked at the two boys for a moment before slowly lowering the cloth over them.

As though putting them to sleep one last time.

Pak Marta helped with subtly trembling hands.

There were no spoken condolences.

Only silent prayers whispered within their hearts.

Heavy breathing.

The screech of metal.

And silence far more suffocating than before.

Bagas and Adit.

Their bodies were not in good condition.

But Pak Marta still treated them with as much dignity as possible.

Rezvan stood frozen.

His empty gaze remained fixed on his two students—children who had still been joking together in the back seats that very morning.

His chest felt crushed beneath an enormous stone.

Yet strangely, no tears came anymore.

“Pak...” Rafandra’s voice sounded hoarse.

Quiet.

But he could not continue.

There were no words suitable for a moment like this.

Pak Marta looked at Rezvan with deep sympathy.

He recognized that expression.

The look of someone being violently dragged between reality and denial.

Inside the nearly destroyed bus, only the sound of restrained breathing remained.

The lighter’s flame continued trembling across their faces.

And that night...

Death truly became real.

Rezvan slowly sat down.

Silent.

His hand gripped one student’s cold arm.

So cold.

As though all life had already been pulled from that body.

Blood rushed to Rezvan’s head before draining away just as suddenly.

His stomach churned.

Adit and Bagas.

Their clothes were torn.

Dirty.

Covered in blood and glass fragments.

For nearly two years, they had lived under his guidance.

Two years filled with laughter, exams, and teenage complaints that were now nothing but memories.

His students.

His responsibility.

“...I failed.”

His voice was barely audible.

“I couldn’t protect them...”

His eyes remained empty.

“...What am I supposed to say to their parents?”

The urge to vomit rose into his throat.

But he forced it back down.

His fists clenched tightly against the cold metal floor until his own skin scraped open.

Rafandra and Pak Marta could only lower their heads.

There were no sufficient words.

The silence felt too thick.

Even the sound of their own breathing became unbearable.

“They...” Rezvan’s voice cracked softly.

“My students...”

Rafandra stared at him for a long moment.

Pak Marta slowly patted his shoulder.

“We understand...” he said quietly.

His voice trembled too.

“Be patient... and stay strong. Your other students still need you.”

“...Don’t let the others see them yet,” Rafandra finally said.

His voice was low.

Carefully measured.

Rezvan nodded slowly.

His jaw tightened.

His eyes reddened—not because he was strong.

His body was simply struggling to contain everything at once—fear, anger, shock, and crushing grief.

But the sorrow was not over yet.

Suddenly, frantic shouting erupted from the back.

“Pak! Danang passed out!”

“Pak, Rama won’t wake up!”

“Pak... there’s blood on Gilang’s leg!”

Rafandra instantly turned.

His body moved before his thoughts could catch up.

He hurried across the slanted, slippery floor of the bus.

Blood and shattered glass stuck to his palms.

Three students lay unconscious.

Their bodies were covered in blood.

Their breathing sounded heavy and ragged.

But they were still alive.

Rafandra quickly knelt down and checked them one by one.

“Danang still has a pulse... Rama too...” he muttered quickly.

Then his eyes shifted.

“Gilang—”

“Pak! Pak!” Kirana screamed in panic. “His bone... Gilang’s bone, Pak!”

Rafandra immediately turned.

His eyes widened.

Gilang’s leg bent at an unnatural angle.

Bone protruded through flesh.

Fresh blood dripped onto the metal floor.

“Hold his leg still, don’t let him move too much!” Rafandra shouted quickly. “Find something to wrap it with—cloth, belts, anything!”

Several students who could still think clearly immediately began moving, digging through bags, pulling off jackets, even tearing down window curtains.

But the others remained frozen.

Trembling.

Their mouths hung open soundlessly.

“Why are you all just staring?!” Rafandra snapped.

His voice rose sharply.

Half panic.

Half fear of losing control.

The students immediately looked at him with watery eyes.

Some covered their mouths.

Others trembled while holding back tears.

They were in shock.

Traumatized.

The world they knew had just collapsed, and their bodies had not yet caught up with reality.

Adrenaline had taken over Rafandra completely.

He did not even realize how harsh his voice had become.

The only thing he understood was this—

They could not waste time.

“Tear your sleeves apart!” he shouted loudly. “Hurry! Those still conscious help the weak. Don’t cry—focus!”

The sound of fabric being ripped apart began echoing through the bus.

Heavy breathing.

Suppressed sobs.

Amid blood and darkness, Rafandra forced them to keep moving.

Because if they stopped...

Everything could end here.