NO FORGIVENESS FOR YOU

Chapter #9 - Keris Tembong Lading

The red twilight on the western horizon of the Laputra Forbidden Forest was slowly swallowed up by the darkness of night.

However, the darkness did not bring peace, but was instead illuminated by dozens of reddish torches towering high on the hill.

The smell of jamming thick black smoke mixed with cheap kerosene and Javanese incense wafted into the air, making it difficult to breathe. The sound of the giant tambourine being struck by two muscular followers echoed, breaking the silence.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Echoing the beating of a heart forced to work beyond human limits.

Zakil stood tall behind a meranti tree on the left side of the narrow entrance, while Faqur took up position on the right. The distance between them was only three fathoms wide, the only way to the open area at the top of the mountain. The slope was steep, slippery with moss, and filled with fibrous roots.

In Zakil's right hand, the core of the black-yellow Tembong was tightly gripped until his fifth knuckle turned white. Male sweat dripped heavily from his forehead, flowing painfully into his eyes, but he did not dare blink for even a moment. His mouth continued to recite the dhikir of bowing and Ayatul Kursi mantra.

"They have entered the trap area," Faqur whispered, his voice very low but clear enough in Zakil's ears. The eagle warrior's sharp eyes looked down the corridor that was beginning to fill with black-robed human corpses.

"Wait for my order."

The first horde of followers or disciples of the Split Lotus heresy rushed greedily up the stairs. Their faces no longer resembled ordinary humans. Their skin was pale, their eyes were bright white, and their mouths were frothing with saliva mixed with red betel juice.

They howled and roared like mad dogs, brandishing meat cleavers and long rusty machetes in the air. The spell of immunity to impurity thrown by the Thunder Priest made them lose their sanity and fear.

They ran through the bushes without looking down.

Zass! Puck!

"Arghhhh!"

A loud scream that was not a normal human voice echoed throughout the forest. The follower in front stumbled as his feet pierced the dry leaves and then stepped on the sharp bamboo mines that Zakil and Faqur had planted at an angle this evening.

The sharp bamboo blades pierced the follower's flat soles until they penetrated the tip of his toe. Logically, the unclean magic they used should have prevented their skin from being penetrated by wood or iron. However, the tip of the bamboo was smeared with the poisonous Rengas gum that Faqur had recited to destroy the magic curse (Ruqyah).

As soon as the poisonous gum coated with prayers seeped into their black blood, the bonds of ghost jinn in their bodies burned from the inside. Their invulnerable skin instantly became brittle like crumpled paper.

The first follower collapsed to the ground, spitting out thick black blood that smelled like a dead rat. The pig and the jinn riding inside him were trapped. He died there too.

However, the followers behind him who had lost their sanity immediately ignored their friend's corpse. They continued to advance, trampling over the corpses, and eventually more people were caught in the snare.

Krakk! Krakk!

The rattan ropes stretching through the roots simultaneously entangled the five followers' legs. They fell face down on the muddy ground.

Others stepped on the poison mines, howling in the heat, clutching their feet, which began to blister and fester within seconds.

The smell of scorched flesh and blood filled the cramped air. Faqur's chokepoint strategy succeeded in creating a bottleneck that slowed the enemy's advance.

"Now, Zakil! Push!" Faqur replied.

Zakil and Faqur simultaneously emerged from their hiding places. They used their shoulders and legs to push two large rocks as big as truck tires that they had placed on the cliff earlier that afternoon.

The giant rocks rolled down the steep slope, crashing directly into the crowd of people who were huddled together and stumbling in the mine area.

Boom! Krakkk!

The sound of human bones being crushed by the rocks echoed painfully. Several followers in the front line were crushed and fell into the echoes on the side of the floor. The impact of the rocks managed to kill at least eight enemies without them having to swing their weapons.

However, the crowd was too crowded. More than forty corpses were still climbing over the bodies of their comrades. They had cleared the mine trap zone.

Now, only Zakil and Faqur remained as the last stronghold before they could set foot in the open area where Tok Kelinga's hut was located.

"Ready, Zakil! Don't forget my orders! Shoot the joints!" Faqur roared as he drew his machete. The white iron whistled through the wind.

"Allah is Great, Allah is Almighty!" Zakil countered the attack, gathered his courage, and rushed forward to face the first enemy.

A sturdy follower leapt towards Zakil, swinging his wood-cutting machete straight at Zakil's head. Zakil didn't dodge back. Using his experience in street fighting in Chow Kit that was now shrouded in peace of mind, Zakil ducked, diving under the swing of the machete.

His right hand tightly gripped the black yellow Tembong. He twisted his waist and swung the solid wood with all his might, aiming it directly at the enemy's left knee.

Prappp!

The sound of a kneecap cracking and creaking could be heard very clearly. The sturdy follower lost his balance immediately, his legs folded in the opposite direction.

Although he was immune to dirt and did not scream in pain, the mechanical damage to his bones and joints meant that he could no longer stand. He fell.

Before the enemy could get up on all fours, Zakil turned his wall and hit the enemy's solar plexus with the end of the wood. The blow shattered his ribs and crushed his heart. The enemy was stiff and lifeless.

"One!" Zakil's heart beat. His confidence soared. This yellow wood was as strong and hard as iron!

To his left, Faqur was dancing a dance of death. The White Eagle Cekak Warrior was surrounded by three enemies armed with long machetes.

However, Faqur's movements were like river water flowing through a rock crevice, gentle but deadly. He used the wooden sheath in his left hand to deflect the machetes' slashes, while the lading machete in his right hand continued to pierce the enemy's shoulder blades and neck.

Every time Faqur's machetes, which had been infused with hot spiritual energy, touched the enemy's skin, magical sparks were produced. He continued to cut the demonic spirit veins in their bodies. The enemies collapsed to the ground in just a few seconds.

However, the enemy's advance showed no signs of stopping. As soon as one group collapsed, a new group would appear on top of the bodies of their comrades. The narrow path was now filled with thick blood flowing like a small river, making the ground even more slippery and dangerous.

Zakil was forced to retreat two steps when two enemies attacked him simultaneously. One stabbed with a bayonet from below, while the other used a machete from above. He tried to sway away.

"Subhanallah..." Zakil chanted correctly. He parried the bayonet thrust using the center of his Tembong, causing the rusty iron blade to clank and shatter.

At the same time, he jumped back to avoid a machete attack from the second enemy. The tip of the machete only managed to tear a little of the shirt on his stomach.

Zakil jumped in and countered the attack. He swung the Tembong from the bottom up, with a lightning strike right into the elbow of the enemy's hand holding the machete.

Krakk!

The enemy's elbow broke and folded back, the machete slipped from his grip. Zakil continued the momentum of his wooden rotation, unleashing a solid blow from the side that targeted the enemy's left rib. The enemy was thrown off the cliff.

However, the enemy holding the bayonet took advantage of Zakil's injury. He lunged from a blind spot aiming to stab straight into Zakil's waist.

Zakil didn't have time to worry. His eyes widened. He just tries to avoid it.

Zasss!

A single swipe of the machete blade flew through the air, cutting the enemy's arm holding the bayonet until it broke in two.

Black blood spurted onto Zakil's face. Faqur had jumped to his side, saving his life in the blink of an eye. Using the heel of his foot, Faqur kicked the hooded enemy in the chest until he flew to the floor.

"Don't worry, Zakil! There's a cliff behind you!" Faqur replied, his breathing starting to sound rough. Sweat soaked his entire body. The veins in his neck stood out from the constant use of mental energy.

"Syuur, alhamdullilah & Thank you!" Zakil nodded quickly, wiping the black blood from his eyelids.

Zakil's breath was already snorting like a cow being plowed. His arms felt numb from the vibration every time Tembong Kemuning clashed with the enemy's rusty iron weapon with a loud thunder sound.

The two of them closed their shoulders, stood with their backs to each other, forming an absolute defensive circle in the middle of the narrow strip. Left, right, and in front of them were filled with pale faces grinning stupidly, accompanied by the roars of demons riding the corpses.

The physical battle continued for almost half an hour. It was a series of killings that exhausted the corpses. The corpses of Belah Bertangkup Lotus followers piled up on the left and right of the floor. Blood soaked their heads and legs until they became limp. Zakil had lost track of how many knees he had hit, and Fazir no longer knew how many jugular veins he had cut.

However, human power had its limits. Faqur's movements began to slow. Zakil's Keris Tembong's swings began to lose focus. The two of them were forced to retreat step by step towards the entrance to the clearing at the top of the mountain.

Suddenly, the sound of the yam drum at the foot of the hill stopped in surprise.

The dozens of Rasuk Withcraft followers who surrounded them suddenly stopped attacking. They retreated a few steps, opening a straight path in the middle of the bloody trail. They lowered their heads to the ground, as if giving way to a much larger ancient predator.

The air in the area became very cold. Zakil's breath came out in gasps. The smell of camphor became so strong that Zakil had to cover his nose.

From the cracks in the darkness, a corpse appeared. The old man was wearing a seamless black silk robe. His white hair was loose to his shoulders, blown by the sudden howling wind.

His face was haggard, pale, covered with delicately carved tattoos in ancient languages ​​on his face and neck. His eyes... his eyes were no longer human eyes.

They were completely blood red, glowing brightly in the dark like embers. In his right hand, a nine-carat dagger was tightly gripped, emitting black smoke that swirled in the air.

Kiwaii Gussur had arrived on the battlefield.

"Good... you still haven't lost your fangs, Black. You killed my dogs like you killed ants. The blood that flows in your body was created to kill." Kiwai Gussur's voice echoed, calling out Faqur's original name. His voice was layered, vibrating with the power of extremely concentrated black magic.

Faqur tapped his jaw until it made a sound. He gripped his machete.

"My name is Faqurah Al-Yassin! The spirit child of the mother you slaughtered! And today, I will use the demon blood you inherited from me to cut off your own neck, you bastard!"

Kiwai Gussur laughed. His laugh was big, loud, and echoed throughout the mountaintop. It was the laugh of a megalomaniac who had lost his mind, replaced by absolute ego and arrogance. He knew Yassin was his long lost son.

"Cut off my head? With that little machete? Are you bloody sure? Are you dare?" Kiwai Gussur sneered, walking slowly forward, immediately ignoring the corpses of his followers lying beneath his feet.

"Don't you know, tonight I am not just Kiwai Gussur of the Laputra Senggara Village Chief. I have received the blessing of the Seven Continents of the Devil's World. I am the spokesman of the Split Lotus Cursed. My body is invincible."

As soon as those words were spoken, Kiwai Gussur tore the chest of his own black robe and grew into a huge beast.

Zakil gasped. In Zakil's newly opened mind's eye, he could see something very powerful pulsating in the old man's chest. A Split Lotus Flower tattoo was engraved above his heart. But Kiwai Gussur's tattoo was different from his followers' tattoos.

This tattoo emitted a very bright red and black light, rooted directly into his vascular system, and connected his spirit to a very large demonic entity in the unseen world. The dark mental energy that emerged from Gussur's body made the air around him chaotic and hazy.

"Zakil..." Faqur whispered softly, his gaze never leaving his father's face.

"This is my fight, Not Yours! This blood feud can only be resolved by the heir. You step back. Guard Tok Guru Kelinga in the field. Don't let the rest of his followers escape."

Zakil frowned.

"Faqur, are you crazy? Can't you see the demonic energy in his body! You can't win against him alone! Let's attack him together!"

"No! This is not your war. If you interfere, your white energy will clash with my mixed energy. It will weaken my inner blow. This is between father and son.

Between blood and sin." Faqur reprimanded firmly. His eyes radiated unchallenged principle.

Faqur swallowed, continuing in a slower and more sincere tone.

"If... if I die today, Zakil. Please convey my regards to my mother's spirit. Tell her, Al-Yassin has tried his best."

The words seemed to tear Zakil's heart apart. The former Chow Kit thug was at a loss for words. Tears flowed, but he knew this was the dignity of a hero. In the world of martial arts in the Land of Malaya, if a hero has decided to stop his path, no one can stop his best friend.

Zakil retreated step by step, holding his Tembong kemuning tightly.

"I will make sure your back is safe from these dogs, Faqur. Break that crazy old man's neck."

Faqur did not look back. He took a Helang Penyering horse, lowering its gravity to the earth. The parang lading in his right hand was raised to his forehead, the parang's eye looking straight at the nine-shaped keris in Kiwai Gussur's hand.

"Show me, oh father of demons, show me what you can get after you paw your soul and the soul of my mother's soul or your wife to the demon across the sea!" Faqur began to provoke, his loud voice breaking the night wind.

Kiwai Gussur grinned, showing his sharp, black teeth. He didn't take the silat kuda. He simply raised his rusty keris into the air with a lightning strike and a thunderstorm hit the whole area.

Thick black smoke began to rapidly emerge from the keris blade, covering Gussur's right arm as if forming a shadow shield. The temperature in the area suddenly dropped, freezing the dew on the tips of the leaves.

"I will show you the true meaning of power, Yassin. I will chop you up, and I will force your friend to suck your blood dry!" roared Guruh, the Thunder Jinn.

Without any warning, the two children bound by blood but separated by heaven and hell, rushed straight towards each other. They tried to kill each other. The first thud as the iron machete collided with the luk seminal keris produced red and blue sparks that lit up the entire Laputra Forbidden Forest. Two friends had become enemies and were forced to kill each other.

To be continued….