The Angkara Murka
The Book of Soldiers Verse of Enamptuh Twelve
Twenty members of the anti-terror special forces unit under the command of Brigadier General. Pol. Nursaidi Said had arrived at the other side of Kampung Pendekar. They spread slowly with so orderly and disciplined behind the grove of oil palm trees.
Two helicopters belonging to the police and the SAR team circled in the sky, blinded by the layered fog surrounding the view below.
Brigadier general. Pol. Nursaidi Said suddenly swore in his heart. Their vision tools do not work at all to see anything, especially in plain sight. They are blind like helicopters on it. Even if the communication signal doesn't work here, they can't reach the members and headquarters across the street. They understand now why the police in this area post have long been unable to be contacted.
"Sat! What the hell is this shit?" curse Brigjen. Pol. Nursaidi Said in the heart.
Hand codes and whispers are the only way. GEGANA forces, and other anti-terror special forces working across the street, were busy taking care of the completely cut off toll bridge section and its victims. His army is completely detached here. There was no planning to return and no cancellation of the mission. He raised his left hand, gave a signal to his men to slash forward.
Without them sadaeri, dozens of young men armed with handmade explosives, handguns and rifles as well as smuggled firearms have been waiting two hundred meters behind some old buildings and abandoned after oil palm plantations.
...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...
Affandi chats lightly unheard, a little more nimble than a squirrel. The science of lightening his body had already reached perfection.
His jeans and black long-sleeved shirt were not even stained with the slightest sweat. No need for great effort to jump from one place to another without the sight of members of the anti-terror special forces who sneak closer to their own death, like fish swimming into a mesh trap. Affandi held back his desire to participate in the massacre of police members who had always been the antithesis of his activities and life as a thug and criminal before.
Affandi feels a new self and his mission is bigger than anything. He's been up caste, jumping class. He is an important figure in this play, a character who holds the storyline is not just a message courier.
Affandi again bounces and slips between the fibers and the fog, ignoring the group of young men who are ready to entertain the guests who came uninvited.
...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...
Bandi felt foreign energies coming in his territory. Maybe it's the fools who try to interfere with his wishes and plans. Maybe the foolish and arrogant people who are nosy try their prowess. He really did not care because everything had been planned carefully, and he had absorbed the strength as he wanted. However, up to that one energy, that one special, like so familiar at once dangerous.
He looked towards the ten skulls that were plastered with earth and worms. Bandi raised her hand. Ten of the crotch shakes. Soil and worms fell from empty cavities leaping on the bodies of their bones.
Residents who witnessed the miraculous and magical events fell to their knees, amazed, amazed and even touched, like seeing the appearance and holy wonders.
Mothers crying. Fathers are proud. They saw with their breasts fully soaring, bearing witness to the rise of the village founders, legends and village elders, the foundation of the philosophy of life and the pride of this village.
The citizens bowed down to give proper clothing to the ten skulls that had become complete human beings, standing roaring naked with all their majesty and devotion.
The silat uniforms were red, black and gray, representing the silat colleges that passed down these ten swordsman elders had worn. The descendants of the warriors who gave the clothes quivered in awe and did not expect them to meet their own ancestors.
Datuk Mayang Merah, the owner of ancient silat science that mastered the flexibility of the body so that it is difficult to attack the enemy, looked around. Her gentle face hid the greatness of her canuragan science.
Mr. Eldest Black, Mr. Middle Yellow and Mr. Kecik White, triple-faced twin brothers are almost indistinguishable down to the hairstyle and shape of the mustache, is the owner of the famous tiger claw science in the past. Their ten fingers were trained in such a way that it became as strong as a steel wire.
The Grandfather of Rajawali the Elder, as his name implies, was the oldest member of the warriors. His gray hair back intact sticking out of the skull of his head that has shaped the face, just like the glory days before. Both hands were black, full of deadly poison, although his face seemed to hang a childish cheerful smile.
The Sea Bajing, the slender sailor warrior who emigrated from Makassar, bloody Bugis, for years became a pirate at sea and a robber on land, the, has a study that makes it as agile as squirrels and apes and able to plunge into the air like a frog.
A pair of warriors from the land of Java titled East Eagle and West Eagle, the owner of immune science and reportedly able to disappear, are the remains of Mataram soldiers who were reluctant to return home after successfully subduing Sukadana in the seventeenth century AD. Although not twins, almost invisible at all physical differences between the two: thin whiskers, a tapered face, a cold expression, but eyes that store the sparkle of lust kill.
The next warrior was a long-haired Chinese man with a pale white face, red lips: he contrasted with his skin color. He opened his mouth and felt his tongue was back. He licked his teeth as sharpened and thought to form a saw blade. Already in a state of life, this Chinese man named Wan looks like a ghost.
The name Banteng Amuk is too fitting for the last swordsman that Bandi raised from their deaths hundreds of years ago. His heavy and huge body loomed among the others. The muscles try to squeeze out of the silat outfit that he just wore. His thick side agrees with his appearance. With just one hand, it was easy for him to crush one's head as easily as opening a peanut shell.
Bandi looked at the ten legendary warriors of this village. Now they are his army. They are the dead who return to the world after hundreds of years of hanging in the crust of hell. A bulge the size of a baby's head is bubbling and prods its skin. Bandi smiled with satisfaction then raised one of her hands.
Ghosts of all kinds were screaming and growling. Their magical bodies flashed behind the fog and then plowed into the bodies of the ten newly risen warriors from the dead. Their bodies twitched violently, lifting into the air an inch from above the ground.