The Angkara Murka
The Book of Pon - the Twenty-Nine Kusuma Goddess
The thug removed the sunglasses he was still wearing even though he was thrown hard, causing his shoulder bones to crack and his head to leak. He threw his sunglasses at her carelessly. However, it is seen that only his physical body was injured, while his consciousness had been completely enslaved by Wardhani the Queen Dededemit.
He walked steadily out of the elevator from the third floor of the apartment. He then also passed his great leather jacket and threw it on the floor of the apartment just like his sunglasses.
Wardhani runs the body of the thug. He had picked up a revolver belonging to his colleague who was killed with a body crushed like mush and mud, then reached into the pocket of the colleague and took some bullets that turned out to be carried.
The thug walked slowly in the parking lot, watching the body of the Maung catapulted hard into the female green snake whose body was winding long.
He grasped the revolver, opened the valve of the rotating tube and filled the tube with bullets.
According to his observations, it has not been seen who of the two beings who are fighting is superior.
...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...
Kusuma Dewi is increasingly immersed in the layers of the world of power of the female snake. In the past, he honestly enjoyed this world so much that the layers of dimensions made him comfortable, like strands of cloth stroking his skin. The lightning bolt of energy made him excited and excited. Every breath of power that crawls over the skin and slips into its pores is so warm, tickling yet delightful.
But now, this place had become a prison for him. The blistering and the burst of electric energy tormented him so much. His body that no longer belonged to him became the vehicle of the snake demon. His his hisses filled the room where he was locked and cupped. He has no power that he once enjoyed and possessed.
Kusuma Dewi's soul is adrift.
Puncture claws and fangs of the Maung repeatedly penetrated and reached into the space where it was hidden. The dimensional ceiling where it was bound was torn, torn but re-integrated again. Kusuma Dewi trembled in fear within his own body. The tremors of fear gnawed at his soul. The face of the lover Anggalarang shadowed, but shattered when once in the morning the sharp claws of the Maung ravaged him.
Kusuma Dewi tried to rebel to make all this end. He does not want to fight the lover who is also clearly trapped in the other prison world in his own body. I don't know what happened to his life. The desire that he craved for so long, even with the sacrifice of being not two demonic female figures, it only made him taste sweet for an instant.
He tried to unclog the layered and colorful curtains of red blood, white bone and pus, rotten black, blue and purple, and indigo dusk by tearing and bending his head out.
On the other hand, Anggalarang was bound to a pulsating wall of flesh. He even felt as blood flowed from the tendrils that bound his body so that it could not escape.
Anggalarang was so curious whether Maung can still see a little remains of the figure of Kusuma Dewi in the creature that was fighting with him. He did not think that the appearance of Maung instead made him fight with the girl he was trying to save.
...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...
Wardhani whispered to the thug, who is not wearing sunglasses and his oversized leather jacket, "I will give you the pleasure you will not get anywhere. You see this body, don't you? We are in the same body, but we are not yet one. Follow my words, and you will have my soul."
The thugs stopped fighting. Although he was basically controlled by Wardhani's figure, his body which was still in the otherworldly dimensional layer made his strength imperfect. The thug is still trying half-dead to free himself from the power of aliens in his body. His injured head stopped bleeding. The liquid of life had partially frozen and formed a crust. The pain in the fractures of his shoulder and head made the thug realize that he was still alive, so that with the ability he had, the thug continued to fight as much as possible.
However, after the seductive whisper that is Wardhani's expertise in his ear, the thug changed like a buffalo that was plucked in his nose. The naked body, dark and smooth smooth smooth formed so beautifully greeted his maleness. A pair of Wardhani's chest that is not large but densely mountainous with bright red blood, they are shaking tensed blood to defeat the intention of the rebellion of the thug. The curves of the arms and armpits, hips, waist, buttocks and base are aligned with the view of the expanse of the earth from the sky.
Consciously the thug allows himself to be fully controlled. The resistance felt ridiculous and unreasonable. It would be better if he let an ayu-faced figure with pliable eyebrows as if forcibly installed by the universe guide all his movements. He resignedly awaits the real bodily union between himself and a foreign figure who stays and wants to take power in his body.
The thug picked up the revolver belonging to his colleague who had been killed and who had been fully refilled. He pointed his muzzle in various directions where the crowd watching this furore was secretly scattered in various places. Behind the trees, behind the shops or in their apartment rooms.
He pressed the trigger.
Explosions erupted from the muzzle of the revolver.
Wardhani laughs. His face that loomed in the thug's body twisted, his jaw and mouth opened so wide and large as if it could swallow the whole world.
Elsewhere, miles and miles from the luxurious apartment on a hill, Girinata's middle-aged body looks decades older, and she is, bent forward like a weathered tree that died without flowering and leaves again. His pair of eyes stared blankly in which direction. The skin is pale not fresh, like a desert that is not drained by river water, barren menganggas.
The large house he lived in felt empty by the naked eye. The sound of unpretentious crickets from behind the wild plants that propagate and grow wild in the yard and cracks of guest room tiles. Lizards clucked, geckos nosed, and rats squeaked. There are almost no features of human life except the hunchbacked body of Girinata who rests quietly on the floor of the living room.
However, if someone is equipped with the sensitivity of the inner eye, clearly see the crowd and noise of this place. The ghost of Kinanti clung to Girinata's back, wrapping her hands tightly around her neck. Sundel bolong Marni the wife and the spirit of Dasimah holding both arms increase the weight of his body. In addition, in every corner of the house and room, shabby pocongs of various shapes, kuntilanak various faces and genies and stealth of various styles scattered slithering on the wall, suck on the floor and floating in the air. They giggle, sigh, moan, complain, cry, scream and growl. A thick black dark aura floated in the atmosphere of the magnificent house that was not managed in the Pon Hamlet.