True Martial Arts
Leaving the Village

"I'll get out of this village as soon as I can!"

"Yes, I am anyway. Tomorrow we leave, with or without blessing!" Satrya gave the sahutan.

After the recent incident, Akhza and Satrya are increasingly convinced to leave the village. Their shame is too high.

They split up in the middle of the road. Akhza immediately entered his house, greeted by his mother.

"Akhza, you've come home. Eat immediately. I found a fern vegetable in the swamp near the river, your favorite vegetable."

"Well, that's good, Mom! I haven't tasted my ferns for a long time" Akhza cheered. "But it seems like there's something I want to talk to you about."

"What is that, my son? It is not usual for you to ask permission just to ask." His mother frowned but kept smiling.

Akhza returned a smile, then he said again, "I want to go out of the village and become a great martial artist. I will pin the village from the foul hands of those bandits, so that we can all live in safety and peace."

The mother then sighed. "Son, that old wish is better we talk about while eating, huh?"

But it's just a prank. While eating, his mother always tried to distract Akhza so as not to talk about his plan, but in the end was also realized by Akhza.

"Mom, I'm serious."

Akhza's mother again let out a long sigh and said, "Son, the kingdom will help us. We just need to be patient and wait."

"Wait until when, Mom?"

"Geowed's reinforcements will be here any minute, son. In the presence of the kingdom, the robbers are nothing."

Akhza laughed softly. "Until when will we wait, ma'am? He went to Kotaraja by himself and asked for help, but he came home empty-handed. Kotaraja promised to send troops, but in fact, until you fell they did not arrive. What good is it to save a small village like this." Akhza pushed his plate after losing his appetite. "But to me, this is the land where I was born and also the land where I will die later. I don't want this village destroyed by bandits. I don't want you to have the same fate as you."

"Son Akhza, I don't mind getting killed at the hands of a bandit as long as you don't go challenging the dangers outside."

"Father is a warrior, ma'am. He's been wandering everywhere, and look at the results, he can protect this village and save not just his wife or son, but the whole village."

"But in the end you left us" said his mother.

"I'd rather die a hero than live trampled and crushed by buffalo shit like this." Akhza peaked, he was bluffing his teeth. "I've promised Satrya to leave with or without her permission. The decision has actually been unanimous." Then Akhza's voice weakened, and he stood up from the table. "But I wouldn't be able to do that. I'll stay here, if you won't let me go."

Akhza left a smile before going to his room. The mother let out a long sigh until unknowingly her tears flowed down her cheeks, the middle-aged woman went from the dining table towards her room.

Akhza doesn't know what to do. He crumpled, but could not fall asleep. However, no matter what, the door of his room was suddenly knocked. There was no one else in the house but her mother.

"What's up, Mom?"

"Son Akhza, get out first. I'm gonna talk to you, go to the dinner table."

Akhza took a deep breath, then exhaled a little quickly before lazily standing up and exiting the room.

His mother was seen sitting at the dining table that had been cleaned of the dish they had eaten. Akhza pulled out a chair and sat opposite the woman.

"Mom knows that fear is a little useful, but sometimes it is not useful at all. Believe me, kid, I'm just afraid something's happened to you." His mother said warmly and gently, beating the cold and sunyenya of the night at that. "But I forgot that your Father's blood was flowing in your body. And I'm sure you'll be better than your father."

Akhza's heart was pounding, he felt something good was coming.

"Mom let you go." The woman smiled, the warmest smile ever imprinted on her fragile lips since the departure of her husband. "As long as you promise to return to this village as a great hero and drive out the bandits."

"Mom, I hope you're not kidding."

"Why are you kidding me in the middle of the night like this?"

"Then, it's a dream!" Akhza stood up from the bench, his hands shaking. "I'm going back to bed."

"Mother is not finished. Sit back." The mother acted as if she was firm, Akhza could only obey, sit down but could not stand still, her legs continued to tremble. "Mom won't forget this village later. Come back after you succeed, or don't come back at all. Always remember what I say."

They packed up at midnight, too. Akhza will leave after his promise yesterday, Satrya will pick him up in the morning, earlier than the farmers who leave for the rice fields.

All Akhza's luggage is ready. Starting from clothes, dry food, cooking tools, to herbal leaves.

Not long after, there was a knock on the door. Akhza excitedly immediately moved towards the door and opened it.

Satrya stood with a big smile at the door. He seemed to highlight a machete that seemed to be new, neat clothes, and a large bundle on his back, not to forget also with his proud red destar on the head.

"You ready? Let's run now, hunt your mother up." Satrya whispered a little, but a moment later she gulped her saliva when she saw Akhza's mother standing right behind the door while she cleared her throat. "Oh no, looks like we're too late"

"I've got permission, just relax." Akhza laughed softly. "Let's go in."

Satrya came in and greeted Akhza's mother with an awkward laugh.

"Did you get permission from your parents, Satrya?" ask Akhza's mother a little sharply.

"Of course I did, Mother." Satrya laughs awkwardly again then glances at Akhza as if asking for help to distract his mother.

"Then, you're approved. I'll make you some warm tea before you leave, it's so cold outside."

Akhza's mother walks into the kitchen, leaving Akhza and Satrya in the living room. Immediately after his departure, Satrya breathed a sigh of relief.

"How did you get permission?" Satrya was excited. "I don't think you'll get permission, seeing your mother's pampering attitude."

"It's not hard, but it's not a problem. Then, why did you get permission?"

"How can you say that so casually?" Akhza is still dumbfounded. "That's .. very unusual."

"I know, that's why I want to get out of this village quickly."

Akhza nodded slowly, before his mother came with two earthenware cups filled with tea. Akhza and Satrya thanked him before sipping a tea plan that reflected the warm steam. They talked about the road that would be passed while drinking tea.

"Akhza, what weapons will you carry?" Akhza's mother came out of her room with a long wooden box that looked very dusty.

Akhza immediately showed a machete tied around his waist.

"Isn't that the machete you used to bring to the rice field?"

"This is the best." Akhza smiled wryly, then again sheathed his machete.

"Mom would give this to you."

Akhza's mother smiled at her now curious child, and her hands deftly opened the long wooden box she was carrying. The smell of dust was thick enough after the box was opened, it seemed like the box was indeed old to the point of not being able to hold the dust inside.

From inside, Akhza saw a medium-sized sword neatly sheathed. He was thin, and slightly shorter than any sword he had ever seen. The sarung is black, and the handle is like made of gold or brass in the form of an eagle head, while in the barrier between the handle and the blade is also the shape of a small eagle head on both sides that slightly protrudes upwards, the view of the two eagle heads on the divider facing the blade eyes.

His mother lifted the sword from the box, then pulled the handle slowly.

Akhza mistakenly thought that the blade of the sword was curling like a dagger. The color of the blade is slightly shiny black, or silver, the color often changes depending on the viewing angle.

As all the blades came out of the scabbard, a terrifying aura emanated from the sharp edge of the sword eye. His mother raised the swords high while looking at him fixedly.

"This is Keris Garuda Puspa, son. Keris that your father used to fight pirates in this village first. And this keris also accompanied your father in his last moments. Forging it for himself, many years, with love and strength in it. Unfortunately, this has taken too many lives, the aura is not very friendly." The mother sheathed Keris Garuda Puspa back. "Now, this is passed down to you, but not yours. This inheritance belongs to goodness and peace."

The mother handed the kris along the sword slowly, and Akhza received it with trembling hands; between gladness and fear.

"Remember all right, son. This kris isn't yours, you're only responsible for using this kris the best you can. Do good until the flowers bloom as you pass by them."

Akhza nodded solemnly even though he was not sure it could be done.

They both held bundles, and Akhza wrapped the keris in a cloth so as not to attract attention until he could protect himself.

Akhza and Satrya are ushered to the doorway, before Akhza hugs his mother tightly while crying.

"Go back and be the greatest warrior in Java." Her mother stroked the head of her only son, she could not hold back the rate of tears anymore.

"I'll come back and make mom happy later. I promise!" Akhza ran quickly away from the house, crying, leaving Satrya in a daze.

"Get your friend here, Satrya. He likes to act sometimes. You're older than her. I hope you can lead it." The mother smiled gently at Satrya, Satrya nodded and chased after Akhza.

Their journey is very long. And it is difficult to tell if even a thick book is made. Sometimes danger accompanies, and sometimes hunger accompanies, or occasionally they laugh.

Jungle forests are not as scary as they thought before, both can be good friends with the jungle, except in times of rain flushed.

This morning they arrived at a small town, whose name was rather difficult to name for both of them. Right after the entrance of the city, there was a market that was still crowded.

Akhza and Satrya go around, trying their luck to get a temporary job to buy supplies before continuing on a seemingly endless and aimless journey.

No one wants to accept them, some reject kindly and some reject rudely.

"It's skinny, still asking for a job. You deserve to be slaves! Ahhaha!" One fruit dealer laughed loudly, the other laughed.

Akhza shook his head, then turned around, intending to leave without making any trouble. But his patience is disturbed when a rotten mango hits him right in the head.

Satrya turned around first and cursed the fruit merchant who threw his friend with the rotten mango. Akhza, on the other hand, turned around slowly, but the look on his face was not good.

"If you don't want to accept our labor, then let us go." Akhza said coldly, with laughter from fruit traders and other traders.

"You guys are lowly, and inappropriate here. We'll throw you rotten vegetables and fruit before you can get out of here." The fruit-smith deliberately shouted loudly, and was greeted by bored traders living their daily lives without adventure.

Akhza and Satrya no doubt pelted various rotten garbage. Satrya pulls Akhza's hand to take him away from there, but Akhza does not move but rather stiffens like a statue.

"Nusantara doesn't need anyone like him, Satrya." Akhza smiled widely, his hand very quickly pulled Satrya's machete and ran towards the fruit merchant.

It happened very quickly. The head in the fruit merchant rolled on the ground with a face of fear, before his body fell to the ground without a life and without a head. Silence was created briefly, but afterwards the merchants around them became very angry and pulled out the sharp weapons they used for trading purposes.

Satrya approached Akhza with fear, he glanced at his machete which was now slightly soaked with blood.

"Akhza, what are you doing?!"

"I told you, Nusantara doesn't need people like him." Akhza said so, but he trembled and dropped the cleaver in his hand and stuck it on the ground. "What ... have I done?"

Satrya then looked around. How shocked he became, after seeing that he and Akhza had been surrounded by dozens of market traders.

"Now it's too late. We have to protect ourselves!" Satrya took the machete on the ground, while Akhza roared in fear!

Satrya gulped his saliva, before being forced to slash the hand of the merchant who slapped the knife at him. Blood poured out right then and there, and Satrya did not stop there because the anger of the merchant did not stop there either.

Some hands slipped out of place, and some people were killed there. Satrya's soul almost collapsed, and he was now completely unable to hear the cries of anger, sorrow, and pain from those around him. He also saw some soldiers coming.

His knees were squeezed, and his machete fell out of hand. When the two of them were completely resigned to the situation, the miracle arrived: all the merchants and soldiers who came to kneel, they could not move even a little growling. Surprisingly, Akhza and Satrya did not experience anything similar.

A gray-clothed middle-aged man walked leisurely in their midst. He smiled with a slightly wrinkled face, before patting each of Akhza and Satrya's shoulders to the point of making them unable to move at all.