Rizal couldn’t shake the feeling that the factory was the key. The whispers, the silence, the eerie affliction that had befallen the town—it all pointed back to Kilang Senyap. As he approached the ruins, the temperature dropped. The air felt thick, suffocating. The darkness seemed to consume him as he stepped inside.

The whispers followed him, taunting, pulling him deeper. The factory was alive, its walls closing in. What had been a once-thriving place of industry was now the lair of something ancient, something hungry.

Rizal could feel the weight of it now, the Penunggu watching from the shadows. And he knew, deep in his bones, that if he didn’t stop it soon, Pasir Gudang would fall completely under its grip.