Flocks of birds circled above the skies of Kota Tun Perak.

Sunlight slowly rose along the eastern horizon.

The city that had been asleep began to stir, jolted awake by the roar of engines slicing through the streets. The smell of smoke drifted through the air, weaving between the buildings.

Yet the growing bustle failed to break the silence of the narrow alley trapped inside Khai’s Zing field.

From the outside, the alley looked distorted. Like cold glass fogged by warm breath.

No one saw Khai choking Azazil.

The pelesit’s body hung in the air. His legs kicked uselessly at empty space, searching for ground that never came.

Khai was showing him why he was the strongest.

With one hand, he lifted the pelesit.

Azazil tapped lightly on Khai’s arm. A final attempt at diplomacy.

But the man before him looked ready to stain his hands with blood.

Khai’s gaze stabbed into Azazil’s red eyes.

The tapping grew faster.

Azazil’s smug smile vanished.

The thrill he once felt seeing Khai’s rigid principles was still there.

Only now, his life rested at the tips of that man’s fingers.

“I only saw you transform… by accident.”

Azazil’s voice came out strained, but the tone at the end remained calm. Far too calm for someone being strangled.

Khai’s grip did not loosen.

“You the one who spread the viral video about Kenz?”

His grip tightened.

Khai’s Zing radiation seeped into Azazil’s lungs, burning slowly from within.

Boiling heat.

The taste of iron filled his throat.

“That was Tan Sri Ghani’s doing!”

Khai’s eyes widened.

His grip loosened slightly. The tension on his face shifted into visible shock.

“Don’t lie to me,” Khai snapped, his voice low and poisonous.

He grabbed Azazil’s collar with both hands and lifted him higher.

A threat.

Pressure.

Khai needed answers.

“I didn’t sense any Zing—”

“Just because you didn’t sense it doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”

Azazil’s tone was light.

As if he were correcting a small fact in a casual conversation.

Khai froze.

His eyes studied Azazil.

There was no smell of rusted iron.

So… I’m not the only one who can hide Zing?

Khai’s mind drifted back to that first contact.

His shoulder.

He had felt nothing.

Not until Azazil activated his Zing.

Slowly, Khai lowered him.

Azazil’s feet touched the ground.

The pelesit coughed violently, clutching his throat. Yet between his ragged breaths, a small smile appeared. One that shouldn’t exist.

“Relax.”

Azazil’s voice softened.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

He leaned against the wall. His chest rose and fell. The heat from earlier still lingered, leaving his face flushed, yet his eyes remained sharp.

He slipped a hand into his pocket.

A small glass bottle appeared.

Green liquid swayed inside.

He took a sip.

His breathing steadied almost instantly.

Khai’s eyes fixed on the bottle.

The scent of damp forest soil pierced his nose.

“Green Zing?” Khai pointed, suspicion in his voice.

Azazil nodded.

The friendly smile returned. Too perfect to be spontaneous.

“Green Zing extract.”

He cleared his throat.

“Your radiation’s vicious, but the effect doesn’t last long if you know how to counter it.”

One of Khai’s eyebrows rose.

“Your discovery?”

Khai adjusted his pants, slipping his hands into his pockets, reflexively defensive.

Azazil noticed.

This was no longer a fight.

This was a conversation.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Green veins briefly surfaced beneath his skin, correcting the crooked cartilage before fading away.

“I’m not sure.”

Azazil sounded honest.

Or very good at pretending.

“I just found the research file in a warehouse at the edge of the city. Two months ago.”

“Oh.”

He smiled faintly.

“Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself.”

Azazil extended a hand.

“My name’s Azazil.”

Khai didn’t take it.

His eyes remained cautious.

Evaluating.

Research files?

The question circled inside his mind.

If it wasn’t the pelesit…

Pelesit weren’t that intelligent.

Could humans have created it?

Khai studied Azazil for a long time.

Those red pupils looked like dots floating in a sea of darkness.

Sharp.

Far too sharp to be coincidence.

“You sure killing you wouldn’t be the right choice?”

Thick purple smoke swirled around Khai’s hand. Restless. Ready.

“Correct.”

Azazil raised his hands as if surrendering.

“I swear.”

Fine wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, making the expression look almost sincere.

“The truth is…”

His voice lowered.

“I want to help you.”

Khai snorted quietly.

“Then why would Tan Sri Ghani expose the existence of Kenz?”

The sound of vehicles crept back into the alley.

The city’s noise returned.

The Zing field opened.

“Isn’t he connected to Zingforce?”

Azazil leaned against the wall casually, as if he had been waiting for the question.

“You know why I didn’t run even though you could kill me?”

Khai scoffed.

“Because you’re confident I’m not stupid.”

“No.”

Azazil shook his head.

“Because you’re confused.”

The purple smoke around Khai’s hand rippled violently.

“What are you playing at?”

Azazil stepped closer. Close enough to make Khai uncomfortable.

“You believe power decides what’s right and wrong, don’t you?”

He glanced at Khai’s hand.

“If you’re strong, you’re safe. If you’re weak, you’re wrong.”

“That’s your logic.”

Khai’s voice hardened.

“Not mine.”

Azazil chuckled.

“Good.”

He nodded.

“Because the world doesn’t think like that.”

Khai stared at him.

“The world’s full of idiots. I don’t care.”

Azazil’s smile thinned.

“That’s the dangerous part.”

Khai frowned.

“You could break me right now,” Azazil said calmly.

“But you can’t break the story people believe about you.”

“Stories die.”

Khai answered instantly.

“People forget.”

“People forget facts.”

Azazil’s tone was soft, confident.

“But they keep fear.”

Silence.

Azazil spun the small bottle between his fingers.

“You ever wonder why Zingforce keeps quiet about you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“As long as you’re a mystery, you’re a tool.”

“But the moment you speak…”

“You become a threat.”

Khai clenched his teeth.

“If I stay silent, people can do whatever they want to me.”

Azazil nodded.

“True.”

Then his smile returned.

“And if you speak, they’ll do something worse.”

Khai stiffened.

“That makes no sense.”

“It does.”

Azazil looked directly at him.

“They don’t need to prove you’re wrong.”

He tapped his chest.

“They only need to convince people you’re dangerous.”

Khai stayed silent for a long time.

“So what then?”

His voice dropped.

“I just let myself become the scapegoat?”

Azazil shrugged.

“I didn’t say you should follow that path.”

His tone relaxed.

“I just want you to realize… you’re not fighting pelesit anymore.”

He stepped back.

“You’re fighting stories.”

“And stories don’t bleed when you punch them.”

Khai stared at his hands.

“If all this is true…”

His voice softened.

“Why tell me?”

Azazil smiled again. Thinner this time.

“Because people who understand the game…”

He turned away.

“…are more useful alive than dead.”

He paused halfway.

“And because you haven’t made the biggest mistake yet.”

Khai looked up.

“What mistake?”

Azazil glanced back. His red eyes gleamed.

“Believing your power is enough to save everyone.”

Khai simply watched him walk away.

“Kenz…”

Khai turned.

“Take care of the people around you.”

Azazil vanished into the air itself, as if the alley had swallowed him whole.

Only the sound of Khai’s breathing remained.

Tan Sri Ghani.

The name was no longer just a name.

It had begun to root itself inside his mind.

Tap.

Azazil’s footsteps drifted farther away.
Steadier.
More certain.

His shoulders lifted slightly, chest tightening with the rhythm of his stride.
A thin whistle slipped from his lips. Relaxed. Almost cheerful.

Narrative is stronger than power.

The words echoed in his mind.

And this time, they were not a warning.

They were a promise.

A quiet chuckle escaped him. He held it back for a moment before letting it out fully.

“Looks like that old man needs to give me a new pair of glasses.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

Just in time to see Khai turning out of the alley.

A smile formed. Neat. Calm.

The earring on his ear swayed gently.

The noise of the city seemed to drift away.

All that remained was the echo of his laughter.

And the certainty that a seed had been planted.

---

Khai walked along the sidewalk.

His breathing came in short bursts.

Not because of power.

But because his steps and his breath were no longer moving together.

His head throbbed as he tried to assemble fragments of a puzzle that refused to become an answer.

Each piece seemed to know where it belonged.
Yet none would connect.

He slipped through the ocean of people.

Coats.
Work uniforms.
School uniforms.

Everyone moved with their own direction. Their own purpose.

No one slowed down for him.

Sweat gathered on his forehead.

Khai clenched his teeth.

My enemies aren't just pelesit anymore.

Humans too.

His eyes swept across the faces around him.

They passed without looking.

Without knowing what walked among them.

Narrative is stronger than power.

The words surfaced again, uninvited.

Like a nail hammered slowly into wood.
A small strike each time.
But never stopping.

Yes.

At any moment, my narrative could change.

Today, a savior.

Tomorrow, a threat.

Khai stopped abruptly. His shoulder bumped into a passerby.

No one looked back.

They kept moving, chased by time, chased by routine.

But I could use narrative as a weapon too.

The thought pushed his steps forward again.

Slower now.

Not from confidence.

From weight.

But who would even listen to me?

His reflection appeared on the glass window of a restaurant.

A tired face.

Slumped shoulders.

Weary eyes.

Not convincing.

Not compelling.

Not the face of someone people would trust.

Should I speak as Kenz?

His hand touched his chin.

Wait.

He shook his head firmly.

Ridiculous.

Kenz must remain a mystery.

Khai exhaled heavily. His shoulders sank further.

His hand brushed through hair that wasn’t even itchy. An empty gesture.

Just to remind himself he was still there.

He walked while watching the world around him.

People still laughed.

Still argued.

Still talked about small things.

Even though the world had already changed.

A military armored vehicle rolled past.

Its metal body thick and heavy.

A shield emblem marked with an atomic symbol stood boldly on its side.

Zingforce.

It moved slowly. On patrol.

Prepared for emergencies that might never come.

Or perhaps simply waiting for the right moment.

Children waved excitedly.

The heavy engine rumbled against the sound of human voices.

Some people walked quickly, indifferent to everything.

Others strolled under the morning sun.

Some sat in restaurants, laughing while waiting for their food.

They lived to fill their lives.

No strange burdens.

No curses.

No power tearing everything apart.

Just ordinary life.

Khai gave a bitter smile.

My world isn’t like that.

“Take care of the people around you.”

The voice surfaced again.

Not as sound.

But as direction.

The image of his aging mother appeared in his mind.

His younger siblings smiling.

I have to protect them.

His fist tightened.

But the grip loosened when his father’s face surfaced.

Harsh.

Severe.

Someone Khai had never truly been able to protect.

His eyes dulled again.

His hands trembled.

He turned into a narrow alley.

His palm pressed against the wall of a building.

His brow tightened.

His breathing rose and fell, heavy.

“Hahaha.”

A laughing couple walked past the mouth of the alley.

Light.

Carefree.

Khai watched them for a moment.

The woman touched the man’s arm.

Her eyes bright.

Joyful.

Safe.

Khai’s chest tightened.

When was the last time I felt like that?

His hand slipped into his pocket. He pulled out his phone.

His finger scrolled without thinking.

The profile appeared.

Mary.

Beautiful in a way that wasn’t forced.

Light tan skin.

Almond-shaped eyes. Slightly thick eyebrows.

Hair tied neatly in a bun.

A red-blue coat.

The Zingforce emblem on the left side of her chest.

A crescent moon pendant rested on her neck.

Khai scrolled.

One photo stopped him.

He and the woman smiling together.

Five years ago.

Before Kiamat Awal (the Early Apocalypse).

Before his father died.

Before the world broke apart.

Back then he could laugh like that.

Back then Mary looked at him like that.

Another picture appeared.

A plate of nasi kuning.

Mary holding it while steam still rose from the rice.

Her smile wide. Genuine.

He remembered that day.

The day they tried to build a small life together.

The day he hesitated.

And Mary believed for both of them.

Then he disappeared.

Years without news.

He kept his distance to protect her.

Now Mary was a Zingforce officer.

Danger followed her.

The very danger Khai had tried to avoid.

“Take care of the people around you.”

The voice returned.

Khai tightened his grip on the phone.

I did protect her.

I stayed away.

That’s how I kept her safe.

But his mind disagreed.

He released a heavy breath.

His slumped shoulders slowly straightened.

Maybe... staying away isn’t enough anymore.

Maybe I need to settle all of this.

Then she’ll be safe.

Then everyone will be safe.

He wiped his face.

He looked at the photo one last time before putting the phone away.

Khai stepped out of the alley.

Back onto the sidewalk.

His steps were no longer loose.

Still heavy.

But deliberate.

He approached a wide, single-story building.

Cars filled the parking lot.

Medan Selera Kita.

A large sign hung at the front.

His eyes were still tired.

But now they were sharp.

Something new had begun to take root.

On the wall near the customer service counter hung two portraits.

The Prime Minister of Malaysia.

And beside him, Tan Sri Ghani.

Khai stared at them for a long moment.

I don’t know who I should trust.

But I know one thing.

I have to end this curse as soon as possible.

Purple Zing.

Kenz.

All of this burden.

Only then could he live like a normal person.

His hand tightened into a firm fist.

Khai stepped into the building.

Into a life that looked ordinary.

Even though his soul had never been anything close to it.