"Some roads are not meant to be traveled—they are meant to be survived."
El Nido Highway — The Ambush Begins
The Kabalyero consumed the cliffside asphalt, its sigil-treads gripping the surface as the road narrowed into a constricted passage. Jungle mist clung to the guardrails like ancestral breath.
Gregorio surveyed the ridgeline. "This is where they will strike."
A flare hissed red across the sky, and engines responded like a pack of wolves.
Babaylan APCs — Mia and Crispulo Arrive
Two Babaylan APCs fishtailed into the lane, their doors exploding outward mid-turn. Mia Torre and Crispulo Toledo launched in tandem, mounted on Babaylan Myth-Tech motorcycles inscribed with living glyphs.
• Mia — Relic Bike (Katotohanan): A manuscript-engine featuring floating pages that orbited the frame. Truth-runes flipped mid-air, casting refracted narratives across the highway.
Signature effect: Illusion corridors—false lanes, phantom trucks, mirrored cliffs, all luring prey into fatal angles.
• Crispulo — Relic Bike (Takip-Silim): A shadow-forged engine exhaling black smoke, moving like hunting dogs. The chassis flickered with demon-edge contours.
Signature effect: Shade phantoms—duplicates of Crispulo splitting from his wake, each armed with smoke-steel blades.
They sped toward the Kabalyero, weaving through civilian scooters and cargo jeeps with supernatural precision. Horns blared, and gravity chose sides.
Ahas Ng Mga Lakan Battle SUVs — Putik and Natalia Join
From the opposite bend, two Battle SUVs rumbled in, their voidsteel grilles cutting through the wind. Sunlight glinted off their sigil armor.
Putik and Mayor Natalia Saavedra vaulted from the roof racks as their vehicles skidded to a halt, landing on Myth-Tech big bikes engineered for destruction.
• Putik — Relic Bike (Katrayduran): Overclocked combustion bound to blood-runes, leaving molten signatures that ignited the road into serpents of flame.
Signature effect: Balisong storms—explosive glyph daggers thrown in fans; each detonation cratered asphalt and shattered wards.
• Natalia — Relic Bike (Kasakiman): Void-thread cabling woven into the frame; a whispering engine that cursed anything in its path.
Signature effect: Hunger twins—the bike split into two spectral copies, flanking at impossible angles while her Karambit ni Kain sought vulnerabilities in armor.
Four apex predators—two creeds, one kill zone—converged on the Sandata Unit. Their alliance hissed as ambition rubbed raw against faith.
Sandata Unit — Counterstrike
Gregorio shifted to voice control mode and vaulted onto the Kabalyero's roof, Kamay ni Bathala weaving violet spirals around his fists. "Keep the corridor moving!" he called, solidifying his stance into Kisap Mata.
Marian dissolved into mist beside the windshield. The Sundang ni Makiling sang a moon-bright note as she sliced through Mia's false lanes. "Truth bends," she whispered, "but it never breaks."
Agosto descended from a crimson tear above the tarmac, dropping like a hammer, Kampilan ni Lam-ang carving flame arcs that severed Putik's molten serpents. "You want chaos?" he snarled. "I'll give you a storm."
Renato secured Kalasag ni Bernardo Carpio to the Kabalyero's flank. A prismatic bulwark unfurled, nullifying Natalia's curses. "Not today," he declared, his voice steady. "Not ever."
Voice Activation — Combat Mode Engage
Gregorio's eyes narrowed as the enemy formation tightened. He didn't move a muscle; he only spoke, his voice cutting through the roar of engines like a commandment:
"Kabalyero — Combat Mode, Authorization: Captain Kamay."
The cruiser's relic-core flared in recognition. Sigils along its frame ignited in sequence, a deep mechanical growl rolling through the chassis. Armor plates shifted, rune-etched cannon housings slid open along the flanks, and twin Gatling gun pods unfolded from recessed bays. The Kabalyero was no longer merely a transport; it had transformed into a fortress on wheels.
Clash of Relics — Mid-Road Mayhem
The highway became a ritual circle at 120 kph, but now the circle burned, screamed, and fought back.
• Mia vs. Marian: Mia's illusions folded the road into stacked phantom overpasses, collapsing in showers of spectral debris. Marian's mist surged upward, shredding the false structures and slamming the fragments into Mia's own path. Mia hurled a page that unfolded into a spinning guillotine of text; Marian's Sundang split it, ink spraying like black rain.
• Crispulo vs. Renato: Shade phantoms lashed chain-hooks of condensed smoke onto the Kabalyero's side panels. Renato slammed the Kalasag into the road, shockwaves snapping the hooks. A phantom leapt for the roof—Renato's shield-edge uppercut launched it into a civilian bus's path, where it burst into choking ash.
• Putik vs. Agosto: Molten serpents reared, snapping at Agosto mid-teleport. He landed on one's back, riding it before plunging his Kampilan down its spine, detonating it into a geyser of fire. Putik hurled a balisong wall—Agosto carved a glowing tunnel through it.
• Natalia vs. Gregorio: Hunger twins circled in opposite directions, void-thread tires slicing grooves into asphalt. Natalia leapt between them, karambit grazing Gregorio's cheekplate. He caught her wrist, twisted, and slammed his palm into her bike's rune cluster—one twin dissolved, the other shrieked as its frame warped.
The Kabalyero Fights Back
• Rune Cannons: Side-mounted barrels glowed with layered sigils before discharging bolts of compressed myth-energy. One blast vaporized a Hunger twin mid-lunge; another punched through a wall of Mia's illusions, scattering the false convoy like torn paper.
• Gatling Guns: Twin pods spun up with a roar, spitting streams of ward-piercing rounds. Crispulo's phantoms shredded under the barrage, their smoke dissipating into the slipstream. A burst across the asphalt detonated two of Putik's molten serpents before they could coil.
• Suppressive Fire: The Kabalyero stitched a line of tracer-sigils across the cliff edge, forcing enemy bikes to swerve into Sandata kill zones.
Chaos in Motion
• A cargo jeep jackknifed ahead; Marian's mist yanked it sideways into safety as Agosto vaulted over it, blade carving a burning arc inches above the roof.
• Crispulo's smoke-steel blade locked with Renato's shield rim, friction screaming until Renato twisted, snapping the phantom's wrist.
• Putik's molten serpents coiled around the Kabalyero's tires; Gregorio stomped down, violet sigils detonating beneath his boots, severing the fiery chains.
• Natalia's spectral bike leapt onto the guardrail, riding it like a predator before diving back in—her karambit met the Kamay ni Bathala's spiral ward.
• The cliffside wind carried the scent of burning ink, scorched steel, and ozone; every breath tasted like war.
Turning the Tide
• Marian veiled a phantom Kabalyero two lanes ahead; enemy targeting drifted, buying precious seconds.
• Agosto marked Putik's trajectory with a tri-slash vortex; Renato redirected the blast into Crispulo's smoke cloud; Gregorio stepped through the glare, erasing the anchoring rune on Mia's front fork.
•Illusions faltered, shades collapsed, and curses lost their potency.
• Mia snapped her Aklat ng Katotohanan shut mid-turn. "Reset," she hissed, yanking the bike into a high-G arc. Crispulo's eyes burned behind his shades. "Then we bleed them."
Synchronized Burst!
The Kabalyero's cabin ignited like a shrine. Four heartbeats synchronized. Four relics—and the cruiser itself—responded.
A violet shockwave erupted from the cruiser's spine, resonating through shield, mist, flame, and steel, disrupting all myth-tech equipment in range except their own. Engines coughed, glyphs dimmed, and the road fell silent except for the Kabalyero's growl.
Mia skidded into a controlled crash, rolling to her knees, her book hovering protectively at her shoulder.
Crispulo tumbled hard, a smoke cushion saving his bones, pride hissing into black ribbons.
Putik slashed a balisong to carve himself an escape path, limping toward the tree line on a sputtering frame.
Natalia ghost-split one last time, the surviving twin dragging her into the jungle shadow, eyes promising interest in this debt.
Aftermath — The Road Clears
The Kabalyero coasted through the dissipating static, armor scorched, spirit unwavering. Gregorio stood on the roof, watching the remnants of a perfect ambush dissolve into steam and shame.
Marian exhaled, mist trailing from her blade. "They will regroup."
Gregorio nodded, his gaze fixed on the narrowing pass ahead. "Let them."
Agosto dematerialized, his Kampilan in hand, eyes already measuring the next bend.
Renato rapped his knuckles on the Kalasag—three quiet beats for luck, for memory, for tomorrow.
The cruiser surged forward. The mountain's throat opened, and beyond the curve, Coron awaited with its terrible yet beautiful Eye.
The Guardian's Report
Meanwhile, in a cabin near the Temple of Coron, Ricardo sat in the quiet of his study, the low hum of his relic, Alab ng Tala, a familiar comfort. He had spent years in this silence, a seasoned strategist who had traded the battlefield for the stillness of a command center.
A former marine commando, his body still remembered the discipline and brutal honesty of combat. He was a man who moved between worlds: the harsh reality of the military and the clandestine realm of myth and magic.
The names of his comrades echoed in his mind—Joaquin Santillan and Juan Luciano—two men who understood the weight of leadership and the cost of power.
A chime on his datapad interrupted the quiet. The message was encrypted, bearing a single sigil from the Guardians of the Left Eye. He opened it, and the glyphs burned with urgency:
"Sandata unit en route to the Temple. Natural defenses breached."
A bitter smile touched his lips as he recalled the Orphanage—the place where he had forged them, transforming terrified orphans into weapons of war. He had trained them all, pushing them to their limits, knowing that one day, their training would be all that stood between the world and oblivion. He had never fully revealed his identity to them.
He rose from his desk, the ancient fire within his relic flaring in response. He understood that the Left Eye was no longer safe in the Temple, but he also needed to ensure that the world would be protected if Gregorio will take on the burden of carrying the Eye. He strode to the door, his mind already racing through tactical scenarios. As he stepped outside into the evening twilight, he looked up to see a solitary crow perched on a telephone wire, its eyes like twin beads of obsidian. It tilted its head, a silent observer in a world of secrets.
Ricardo stared back, his voice a low rumble against the gathering dusk. "They are watching again."
He departed for the Temple, a veteran of two wars—one of steel and one of spirit. And in the silence of the night, the crow took flight, a shadow among shadows.