Two weeks had passed since the bloody evacuation from the mountain ridge, bringing them to the military interrogation room in the underground base, which felt like a second cave for the survivors. The room, with no windows offering a view outside, was surrounded by cold concrete walls that resembled an emotional prison for those trapped inside. They were under the glare of white neon lights, flickering slowly like the eyes of a never-sleeping demon, reminding them of the terrible reality they had faced. In the middle of the room stood a long steel table, with iron chairs that seemed to grip them, binding their wrists in invisible shackles. The stifling air, mixed with the smell of stale coffee and the aroma of piles of confidential documents, adds to the tension, piled up to knee height, while the cold air conditioning pierces their skin, still covered with scars, completely unable to dispel the nightmares that continue to haunt all those who survived the tragedy: the screams of the valley, the whispers of the swamp, and the misty eyes of the mountain's back, as if following them as they boarded the helicopter to this place. Not only that, the room was monitored by invisible CCTV cameras and hidden microphones, while the high-tech thick iron door with a biometric lock could only be accessed by a military intelligence team dressed in dark, black uniforms without name tags, looking gloomy and mysterious. Outside this basement room, journalists were blocked by barbed wire fences, which prevented information about the national news story of the "missing aircraft" from becoming the official version of a "training accident." However, the real story, involving cults, tribes, and ancient spirits there, has been classified as TOP SECRET and is punishable by life imprisonment if leaked.
Rizal, one of the survivors, sat at the end of the table, loosely tied to his chair, his face gaunt, his weight 10 kilograms lighter, his eyes sunken but still staring intently at their interlocutor, Colonel Hendra. The colonel was a man in his fifties, with a neat beard and a uniform full of medals that displayed his seniority and confidence, but his eyes were cold and sharp, like a scalpel ready to cut through dishonesty. Around the table, the nine other survivors were in various states: Fauzan bit his lip, showing the tension creeping into him; Sari supported Fahri's hand, which was still pale from the mild psychosis that had struck him; Bima was confined to a wheelchair with his chest bandaged after a long six-hour operation; Dito held a broken radio, as if it were a perfect talisman after a series of supernatural events; Tono was busy with a worn map, folding and refolding it; Maya patiently sharpened an emergency bow and arrow; Hasan sat calmly in a confident position; and Rangga sat quietly in the corner, a dull bone pendant hanging around his neck, providing invisible spiritual strength. They were all clad in gray hospital gowns, their scars still visible under the neon light.
Colonel Hendra opened a thick folder labeled "BRAVO INCIDENT - CLASSIFIED," his voice flat but thunderous as it hit the sturdy concrete walls. "Confirmed evacuation report: 10 survivors out of 25 training aircraft crew. Casualties: 15 dead, including the pilot. The official version cites extreme weather conditions as the cause. However, black box recordings, Dito's radio signals, and SAR witnesses paint a different picture. Skull Cult? Primitive tribe? Valley spirits? Explain the complete chronology—without censorship. Your fate depends on your honesty this time."
Rizal lifted his chin, his voice hoarse but steady and determined. "Colonel, the plane did not crash due to an accident. There was sabotage—not weather. We were attacked by a tribe wearing masks and using poisoned spears, then the Skull Cult with a horrific sacrificial ritual, using bloody machetes and white eye masks. In Skull Valley, there were about 50 skeletons, a swamp full of curses with living roots that trapped us, and a mountain ridge covered by ancient spirits and fog. We fought back by destroying their altar—spilling a lot of blood, but we managed to survive, 10 of us thanks to..." Rizal glanced at Rangga, "...his local knowledge."
Fauzan stepped forward, his voice angry but controlled. "Colonel, I am Fauzan—at first I was suspicious of Rangga, but he saved us several times. His bone pendant played an important role in warding off the curse. Bima nearly died twice—his chest was slashed by a machete, and he suffered from sepsis. Lina suffered permanent leg damage. This isn't just a ghost story—we have evidence: Rangga's pendant, Tono's map, and Dito's radio recording of the screams from that horrific ritual!"
Colonel Hendra raised his hand to stop the conversation, his narrowed eyes staring at Rangga with an indescribable tension. "You. Your identity is mysterious—you appeared when the plane crashed, with knowledge of secret routes, and a 'protective' pendant. Who are you really? A tribal agent? A cult spy? Or... something more than that?"
Rangga remained cold, without giving any excessive reaction, with his bone pendant hanging calmly on his chest, his voice soft but piercing. "My name is Rangga, the son of a forest ranger who died fighting the cult 10 years ago. My grandfather taught me how to survive and the secrets of the valley. This pendant is a relic believed to be able to ward off evil spirits. My motivation is to survive. If I were an agent, you wouldn't have made it past the first altar."
Sari gripped Fahri's hand tightly, her voice trembling yet firm. "Fahri heard the spirits' voices—at the mountain ridge's meeting point. It wasn't a hallucination—we all saw the obsidian tree, the spiral-eyed stone, and the mist that entangled the helicopter's cables. The mountain collapsed during the evacuation—the old spirit let us go, but still remembers our names."
Fahri nodded slowly, his eyes still clouded with uncertainty but radiating clarity. "A voice said, 'The balance is broken—outsiders must pay.' We paid with the blood of 15 friends. If this story leaks, more people will come—the cult will rise again."
Bima, from his wheelchair, his chest still bandaged, spoke weakly but persistently. "Colonel, I almost died in that valley massacre. The cult used modern boots—not entirely primitive. Is there an outside base? Corrupt agents involved?"
Colonel Hendra was silent for a long time, closing the thick folder tightly, then pressing a button on the intercom. "Psychiatrist team, come in. Verify the claim." The iron door opened, and two military psychiatrists entered with test kits in their hands, but the Colonel whispered softly to Rizal, "You guys survived not just by luck. Something is protecting you—is it the pendant? A spirit? Or... we'll investigate Pak Karto's village tonight. Come along, or face lifelong classification if you refuse."
Dito shouted in protest, "Colonel, my radio has recorded the curse signal—listen for yourself!"
Maya sharpened her arrows with a steady rhythm, her eyes sharp as an eagle hunting its prey, "We will look for evidence if necessary. The cult continues—this secret is a time bomb waiting to explode."
Hasan, a soldier, nodded slowly with understanding, "The war doesn't end on the battlefield. The invisible shadows come home with us."
Tono folded the map in his hand, "We have the coordinates of the cave, the valley, and the swamp—we can show them to the SAR team."
Rangga remained silent, but his eyes were cold, as if sending a message, "The forest remembers everything that has happened. Don't disturb it again."
The colonel rose from his chair as the iron door opened for the helicopter that would depart that night. "Prepare the team. Bravo will follow the village verification mission—tonight as well. If there are lies, prison awaits. If the truth is revealed... we will fight the cult that has grown into a national threat."
The survivors looked at each other, tension filling the air—they were physically safe, but the shadow of the forest had risen again. Outside the small ventilated window, a thin mist slowly rose from the distant valley—vague black eyes peered out, like a promise of a new chapter from the hell to come.
Something unveils an eternal trauma and opens a secret mission: ten souls against a cult conspiracy far greater than they could have imagined.
***
The military Black Hawk helicopter moved smoothly through the thick tropical night, its rotors producing a soft roar that slipped nimbly through the dense forest canopy, heading towards Mr. Karto's village. The searchlight gently swept across the dimly lit wooden stilt houses and the rice fields, which looked wet and covered in fog, like mist rising from the mountains. The humid night air seeped in through the open side door, along with the smell of wet earth from the recent flooding and the faint smell of wood smoke from the village, which seemed quiet and unusual—there were no sounds of chickens, dogs, or chatter from residents, unlike the normal atmosphere of a village. Inside the dark cabin, nine survivors sat with tense expressions, wearing borrowed military combat uniforms, and standard Pindad SS2 weapons clutched tightly by Rizal, Fauzan, Maya, and Hasan, while Bima, sitting in a stabilized wheelchair, held a pistol on his lap. Sari held Fahri's hand tightly, her wild eyes staring into the darkness outside as if seeing shadows from the past. Dito held an encrypted radio, while Tono folded a map of the village coordinates, and Amira prepared a resin torch. In the corner, Rangga sat silently, rubbing the bone pendant that was slowly warming up as if giving a warning. Colonel Hendra was in front near the pilot, his stern face visible under the green light of the cockpit, along with an elite SAR team of ten people equipped with NVGs, ready to navigate down using rappelling.
Colonel Hendra pressed the intercom with a low voice to counter the roar of the rotors, "We will land 500 meters on the edge of the village—Team Bravo will lead the way into Mr. Karto's house. Verify whether it is a cult base, look for evidence of rituals. If you encounter the enemy, shoot." His voice sounded cold, but his eyes glanced respectfully at Rizal.
Rizal nodded firmly, SS2 at the ready, his voice steady against the night wind, "Colonel, this village is a cult base—Mr. Karto saved us, but he lied about his son Suroto. The stilt house in the center of the village is the location of the bloody altar. Fauzan and Maya will flank the left; Hasan and Tono the right; Sari and Fahri will control the medical rear for Bima; Amira and Dito will maintain radio communication; while Rangga will lead the secret underground cave. Move silently towards the entrance."
The helicopter hovered low, ropes for rappelling were thrown, and the team quickly descended onto the muddy ground at the edge of the village. The village was eerily silent—the stilt houses were empty, their doors open while the wind howled, the long shadows of the village's extinguished torches swaying as if restless spirits were moving. The sound of crickets suddenly stopped, while a thin mist rose from the rice fields as if depicting the breath of the forest coming back to life.
Fauzan whispered tensely, a spare machete tucked at his waist, "The village is dead—there are no residents at all. Mr. Karto really lied. Maya, look at that—modern boot prints in the mud leading to the middle house!"
Maya narrowed her eagle eyes with her NVG, her bow ready, "Agreed. The tracks are still fresh—indicating there are about 5-7 cult members left. Hasan, I smell the stench of blood from the stilt house!"
Hasan nodded slowly, holding a pistol with a suppressor. "Night ritual. We go in quietly, take photographic evidence. Bima, are you stable?"
Bima pushed his wheelchair slowly with Sari's help, his chest feeling stiff and bandaged, his voice weak but determined. "Stable..."
Sari pushed the chair faster, holding Fahri's hand tightly, "Fahri, don't listen to the whispers anymore. Focus on the mission, okay?"
Fahri muttered anxiously, his wild eyes darting around, "The whispers say 'blood pays for the altar'. They're waiting for us."
Dito whispered through the radio, "Base, Bravo has entered the village—signal is weak due to fog. Visual contact with the house in the center." Meanwhile, Tono pointed at the map, "There is a cave under the stilt house—the coordinates of the altar's location."
Amira slowly lit the resin torch, "The fog is rising quickly—just like the mountain ridge. Rangga moved forward calmly, his pendant glowing dimly. "Let's go into the cave below. The spirit of the village has awakened."
They finally reached Mr. Karto's stilt house—the cracked wooden door was open, the pungent smell of fresh blood was overwhelming, and the bamboo floor was wet with dried red stains. In the central room, there was an altar made of black stone with human bones arranged in a circle, and fresh blood dripping from a skull statue, along with a photo of Mr. Karto and his son Suroto showing white-masked eyes displayed on the wall.
The colonel immediately photographed the evidence. "This is solid proof—the cult has infiltrated the village. Find the cave immediately!" But a sudden rumbling sound came from the wooden floor—footsteps were approaching from behind the house.
Rizal gave the signal, "Enemy contact! Flank!" Fauzan and Maya jumped out the window on the left flank, while Hasan and Tono took positions on the right. The five remaining cultists emerged from the foggy rice fields, wearing skull masks with empty white eyes, their poisonous machetes making a roaring sound.
Rizal fired his SS2 in bursts, tearing through the chests of two cultists. Fauzan hacked one cultist with his machete, sending him falling into the mud, screaming. Maya shot one cultist in the eye, while Hasan shot another in the head. The last cultist whimpered, "Suroto lives!" and tried to run into the fog, but Rangga threw a knife right into his back.
The colonel raised his radio, "Extract now! Does the cult have a base in the city?!" They opened the wooden floor door and saw a narrow underground cave filled with the bones of 20 souls, an altar equipped with a statue with red eyes and flowing blood, and a map of Jakarta marked with the coordinates "urban sacrifice".
Fahri screamed, "Lina... has paid for everything!" Bima shot the altar until it shattered. The fog from the cave rose, trying to ensnare their feet, but Rangga's pendant glowed, forcing the fog to retreat.
The team moved quickly to evacuate via helicopter, with the thick map as evidence in the Colonel's hands. "This is a conspiracy—has the cult infiltrated the military? Bravo, you are the unsung heroes."
Rizal gazed at the village mist from the helicopter, "The presence of a cult in the city... is a new hell."
The climax of this urban conspiracy unfolds, the battle against the cult within the city.