That morning, the air in Muntuwu Village was still shrouded in a thin mist that hung lazily between the lush trees. From a distance, the cry of hornbills echoed back and forth, a reminder that today was no ordinary day for Keira.
Rakaya stood on the porch of his stilt house, watching as a moss-green truck rattled to a halt at the edge of the village road. As Kalek stepped out with a steady stride, Rakaya cut a firm figure—muscular with a squared, resolute jaw. At forty-five, the hair tied back with rattan was already silvering at the temples. His eyes were sharp yet calm, while the deep lines on his face bore the weight of years spent hoping for a system that never favored a place like Muntuwu.
Rakaya turned toward the house. "Keira," he called, his voice calm yet deep. "Kalek is here. Are you ready?"
From inside, Keira stepped out slowly. She brushed the chest of her dark green shirt—right where the letters from the Council of Elders were kept in a tattered envelope tied with a small rattan string. Her face was serene, but her eyes harbored doubt.
Kalek waited beside the truck; he was a middle-aged man with a large, sturdy frame. His skin was dark, burnt by the sun, his hair partially white, and a long scar ran across his left cheek—a remnant of a past that never truly faded.
The villagers knew him as a man of few words, but loyal and dependable. He had once saved Rakaya's home from midnight looters coming from the neighboring hamlet, standing alone against them with a machete in hand and unwavering courage. Since then, he had been trusted as the messenger and official envoy of Muntuwu—a right-hand man who spoke little but never failed a mission.
Without a word, Keira climbed into the truck. Kalek simply nodded to Rakaya before cranking the engine. The old machine roared and coughed several times before finally lumbering down the rocky road.
The journey to the provincial capital—the city of Palamaya—took nearly two hours. They had to navigate narrow, winding paths down the mountain, then pass through dense wilderness and broken asphalt roads that snaked between cliffs and ravines. No other vehicles were seen during the trip. The forest felt emptier than usual. Even the sounds of wildlife were rare.
"Unusually quiet," Kalek muttered, his eyes sharp, scanning left and right.
"Yes... the air has felt heavy since last night," Keira whispered.
"That war... even before it reaches us, it seems it has already made people too afraid to leave their homes."
Keira stared out the window. She remembered the message delivered by the courier last night: World War III had officially erupted. There wasn't much information available. Only that several great nations had pressed their buttons, and nukes had begun to fly across other parts of the globe.
***
Entering the outskirts of the city, the atmosphere shifted drastically.
Minimarts and grocery stores were swamped by panicked citizens buying basic necessities—rice, water, instant noodles, batteries, kerosene, and other survival gear. Keira and Kalek's truck could barely pass because the road was choked with haphazardly parked vehicles. Shouts, cries, and the blaring megaphones of the authorities echoed through the streets.
At a large store, a crowd scrambled to get inside. Several people smashed the doors with rocks. Police arrived, dragging people out, beating them with the batons that were supposed to protect them. Blood splattered on the sidewalk. No warnings. Law seemed to be enforced on the spot now.
"Kalek..." Keira turned, her face pale.
Kalek gritted his teeth. "Stay alert."
Keira only nodded, though her breathing grew heavy. The world outside was so different from the mountain. Here, people had lost their way, and fear had morphed into panic and violence.
The Regional Representative Council building of Central Banua Rimba Province stood in the heart of Palamaya—a large white structure with high iron fences, now guarded by dozens of officers. Kalek's truck was directed to a side gate, but they had to slow down as a mass of people gathered in front of the main entrance.
Thousands of citizens and students in university uniforms flooded the gates, carrying posters, screaming demands.
"We need clarity!"
"What is happening to the world out there?!"
"Explain! Give us information!"
"Turn the internet on and broadcast the news!"
"Where are the Governor and the President?!"
Those voices sounded like the desperate pleas of souls terrified of being abandoned, left without direction. Some wept, others screamed. Posters read: "Open Internet Access! Do Not Silence Us!" and "We Are the People, We Have the Right to Know!"
Keira watched those faces from inside the truck. Faces of despair—not because the war had arrived, but because they didn't know how to prepare.
"At least give us a voice that comforts!" a mother screamed.
"We aren't statues that can just sit and wait! Give us direction! Give us an official announcement!" another cried.
They weren't demanding victory in war. They just wanted to know. They just wanted to feel protected. But all they received was silence—silence from missing leaders, from a state that pretended not to see, a state that remained mute.
Keira looked down. She had never seen a protest from this close, let alone on this scale.
However... the atmosphere that was initially peaceful changed in an instant.
Without warning, the authorities began spraying tear gas from atop tactical vehicles. People scattered. Some fell, tumbling to the ground. Screams turned into shrieks of pain.
Batons struck the bodies of demonstrators. The sound of dull thuds merged with the popping of tear gas canisters. Smoke began to envelop the area in front of the building.
From inside the side gate, a uniformed officer pointed at them.
"Inside! Now! Before you get caught up in it!"
Kalek stepped on the gas, and the old truck roared into the courtyard of the building complex. Keira still stared out the window. She saw a student fall and get beaten by two officers until his face was covered in blood. No one helped him.
The building's lobby was cold and quiet, a sharp contrast to the chaos outside. They were told to wait.
Time slowed to a crawl. Two hours passed. Keira sat on an old long sofa, while Kalek stood leaning against the wall, his eyes wary.
In the corner of the room, a television was on with the volume low. Keira watched along with several civil servants who were no longer in full uniform.
BREAKING NEWS: NUCLEAR STRIKES IN THE NORTHERN REGION
Images on the screen showed major cities in Japan, parts of Russia, and North Korea being obliterated. Buildings collapsed, streets were charred, fires spread uncontrollably. Bodies lay everywhere—some scorched, some still twitching with open wounds.
The footage came from military drones and civilian satellites. There were no reporters on the ground. Radiation made any form of live coverage impossible. Commentators mentioned that America had retaliated with massive nuclear force—the largest strike since World War II.
"The Eastern Alliance—Russia, North Korea, and China—began aerial strikes in the Pacific two days ago. But the American response came fast and mercilessly. China itself has not been hit directly yet, but reports say their defense radars are fully active along the eastern coast."
"Seoul was bombed early this morning. Initial reports say ballistic missiles hit the city center, followed by relentless air strikes from the north."
"South Korea, under Western allied command, is now mobilizing all its military reserves. But the wave of attacks is too fast, too brutal."
The news ticker scrolled rapidly:
"Chinese military moving toward the South China Sea..." "Vietnam and Taiwan on full alert..." "Foreign military bases evacuated..." "NATO forces on standby. UK, France, and Germany announce full support for the US..." "Spain and Italy issue emergency mobilization orders..." "EU forms Joint War Council to face escalation..."
Inside the room, the atmosphere tightened.
This war was no longer something belonging to distant lands. It moved like a tide, creeping slowly toward the South.
And perhaps this Republic was only waiting for its turn.
Keira swallowed hard. Her hands were trembling.
A female employee wept softly. The others just stood frozen. No one spoke. Only the television screen continued to show fire and debris, charred bodies, and a sky turning black.
Kalek stood by Keira's side, his body tensing. His eyes didn't blink. His jaw bulged as if holding something back.
"They are all...," Keira murmured. Her voice was hoarse. "...destroyed."
Kalek nodded slowly, his tone low. "War is indeed a horror..."
Satellite images focused on aircraft carriers moving from the Yellow Sea to the Pacific Ocean, flanked by drones and the shadows of fighter jets.
"If this continues..." Keira stared at the screen. "That war... it's only a matter of time before it gets here, isn't it?"
Kalek sighed softly. "And we don't even know... which side this Republic stands on."
He paused for a moment, then continued, even more quietly, "...Or when this war actually began. Those cities could have been destroyed by nukes not today, but yesterday or even two... three days ago. We are only getting the scraps of news that manage to escape this country's censors."
The television showed a clip of the US President's speech, which appeared to have been recorded days earlier, calling for the "defense of global democracy," yet on the other hand, there had not been a single official statement from their own Republic's leaders.
"Why are they silent?" Keira whispered. "Why is no one talking to the people?"
Kalek shook his head bitterly. "Because maybe... they also don't know what to do. Or worse—they've already chosen... and we, the ordinary people, just haven't been told yet."
The room fell silent again. Outside, through the building's glass, the sound of the crowd echoed like a distant roar: demands, panic, prayers, all mixed into one. But inside this room—before a screen full of flames and ruins—Keira could only remain still, her chest tightening for reasons she couldn't explain.
"Nukes..." she whispered. "Even the earth and nature will be ruined with them. The sea, the land, the air... everything could die."
Kalek looked down. There was nothing he could say to comfort her.
"Envoy from Muntuwu? Please, come in."
A man in a tan uniform finally called for them.
Keira stood. She reached for the envelope in her shirt pocket, clutching it tight. Her legs felt heavy, as if anchored to the floor, but Kalek moved with steady, unwavering steps. He glanced back for just a second, offering a sharp, silent nod: do not be afraid.