That evening, as Miguel rested after awakening Sub-Level Five, a cry rang out from the village edge. "They're here!"
Miguel was on his feet in an instant, rushing toward the sound with Lola Sabel and Amihan at his side. Three figures stood at the edge of the clearing—their forms twisted, skin grey and cracked, eyes glowing with greedy light.
"Babaylan filth," one snarled, his voice like grinding stone. "Give us the boy with the limitless potential, and we'll let you die quickly."
"He is under our protection," Lola Sabel said, stepping forward. "Turn back now, and we will not pursue you."
The evil cultivator laughed. "You're weak—still clinging to your old ways of balance. We've already consumed twenty cultivators' nodes. With his potential, we could become gods."
Miguel stepped forward, feeling the five Body Cultivation nodes hum with energy. "I won't let you hurt anyone else."
"Fool child," the cultivator hissed, lunging forward with claws extended.
Miguel shifted his arm to Aswang form, blocking the strike. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, but his nodes held firm. Amihan joined the fight, her own Body Cultivation nodes flaring red. Together, they drove the intruders back into the forest.
"They'll be back," Amihan panted, wiping blood from her cheek. "With more of their kind."
"Then we keep training," Miguel said, flexing his hand. "Next—Sub-Levels Six to Ten."