Jagat vs Bengal

Jagat had faced death several times before and always managed to escape, either through his own abilities or with the help of others. But now, he desired nothing more than to end Bengal's life.

"Come on. Let's fight, false Mongol!" Bengal taunted with a raised voice. It seemed he still didn't recognize Jagat.

Jagat had no intention of reintroducing himself. He stood silent, observing Bengal with his sharp, vigilant eyes, scanning the surroundings. He knew every inch of the ground he was standing on. The tall, thin trees around him provided an advantage.

After careful consideration, Jagat estimated that the area was only about fifty paces from the nearest tall tree and approximately 20 paces to the thick shrubs behind him. Such a confined space meant that at least half of that area could be used for close combat.

There was a sturdy branch rising up to his knee, positioned in front of his right eye.

Bengal didn't appear to be carrying any weapons in his hands, but Jagat wasn't sure if he might have them hidden beneath his sweat-drenched clothes.

"Alright," he whispered to himself. Without hesitation, Jagat took a step forward, initiating the attack, his movements as agile as a deer running freely in an open field.

Bengal remained motionless, with both feet firmly planted on the ground, his hands moving back to receive Jagat's attack.

The clash of their hands ensued. Each demonstrated quick and precise strikes aimed at their targets, but Jagat kept trying to push Bengal to shift his feet.

With graceful movements, like a deer playing under Bengal's guard, Jagat took the initiative with a combination of high and low attacks. His fist moved swiftly toward Bengal's face, but agile as he was, Bengal evaded it by jumping backward. Their feet danced dangerously on the narrow ground.

Finally, Bengal managed to change his position. Jagat now had the freedom to determine his attack pattern again. His new ability allowed him to organize his techniques more effectively for both offense and defense.

The most crucial aspect of this ability was his capacity to read and learn the opponent's moves swiftly. However, he wouldn't mimic Bengal because it was still too fast for him, and Bengal wasn't a master martial artist anyway.

The two warriors exchanged attacks. Punches and kicks were launched alternately with astounding speed. Jagat relied on his agility and endurance, while Bengal demonstrated high martial skills. Each of their blows echoed among the trees.

The rush of wind became palpable as the pace of the battle escalated. They rained down blows on each other, and the ground beneath them was trampled, creating a small cloud of dust in the air.

Suddenly, Bengal executed a low kick that almost hit Jagat's leg, but with agility, Jagat managed to dodge it by sliding swiftly to the side. The ground beneath his feet tore apart due to his speed.

The tension in the battle intensified. Sweat poured down their foreheads and mingled with their dangling hair. Their breaths became more labored, but their spirits to emerge victorious never waned.

Their eyes locked in enmity, yet radiated a high desire to kill one another. There was no honor in this fight. Every ounce of power and effort would be used to kill the opponent.

Both knew that this battle would determine who lived and who died. There would be no winners or losers.

In the next moments of the fight, they locked eyes, unwilling to momentarily break focus. Once again, Jagat launched a deep attack, and this time, his punch hit the target precisely. Bengal staggered, and in that moment, Jagat noticed an opening in Bengal's defense. With all his strength, he delivered a final punch that struck Bengal's face directly. Bengal was thrown backward, falling to the ground motionless.

Bengal was now closer to Jagat's plan, driven toward the sturdy branch. He hadn't paid much attention to Jagat's hidden weapon in nature, but it was now clearly visible.

However, a chilling grin emerged on Bengal's face as he reached behind him.

"You think I'm unarmed?" Bengal murmured with a mysterious smile. He noticed the sweat starting to dampen his clothes and quickly, unseen by the naked eye, he reached for a hidden dagger concealed within his clothing.

Jagat took a deep breath, ready to face whatever Bengal had in store. Now, he wouldn't underestimate his opponent, for before him stood a man with abilities and intelligence equal to his own.

Bengal swiftly unsheathed his dagger, welcoming Jagat's attack like a deer leaping forward. They fought with movements so fast and precise that the sound of clashing metal and labored breaths became an unheard symphony in the midst of the battle.

Bengal, holding the dagger, stood with his feet apart and body half-bent, ready to launch his first attack. He gripped the dagger firmly, his fingers trailing along the patterned handle, showcasing his high skill in wielding the weapon.

Armed only with his bare hands, Jagat kept a wise distance. He moved lightly, his feet seemingly dancing on the ground. He relied solely on his calculations, from Bengal's hand movements to the well-arranged footwork of his techniques.

Each move had a precisely structured pattern created by its founder. Without such a structure, it would be impossible to record the technique in a book. Every move to be executed carried an unpredictable pattern, conceived by the creator with the mastery of a martial arts grandmaster. Without the right arrangement, the greatness of the technique would be wasted, a mere abstraction on a rigid book page.

The time had come. The perfect moment to unleash the legendary technique Arya Mandana had attempted when tested by Ki Wardiman. This immensely powerful technique, he claimed, was inherited from his teacher, Sabrang Panuluh, a former warlord of Kediri.

Bengal felt confident. In an instant, he lunged forward with lightning speed, his dagger spinning in a graceful and lethal motion. The attack was sharp and precise, attempting to strike down his opponent in a daring move.

Yet, Jagat leaped to the side, ensuring a sufficient distance to invoke the magical power of Mandana.

The technique's name was "Pukulan Hasta Geni" (Fire Fist Strike). Unleashing it was quite challenging as it required manipulating the inner energy to absorb the earth's core energy.

Jagat focused intensely. Calmly, he bowed his body and maximized the circulation of blood to his clenched fists, touching the ground as the source of his power.

The battle unfolded at such an astounding speed. To the untrained eye, the fight was nothing more than shadows and flashes of weapons.

However, to those with advanced knowledge, the speed and mastery of the techniques couldn't be overlooked. Bengal lunged forward with his dagger, while on the other side, Jagat was crouching with his hands ready to release a mighty force.

Then, without any prior indication, Jagat moved swiftly to face Bengal's fierce charge. He shifted slightly, precisely avoiding the dagger thrust while, at the same time, landing a dangerous punch to Bengal's chest.

*Thud!

Bengal was thrown back, landing at the exact distance calculated by Jagat. His body slid until his back collided with a blunt tree branch that still proved fatal for him.

Jagat smiled contentedly, witnessing his enemy writhing in pain while the broken branch impaled his abdomen.

"Who are you really?" The question came too late from Bengal's mouth. And it became his last question in this world as he watched Jagat wipe the black substance from his eyes with the sweat from his face.

His eyes were not tightly closed. Blood dripped out so rapidly, flooding the ground.

Thus, Sangkih's vengeance had been avenged. His business with Sawung Bumi was now settled. He only needed to respond to Arya Mandana's summons for an important conversation, the content of which he was still unaware.

The sound of neighing horses mixed with the bustling noise of the Majapahit soldiers. It seemed they had finished dealing with the Poison Kala members.

All the soldiers could do was stare in awe at the pool of blood centered around a broken tree branch.

"So, you're done, Jagat?" Tantra's voice cut through the soldiers. Jagat remained motionless, his eyes still fixed on Bengal's lifeless body.

"Will you help me, Tantra?"

"Help with what?"

"Do you have a sharp machete?" Jagat inquired.

"For what?" Tantra asked, already suspecting that Jagat's request would be related to Bengal's corpse.

"I want to cut off this man's head so I can take it to Sawung Bumi."

"I can arrange that. But after this, you'll accompany me to meet Arya Mandana. He has a task for you."

Arya Mandana had not previously mentioned any task. Could it be related to his newly acquired abilities? Seeing Ki Wardiman's closeness to Mandana, it was possible.

"What task?"

"To unite all the white sects."

"That's not my task. Now give me your machete."

Jagat casually walked towards a soldier who held a machete in his hand. However, Tantra immediately signaled to all his men to dismount from their horses and surround Jagat.

"Do you think Majapahit is a lawless land? I can arrest you right now for murder!"

Five spears were pressed against his skin, scattered across his neck and chest. He was too tired to run. The space around him grew narrower with their presence.