BLOOD OF BORNEO

CHAPTER 2: THE PRICE OF A LIFE

Cold.

The first thing Damang felt was a chill that pierced to his very marrow. He tried to move his fingertips, but the sensation triggered excruciating pain in his abdomen. It felt as if a hot iron rod were still lodged there, twisting his intestines.

"Don't move if you don't want your guts to spill out, boy."

Damang jolted. The voice was raspy and heavy. He forced his eyes open. His vision was blurred, catching only the dim shadows cast by a torch flickering against the stone wall. He was inside a cave.

"Where... am I?" Damang groaned. Every word felt like dragging shards of glass across his throat.

"The edge of the Baram River. The current carried you downstream, and I pulled you out before the crocodiles could get a taste of your blood," the voice replied.

An old woman with arms covered in tattoos appeared before Damang. Her name was Indung Inan. She did not look like a typical village healer. Her eyes were sharp, staring at Damang as if she were assessing the quality of a piece of meat at the market.

"My father..." Damang tried to sit up, but his body collapsed instantly. "Thorne... he took my father."

"Commander Nyarung has already been taken to the Thorne Industrial Complex. If you go there now in your condition, with your intestines perforated like that, you’ll just be adding to the pile of corpses," Indung Inan said coldly.

Damang clenched his fists until his entire body shook violently. "I have to save him! That bastard... he’s using insane technology. Their blades... they aren't human."

"Of course they aren't. Those are Paladins. Humans modified with steel and neural stimulants," Indung Inan said, approaching with a bowl containing a thick, black liquid that smelled fishy. "But that wound in your stomach is far worse than a simple sword slash."

Indung Inan pulled back the cloth covering Damang’s stomach. The young man winced at the sight of his own condition. The puncture wound was not red, but pitch black. The veins around the wound were bulging and dark purple, pulsing as if a parasite were living beneath his skin.

"What is that?" Damang asked, his breathing ragged.

"Thermal biotechnology residue. Thorne didn't just want to kill you; he wanted to ensure your cells died systematically so you couldn't regenerate. This is a slow execution," Indung Inan explained.

"Can you cure it?"

"Ordinary medicine won't work. You need something stronger. Something that defies the laws of nature, just like what Thorne does to his machines."

Damang stared into the old woman's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I can knit your cells back together with the help of 'Forest Blood.' But the price is high, Damang. You will feel pain a hundred times worse than that sword thrust. And if your heart isn't strong enough, you will die during the process."

"Do it," Damang answered without hesitation. "I don't have time to die."

Indung Inan smirked slightly. "A good answer. Now, bite down on this ironwood. Don't let yourself bite your own tongue off."

The woman began pouring the black liquid onto Damang’s open wound.

"AAAAAAAAARGH!"

Damang screamed. His body arched off the stone slab. It felt like thousands of burning needles were being driven into his nerves simultaneously. He could see thin smoke rising from his wound as the liquid reacted with Thorne’s chemical residue.

"Hold on, boy! Don't pass out!" Indung Inan snapped. "If you give up now, the poison will go straight to your brain!"

"D-damn it... it hurts so much...!" Damang growled through his teeth, biting down on the ironwood. Cold sweat poured down, soaking his trembling body.

"Thorne relies on steel and electricity. You will rely on something older than that. Something they consider superstition," Indung Inan picked up a long needle made from a hornbill bone. "I am going to tattoo your body with this ink. This isn't just a tattoo. It is an energy lock. It will force you to keep living even when, medically, you should be dead."

"Why are you helping me? What do you want?" Damang asked through the remnants of his fading consciousness.

"Because the blood flowing in your veins was not meant to be wasted at the hands of Thorne," she replied, her voice calm yet sharp. "Thorne has plundered this forest and oppressed our people for his insane experiments. I have kept this secret for too long, waiting for you to return—not as a mercenary, but as the rightful heir. You have vengeance, you have strength, and now... you are the only one left to exact retribution."

The needle began to pierce the skin of Damang’s chest.

Jleb! Jleb! Jleb!

Each prick felt like a burning electric shock. Damang could feel the ink flowing beneath his skin, moving with his bloodstream. Strangely, the pain in his stomach began to subside, replaced by a sensation of heat spreading through his limbs.

"Your military logic will be useless here, Damang," Indung Inan said, continuing to drive the needle at an impossible speed. "You cannot win against a Paladin with standard martial arts. They have motion sensors, they have artificial muscles. You must become faster and stronger than their machines."

"How do I defeat them?" Damang asked, his voice beginning to sound deeper and more resonant.

"By becoming a monster more terrifying than they are. This ink will give you physical strength that exceeds human limits, but in return, you will constantly crave adrenaline. If you stop fighting, your body will feel like it’s burning."

Damang laughed bitterly, even as his chest bled from the ritual. "So, you're turning me into a living weapon?"

"I am giving you the chance for revenge. The choice is yours. Die as a loser in this cave, or wake up as a predator who will tear out Elias Thorne’s throat?"

The image of his father being dragged like an animal flashed through Damang’s mind. He remembered the Paladin’s mockery as he stepped on his wound. The rage that had dimmed now flared up again, larger and darker than before.

"Finish the ritual," Damang commanded. "I am going to level the Thorne Project to the ground."

"Good. Now, for the hardest part."

Indung Inan took a small bottle containing a glowing red liquid. "This is the extract of the forest's heart. It will force your cell regeneration. Prepare yourself, Damang. You will feel as though your bones are breaking and knitting back together over and over again."

As soon as the liquid was injected into the vein in Damang’s neck, his world exploded.

"Ugh... GAAAAAAAH!"

Damang gripped the edge of the stone slab until the rock cracked under the pressure of his fingers. He could feel his ribs crunching. The wound in his stomach began to close on its own, new flesh growing at a terrifying speed, covering the hole left by the thermal blade.

The black veins on his arms now settled, forming ancient tattoo patterns that glowed faintly in the darkness.

"Twenty percent," Indung Inan muttered, staring at an hourglass in the corner of the room.

"Twenty... percent of what?" Damang asked, his breath coming in gasps.

"Your body's synchronization level with the Forest Blood. If it reaches one hundred percent, you will be invincible. But for now, twenty percent is enough to keep you from dying when you take a hit from a Paladin."

Damang tried to stand. This time, his legs didn't tremble. He felt his body was much lighter, yet every muscle felt like a steel spring ready to be released. He walked toward a pool of water in the corner of the cave and saw his reflection.

His face looked thinner, his eyes emitting an unnatural flash. And on his stomach, there was a circular, purplish-silver scar surrounded by intricate black tattoos.

"How long have I been here?" Damang asked.

"Three days. Thorne has started digging at the main coordinates. He is building a mobile fortress there. If you want to save your father, you must move tonight before they transfer the specimens to the central headquarters in the city."

"Three days..." Damang clenched his hand. This new power felt foreign, yet very real. "Where is my weapon?"

"Your dagger is broken. You cannot fight steel with cheap iron," Indung Inan handed him a long cloth bundle.

When Damang opened it, he found an old mandau with a blade made of black meteorite. The hilt was carved from the bone of a beast he did not recognize.

"This belonged to your grandfather. Commander Nyarung hid it from you because he wanted you to live a normal life as a soldier. But now, you have no other choice."

Damang gripped the mandau. The weapon felt perfect in his hand, as if the blade were an extension of his own arm.

"Thorne has thousands of soldiers, Paladins, and surveillance technology," Damang said, staring at the cave entrance. "How do I get in there alone?"

"You will not enter through the front door. You will enter through the shadows. This forest belongs to you, Damang. Use it. Let them be terrified when they see something they cannot detect with their radar."

Damang nodded. He felt a surge of incredible energy in his chest. The pain that had tortured him was now fuel for his rage.

"One more thing," Indung Inan added. "Never let your rage overcome your logic. If you lose control, the tattoos will consume your soul before you even get the chance to kill Thorne."

"I will remember that," Damang replied coldly.

He stepped out of the cave. A thunderstorm greeted him. Lightning struck the sky, illuminating the silhouette of his body, now covered in the marks of ancient power. In the distance, searchlights from Thorne’s camp cut through the darkness of the forest.

Damang took a deep breath, sensing the scent of earth and blood mingling in the air.

"This mandau is thirsty, Thorne. And you are the offering," Damang whispered.

In one swift motion, he darted into the darkness of the forest. His speed far exceeded the limits of an ordinary human. He no longer ran like a soldier; he moved like a predator that had been hungry for a long time.

That night, the Baram forest would witness the return of its master. And every drop of blood spilled would be paid for with a life.