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Home / Fantasy / THE GOD'S OF CHOSEN WARRIOR / The Death of Wiro Sentiko
The Death of Wiro Sentiko
Author: Alfonzo Perez
last update2026-01-05 14:22:48

“The time has come to send you to meet the God of Death, old man!”

With deliberate grace, Aji drew the Earth Dragon Sword from its scabbard. The moment his fingers wrapped around the dark steel blade, it blazed with a fierce crimson aura—waves of intense heat rolling off it like steam from boiling water, painting the surrounding darkness with shades of burning red.

“Impossible… how can he wield a legendary blade with such immense power?” Wiro Sentiko murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. Cold sweat streamed down his face, mixing with the dark blood that continued to seep from his grievous wounds. His eyes were wide with a terror he could no longer conceal.

In all his long years as a warrior, Wiro Sentiko could count on one hand the number of times he had faced true defeat—and each time, his opponent had been an aged master whose power had been forged over decades of battle. But now, he stood broken and beaten at the hands of someone young enough to be his grandchild—a fact t
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  • The Trial

    Aji offered a faint, knowing smile as he took in the look of stunned disbelief on Duke Ranamungkarna’s face. “Why such surprise at seeing me? Had I known the full extent of your crimes back when we crossed paths at the village eatery, I would have ended your reign of terror then and there!”“What crime have I committed? I am innocent of all accusations!” the Duke protested, his voice rising with desperation as he struggled against his bonds.“Your words are meaningless—all evidence has been gathered and laid bare,” Aji replied, his tone cold and unyielding. “Tomorrow, you will stand trial before every man, woman, and child in this village. The truth of what you have done will be heard by all.” His gaze then shifted to Village Chief Surananta, his eyes burning with righteous anger.“And you—you who were meant to lead and protect these people as their chief. Instead, you chose to conspire in murder, trading the trust of your community for gold and empty promises!”Surananta could do not

  • The Underground Chamber

    As the group filed into the room, their eyes swept across the spacious chamber—but not a single soul could be seen within its walls.“Search every inch of this place—find them now!” Aji commanded, his gaze cutting through the shadows as he took in the room’s layout. Three massive wooden cabinets stood against the far wall, their doors carved with intricate patterns of vines and flowers. Near the center of the room sat a set of heavy chairs arranged around a round table, and beside it lay a neat stack of ancient books and palm-leaf manuscripts, their pages yellowed with age.One by one, the cabinets were thrown open, their contents revealed to the light. But instead of finding Duke Ranamungkarna and Village Chief Surananta, the searchers discovered piles upon piles of treasure—gold coins glinting like captured sunlight, gemstones of every color winking from velvet cushions, and chests filled with silk fabrics and precious metals beyond counting.“It seems they have fled, Sir,” one of t

  • The Arrest

    Neither the bald mercenary nor his four companions could have anticipated what happened next. As the massive blade came crashing down, Aji simply shifted his foot a single step to the side—moving with the fluid grace of a leaf dancing on the wind—and avoided the strike entirely. In the same instant, his hand shot forward, wrapping around the bald man’s throat with a grip like iron forged in the heart of a volcano. Again and again, the sound of cracking bone echoed through the night air—KREEK! KREEK!—as Aji’s fingers crushed through cartilage and sinew without effort.The sight of their leader felled in a single, brutal motion transformed the remaining mercenaries’ perception of the handsome warrior before them. Where once they had seen only a fair face and a gentle smile, now they beheld a ferocity so cold and unyielding it seemed to freeze the very air around them.Their knees trembled violently beneath them, their hearts hammering against their ribs like stallions racing across open

  • Dread

    The soldiers of Duke Ranamungkarna stood frozen, their mouths agape as they watched the four elite guards bow their heads in unwavering deference to Aji. In their minds, only one conclusion could be drawn: this strikingly handsome man must be a high-ranking noble of the royal court. For what other reason would warriors of such esteemed standing—members of the kingdom’s most revered guard—show such profound respect to a single individual?The bald mercenary leader fixed Aji with a glare as sharp as shards of obsidian. Then, without warning, he threw back his head and roared with laughter—so loud and boisterous that his thick, sweeping mustache (which curved across his lips like the great Bengawan Solo river winds through the land) bounced up and down with each heave of his broad shoulders.“Hahahaha! Those four whelps could not hope to stand against me, and you—you think you can fare any better?”Aji offered nothing more than a faint, almost imperceptible smile at the verbal assault. T

  • The Night Assault

    “And what of it, Sumarta? Speak plainly—what do you see?” Aji’s voice held a note of quiet urgency, his eyes fixed intently on his trusted captain as they stood within the humble entryway of the house.“Y-Yes, Sir… It is her,” Sumarta stammered, his words catching in his throat as he struggled to reconcile the truth before him. Never in all his years of service had he imagined that the very woman they had been commanded to seek would be so close to their own liege—bound by ties of blood and love rather than duty alone.“Brother Aji, what is happening?” The question came in unison from Ratih and Diandra, their voices laced with confusion as they watched the exchange unfold. Ratih stepped forward, her brow furrowed with concern, while Diandra’s gaze flitted between the two men, her hands clasped tightly at her chest.Aji turned his attention toward the inner room where his mother lay sleeping, her breathing deep and steady beneath layers of woven cotton blankets. He knew that to disturb

  • Aji’s Conviction

    Could it be that his mother, Diandra, was the very figure being spoken of by the two individuals within that grand manor? The question clung fast to Aji’s thoughts, weaving through every corner of his mind like ivy creeping across ancient stone walls.If such a truth held firm, then his mother Diandra must be safeguarded with the utmost vigilance imaginable. It would be folly to dismiss the possibility that should they learn the woman now lived in peace and wholeness, paths of brutal violence might well be forged to preserve the standing of Duke Ranamungkarna.In a moment of unguarded movement, his sleeve caught against a heavy iron lantern, sending it tumbling from its perch high above. Aji reached out with swift intent, yet the weight of the fixture was too great to stay its fall—it crashed against the earth below with a resounding clang that shattered the night’s quiet, rousing the curiosity of the guards posted at the manor’s gates. Even several village elders, gathered nearby to

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