The Musafir
Heroism Story
The mantan immediately put a Protective Magic Throw on the door body. In an instant the luminous characters floated at a distance of half an inch from the door. Mantingan also installed several Trapping Magic Throws around the inn hallway.
When the young man again flashed outside the window of the room he had been through, the sound of danger signs in the form of claps and canangs again ripped through the air!
***
MANTINGAN retraced once on the window frame, bringing his body flying lightly towards the roof of the inn.
The swordsmen of the White Mask Army looked at him who had suddenly appeared from below. How they knew that Mantingan had just faced a brief fight in the inn and had won it, but they did not know and felt no need to know who the young man was fighting.
Mantingan landed lightly in its original place, right in the middle of the roof of the Night Bunian Inn. His eyes looked far south. The danger sign is still being sounded, but not at all accompanied by the sendaren— arrow which is interpreted as a sign of asking for help, because the warriors in the ocean are still having trouble facing the enemy, it is not possible to be asked for help.
“Mountain Tiger Forces, they have come, Young Brother,” said the headwaters beside Mantingan, “but presumably they are waiting for us to open the attack first.”
Mantingan realized the existence of warriors who hid behind the lush trees after installing the Eagle Eye Science. He nodded his head in an understanding sign.
“What is Old Brother planning?” Mantingan asked before putting his mask back on the face.
“We will keep waiting here,” replied the leader of the force. “We are currently outnumbered and even outstripped by strength. Opening an attack first is suicide.”
The mantan can understand his condition. But of course he did not rule out the truth that it was possible that the enemy did not hide to wait for the White Mask Army to attack, but rather to wait for other troops to arrive there before finally advancing.
It would actually be very easy to attack an army that was incomplete in strength. However, currently the White Mask Army will not do that unless it has obtained clear information on the reason the enemy forces are hiding. And then and in that place, no one could know it, not even with a Mantingan. The hulubalang has been wise by not gambling lives.
The mantle then took out all the Magic Throw left inside its ejection box. All those Magic Throws were placed on top of the precarious. The head of the army looked astonished at what he was doing.
“These spoons have their own uses, but they are all useful.” The mantan smiled stiffly as he faced the gaze of the squad leader. “There are ten Throws of Trapping Magic, three Throws of Attacker Magic, and the remaining nine are Protective Magic Throws. Does Old Brother know how to wear these spikes?”
The hulubalang did not seem to know it, but he called one of his soldiers. “Bajing, you're mastering persihiran, aren't you?”
“I am still learning, Mr. Hulubalang, but I can say I know and can control magic spells.” The swordsman who was presumably called using a pseudonym answered swiftly.
“Then you take care of all this Magic Throw, Bajing. Use it as well as possible, I know that we will be helped with these throws.”
The swordsman then combed through the dozens of Magic Throws beneath him with his gaze. Then he nodded his head.
“All this Magic Throw is nothing bad. Mr. Hulubalang just calm down. With this toss, the number of casualties on our side can be greatly reduced.” But next, he issued a question, “but before that, I must first know where these droplets came from. Because like a fake Magic Throw made by an enemy that will actually be very detrimental to us, Mr.”
“All of these throwers are from Brother Man.” While answering, the leader of the army pointed to Mantingan. “You don't have to worry about it at all. And don't ask any more questions, we don't have much time. Soon you'll be as good as you can.”
“Understand and I do, Mr.” The warrior then turned to Mantingan. “Okay, Brother Man. I have long heard of your lunge in the martial well, and it is true that the Magic Throw you produced is always of high quality.”
In response to the reprimand from the hulubalang, Bajing just laughed softly. Meanwhile, the Mantingan who did not know what to respond to could only smile awkwardly behind his mask.
“This toss-up I picked up, Brother Man.” The Swordsman lowered his head to retrieve all the Magic Throws that were lined up on the precarious of the inn. “Yes, yes, this is all a good Magic Throw. Rarely do I see Magic Throw with a spell this strong. Too bad to be used immediately in battle.”
“Brothers, don't forget to draw blood from all our warriors.” The mantan then took out a sheet of Regulatory Throw. “Even in this place items a drop of blood from each soldier.”
Bajing immediately accepted it. “Alright, I understand.”
The young swordsman passed by carrying the entire Magic Throw as he continued to mutter about how good the Magic Throw Mantang made was. Meanwhile, Mantingan could only look at him from afar. He was quite amazed also at the calm attitude of the young swordsman who seemed to not care whether he would die today or not. Is that the true attitude of a special soldier?
Mantingan recalled his teacher's story about a White Mask Squad that was so extraordinary that it became a saga at the White Wind College:
“This story happened a dozen years ago,” said Kiai Guru Kedai at that time, “when the bandits plowed the city in Bitung Giri region.
“White Mask Squad was sent to save the city. Because there are not many warriors in the city or in the neighboring city, it takes a long time if waiting for a shipment from kotaraja.”
Mantingan recalls that he asked, “Why not use ordinary soldiers?”
“All of those who daydream are middle-level warriors, some of whom even reach the expert level.”
While recalling, Mantingan looked at the entire White Mask Squad remaining around him.
“One squad is determined to attack even though their task is just to watch. At that time, the women began to be smeared of his honor,” his teacher continued. “After the battle broke out, all the warriors in the squad were drenched in blood; whether it was the blood of the enemy or even their own blood. Clothing that was originally white like a mega-mega, when it became red like twilight after rain. Even though the wounds had filled the body, they still used all their ability to continue attacking. The city could be saved, including the women in it, but none of the warriors of the squad did not die as heroes.
“They are all long dead. But their heroism lives on in his story, for ever.”
Manten raised his eyes. Will the dozens of White Mask Troops around him be a saga someday? Mantingan knew clearly, that of the whole that existed, not many would still be able to see the sun tomorrow. In other words, some of them would die in this battle.
It did not even rule out the possibility that all of them would die in this battle.
Can they be a heroic saga that is not only proclaimed in the White Wind College, but also the entire Tarumanagara in the future?
See how their robes, which were originally white like mega-mega, had turned as deep red as twilight after heavy rain. Look how they stood firm against the sword, though the hope of winning was very small.
Mantingan remembered Kiai Guru Kedai's next speech, which immediately made him blue:
“The great thing about a hero is he who keeps fighting hard even though defeat has been clearly emblazoned on the doorstep.”
