The Thousand Mask Warrior

Panji Masked Swordsman

The luk-eyed spear of the keris-tipped Hongko's stomach. Fresh blood slipped out from the sidelines of that spear stab. The prick did not have time to go too deep because with his strength left and lying down, he was still able to hold the spear to go deeper into his stomach. But for how long?

One other Mataram soldier saw this was ready to thrust his spear into Hongko's chest which was still with all the rest of his strength holding the spear thrust slowly getting in to tear the flesh. The soldier took a swing. Lifting the spear and ready to blow it.

SLEPT UP!

Suddenly a very sharp iron bracelet stuck in the head wrapped in the Mataram soldier who was about to throw his spear into the chest of Hongko. That sharp iron bracelet plate was a disk that was flung out with precision, a tremendous shrewdness of strength.

The soldier collapsed without a sound.

Before long a body burst out from the trees that seemed to be where the disc was thrown from. Grasping a curved sword, the figure clearly showed hostility and attempted to attack the other soldier.

The soldier who was a little dumbfounded because his friend had fallen became alert. Immediately he pulled out the spear that was still stuck in Hongko's stomach. Hongko chokes. Blood came out of the wound.

With the spear now free, the soldier immediately prepared his horses. The fight is inevitable. The curved sword collided with the hilt of the spear, but only once. The figure spun nimbly and managed to read off the soldier's shoulder. Without waiting any longer, at an incredible speed the figure spun again ..

CRAS!

The head of the Mataram warrior rolled to the ground.

Faintly Hongko saw the figure wearing pants pangsi – knee-length pants – black and bare-legged. A white tui-khim shirt with no collar covered in a black vest. He wears a mask. A white Panji mask that does not reveal the face and feelings of the person behind it at all. The figure is approaching, “Dad ..”

Of course Hongko was shocked. He recognized the voice as the voice of his son, Jayaseta. Moreover, Hongko also hit the sword shamsir which was tightly grasped by the masked figure. It turned out to be true that the figure behind the mask was the son when Jayaseta removed his mask, put his sword on the ground and immediately approached his father who was lying wounded and helpless.

“What are you doing here, son?” stammered, Hongko spoke. “I told you to get away from Giri. Protect the population from attacks by Surabaya and Mataram forces. Use your magic to help them!”

“But father .. I cannot leave father here. Surabaya troops everywhere. I managed to kill some of them and save the people from Giri. Then I remembered dad.”

Hearing him for some reason under these circumstances, Hongko's chest rumbled instead. He felt a strange sense of pride. Si Kongsing or Stranger aka Jayaseta has grown into a teenage swordsman at this age.

Hongko watched as the muscles of the hands behind the arms of the son looked around. The face of the handsome son with long hair that he rolled on the back of his head and covered with cloth. Although still showing the air of his kingdom, the assertiveness of a champion has shown its rays.

From the very beginning when the war was already raging, Hongko had made it clear to the child to be brave. Dare to fight, dare to fight against arbitrariness and immorality, dare to fight against the power of Mataram who have trampled the dignity of the people of Giri Kedaton. The king was busy offering, or rather imposing the image of Islamic Java under one sun, namely Mataram.

Hongko explained clearly to the child to prepare to dare to kill anyone who set foot in the land of Giri Kedaton with bad intentions. Although Jayaseta is still young and does not really understand the state of society, state and religion Mataram and Giri Kedaton, the war is inevitable and surely Jayaseta must be ready like it or not.

After all, this is the essence of why Jayaseta has been hard forged so far. Although he does not understand all the problems of state, almost certainly a swordsman must dare to defend the weak, especially those people are friends and people he knows, he said, like these Giri people.

He was originally prepared to be a member of the Chinese Endrasena army. But Hongko did not expect that Jayaseta had been this great. Just now Jayaseta even said today that he had killed several Surabaya and Mataram forces. Not to mention the incident just now, where a disc shot into the head of the soldier and a head was beheaded. Doesn't today mean the first time his son killed?

Then sadness suddenly flowed in Hongko's body. Creeping fast like an army of insects swarming the carcass of a rat. He thought about the fate of his great son. Will his son survive the defeat of Giri Kedaton? He has asked Jayaseta to leave Giri while protecting the residents. But he came back. Will he survive before he fully matures his science and enjoys his life?

Not having time to think long, Hongko saw a group of troops again Surabaya and Mataram finally managed to find them. Things are getting worse now. It seems that this was not realized Jayaseta because he was in a state of bowing towards his father and turned his back on the newly arrived troop.

It was clearly seen by him when this troop was choked to see the scene where some of their troops were killed with two other Chinese troops who had become corpses. One of the soldiers for the sake of seeing this scene immediately used his spear as a javelin and threw it towards Jayaseta who was still busy caring about his father's wounds.

In order to see this with all his remaining energy, Hongko held his two children's shoulders and twisted them until Jayaseta was spared from the javelin's throw. Jayaseta felt his father in his arms, a spear stuck in his back. The father's life chipped out of his body without a sound. His gaze was blankly staring at the sky and his body was weak all the way to his bones. He collapsed while hugging his son.

Jayaseta stared in disbelief at her father's body which had just turned into a limp corpse that had befallen her. Jayaseta's heart was broken into pieces. It could no longer be described how his crumpled heart, which was like crumbs, broke when touched.

With overwhelming feelings shattered, Jayaseta shifts the body of the father, who, yelling bitterly while full of anger took the sword shamsir owned by his late grandfather as well as sliding quickly grabbed the jian owned by the father who was lying not so far on the ground after being thrown by his father towards one of the soldiers Mataram.

His two swords swirled around looking for prey with wrath. The soldiers dodged so that even though Jayaseta attacked blindly there were not a few parts of the opponent's body scratched. This is the problem, with the flutter and tears of Jayaseta's moves become shapeless.

His fighting ability had worn off due to an overwhelming feeling of sadness. It is true that the steadiness of the soul and mind is much greater than the strength of the muscles and body. When the mind and soul are disturbed, the body gives up and becomes a slave.

Although he understood that his father was a soldier where death and life were only a thin thread apart, he still could not accept the heartbreaking death of his father. Unfortunately he was confused using the Chinese jian in his right hand and the Damascus shamsir sword in his left. In addition to his thoughts and feelings being torn apart, the two very different shapes and weights of the sword made it very difficult for him to adjust his legs and hands.

Now he was surrounded by a group of Mataram soldiers who for the sake of seeing the confusion of Jayaseta and his face full of sadness became excited and laughed. How not, Surabaya and Mataram forces have won a landslide while in front of them only looks a teenager who seems to be his loved ones had just died hit by a spear throw. Not to mention the sabetages of his two swords seemed like a person who could not use a weapon and was only carried away by anger and sadness.

Jayaseta with a blind attack slowly realized everything had happened. Sadness became increasingly familiar to her when her mother died a year ago from a severe illness and was followed by her much-loved teacher's grandfather a few days later. This time his father, the soldier and the teacher who also died in the war. A death of honor for a real soldier. It can be said now he is an orphan who has no family anymore, both mother's father and grandparents.

Slowly Jayaseta tried to absorb all the sadness. He no longer wanted to avoid this deep sadness. He knew him, he began to accept the harsh reality he now accepts. The message of his mother, father and grandfather that basically asked him to be a tough and strong person in the face of life is now a real strength. His father's hope that he became a swordsman who chose a match must be fulfilled. You can't give up feeling. A champion must be able to conquer the barrier of the old self to fight the enemy.

He calms himself. Feel the jian in his right hand which is long straight, sharp on both sides and taper at the ends. He remembered his father's words that this jian was the result of the Ming dynasty's royal period in China there from steel.

“Remember Stranger, jian is not just an ordinary sharp weapon. Unlike the dao, the jian was the weapon of a respectable man and had dignity or rank in a higher society. Your movements must not only be agile and nimble, but must also be beautiful,” Jayaseta remembered the words of the father when teaching him jian. “Your movement is rough and hard. All movement must be a form of self-control so that while gentle still shows its strength, the strength of a true gentleman is honorable.”

Before long Jayaseta also weighed the sword of Damascus in his left hand that was curved and so sturdy. This time he also remembered the words of his grandfather, “In the beginning the sword of the Persians was straight and had two sharp sides. However, during the time of the Seljuk Sultanate in the twelfth century shamsir was brought to Persia. Shamsir is a Persian base which simply means sword.

Shamsir is also very well known with another simitar, curved and is a feature of the Muslim sword of the Arabs and Muslims in the land of Hindustan or formerly known as Jambudwipa. The curved shape of the shamsir makes it steady for cutting and chopping, but it will be quite difficult to use piercing enemies. So you do need to have the skills that my grandson is capable of.”

Jayaseta has been training shamsir with hard guidance but full of affection of the grandfather. In using shamsir, Jayaseta must have muscle strength and by an extraordinary body. In his training, he must train both hands by training using weights before holding the shamsir and moving it forward and backward and up and down quickly and strongly.

Then Jayaseta also had to use another sort of ballast shaped like a horseshoe on both his shoulders to make his attacks more powerful and the joints used to move agilely. This is the basic training that must be done by the swordsmen in the country of Persia.

He sees around him. The soldiers' laughter loomed over interspersed with the smiling images of his father and grandfather. All the enemy soldiers laughed at his sadness. His face was shabby and wet with tears. Jayaseta, put both swords on the ground. Then take the Panji mask lying not far from his feet. Wearing it steadily and again took the two swords belonging to his father and grandfather.

“Hua ha ha ha .. hey what do you mean boy?” one of the soldiers laughed.

“Nang ning gong ning gong ning gong ..” others imitate the sound of gamelan. While others are provoked by moving their shoulders and bodies to the rhythm. They mocked as if the teenage boy was a mask dancer from Cerbon.

Now the soldiers could only see the figure of the small-eyed pale white-faced mask with no image of the original countenance and feeling of the boy in front of them. A moment later, unexpectedly at all suddenly one soldier shouted loudly when he saw his arm along the shoulder was no longer in place.

The piece of hand fell to the ground with the spear he was holding. Jayaseta managed to stamp it at a speed that was almost impossible to know. The soldier was also lying on the ground withstanding the pain in the part where his hand was cut off and blood gushed profusely.

Laughter vanished on the face of the soldier. Now shout of anger that replaced him, “Serang .. kill. …!!”

Dumfound. The figure of this boy was completely different from a moment ago which they thought was just a frightened teenage boy. After using this Panji mask, the boy turned into a wild and unpredictable figure. But if listened to the style of the boy as before, strange movements, as if not really able to fight. But the cut is very dangerous. The proof was that two more soldiers fell in a few movements.

For those who do not understand it may see Jayaseta unable to fight, but for those who understand, actually the moves he used were a combination of jian su four-way Chinese wind belongs to his father and the shamsir Damascus sword style belongs to the grandfather. The manager became difficult to guess.

Every thrust of the spear that attacked his body he managed to avoid or tepis by circling, jumping, even sometimes by winding in the air and his counterattack blindly, difficult to guess but very deadly.

The soldiers, though besieged and seemingly superior, are now confused by the opponent's wild and unpredictable movements. In a short time again a soldier fell to his life with a cross incision in his chest and a stab to the right ear and shot into his head spitting out thick blood.

Two more were injured as well with various deep incisions in the arms, shoulders and waist. The rest immediately retreated and hesitated while shaking their spears in confusion and fear of the ferocity of the opponent. Was it a boy or was it actually the demon behind the mask? Or Endrasena who was killed in the attack ***** hot Pranggi Ratu Pandhansari shotgun back alive in the body of the boy?

Jayaseta is very interested in masks. At home, he has a variety of masks. From the mask of the tiger barong from Bali, the mask of Hanuman the white monkey, the mask of red smoldering ganongan long-nosed and big-eyed, to the mask of Panji cold-faced. When using the mask, he felt able to absorb all the moves he had learned.

With a mask he can be anyone, or even no one. The enemy could not recognize his face and what was on his mind. The mask was the first time in his life a few years ago, Jayaseta managed to insert his raw bogem at once into the body of the father and grandfather in their battle training and excel in a match-fighting exercise.

Jayaseta was still going on a rampage, twirling his two swords and making the soldiers who attacked him scatter and roll dodging his attacks. Jayaseta's rampage only stopped when suddenly the sound of a shotgun blast was heard and Jayaseta's calf was blown away *****. Blood spurted from the wound followed by a burning smell that was quite pungent. He shook and fell to his knees with one leg still trying to support his body.