The Real Monster

Mang Ambo, emerging from the crowd, his face etched with concern and skepticism, confronted Lucius directly. "Have you killed the Kapre? We need proof, evidence that the beast is dead!" His voice, insistent and demanding, cut through the murmur of the crowd, seeking the tangible reassurance they all craved.

Lucius, meeting Mang Ambo's gaze with a steady and piercing look, paused before responding, his next words deliberate and heavy with meaning. "Before we speak of the Kapre, tell me of Carla," he said, his voice carrying clearly through the gathered villagers.

A palpable shock rippled through the crowd at the mention of her name, a collective gasp of surprise and guilt. Faces that moments ago looked hopeful now turned away, unable to meet Lucius's accusing stare. It was as if he had peeled back a veneer, exposing a wound the village had long sought to conceal.

Lucius's anger flared, fueled by the silence that answered him. "It seems you all knew what happened to Carla. You burned her alive, an innocent soul, without understanding, without compassion. Her only crime was love, and for that, you killed her. In your ignorance, you've slain someone who was never your enemy."

Mang Ambo, his face now a mask of defiance and resentment, hurled a bag of coins at Lucius. "You were paid to slay the Kapre, not to meddle in our affairs," he spat out, the bitterness of his words betraying a deep-seated guilt.

Lucius, his anger reaching its zenith, drew his sword with a swift, fluid motion. In a voice that carried both judgment and execution, he declared, "I was hired to slay a monster. And now, I see clearly where the true monster lies." With that, he struck, his blade cutting through the air with lethal precision, and in a single, decisive movement, he cut the village chief in half.

As Lucius's sword cleaved through the village chief, splitting him in two, a scream tore through the silence of the crowd. Panic erupted among the villagers, some recoiling in horror, others shouting in disbelief. The gruesome sight of their leader, now a testament to Lucius's judgment, sparked chaos and fear.

Amidst the uproar, an old woman's grief-stricken wail cut through the cacophony. She fell to her knees, her cries melding with murmurs of guilt and sorrow. This was Carla's mother, who, in a devastating twist of fate, had believed the lies spun by Mang Ambo and the chief. She had sided against her own daughter, allowing her to be condemned and burned as a witch. Her regret was a palpable force, a raw, open wound for all to see.

The village, now engulfed in turmoil, watched as Lucius, unswayed by the chaos he had unleashed, picked up the bag of coins—his payment for a job concluded. Without another word, he turned his back on Dalisay, the village that had now to live with the consequences of its actions and the truths it had tried to bury.

Passing by the immense tree where he had battled the Kapre, Lucius paused when a voice, filled with relief and gratitude, whispered through the leaves. "At last, I am free from my burden. I promise, henceforth, this village shall know peace and protection." It was the Kapre, speaking a vow of guardianship over Dalisay, a village freed from its own darkness by Lucius's hand.

Suddenly, a strand of golden hair drifted down from the branches above, landing softly in Lucius's palm. It gleamed with an ethereal light, a symbol of deep magic and ancient pacts. This golden hair was not merely a token of thanks from the Kapre but a powerful amulet, imbued with the essence of the forest and its protector. To Lucius, it signified more than victory; it was a reminder of the complexity of justice and the redemption that lies beyond vengeance. The golden hair, a gift from the Kapre, now bound Lucius to the spirit of the forest, marking him as a guardian in his own right, a warrior whose strength was matched only by his understanding of the true nature of monsters and men.