Chapter 45: The Hunt

The old man shuffled toward an ancient cupboard, its wood groaning in protest under his touch. He rummaged momentarily, then pulled out a small pouch and placed it on the table with a weary sigh.

"These," he rasped, his fingers trembling as he untied the string, "are the last hope of the village."

Inside, nestled carefully among bits of old cloth, were several seeds. They were small, unimpressive—yet the old man regarded them as though they held the very future of the land.

"I don't mean to sound harsh," Suria said, her voice gentle yet direct, "but with the Puaka still around, those seeds might not stand a chance."

Riang nodded in agreement, eying the seeds with a knowing frown. 

"The source of this trouble is the Darkseed."

The old man sighed, his face etched with the weight of years and failure.

"Perhaps I am just a foolish old man," he muttered, his voice heavy with resignation. "But it's all I have left. What can an old man like me do? Beat up the Puakas?"

Suria watched him for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the silent air. After a long pause, she spoke again. 

"Old man, let us rest here a bit. Tonight, we'll hunt the Puaka down for you. Then you'll have all the time you need to plant your seeds. Sound good?"

The old man hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, but then he nodded slowly. 

"Can… can you do that? It's dangerous…"

"Of course, we can!" Riang assured him with a broad grin, her eyes sparkling with confidence.

"You've got nothing to worry about." Suria gave the old man a small smile.

The old man's shoulders seemed to relax slightly, though a flicker of doubt still lingered in his eyes.

"I suppose... if you're truly set on it. Before I forget, let me offer what little I have."

With a weary sigh, he shuffled to a small wooden table and retrieved a few withered curry leaves. Their once-vibrant green had faded to a pale yellow, and they cracked like dry paper between his fingers. He placed them carefully into a chipped bowl and handed it to Suria with an apologetic glance. 

"It's not much... but it's all I can offer you for now. The land doesn't even provide enough for a proper meal these days."

Suria took the bowl and examined the shriveled leaves, rubbing them between her fingers and inhaling their faint, spicy aroma. 

"Well, it's certainly... unique. But we'll take what we can get, right, Riang?"

Riang grinned and gave Suria a playful nudge. 

"I think it'll be just fine. After all, who needs meat when you've got curry leaves?" She mimed taking a large bite out of the air, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

The old man let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh of relief. 

"You're both kind to indulge an old fool like me."

They ate in silence, the leaves tasting as dry and bitter as the land around them. Still, the gesture meant more than the food itself. After they finished, the old man led them to a small mat in the corner of his humble home. 

"You're welcome to rest here," he said, "and I'll wake you when it's time."

"Ah, you don't need to do that," Suria responded as she prepared to lie down and rest. "We'll know when it's the right time. Leave the rest to us and just stay inside while we do the hunting."

Suria and Riang settled down, the sounds of the old man's steady breathing filling the room. The brazier in the corner radiated a gentle warmth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Outside, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Eventually, exhaustion took its toll, and they both fell into a quiet, uneasy sleep.

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Past midnight, as the old man slept fitfully, Suria and Riang ventured into the desolate forest. The air was still and cold, heavy with the scent of decaying leaves and damp earth. Not a sound could be heard, save for the soft crunch of their footsteps on the dry leaves underfoot.

Suria's kris floated just ahead of her, its blade glimmering faintly in the darkness. It darted forward, twisting left and right as if alive, searching for the source of the disturbance. The duo ran to keep up, their breaths misting in the cold air. Suddenly, the kris stopped with a sharp, metallic hiss.

Ahead, they saw it. The Rakshasa Puaka.

Towering over the barren landscape, the titan's colossal form cast an oppressive shadow, its stark white armor gleaming with an unnatural luminescence under the moon's gaze. Jagged edges pulsed with ominous energy, and with each earth-shuddering step, the sharp points of its shell snapped open and shut with alarming speed, forming a deadly maw that siphoned the life from everything around it.

Its limbs, tipped with wickedly sharp points, moved with a predator's grace—each gesture a promise of violence. A skeletal, vulture-like face, dominated by malevolent red eyes, leered from beneath a mane of long black hair that flowed behind it like a shroud of darkness. The air crackled with the Puaka's power, its towering presence an unstoppable force of nature consuming all in its path.

A barrier of dark power shielded the Puaka, a dome of impenetrable force granting nothing inside. Suria and Riang witnessed the faint shimmer of life being drawn out from the land, leaving a trail of withered grass and cracked earth in its wake. The ground groaned, its vibrant colors fading to a dull, lifeless gray. The Puaka's shell snapped shut, its gruesome feast complete, and the barrier shimmered out of existence.

Riang's eyes narrowed to slits, her lips peeling back in a feral snarl. Her knuckles whitened as her fists clenched, a testament to her simmering rage.