Infiltrating the Beast’s Lair

Rangga and Felix carved a path through the sewers, their rivalry momentarily silenced by survival. David and Mayang emerged in a graveyard of abandoned fishing boats, their coalition reduced to a dozen bloodied souls. Pandu lingered on a rooftop, providing cover until his rifle jammed—then he too vanished, a ghost questioning which side he haunted now.

Bintang watched from a distance, Subianto’s voice crackling in his earpiece: “You see now, don’t you? Cycles break only when someone burns the wheel.”

In the smoking ruins of the safehouse, Wei Long knelt to retrieve a charred folder—its contents detailing the coalition’s last strongholds. He smiled. Jakarta was his.

But on the edge of the city, a child picked up a fallen protest banner, its ink bleeding into the rain. The cycle, as ever, was already turning.