Chapter 7: Wrath of the Jungle
The dawn on Kinabalu Peak broke with an ominous stillness, the jungle holding its breath as if waiting for a storm. Rentap Buana, stood in the clearing, the tiger pelt heavy on his shoulders, its stripes a badge of his trials. His tattered green shirt was little more than a rag now, clinging to his scarred frame—gashes from the tiger hunt, bruises from sparring, and the faint claw mark on his arm that glowed faintly, a mark of Kinabalu's favor. Mira's coral pendant pulsed warm against his chest, her memory a steady flame that kept him grounded. The fisherman's knife at his belt and the staff in his hand were his only weapons, but the *Jungle Stalk*, *Tiger Claw Slash*, and *Leaping Fang Strike* had become part of him, their rhythms syncing with the spark of strength within. Guru Harimau Jati stood before him, his scarred frame tense, his tiger pelt cloak catching the faint light. "The jungle's wrath comes today," he said, his voice a low growl. "Kinabalu tests those it marks. Survive, and you'll be worthy of its lessons."
Rentap's heart thudded, the guru's warning from the night before echoing—*you'll face its wrath*. "What kind of test?" he asked, gripping the staff, his body coiled with anticipation.
Harimau Jati's eyes glinted, sharp as a predator's. "The jungle lives, boy. It breathes, it hungers. Today, it hunts you." He pointed to a trail leading deeper into the forest, its entrance shadowed by towering trees, the air around it thick with an unnatural tension. "Run. Fight. Endure. The jungle will throw its fury at you—beasts, traps, the mountain's own will. Use everything I've taught you. I'll find you when it's over—if you're still alive." With that, he turned, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Rentap alone with the jungle's looming presence.
Rentap stepped onto the trail, the forest closing around him like a living cage. The air grew heavy, the scent of damp earth and decay sharpening as the canopy blocked out the light. His senses, honed by days on the mountain, caught every sound—the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves, the distant growl of something large. He moved with the *Jungle Stalk*, his steps light, his body low, the lessons of stealth guiding him through the undergrowth. The claw mark on his arm tingled, a quiet warning, and he clutched Mira's pendant, her giggle a whisper in his mind—*Brother, be brave*.
The first sign of the jungle's wrath came swiftly. A boar charged from the ferns, its tusks gleaming, its eyes wild with rage. Rentap reacted on instinct, the *Leaping Fang Strike* flowing from him as he leaped, his staff slamming into the boar's flank. The beast squealed, stumbling, but it turned, faster than he expected, its tusks slashing at his leg. Rentap rolled aside, the *Tiger Claw Slash* following—a sweeping strike that cracked against the boar's skull, felling it with a thud. He panted, blood dripping from a shallow gash on his calf, but there was no time to rest. The jungle growled, a deeper, more menacing sound, and Rentap moved on, his senses screaming.
The terrain grew harsher—slopes slick with moss, roots snaking across the path like traps. A sudden rustle above made Rentap look up just as a python dropped from the branches, its coils aiming to crush him. He dove, the snake's body slamming into the earth where he'd stood, and struck with the *Tiger Claw Slash*, the staff slicing through scales. The python hissed, its coils whipping toward him, but Rentap used the *Jungle Stalk*, darting behind a tree, then lunged with a *Leaping Fang Strike*, driving the staff into the snake's head. The beast thrashed, then fell still, its coils limp. Rentap's chest heaved, his body screaming, but the jungle's fury wasn't done.
A tremor shook the ground, the air crackling with energy. Vines burst from the earth, animated by the mountain's will, their thorny tendrils lashing at him like whips. Rentap dodged, the *Jungle Stalk* guiding his movements as he wove through the trees, but the vines were relentless, snagging his pelt, tearing at his skin. One wrapped around his ankle, yanking him off his feet, and he hit the ground hard, the staff slipping from his grasp. Panic surged, but Mira's voice cut through—*Brother, fight!*—and Rentap drew his knife, slashing the vine free. He rolled to his feet, retrieving the staff, and struck back, the *Tiger Claw Slash* cutting through the tendrils, their severed ends writhing like snakes. The jungle roared, a sound that shook his bones, but Rentap stood his ground, the spark within him flaring, a flame that matched the mountain's wrath.
The final challenge came at a ravine, the drop below a deadly plunge to jagged rocks. A massive tiger—not a spirit, but flesh and blood—emerged from the shadows, its roar a wave of fury. Larger than the last, its fur matted with scars, its gold eyes glowing with the mountain's rage, it charged. Rentap met it head-on, the *Leaping Fang Strike* propelling him forward, his staff aimed at the tiger's chest. The beast swatted the staff aside, its claws raking Rentap's shoulder, but he twisted mid-air, landing on its back, and drove his knife into its flank. The tiger roared, bucking wildly, but Rentap held on, his strength—that untamed flame—burning brighter. He struck again, the *Tiger Claw Slash* with the staff cracking against the tiger's skull, and with a final thrust of the knife, he pierced its heart. The beast collapsed, its body sliding toward the ravine's edge, and Rentap leaped clear just as it tumbled into the abyss.
Rentap fell to his knees, panting, blood dripping from his wounds—his shoulder, his leg, fresh gashes on his arms. The jungle's roar faded, the air lightening as the mountain's wrath subsided. Harimau Jati stepped into the clearing, his expression a mix of pride and scrutiny. "You've faced Kinabalu's fury," he said, his voice gruff. "And you're still standing. The mountain deems you worthy." He knelt, inspecting Rentap's wounds, then handed him a cloth to staunch the bleeding. "Rest now. Tomorrow, we refine your strikes. You've survived the jungle's wrath. Now you'll learn to wield it."
That night, Rentap sat by the fire, the tiger pelt wrapped around him, his wounds bandaged but throbbing. The stone pillars loomed, their carvings glinting in the firelight, as if acknowledging his survival. The jungle's fury lingered in his mind—the boar, the python, the vines, the tiger—but it no longer daunted him. It fueled him, a fire that burned brighter with each trial. He clutched Mira's pendant, her memory a promise he would keep. The spark within him glowed, a step closer to the power of Taming Jiwa, though its whispers remained faint, a distant call on the path ahead.
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