Morning light seeped into Lorna's house as Adam opened his eyes. His body felt steadier than in his earlier days, and the heaviness from the doubt and confusion no longer held him down. He sat up slowly, listening to the sounds outside. Buckets. Footsteps. A short greeting from one villager to another. He recognized the rhythm, even if the words were still partly unclear.
Lorna knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Adam. Eat," she said, handing him a small bowl of porridge. She spoke slowly, pausing between words so he could follow. Her patience helped him pick up patterns. He nodded with a quiet "Thank… you," using one of the phrases she had taught him.
She smiled. His pronunciation was still strange to her, but she understood.
After breakfast, he stepped outside to breathe the cold air. He looked at the sky for a long moment. Blue, soft, and unfamiliar. No city noise. No traffic jam. No Jakarta humidity. He still could not accept that this world was real. The memory of the explosion, the flash, and the strange awakening pulled at him every time he closed his eyes.
He walked toward a quiet spot behind the house. A large flat stone sat beneath a short tree, giving a little shade. He chose that place because no one usually passed by in the morning. He needed privacy.
He spread his jacket on the ground and stood facing the direction he thought was west. He used the sun's position and a rough sense of time. It was the best he could do. He whispered in Arabic, "Bismillah." It grounded him. It reminded him he was still himself, no matter where he woke up.
He raised his hands and began his prayer.
The moment he started, something felt different.
The air around him grew still. A quiet hum, faint and low, vibrated near his chest. It wasn't sound. It felt like pressure. Mana. He could sense it now far more clearly than yesterday. He tried to ignore it and continue the prayer, but the sensation followed every movement. When he bowed, the pressure shifted toward his back. When he prostrated, it felt like the ground beneath him breathed.
He tried to steady his voice.
"Ya Allah… is this still the world You created, or something beyond what I understand?"
He felt wrong asking it. He kept his prayer silent after that.
When he finished, he sat on his heels and let out a long breath. His hands shook slightly. The amplified feeling had disturbed him. Prayer was supposed to calm him, not strengthen sensations he didn't understand.
He wiped his forehead. "What is this…?" he whispered to himself. "Why does everything feel… louder?"
He didn't notice that Ernand had been watching from a short distance. Then Ernand approached slowly, careful not to interrupt anything sacred. When Adam turned, Ernand raised a hand slightly in greeting.
"Adam," he said softly. His next words were slow and simple. "You… calm. Mana… calm."
Adam frowned. "Mana… changes when I pray?"
Ernand didn't understand the full sentence. He heard only familiar fragments. But he recognized Adam's discomfort. He pointed at Adam's chest. "You… feel strong." Then he added another word Adam had heard yesterday: "Sense."
Adam hesitated. He tried to form a simple sentence, even though he knew it would come out awkward. "Pray… then mana… loud." He tapped his chest like Ernand often did when explaining. "Inside."
Ernand's eyes widened slightly in understanding. He nodded. "Ah. Yes. Some people… feel mana… more… when mind quiet. Heart quiet."
Adam took a moment to absorb that. So prayer, or at least deep focus, heightened his sensitivity to this energy. He didn't know what that meant or whether it aligned with anything his faith allowed. The idea unsettled him. He had no teacher here. No religious guidance. No familiar text. Only instinct and fear.
Ernand didn't push him further. He simply placed a hand on his own chest, then pointed to the sky and said a single word that sounded like "Balance."
Adam wasn't sure if the man referred to mana, nature, or spiritual calm. But the gesture felt sincere.
Later, back inside the house, Adam found a small stack of unused papers Lorna kept for household notes. He borrowed a few sheets and a piece of charcoal. When she saw what he was doing, she nodded permission.
He sat at the table and began writing.
He wrote in Indonesian because it was the only language he could trust.
Day 7.
I need to record everything.
I woke in a world with mana, magic, and people I don't understand.
My prayer today felt strange. Something moved around me.
Not evil. Just strong.
I don't know if God placed me here as a test, or if I'm unconscious somewhere in Jakarta.
I must stay calm.
I must survive.
He paused.
He added another line.
I can understand more words today. Only a little, but enough to follow simple instruction. Maybe exposure helps.
He set the charcoal down. His hand felt stiff from gripping it too tightly. The act of writing grounded him. It gave order to something chaotic.
In the afternoon, he helped the villagers again. Lorna taught him a few more words while they cooked. Ernand corrected his pronunciation during work. Children repeated their favorite words until he copied them. Their accents were still hard for him, but the patterns grew clearer.
Adam noticed he understood one or two words in full sentences now. He still couldn't reply well, but he could guess the meaning from surrounding gestures.
The day ended quietly. Adam sat outside the house, listening to the wind. He whispered a short prayer again, this time without the strange pressure disturbing him. The sensation was still there, but softer. Maybe he had been too tense in the morning.
He didn't know if tomorrow would bring answers, but at least he had a routine now. A prayer. Work. Learning. Observation. Writing.
He held onto those routine because they were the only stable parts of his life.
And as he watched the villagers light mana lamps along the paths with their magic, he wondered whether he would ever reach the point where he understood this world as naturally as they did.
For now, he stayed silent and let the night settle around him.