The name struck Ajin harder than any blade.
Harder than any fire.
Harder than the agony still crawling beneath his skin.
Dahana Satria.
The moment it left the dying man's lips, Ajin felt something inside him boil—
not metaphorically,
but truly boil—
as if molten iron surged through his veins.
His breath steamed in the cold night air, thick clouds rising from between his cracked lips.
Blood dripped from his mangled knuckles onto the charred earth.
Ajin repeated the name under his breath:
"Dahana Satria…"
It tasted like poison.
Like venom melting on his tongue.
He remembered it.
A name whispered among legends—one of the Twelve Ancient Pavilions.
Rogo had once been a part of those twelve.
Once.
A tremor passed through Ajin's jaw.
"Why…?"
His voice was a broken rasp.
The tracker lying on the ground—his leg twisted grotesquely—shuddered violently. Tears and blood mixed on his face.
"They… they worked with the government," he stammered.
"T-The Karadipa Council… they ordered a purge. A special project—S-Sindewa Twelve. Rogo refused to submit. So—so they had to die!"
Ajin's breath froze in his throat.
Rogo refused.
Rogo was punished.
"And Dahana?" Ajin asked quietly.
"They—They're the specialists," the tracker coughed. "Experts in fire. They led the burning. They… they lit the first flame."
Experts in fire.
Ajin closed his eyes.
He smelled it again.
Burned wood.
Burned flesh.
Burned children.
His fingers curled into the dirt beside him—
hard enough to crack the earth.
GRRKKK…
Clumps of hardened soil shattered beneath his grip.
The rage inside him surged violently, responding to the first stage of Baja Angkara Batin.
The scroll demanded emotion as fuel.
Dahana Satria had gifted it to him.
Ajin opened his eye slowly—
and its flicker of red deepened.
"Speak," he commanded, voice cold as a creeping frost.
The tracker coughed violently, spitting blood as he rushed to answer:
"They know! They know the Elder may have given you something! Something important! They're searching for you—for the scroll—for anything Rogo kept hidden!"
Ajin's breath fell silent.
The guilt in his chest—
the guilt that once smothered him—
now burned like coal.
I ran.
I left when he told me to.
I wasn't here when the children screamed.
Ajin's fist dug deeper into the earth, knuckles bleeding again.
He waited for the grief to crush him.
It didn't.
Instead—
It sharpened.
Like a blade being honed across the stone of his heart.
For the first time since the fire, Ajin understood.
The guilt wasn't meant to paralyze him.
It was meant to forge him.
Fuel him.
Drive him.
The guilt changed.
Sizzling.
Transforming.
Just like his bones.
Just like his flesh.
Turning into something else.
Something terrifying.
Something powerful.
Ajin breathed out slowly—
and the air trembled.
"If they're looking for me…"
He rose to his feet.
Bones cracked.
Ligaments stretched.
His body screamed.
He didn't fall.
"…then I will go to them."
The final piece of the old Ajin fell away like ash.
The tracker stared up at him, shaking.
"Wh-Where? Where are you going…?"
Ajin's gaze didn't shift.
He asked only one question:
"Where is Dahana Satria?"
The man swallowed, trembling.
"T-Three days… three days southeast… in the Merapi Crater. The Fire Court… their fortress… hidden in the volcanic ridges…"
Ajin turned.
He did not thank him.
He did not pity him.
The man would bleed out in minutes, or be eaten by wild beasts at dawn.
Ajin no longer carried kindness.
He only carried purpose.
He limped—
dragging his broken leg—
back toward the ruins of the children's dormitory.
There, caught on a snapped beam, fluttered a strip of red cloth.
Burned.
Torn.
Barely recognizable.
Loka's scarf.
Ajin lifted it gently.
His fingers trembled—
not from weakness,
but from something buried deeper.
Something human trying to cling to life.
He tied the scarf around his broken arm.
A symbol.
A reminder.
A vow.
There would be no forgiveness.
Not for this.
Not for fire.
Not for Dahana.
The Ajin who once taught children with a gentle smile—
was gone.
What remained—
was steel.
And wrath.
Ajin took his first step away from the ruins of Rogo Pavilion.
Not toward the town.
Not toward safety.
But toward war.
He limped forward, leaving the ashes of his past behind.
Then—
DHUUUMMMMM!!!
A deep, resounding boom echoed from the distant southeast.
A shockwave rippled through the night air.
Ajin froze.
DHUUUMMMMM!!!
Another impact.
Like the earth itself was being struck.
Like a mountain was breathing.
Ajin's eye narrowed.
He did not know what caused the sound.
But he felt something in it—
A presence.
A force.
A rage.
A rage that wasn't his.
Perhaps this was only the beginning.
Ajin lowered his head—
and walked toward the sound.
Toward Merapi Crater.
Toward Dahana Satria.
Toward fate.
The hunt had begun.
And the world would soon learn—
that the weakest teacher
had become the most dangerous monster alive.