"Between the breath of gods and the silence of men, iron remembers its purpose."
The Infirmary of the Mandirigma
The pungent aroma of iodine and scorched steel lingered in the recovery wing. Agosto Santos lay motionless beneath translucent bio-cloth; the veins along his neck pulsed black as Khamdee's Void Poison coursed through his bloodstream. Runes struggled to stabilize his vitals, yet the glyphs flickered, powerless against the entropy consuming him from within.
Guido slammed his fist against the bulkhead.
"Three healers, four relic medics—none of them can address that affliction!"
Sybill whispered, "It isn't merely poison; it's absence masquerading as one." Her eyes widened in recognition as she regarded Agosto, the black flames of the Kandila ng Dilim trembling in response.
Across the room, Joaquin Santillan stood in silence, his armor coat hanging open. He looked down at one of his former students and murmured, "This is not Void Poison… this is Void Venom. Only one man has ever managed to reverse its effects."
Ricardo turned sharply. "You mean the doctor."
Joaquin nodded once. "Dr. Han Wei. He lives in Shanghai."
A chill settled in the air. Everyone recognized that name—a legendary physician who once treated relic corruption by rewriting flesh through divine equations. However, he had vanished years ago.
Guido frowned. "He doesn't work for anyone. Many have attempted to persuade him, including the formidable Shinken Amakiri."
"He will for me," Joaquin replied. "He owes me a life."
The Mission to China
That night, the Adarna's VTOL bay opened like a scar across the sky. Wind screamed through the hangar as rain lashed the hull. Joaquin donned no armor, only a plain combat harness, a special operations .45 caliber pistol etched with baybayin runes, an army runic knife, and worn gloves inscribed with his own Baybayin sigils. His departure was silent, save for Ricardo's voice over comms. "If you fail, Agosto dies within a day."
"I don't fail," Joaquin replied simply, stepping into the darkness.
Hours later, beneath the smog-laden skyline of Shanghai, the rain transformed the neon lights into shades reminiscent of blood and mercury. Thunder rolled in the distance, shaking windowpanes and guttered signs.
Joaquin moved through the urban maze like a phantom of purpose. Streets shimmered with puddles that mirrored fractured holograms—advertisements flickering and static.
He stayed to the shadows, weaving between alleys where steam rose from broken vents and electrical arcs hissed through cables slick with rain.
Every motion was measured—every breath, controlled.
Security drones hovered in lazy arcs above the rooftops, their lenses scanning for energy signatures. He slipped behind a derelict tram, waiting for its metallic groan to mask his steps. His reflection flitted across puddles—eyes hollow, coat torn, a veteran walking through the ghost of another city.
He passed a checkpoint where corporate soldiers stood guard, their visors tinted crimson. Myth-tech scanners swept the street in narrow waves of blue. When the pulse neared, Joaquin pressed a gloved hand to a steel beam—his runes dimmed, matching the frequency of surrounding iron.
The scan passed harmlessly over him.
A whisper of thunder answered above. He froze, counting seconds.
He took a side street, slipping beneath hanging laundry and rusted signage until he reached the older district—one untouched by neon but dense with incense and rain. The deeper he went, the quieter the city became.
Each turn took him farther from Shanghai's rhythm and closer to its forgotten pulse.
As the last echo of thunder faded behind him, Joaquin slipped deeper into the labyrinth of the old quarter—where the neon lights of Shanghai gave way to silence and shadow. The rain turned heavier, masking the sound of his footsteps. Yet in that stillness, he felt it—the shift in the air, the faint hum of wards awakening.
He wasn't alone.
Two figures emerged from the mist-cloaked alley ahead, cloaks marked with Baybayin sigils faintly glowing through the downpour. Babaylan Hunters. Their relics pulsed in rhythm with the rain, seeking him. Joaquin exhaled once, steadying his breath. The mission had just begun to bleed.
When the two Babaylan Hunters ensnared him near an abandoned shrine, they made the grave mistake of engaging him.
It was too late.
It was them who fell into his trap.
He refrained from drawing a weapon; instead, he took action.
Three beats: elbow, parry, throat. The men crumpled before they realized he had touched them. Their relics went inert—their runes extinguished, leaving only faint static in the rain-soaked air.
He exhaled. Close-Quarters Nullification Technique. His invention—the ability to cancel the spirit field of a relic wielder by harmonizing muscle frequency with the relic's pulse. The act cost him endurance, but it effectively silenced power itself.
He arrived at a shuttered clinic whose sign still read *Han Wei Medical Research — Prohibited*. Lightning illuminated the building, its windows webbed with cracks. The streets outside were empty except for paper charms fluttering across puddles like lost prayers.
Inside, dust and old incense mingled in the air. The doctor emerged from the shadows, older and thinner, his eyes wary.
Dr. Han Wei: "华金·桑蒂兰,我指示共和国永远不要找到我."
("Joaquin Santillan, I instructed the Republic never to find me.")
Joaquin: "你欠我.
七年前在大阪——真剑对你的妻子手下留情."
("You owe me. Seven years ago in Osaka—Shinken had your wife at his mercy.")
Dr. Han Wei: "而你徒手打败了不可战胜的敌人."
("And you triumphed over the invincible with your bare hands.")
The Duel Remembered
Osaka Rooftops — Flashback
Rain and neon danced between two silhouettes. Shinken, the Oyabun himself, wielded the Legendary Masamune. Joaquin fought bare-handed.
Every cut he deflected bent air around his skin until blood traced sigils on concrete. Then Joaquin advanced—too close for gods.
He caught the sword between his palms, bent the blade with a twist of his wrist and will, and drove his knee into Shinken's ribs.
Shinken: 「人間の力は今でもバタラの最初の贈り物です.」
("Human force is still Bathala's first gift.")
The impact rendered Shinken powerless, causing Masamune to withdraw from his blistered hands.
He followed it up with a piston punch to the solar plexus of the Oyabun with enough force to launch him like a comet while dragging wood, nails, and stone from the residence roof until his body punched through a wall.
Shinken descended through both glass and legend, while Han Wei's wife survived. The city below trembled, and thunder echoed as though paying tribute to the fall of a god.
Back in Shanghai, the memory hung heavy between them.
Dr. Han Wei: "我可以治愈你的男人,但我需要一个圣物之心——足够纯净以对抗虚空共鸣."
("I can heal your man, but I'll need a relic heart—one pure enough to counter void resonance.")
Joaquin handed him a small crystal sphere pulsing with light.
Joaquin:「从巴丹取来的马基灵核心碎片.」
("Makiling's Core Fragment, taken from Bataan.")
Han Wei hesitated. "你冒着神圣失衡的风险携带那个."
( "You risk divine imbalance carrying that.")
Joaquin: "我一生都生活在不平衡中,"
("I've lived in imbalance my entire life,") Joaquin replied.
The Intercept
Before they could depart, thunder rolled—not from the weather but from aura. The floor trembled as runes across the walls flared azure. Glass vibrated, lights flickered, and outside, the city wind reversed direction.
A voice like a storm announced, "Joaquin Santillan… even you trespass boundaries."
Juan Luciano stood at the courtyard's edge, rain swirling around his trident, *Habagat ni Silang*. The commodore's presence distorted the downpour into spiraling halos that split raindrops into steam.
"Juan," Joaquin said, his tone calm, "I'm not here to confront you, my friend."
"You breached Chinese airspace with Makiling's core fragment which is classified as a god-tier artifact," Juan replied. "The world burns because men like us ignore borders."
Dr. Han Wei: "如果你在这里战斗,城市就会被淹没."
("If you fight here, the city will drown.")
Joaquin: "这种情况对他来说比对我更不利,他也意识到了这一点."
("This situation presents more of a disadvantage for him than for me, and he is aware of that.")
Han Wei backed away.
Joaquin's gloves tightened. "Then let's keep it brief."
God Level Threat vs. God Level Threat
Lightning cleaved the night as *Habagat's* storm surged toward Joaquin. He charged straight through—no relic, no aura, only momentum. The gale shattered against him, clothes tearing but skin unburned.
The collision sent shockwaves through the streets. Windows burst; trees uprooted. Across the city, lights flickered as transformer towers overloaded.
A young man on his balcony froze as the sky exploded into white light. Winds hurled debris across the avenue. Cars skidded into each other. He shouted for his family, dragging them beneath the staircase as the air pulsed like a living engine.
Juan frowned. "You defied elemental resonance with your body—impossible."
"Not impossible," Joaquin replied. "Trained. You of all people should know what I am capable of."
Their clash blurred across seconds. Joaquin's elbow intercepted the trident's arc; his fist struck, releasing a sonic tremor that flattened parked cars. Juan spun, unleashing *Heaven's Current*, a vertical torrent that split rooftops. Joaquin leapt through it, boots melting upon impact, and delivered a lightning fast punch to the solar plexus of the Commodore which interrupted his chant mid-glyph.
He withstood the might. However, his relic's light dimmed.
Juan staggered. "You… silenced *Habagat*?"
"Close-Quarters Nullification," Joaquin said, his gaze steely. "Sandata or not, you still bleed."
Juan retaliated with *Tempest Break*, summoning a spiral typhoon around them. Buildings disintegrated; signage flew like shrapnel. Joaquin anchored his feet, muscles straining against the vacuum. Every tendon screamed, yet he advanced step by step—an avalanche made human.
He seized the trident's haft, twisted, and slammed Juan into the asphalt. The shockwave cratered the street, scattering shards of glass across the district.
Juan rose slowly, aura flickering. "You could have been Bathala Incarnate."
"I chose to remain human," Joaquin replied with unwavering resolve in his eyes.
*Habagat* dimmed. Juan's armor cracked, lightning dissipating.
Finally, he raised one hand in surrender. "Go. Save your soldier."
Joaquin nodded once, then extended a hand. He helped the commodore to his feet before walking into the storm's dying rain.
Reprieve and Return
Hours later, the Adarna broke cloud cover over the Mandirigma. Inside the infirmary, Ricardo looked up as the bay doors opened.
Joaquin entered, carrying Han Wei's medical case. His coat still bore scorch marks; his hands were bandaged.
Sybill stepped aside. "You made it."
Han Wei approached Agosto, activating twin halos of blue and gold. Glyphs stitched across the air like living sutures.
Han Wei: 开始进行反共振注入
("Begin counter-resonance infusion.")
The void veins along Agosto's neck began to recede, replaced by a faint glow of amber vitality.
Sybill exhaled, the black flames of Kandila ng Dilim stabilizing. Ricardo placed a hand on Joaquin's shoulder. "You crossed the God of Storms for him."
Joaquin replied simply, "He's worth it."
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance to the east. Juan Luciano stood on the deck of the Mulawin, one hand resting on his trident, and murmured, "Well played, my friend. As anticipated from a man who has guided gods to numerous victories. Next time… I shall not hold back."
Inside the medical bay, Han Wei sealed the last glyph and stepped back. Agosto's eyes fluttered open, whispering hoarsely, "Joaquin… you came back."
Joaquin smiled faintly. "Always."
The monitors steadied into a rhythm. For the first time in days, the Sandata's heartbeat sounded distinctly human once more.