In the mining town of Antamok, Benguet, the air was thick with the promise of riches.

[The Fragment Of The Dark Blade]

Ramon walked through the dark cave, his oil lamp barely lighting the way.

The silence was unsettling, and there was an odd pressure in the air-something ancient, like a warning.

The damp air smelled of earth and rusted metal, the sound of dripping water echoing off the jagged walls.

Ramon gripped the lamp tightly, his other hand brushing against the cold stone as he moved deeper.

Behind him, Robert Stewart, his American business partner, walked confidently, his boots crunching on loose gravel. "We're close," Robert muttered, his voice eager with greed.

The locals had warned them about the cave. They whispered of a curse, of something dangerous hidden deep within. But Robert had laughed it off. To him, the gold buried beneath the earth was theirs for the taking.

Then they saw it.

At the end of the tunnel, a massive stone door stood in front of them, covered in ancient carvings-symbols they had never seen before. Ramon's breath caught.

These weren't just random markings. They were remnants of something older than the Spanish conquest.

Robert, excited, ran his fingers over the carvings.

"This is it," he whispered. "Just like the texts described."

They had spent years studying these symbols, piecing together fragments of old manuscripts, folklore, and relics. This was proof that the myths were real.

Ramon knelt down, tracing the characters with his fingers, remembering what they had decoded.

He took a deep breath and whispered the phrase they had discovered in their research, the words spoken by the ancient protectors of this place:

"Buksan mo ang landas ng nakaraan, upang makita ang lihim ng tagapag-ingat."

(Open the path of the past, so that the secret of the guardian may be revealed.)

A deep rumble shook the cavern. Dust and loose rocks fell as the carvings began to glow with a faint golden light.

With a loud groan, the stone door slowly opened, revealing the hidden chamber.

A treasure beyond their wildest dreams awaited them.

Gold veins ran through the cave walls, shining faintly in the dim light. But in the center of it all, surrounded by a circle of stones, stood a dark obelisk, covered in the same strange markings.

Ramon felt uneasy. Something didn't feel right. But Robert was too eager to care.

"We found it!"

he shouted, stepping forward. But then, an eerie growl echoed in the air-low, inhuman. Shapes began to move in the shadows, faint like smoke but with an ominous presence.

Before Ramon could react, Robert's voice cut through the tension.

"Get back! The creature is real!"

Suddenly, American soldiers, Robert's comrades, appeared behind them, guns drawn.

They started firing at the shadowy mass, but the bullets seemed to pass right through it.

The creatures-huge and terrifying-shrieked as they emerged from the shadows.

The soldiers fired frantically, but the creatures were too fast. One by one, the soldiers were torn apart, their screams filling the cave. The smell of blood and gunpowder filled the air.

Ramon backed away, his heart racing, as Robert's men fell-bitten, shredded, torn by invisible hands.

Robert was thrown against the wall with a sickening crash. He tried to get up, but the creature was faster. It slashed through Robert's chest with a single, brutal swipe.

Ramon could only watch in horror as Robert's body was torn apart, his screams silenced forever.

Ramon snapped out of his shock. The treasure-the crystal-he had to get out of here.

In the chaos, his hand brushed against something small and cold. A green crystal, glowing faintly from within.

Ramon grabbed it, his mind racing. He didn't know what it was, but he knew he couldn't leave it behind.

"I need to get out of here," he whispered to himself.

Without looking back, he ran, his feet slipping on loose rocks, the crystal tightly clutched in his hand.

It felt strange, almost unnatural, like a warning. The creatures were still hunting, still stalking the remaining soldiers in the dark.

Ramon knew he had to escape-but the path ahead was uncertain, and the danger was far from over.

As the first light of dawn slipped through the cracks of the wooden hut, Ramon woke up

His body hurt, and the wounds on his skin stung with every breath.

The smell of burning herbs mixed with the dampness of the jungle outside.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the faint glow of a small fire in the corner.

Sitting across from him was an old woman, her eyes sharp and full of knowledge.

She wore woven clothes with detailed patterns, radiating wisdom-an elder of the village.

Ramon quickly sat up, his mind racing. "Who are you? Where am I?" His voice was rough, filled with exhaustion and confusion.

The elder didn't flinch. Instead, she held up a small object between her fingers-the crystal fragment. It glowed faintly, almost as if it were alive.

"Why do you have this fragment?" she asked in a language that, though unfamiliar, felt important to him.

"This is a cursed object. If it touches someone chosen by the spirits, that person's life will be filled with darkness."

Ramon frowned. Cursed? Spirits? He didn't believe in superstitions. Ignoring her warning, he reached out and grabbed the crystal from her hand.

Outside, the villagers gasped in shock. The elder's face grew dark, and she began chanting in an ancient language, her voice powerful and unsettling.

Though he couldn't understand her words, the air seemed to shake with her voice. It wasn't just a warning-it felt like a prophecy.

But Ramon didn't care. He turned away from the elder and stormed out of the hut, ignoring the whispers and scared looks from the villagers.

As he stepped out of the village, a strange feeling crept over him.

The jungle no longer felt just like a forest-it felt like something was watching him, waiting.

But he pushed the feeling aside and kept walking.

When he finally reached his house, an eerie silence greeted him.

The door was wide open, and the air smelled of blood and gunpowder.

His heart raced as he stepped inside.

"Ama... tulungan mo ako..."

His 15-year-old son knelt beside his mother's lifeless body, his hands stained with her blood as he shook

her, begging her to wake up.

But she wouldn't. She was dead.

Ramon staggered forward, his body going numb. His pregnant wife-murdered.

His eyes scanned the room, and his stomach twisted. His sister lay lifeless nearby, a bullet hole in her chest.

The maids-all shot dead. Their blood pooled beneath them, the air thick with the scent of death.

Then, his son choked out the words that made his blood run cold.

"It was the Americans... They were looking for you."

Ramon's breath hitched. His vision blurred with rage.

The American soldiers had come.

They had searched for him-and in his absence, they had slaughtered his family.

His trembling hand reached into his pocket, clutching the crystal fragment.

Then-a noise from the hallway.

Someone was still here.

Ramon's breath was heavy, his mind clouded with rage and sorrow. His hands trembled, but he forced himself to stay focused.

Then, from the corner of his son's eye, a figure appeared.

A woman. Or at least... something that looked like one.

Her form flickered in the dim light, her face obscured in shadow.

Dark, hollow eyes stared at them, her presence cold and unnatural.

His son's breath hitched, and instinctively, he stepped forward-but the figure vanished.

Like a blink of an eye.

He stood frozen, his skin prickling. But he shook his head.

Maybe it was just his imagination-a trick of the mind in the midst of horror.

Then, reality crashed down on them again.

The boy turned back to his father-who was now kneeling beside his dead wife, his hands gripping her bloodied body.

Ramon's eyes burned, but he refused to break. Then, a desperate thought struck him.

"What if the baby is still alive?"

His heart pounded. He had to know.

He carefully lifted his wife's lifeless body and carried her into the room. His older son followed, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

Ramon laid her down on the wooden floor. His hands hovered over her stomach. He had no tools. No proper instruments. But he was once a man of medicine-he knew what needed to be done.

"Listen to me." His voice was sharp but steady. "I need your help."

His son swallowed hard but nodded.

Then, he began.

His hands worked quickly-a desperate, makeshift operation.

He had abandoned medicine years ago, choosing the mines over the cold sterility of a doctor's life. But now... he had no choice.

Blood coated his fingers as he made an incision. His mind raced, but his hands were steady.

His son handed him cloth, water-whatever he could manage.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-he reached inside and pulled the child free. But-there was no sound. No movement. No pulse.

His chest tightened. His hands shook as he cradled the tiny, lifeless body. Hopelessness crushed him.

"No... please..." His voice cracked, tears slipping down his face.

"Not you too."

Then- A soft gasp. A sudden, fragile wail.

The infant's tiny body trembled, his cries breaking the suffocating silence.

Ramon's breath caught. Hope surged back into him.

His son let out a choked sob of relief. The baby was alive.