NIRNAMA(Nameless) English Version

Chapter 3

Rays of sunlight penetrated the verdant green, the beams shining on the intense sight happening before Nadīm. He was witnessing a mighty clash between Nirnama and his foe; the wind around them whipping and lashed about, diffused through the blows of pure force exchanged between them.

The coming of daylight helped Nadīm catch a better glimpse of Nirnama's opponent: a man with neatly-groomed hair, a ferocity that matched his fairly thick beard and mustache, his elegant tanjak complementing the warrior's tunic he wore, made of the finest cloth. Even his keris was noteworthy: only those bearing the rank of laksamana would wield a weapon that elegant.

Both had been locked in fierce combat ever since the radiant light of day usurped the realm from the wisps of dawn. Occasionally they seemed to glide through the blows dealt and dodged, as if both possessed an innate supernatural power. Neither proved to be the other's demise just yet.

"Incredible how you still have the energy to fight! That explains how you managed to topple the big names of the South!"

Deftly evading a grab for his head, Nirnama ducked, only to be met by the enemy's oncoming knee. He swiftly raised both his arms in self-defense, yet could not fully stifle the blow. The brunt of the impact raised him an elbow's length from the ground.

"But you're still no match for me!"

The head grab swiftly reversed its course. Anticipating the cross swipe, Nirnama instantly lifted his arm and leg to protect his head and chest. But the sheer power and speed of the attack penetrated his defenses, flinging him to the side before rolling to a halt.

Nirnama was back on his feet immediately, hand and knee hoisting him up. As he rose from the ground, he caught a glimpse of Nadīm hiding behind a large tree, around five fathoms' reach from the battlefield.

Worry was written all over the boy's face, yet Nirnama couldn't let it get to him. Distraction, no matter how brief, would quickly turn the tide of battle beyond his control.

He noticed the enemy assuming an opening silat stance, as if taunting him to engage. His steps, disciplined and measured, left no open weaknesses for Nirnama to exploit.

Nirnama gathered himself, breathing deeply as a series of deliberate, rhythmic gestures followed suit. Swift strokes and firm focus flowed one after another. In deep focus, he tightened his left hand to the fore of his chest while extending his right hand outward. His four fingers straightened, the thumb folded into the palm. He observed the enemy intently, his gaze stern.

Both he and the uninvited guest then traded a bout of movements for some time, until Nirnama broke the silence:

"No use prolonging our fight any further—let's end this."

His enemy smiled widely. Both warriors slowly reached for their keris, and their fingers gripped the hilt in anticipation.

It was clear the fight had reached its climax.

"Nirnama, be careful!" Nadīm's voice rang through the tense air.

Despite the clear danger, Nadīm chose to stay behind. Perhaps he had every confidence that Nirnama would win, even when the warrior himself wouldn't dare to claim as much.

The enemy unsheathed his keris, as Nirnama with his own. Both circled the ground between them in opposite directions, eyes locked and hands waved in formation, anticipating each other's next move.

The further the dance lingered, the smaller the distance between them became.

The enemy made the first move. He rushed forward, keris thrusted. Nirnama, in return, didn't wait a moment longer. Before the keris reached him, he caught the enemy's wrist, cutting off the attack. An opening made, Nirnama countered with a thrust from his own dagger.