The 1580s were among the darkest periods in the history of the Nusantara. The grand Majapahit palace had long crumbled into near oblivion. Yet, remnants of its warriors still roamed the mountains, forests, villages, and even the capital, sometimes invoking the name of Brawijaya, though their garments were tattered and torn.
Demak, the first Islamic kingdom of Java Dwipa, had fallen after a mere 90 years, giving rise to the Sultanate of Pajang under the rule of Jaka Tingkir, now known as Sultan Hadiwijaya. But signs of Pajang’s impending downfall were already apparent, as Danang Sutawijaya, Hadiwijaya’s own kin, harbored ambitions of overthrowing Pajang to establish his own kingdom.
In the western part of Java Dwipa, the Kingdom of Sunda—one of the oldest realms in the Nusantara—had also vanished into the dust of time. The once-mighty Sunda Kingdom, also known as Pajajaran, had been fragmented into the Sultanates of Banten, Cirebon, Sumedang Larang, and numerous smaller territories ruled by those who still claimed the right to kingship as descendants of Siliwangi.
Meanwhile, minor rulers emerged along the northern, southern, and eastern coasts of Java. In short, Java Dwipa had become a feast, carved up endlessly by those who deemed themselves worthy of a throne.
In such times, it was no surprise that many regions broke away from any kingdom’s rule, descending into lawlessness, where only those who wielded brute strength and supernatural prowess held dominion. And then, there were the looming threats of foreign men—tall, pale-skinned, and sharp-nosed—who lurked on the edges, ready to seize their own share of power.
The common people were little more than prey—not only to rulers but also to bandits, robbers, brigands, and ruthless warriors who thrived in the chaos. There was no one to save them.
No one, except for the occasional lone figures known as pendekars.
Three centuries later, in a secluded sanctuary called Astana Luhur, located east of the former Sunda Kingdom, a trove of ancient manuscripts was discovered—written on fragile lontar leaves, inscribed in old Sundanese script. Many of these texts had been nearly devoured by time, but some remained legible.
One such manuscript told the tale of a mysterious warrior whose origins were unknown, whose true name had been lost to history. A formidable pendekar, a guardian of the people—one who, for reasons unknown, had vanished from the annals of time.
From this ancient record, a legend unfolds.
The tale of a hero who inherited two legacies long thought to be irreconcilable: the mystical power of Prabu Siliwangi and the indomitable might of Gajah Mada.