The QC Mage Reborn in Nuswantara

The laboratory wall clock showed 10:47 PM when Ramdan finally set the last clipboard down on the stainless steel table. The white lights in the Quality Control room still blazed overhead, making his already worn-out face look even worse.

In front of him, stacks of internal audit documents stood like a tower of sins yet to be forgiven.

He stared at them for a long moment.

Then inhaled.

Then let it out, longer.

“If reincarnation is real,” he muttered, “I hope in my next life I’m the owner’s kid… not an audit slave like this.”

No one answered.

Only the hum of the air conditioner, and the familiar scent of the lab—alcohol, chemicals, and employee suffering.

Ramdan, thirty years old, a Quality Control staff member at a well-known food and beverage company, was far too used to all of it.

SOP.

Audits.

Equipment calibration.

Laboratory work.

Complaint investigations.

And a boss who treated the word “urgent” like it was part of his full name.

His life was like instant noodles without seasoning—still functioning, but tasteless.

His career was stuck.

His salary was enough to live, but not enough to feel alive.

A partner?

Don’t even ask.

His mother had long stopped asking when he would get married and had moved on to spiritual resignation.

“As long as you’re healthy, Dan.”

The most painful sentence a mother could say.

Ramdan grabbed his sling bag, turned off his desk lamp, and walked out of the QC room with heavy steps, like a soldier returning from defeat.

In the parking lot, his motorbike waited faithfully. An old Supra that understood him better than any human ever could.

He put on his helmet while unlocking his phone.

A notification from the family WhatsApp group.

Lina, the attention-seeking cousin: assalamualaikum. Uncle, aunties, and my beloved family. Alhamdulillah I’ve given birth. Please pray for me and the baby.

My beloved mom: Masya Allah, it must be so nice to have a grandchild… Ah, when will it be my turn…

Ramdan stared at the screen.

Then slowly locked his phone.

“Critical hit.”

He started the engine and rode into the night.

The streets were quiet. Most shop lights were off. The night breeze brushed against his face, bringing a small sense of relief after a full day drowning in work.

As always, on the way home, his mind wandered somewhere more pleasant.

Not work.

Not life.

But his favorite novel.

The Adventures of Rian in the Land of Nuswantara.

A legendary fantasy story he had read countless times.

A world of magic, warriors, mages, spirits, ancient kingdoms, and destiny-driven adventures.

Sometimes, he thought life would be far more interesting if he had been born there.

Instead of here.

Becoming a legendary warrior sounded a lot cooler than arguing about the moisture content of crackers.

“At least if I die there, it’d be fighting a dragon,” he muttered. “Not because of audit revisions.”

He chuckled to himself.

Then stopped.

Under a large tree by the roadside, someone was lying there.

An old man.

Dressed entirely in white. Thin. Pale. His hands trembled as if drained of life itself.

Ramdan slowed down.

He looked around.

Weird.

People were still passing by. Some on foot, others on motorbikes, even a couple busy arguing while riding together.

No one noticed the old man.

As if he didn’t exist.

Ramdan frowned.

“Seriously? Are they all blind, or am I starting to lose it?”

Just as he was about to ride off, a faint voice called out.

“Help…”

Ramdan turned.

The old man was looking straight at him.

“Please… son…”

The voice was weak.

But clear.

Very clear.

And for some reason, the hairs on Ramdan’s neck stood up.

Not from fear.

More like… something else.

Like being watched by something far greater than just a frail old man.

Still, Ramdan turned off his engine.

“Alright. Even if you’re a ghost, at least you’re polite. You said ‘please.’”

He got off and walked closer.

“Hang in there, Kek. Don’t die yet. Let me check first—this a side quest or a life trap?”

The old man simply stared at him.

A gaze that was hard to explain.

Not the look of someone starving.

Not someone lost.

It felt like… someone waiting.

Waiting for a very long time.

Ramdan scratched his head.

“Hold on, Kek. I’ll get you a drink.”

Not far away, a 24-hour warung Madura was still brightly lit.

That place was practically his second post after the office.

The keeper, Cak Soni, was the most easily startled and panicky man the universe had ever created.

As soon as Ramdan entered, Cak Soni greeted him.

“Waduh, Bang Ramdan. Overtime again? Just marry the factory already.”

Ramdan grabbed a bottle of isotonic drink from the fridge.

“I’ve considered it. But the factory is too toxic.”

Cak Soni laughed.

“Rare to see you stop by this late.”

Ramdan placed the bottle on the counter.

“There’s an old man collapsed near that tree. Looks dehydrated.”

Cak Soni frowned.

“Hah?! What old man?”

“There. White clothes. By the big tree.”

Cak Soni peeked outside.

A few seconds passed.

Then he looked back at Ramdan.

“Bang…”

“What?”

“Don’t joke around on a Friday night like this.”

Ramdan looked outside too.

The old man was still there.

Clear as day.

He was even staring toward the warung.

“What do you mean? He’s right there.”

Cak Soni’s face turned pale.

“Bang Ramdan… sengko’ sumpa demi diskon Indomie, there’s no one there. Seriously. Completely empty. Just the wind.”

Silence.

Ramdan looked outside.

Then at Cak Soni.

Then outside again.

“Huh.”

“Huh what?!” Cak Soni shot back.

“That old man’s behind you. He’s about to hug you. Hug him, Cak!”

Ramdan tapped his shoulder.

“‘Pelok sennik, sayang… muah muah…’—ehh Bang Ramdan, astaghfirullah!” Cak Soni blurted out, startled and panicking.

Ramdan burst out laughing, apologized, paid for the drink, and patted Cak Soni’s shoulder.

“I’m heading off, Cak. It’s late. Sorry for messing with you.”

“DUH, Gusti… this kid jokes too much. Alright, be careful on the road!”

Ramdan left, still laughing.

But as he got closer to the tree again, his laughter slowly faded.

The atmosphere there felt different.

Quieter.

Colder.

Even the sound of passing vehicles seemed distant.

He handed the bottle to the old man.

“Here, Kek. Drink. It’s on me. But if you turn out to be some tree spirit, at least give me winning lottery numbers.”

The old man accepted it slowly.

His hands were cold.

Very cold.

He opened the bottle, took a small sip, then looked deeply at Ramdan.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Ramdan raised an eyebrow.

“That line’s usually for debt collectors or exes. Which one are you?”

The old man didn’t laugh.

“You can see me. That’s enough.”

Ramdan’s expression turned serious.

“Wait. What do you mean?”

“Many people pass through here. Not one of them sees me. Only you.”

The night wind brushed softly.

Leaves rustled.

Ramdan swallowed.

“Who… are you, really?”

The old man smiled faintly.

A smile that wasn’t comforting at all.

“Someone who came to take you.”

“Sorry, I’m not ready to die.”

“Not to death.”

The old man stood up.

Moments ago, he looked like he could collapse any second.

Now, he stood tall. His eyes sharp. That frail figure felt like something far more terrifying.

“Or perhaps,” he said softly, “to your true life.”

Ramdan’s heart pounded faster.

Every human instinct screamed:

Run.

Now.

But his feet wouldn’t move.

“Kek… I’m just QC staff. I’m not a chosen one. I can’t even do public speaking without breaking into cold sweat.”

“Exactly.”

The old man raised his hand.

“The world needs you.”

For the first time in his life, something had truly chosen him.

Ramdan felt touched—then quickly pointed at himself.

“The guy who argues about cooking oil content every day?”

“Yes.”

“The thirty-year-old still single?”

“Yes.”

“The one rejected three times in one month?”

The old man exhaled.

“That part is irrelevant.”

“Alright, good.”

The old man stepped closer.

“There is another world waiting for you. A world you know very well.”

Ramdan’s eyes widened.

No.

No way.

“Nuswantara?”

For the first time, the old man smiled widely.

“Finally.”

A chill ran down Ramdan’s spine.

This wasn’t a joke.

This wasn’t a hallucination.

This was real.

Very real.

“Wait—”

Before he could finish, the old man’s wrinkled hand touched his forehead.

A light touch.

But the world shattered instantly.

His vision went dark.

Sound vanished.

His body felt like it was falling into a bottomless abyss.

In that void, only one sound remained.

Ding.

A blue light appeared before him.

Like a system window in a game.

Transparent.

Glowing.

And completely absurd.

[Welcome to the World of Nuswantara.]

Ramdan wanted to scream.

But he had no mouth.

[Your old reality has been reset. A new reality has begun.]

[Prepare yourself, Ramdan.]

[Because your destiny… has just begun.]

Darkness again.

Then—

light.

Blinding.

Slowly, Ramdan opened his eyes.

The sky.

Orange.

Truly orange.

He froze.

Then a woman’s voice sounded very close.

Soft.

Warm.

Filled with relief.

“Thank goodness… my child has finally opened his eyes.”

Ramdan tried to sit.

He couldn’t.

He tried to speak.

Only a small, strange sound came out.

And when he realized he was being held in the arms of a beautiful woman who felt incredibly familiar—

his blood seemed to stop.

No.

No way.

Sinta Kusuma Dewi.

A character from the novel.

A legendary mage.

The wife of Ranjana Segara.

The mother of the main character.

Which meant—

slowly, Ramdan looked at his own hands.

Small.

Very small.

A baby.

He was… a baby.

And if he was right—

“Oh Gusti…” he screamed inside his mind.

“Don’t tell me I’m the main character!”

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