After five days at his family's residence, and making sure his father and mother were well, Baskara finally decided to return. Though a trace of worry lingered, he knew delaying his training any longer would be neglecting his primary duty: honing his power for a future full of storms.
"This calm is borrowed time… not eternal time," he murmured before bidding farewell.
With a warm embrace and simple advice from his mother, and a calm nod from his father, Baskara left the house. He walked under the shadow of the moonlight, following a secret path to the ancestral land—a route known only to those acknowledged by the family's guardian spirits.
Upon arrival at the ancestral land, he walked through the mist, tracing a path that appeared only beneath spiritual footsteps. The ancient temple reappeared before him, standing firm in silence, its walls filled with carvings of time and stones vibrating with the aura of ancestral heritage.
This time, his goal was clear: to subdue the temple's treasure inherited from his ancestors.
Earlier, he had received the Kala Niskala Kris and had understood part of the Penetrating Heart Core technique—but that skill was still too deep and wild for him to tame now.
"I must strengthen the foundation first," he thought, stepping into the temple's main chamber.
He sat at the meditation altar, opened his consciousness, and focused on the temple's treasure known as the Soul Guardian of the Ancestral Land—a form of spiritual power embedded within a hidden dimensional space inside the temple.
Baskara slowly opened his eyes, his breath calm, but beneath that calmness, a stir was beginning to grow. Silently, he began to understand that Astadi Candika was not just an ordinary heirloom—it was a manifestation of the ancestors' will, a legacy that brought both destruction and protection.
Within himself, he could sense echoes from the past… like prayers and mantras lingering within the stones. He knew every carving on the temple was not mere decoration, but seals, systems, and keys to summon power.
"If this truly belongs to the ancestors… then I must prove I am worthy to inherit it," Baskara murmured.
The next step was one: soul synchronization. He had to align his spirit and will with the temple's essence. If he failed, Astadi Candika would only become an ordinary stone—or worse, it might absorb his own power.
Baskara sat cross-legged in the temple's main chamber, now towering magnificently after activation. The ancient stones trembled gently, as if responding to the pulse of his soul. He controlled his breathing, diving into his consciousness, merging with the temple's spiritual flow.
Braakkk…!
A sound like a dimensional door opening. A golden-red light surrounded him, then everything went dark. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the real-world temple chamber but inside the inner realm of Astadi Candika—the soul's trial chamber.
The sky was dark like an eternal dusk, the ground black stones with cracks emitting a faint red glow. Around it stood three shadows, tall and dignified. White hair, sharp eyes, and bodies draped in majestic robes patterned with ancient runes.
One of them stepped forward. His voice was deep, like an echo from the past.
＞ "Oh heir of the bloodline… what right do you have to hold our relic?"
Baskara bowed respectfully. "I do not claim a right… I only wish to follow the destiny that was bequeathed."
The second shadow followed, his eyes glowing red:
＞ "Destiny is a burden, not a gift. We did not pass down this relic as a symbol, but as a tool. Can you control it?"
The third shadow, the oldest and calmest figure, spoke:
＞ "Then face it… face the shadow of your own ancestors. If you fail, your soul will merge with this temple, becoming a new guardian who can never break free."
Suddenly the three merged into one form: The Great Ancestor Shadow, a being cloaked in temple robes, eyes blazing with fire, holding a trident of light in his hand. His spiritual pressure was overwhelming—even Baskara's breath began to falter.
Baskara slowly stood, his body pressed heavily, but his soul's eyes blazed. Behind him, a shadow of himself appeared, just as strong, like a mirror image but colder and full of doubt.
Two opponents, one arena. One truth, one path.
The inner battle began.
The Great Ancestor Shadow stood tall, while Baskara's shadow appeared before him—looking like himself, but with empty, cold, almost mocking eyes.
＞ "You want power?" the shadow asked flatly. "Is it to protect, or just so you won't feel weak anymore?"
Baskara was silent. The shadow stepped forward.
＞ "You meditate, train in silence, reject the world's stage… but deep inside, don't you want to be recognized? Respected? No longer looked down on like when you were a child?"
The shadow stared directly into Baskara's soul's eyes.
＞ "Do you truly train for peace… or because you are afraid? Afraid to fail? Afraid you are not enough?"
Baskara took a slow breath. "I am not afraid… I just don't want to rush."
The shadow swung his hand. Suddenly hundreds of overlapping voices emerged around them—mocking voices, envious voices, false praises.
＞ "You cover your ears, but those voices still remain inside. With power, will you silence them all?"
The red light from the cracks in the ground slowly rose, forming trapping walls.
＞ "If you cannot face this, then this temple is not yours. You will become a stone guardian, forever."
Baskara closed his eyes for a moment. Then he answered softly but firmly:
＞ "Power is not to silence the outside voices. But to calm the voices within. If I let doubt win, I will become a slave to my own power."
Slowly, he raised his right hand, and light from inside his chest—his soul glowing with five colors—gently exploded, forming a shining stupa pattern.
Boom!
His own shadow burned in the light. Only a bowed silhouette remained before vanishing.
The Great Ancestor Shadow only nodded slightly.
＞ "You have defeated your toughest enemy… yourself."
Astadi Candika merged with his soul. A pillar of light descended from the inner temple sky, solidifying their bond.
---
Several Months Later...
Inside the silent meditation chamber, only calm breaths and a faint glow from Astadi Candika before Baskara. Time passed—days turned into weeks, weeks into months—and during that time Baskara locked himself in spiritual silence. Not to escape the world, but to delve deeper into his soul... and into the relic temple itself.
At first, all he understood was the rough form of Astadi Candika's power. But as time passed and meditation deepened, the hidden benefits of the temple began to reveal themselves one by one, like secret layers of ancestral souls carved into eternal stone.
---
1. Ancestral Soul Connection
Baskara realized the spiritual architectural structure of Astadi Candika was linked to the traces of ancestors. Every carving, every corner was an energy node holding memories, teachings, and their spirit. Sitting at the temple's center, Baskara could directly communicate with their consciousness—more than conversation, but an exchange of feeling and understanding.
＞ "We never truly vanish, grandson... we remain in the stone and prayer."
— The faint voice of ancestor Nala, heard during the 108th meditation.
---
2. Waskita Mode: Dimensional Architecture Eye
After the second month, Baskara discovered a finer function—the ability to see energy nodes of space and time through the temple's "eye." This was not ordinary sight but a spiritual mapping of karma flows and dimensional cracks.
With this, Baskara could:
Find dimensional fractures for short teleportation.
Read traces of lingering power (battle remnants or curses).
Assess the strength of an area without approaching.
---
3. Soul Boundary Chamber
In the third month, through long contemplation under the red light of the temple's core, he discovered a special chamber inside the relic—a soul boundary room, like a sacred prison. If before he knew Astadi could seal enemies, now he understood the seal didn't just imprison... it also calmed and cleansed the wild soul, separating it from anger, curses, or attached evil powers.
---
4. Soul Energy Storage – Spiritual Power Warehouse
The most surprising part was that the temple could store spiritual energy reserves, like a large soul-powered battery. While meditating or absorbing natural energy, the temple recorded and stored it in its "belly." If one day Baskara was weak, he could draw energy from the reserves without alerting the surrounding nature.
＞ "Even mountains need time to recharge after an eruption."
---
As all this understanding grew, Baskara's soul became calmer. He no longer rushed to understand everything because now he knew: every living relic has its own rhythm.
After four months immersed in meditation and deep understanding of Astadi Candika, Baskara stepped out of the temple with light and calm steps. The damp morning air welcomed him, refreshing his lungs after months united with silence and inner strength.
Old mossy trees stood firmly, accompanying each step as if welcoming the new guardian of the ancestral land. Sunlight filtered through leaf gaps, dancing on the ground covered with dry fallen leaves.
Without haste, Baskara walked along a secret path known only to true heirs. Occasionally he bent down, picked certain leaves, examined tree roots, or carefully uprooted small plants.
He was gathering ingredients:
Akar Jalar Pethak – small white root which, when cleaned and dried, can strengthen the flow of spiritual energy.
Daun Kalika – a rare plant used as natural dye for runes or protective accessories.
Serat Kulit Cengkal – strong and flexible fibers, perfect for spiritual binding threads or talisman cords.
Getah Waringin Sukma – sap from a sacred tree appearing only in certain seasons, used as purifier in small rituals.
Of course, all was done carefully and secretly. He did not want to attract the attention of guardian spirits, other ancestral ghosts, or outside spies.
Sometimes he activated his awareness field, sweeping the surroundings without disturbing the spiritual flow guarding the place. He knew the ancestral land was not a playground—this was a sacred realm guarded by more than just stone and earth.
With a small pouch full of spiritual materials, Baskara smiled faintly. He was not only a wielder of great power but also a craftsman who understood the value of detail and silence.
Baskara sat cross-legged on a flat stone, spreading out the materials he had gathered over the past few weeks. Before him lay the cleaned serat kulit cengkal fibers, dried and crushed akar jalar pethak powder, and the getah waringin sukma condensed to a resin-like clarity.
Calmly and focused, he began weaving the cengkal fibers into fine, strong cords. Each knot and tie was made not only with skillful hands but also with silent mantras uttered in his heart.
Then, he sprinkled the akar jalar pethak powder onto the cords and rubbed them with a mix of getah waringin sukma. At that moment, the cords glowed faintly, signaling harmony between materials and maker's intent.
Each accessory had unique form and function:
For his grandfather, Eyang Pradipa: A necklace of three strands with core beads containing protection runes and soul enhancers, sealed with energy fragments from Astadi Candika.
For his father, Teguh: A bracelet from cengkal cord coated with Daun Kalika, forming runes of fire and calmness—useful for sharpening judgment in conflict.
For his cousin: Small talismans to hang or carry, each imbued with a hint of Baskara's meditation vibration, protecting against supernatural influences and spiritual spies.
He then wrapped everything in black cloth and stored them in a small dimensional storage space concealed within his clothes.