Baskara sat cross-legged beside Leluhur Nala, his eyes gazing at the star-filled sky.
"Fitrah isn't something to be sought outside oneself, but revealed from within—slowly, as the soul comes to know itself."
Leluhur Nala nodded gently, allowing his grandson to speak without interruption.
"Many chase their fitrah with power, with a big name, with accomplishments… but all of that is just an illusion. Fitrah, to me, is a state where the soul no longer resists fate, but flows with it—without losing direction."
He closed his eyes briefly, touching the earth beneath him.
"Fate is like a great river. We can't change its current, but we can learn to swim in it. If we ignore fitrah, we'll be swept away or drown. But if we understand it, we can float… even dance with the flow."
Leluhur Nala finally spoke, his voice deep, soft, and full of meaning.
"And you… have felt this yourself?"
Baskara opened his eyes again and looked at his ancestor.
"Not just me, Leluhur. Every soul that is calm—sincerely seeking—will find its own time. I just happened to be granted an earlier moment."
Leluhur Nala took a deep breath, then looked up at the sky still draped in starlight. His voice was calm and deep, yet filled with spiritual strength:
"Your words are like morning dew—clear, yet refreshing… And it's rare that I hear a young one speak of fate and fitrah with such tranquility."
He turned to Baskara, his gaze not just seeing, but seeming to pierce into his soul.
"Fate is indeed mysterious, and fitrah is the lantern in its night. But only those willing to be still, to wait, and to listen to the whispers of their soul, can light that lantern."
He pointed to Baskara's chest, without touching him.
"You've dived into depths most avoid. Your sukma has journeyed without clinging to the body—and not everyone can do that. But remember this, my son…"
His voice lowered, full of emphasis.
"The higher the enlightenment, the subtler its trials. You may have understood your fitrah, but the outside world may not be in harmony with what you feel. So steel your heart, for the path of fitrah is not for the many to follow—but to be guarded by the chosen."
Baskara nodded slowly. Leluhur Nala's words were like smooth stones strengthening the foundation of his soul.
"I understand, Leluhur," he replied. "Fitrah is not something to boast about, but to be fulfilled."
Leluhur Nala smiled, his gaze filled with pride and calm.
"Then fulfill it in silence… and let the world bear witness through the reflection of its light."
He gave a warm smile, his eyes soothing.
"All right, my son… Before we continue, go see your parents first. They've been deeply worried about you. I had planned to summon them here, but I believe… it's better if you return home on your own."
The morning breeze began to gently sweep through the leaves. The air warmed, and a tint of orange slowly appeared on the eastern horizon. The dawn light replaced the fading moonlight. The silent and peaceful atmosphere stood witness to the deep conversation that lasted the entire night—until, unnoticed, morning had come.
Baskara rose slowly, his clear eyes shining like the sky about to welcome the sun.
"Very well, Leluhur… Then I shall return to see Father and Mother."
His voice was light, and his smile hinted at a longing no longer bearable. In his heart, of course, he wanted to share everything he had achieved… though perhaps, most of all, for a little show-off in front of his mother—and of course, his father too.
"Hehehe…" he murmured quietly, unable to hold back a chuckle as he imagined his
The spiritual beasts in the ancestral land were no longer a threat—no longer even a match for him.
On his way home, Baskara passed a familiar lake. He squinted, gazing at the still surface of the water, where the soft light of dawn reflected gently. It was there that he had once demonstrated the Tapak Geni technique with the elders and his parents. A place that bore witness to the beginning of recognition and his power's potential.
"Time flies so fast..." he murmured softly, a faint nostalgic smile appearing on his face.
The urge to test his strength suddenly emerged. Perhaps he simply wanted to see how much he had changed.
He raised one hand, then slowly regulated his breath. The air around him shifted—the previously calm breeze now stirred with heat and energy. Golden-red light began to radiate around him, until...
BRRRUUUUMMM...!!
A giant virtual hand appeared above his head. Tapak Geni, third layer—now felt far denser and more profound. He aimed it at a cliff by the lake's edge.
In an instant, a deafening explosion shook the area. The cliff disintegrated, and a radius of hundreds of meters was devastated. Trees brushed merely by the technique's aftershock instantly turned to ash. The vibrations from the blast caused flocks of birds in the distance to fly away in panic.
Baskara was stunned.
"This... is way stronger than before... Damn, this whole forest might burn down!" he exclaimed quickly.
Without hesitation, he channeled his spiritual energy into the air. He drew water and wind elements from his surroundings, forming dense clouds. In a flash, the sky turned gray. Then…
Rain poured heavily, drenching the land as far as the eye could see. Its radius spanned hundreds of miles—even the Baskara family residence was soaked by the rain.
In the distance, atop a temple, Ancestor Nala stood, shaking his head slowly as he looked toward the now mist-covered lake.
"That child… so reckless, testing his power in the family's own territory," he muttered.
But deep down, he understood. Baskara had never truly experienced a real battlefield. Everything so far had been training and meditation. He was learning to come to terms with his strength—and sometimes, that learning came through small mistakes that needed correcting.
In the dimly lit living room, shaded by the morning light, Teguh sat in silence. One hand supported his head while his gaze was fixed on the cold stone floor. Several light wounds were still visible on his face and arms—marks from an unpleasant encounter.
"What now...?" he whispered hoarsely. His voice was rough, tired, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
His mind returned to yesterday's events. He had come with good intentions to the home of the Tirta family—his wife, whom he had always loved unconditionally. But the reception from Rivan, Tirta's father, was nothing short of a storm of insults.
"You're not worthy of my daughter."
"You never fulfilled the conditions we agreed upon!"
"Divorce Tirta before I deal with you myself."
Teguh could still hear the echo of that voice—harsh and cold. In the past, Tirta's father had never approved of their marriage. Only through Pradipa—the Baskara family patriarch—had a long negotiation finally won them reluctant approval… though now, it seemed that approval was nothing but an illusion.
Rivan, using the excuse that more well-established first-class families were courting his daughter, once again demanded his parental right: to take Tirta away from Teguh. For Rivan, wealth and social status were the measures of love. And Teguh, despite being of equal class two, had never been seen as enough.
"I… don't want to let her go," Teguh whispered to himself, eyes beginning to water.
Suddenly, amidst the suffocating sorrow, a soft knock came at the door.
Tok. Tok.
The knock was followed by a cheerful voice, light and strangely unfamiliar.
"Father...!"
Teguh froze.
It was a voice he could never forget. Warm, clear, and now sounding more mature than he remembered.
Teguh slowly stood, his steps heavy as though walking through frozen time. He opened the door—and there, bathed in the morning sunlight creeping in, stood a young man with bright eyes and a wide smile...
"Son… is that really you?" Teguh's voice trembled, hoarse with overwhelming emotion.
Tears streamed from the corner of his eyes, shamelessly. The young man before him… looked too much like Tirta. That long black hair, never cut since birth, now swayed gently in the morning breeze. In his eyes, it was as if Tirta had returned in their child's form, as if mother and son were united in a single light descending from the heavens.
Teguh closed his eyes briefly. He could not bear the thought of losing them both.
Baskara bowed his head slightly, heart stirred by seeing his father so fragile. But when he noticed the small wounds on Teguh's body, and the labored breath as though carrying a burden, Baskara's gaze instantly sharpened—filled with awareness and resolve.
"Father, what happened to you? And… where's Mother? Is she alright?" he asked quickly, though still composed.
Without waiting for an answer, Baskara reached into his robe and pulled out a softly glowing pill.
"Drink this first—it will strengthen your body and ease internal wounds," he said, offering it.
Teguh accepted it hesitantly but drank it without question. The two then sat quietly, like two men finally speaking heart to heart—not just as father and son, but as two individuals carrying the weight of the world.
Teguh began to tell his story. About the meeting with Rivan, the pressure he endured, and the threat of separation from Tirta. This time, he spoke openly to his son, knowing… Baskara was no longer a child to be shielded from the world's harshness. In silence, Teguh accepted the reality that his son had grown. Still young, but already weathered by a storm of silence that few could understand.
"I'll report this to your grandfather, Son… Hopefully, Eyang Pradipa can mediate this mess," Teguh said softly, bitterness in his tone.
But before the words could settle in the air, Baskara had already vanished from sight.
Teguh fell silent. He knew his son had made a decision. And when a silent child chooses to act… the world must prepare.
Baskara shot into the sky, carrying with him a resolve he had never displayed before. His face was cold, full of determination. With Langkah Tanpa Suara, he walked the air like a shadow, stirring neither wind nor sound.
In moments, he crossed hundreds of kilometers. The air split to clear his path. Even the spiritual birds that guarded the skies of the ancestral land bowed and gave way.
He arrived at the estate of his mother's family.
Time itself seemed to hold its breath, for the wind no longer stirred, and the sky appeared slightly darker than usual…
In the morning sky still cloaked in dewy mist, Baskara stood firm upon the air, as though the sky granted him footing. His body did not move in the slightest, yet the aura radiating from him was like embers burning in silence.
From his height, his eyes scanned the Rivan family estate—a line of luxurious buildings with the typical architecture of noble families. But among them, one building stood out: grand like an ancestral temple, yet laced with modern touches that proclaimed pride and power.
Without many words, Baskara lifted his chin slightly, then released a spiritual voice—resounding with authority, shaking the heart of land and air alike:
"Come out, old man… or I'll destroy your homes!"
His voice thundered through space and time, heard throughout the entire estate. The air trembled, and the sky-guarding birds scattered.
Below, a young man standing in a garden with several followers looked up with a mocking expression. With a tone full of arrogance, he shouted:
"Hey, you brat! Arrogantly threatening our family?! You ignorant lizard!"
But before his mocking laughter could fade, Baskara stared at him flatly. No emotion. No need for words—he simply pointed a finger.
Bruakkhh!!
In an instant, the young man's body was flung like a broken doll, crashing hard into the building behind him. The wall collapsed, the ground cracked, and his impact left a mark like a scar on the earth's surface.
The incident caused the entire complex to erupt in chaos. People screamed and panicked. Some quickly contacted the family's elite guards, holders of power and authority, to prevent further unrest.
But Baskara paid no attention. His steps slowly advanced in the air, approaching the central building that looked like a grand fortress from the past. Each step shattered the space beneath his feet, as if reality itself could not bear the pressure of his power.
The space was like a cracked mirror, breaking and reforming only to shatter again under his tread.
The air grew heavy. The wind stopped moving. Time seemed to freeze.
And behind the window of the main building…
Rivan began to rise from his seat.