After carefully traversing the depths of Batu Meraga Cave, Baskara arrived at a narrow crevice, almost hidden behind a pillar of natural stone.
Without hesitation, he slipped his body through the gap, plunging into complete darkness.
Beyond that crevice lay a hidden chamber—
A massive underground chamber, perfectly circular in shape, with walls faintly glowing from the flow of natural energy.
At its center stood a monolithic stone shaped like a human figure — tall, solid, pitch black, yet pulsating with dark crimson light seeping through its cracks.
Baskara stepped forward cautiously. His gait was steady, but his gaze was sharp and wary.
In the vast chamber, only three things existed: himself, silence, and the pulsing stone that resembled a petrified being. The red light in its crevices flickered slowly — as if the stone… was breathing.
He halted several paces away. His hands clasped behind his back, eyes narrowing, observing every detail.
> "No records... no clues… this isn't something the clan or any sect has ever taught," Baskara thought in silence.
He extended his spiritual senses toward the stone — known only as Wisesa Stone.
What he felt wasn't just energy — it was a will. Ancient, silent, and heavy with trials.
As if the stone wasn't an object… but a guardian, silently judging who was worthy — and who should perish.
Closer inspection revealed fine marks at its base — not inscriptions, but handprints. Not one, but many.
Signs of those who had once faced this stone in pursuit of strengthening their bodies.
Baskara inhaled deeply.
He knew it then:
This wasn't a mere tool — it was a test of body and soul.
> "I must not be reckless. This stone can either empower me... or destroy me," he muttered, almost inaudibly.
With deliberate calm, he chose to sit cross-legged where he stood, maintaining his distance.
He closed his eyes, letting his mind settle, allowing the Wisesa Stone to reveal itself — in its own way.
Slowly, as his serenity spread through the chamber, the stone began to… pulse.
Not through light or sound — but through invisible waves, like pressure in the air, gently yet heavily pressing against his body.
Baskara opened his eyes. He didn't move. He simply stared, letting the pressure wash over him.
With time, the pressure intensified. Gradually, his entire body felt compressed — as if the space itself was pressing in from all directions.
Yet he remained still. Calm. Letting his body and spirit adjust.
This was the first stage.
The Wisesa Stone was testing:
Can this body endure? Is this soul vast enough to bear the burden of power?
Seconds passed. Minutes followed.
But Baskara, trained in solitude and deep meditation, showed no signs of faltering.
And then—
The Wisesa Stone triggered its true trial.
The crimson light pulsed once—
And the world around Baskara… changed.
No longer was he in the underground chamber.
He now stood on a dark, boundless plain, beneath a sky writhing with blood-red clouds.
From within the heavy mist, figures began to emerge.
Not men. Not beasts.
But shadows — manifestations of fear, doubt, and weakness that once lurked in human hearts.
> "This isn't about who I am. Not my bloodline. It's about pure strength," Baskara thought, unshaken.
The shadows snarled — and charged.
But Baskara didn't flinch.
He lowered his stance, channeling the stillness of his meditation through his limbs.
One strike — the first shadow burst into red dust.
One movement — three more dissolved instantly.
But the more he vanquished, the stronger the next ones became.
Until… one shadow stood before him:
Himself — his weaker self, his fears, his rage, and the moments he had once nearly given up.
To pass this trial, Baskara had to overcome himself — not external foes.
In the silence, a faint smile curled on his lips.
> "If this is your trial... I accept."
And the trial deepened.
The illusions conjured more than shadows.
Figures from the ancient past emerged — warriors from long before the founding of Tirta Negara.
An old swordsman with tattered robes — each strike simple, yet deadly.
A spear master from a forgotten era — whose thrusts tore through the air itself.
A hunter from the primal age — striking from the shadows with cold precision.
Not just humans.
Ancient beasts also appeared — a three-horned stag, a giant wild boar, a crimson-eyed earth serpent.
All born from an untamed world where mercy did not exist.
One by one, Baskara faced them.
Calm. Wordless.
He absorbed every movement, responded to every pressure with steadfast resolve.
No shortcuts were granted.
Each victory was earned with real strength — real will.
At last, as all challengers fell, the illusion shattered like glass.
And the Wisesa Stone… acknowledged him.
Baskara opened his eyes.
Without hesitation, he raised his arm — and struck the stone with a single, precise punch.
BRUAAKK!
The stone exploded into countless glowing fragments…
Yet strangely, nothing else was touched.
The floor. The walls. The air around — all remained untouched, as though immune to the overwhelming force he had just unleashed.
> Baskara's body had undergone a profound transformation.
His skeletal structure became naturally reinforced — bones like ancient steel, light yet unbreakable.
His muscles coursed with living energy, as if woven with the essence of the earth itself.
His blood now carried Wisesa Energy — a latent force that allowed him to unleash devastating physical attacks far beyond human limits, without causing unnecessary destruction.
He had attained destructive precision.
Now, Baskara could shatter his target with absolute accuracy — like a divine hammer, striking only where he willed.
Beyond that, his resistance to physical force, spiritual energy, and impact increased tremendously.
His body was now a shield — and a whip.
Strong as divine armor. Fast as lightning.