In the grand hall of the Surya Clan, the atmosphere brimmed with ambition. The patriarch, Eyang Radeya, sat on his throne, eyes scanning every important family member present.
"In the ancestral lands of the Baskara family lies a resource of considerable value. It may not be the most exceptional, but it is still worth seizing. We cannot let this opportunity slip by," he said calmly, yet firmly.
He then unfurled a secret map. "With this, we can enter without them knowing. It's time to devise our strategy. Are you all ready?"
The elite members of the Surya family nodded with determination. Once the meeting ended, a covert, well-planned strike force was dispatched to the ancestral land.
Meanwhile, across the region, a similar tension filled the hall of the Baskara family. Eyang Pradipa stood at the head of the room, his sharp gaze commanding attention.
"We will not let our ancestral land be defiled. Increase security. If anyone from the Surya Clan is seen—capture them. Dead or alive," he ordered without hesitation.
The Baskara family responded swiftly, dispatching their own elite squad. Four elders were sent to guard the land, while the other four remained to secure the family hall. Eyang Pradipa stayed behind, choosing to monitor the situation from the shadows.
Half a day passed. A report came in from the ancestral land. Eyang Pradipa's face turned grim—it was confirmed that the Surya Clan did indeed have the secret map.
"I'm going there myself," he declared, rising to his feet.
But before departing, he visited Baskara's meditation chamber. There, he entrusted him with sacred family techniques—some so secret they were only passed down to chosen descendants. His goal was clear: to immerse Baskara in deep study and training, far removed from outside conflict.
"Focus, my child. Don't worry about the world just yet. Your time hasn't come," he whispered before leaving.
Besides aiding his family, Eyang Pradipa had another mission: to retrieve a legendary dagger passed down through generations, said to originate from the central lands. It had to be brought back—for Baskara.
With everything in place, Eyang Pradipa vanished from the estate, flying swiftly toward the ancestral mountains.
High above those sacred lands, Elder Kirandi hovered midair, scanning the valleys below. He was one of the four elders tasked with guarding this territory.
Suddenly, the air shifted—gusts of wind surged violently. He turned, and Eyang Pradipa appeared beside him.
"What's the situation?" Pradipa asked.
"We're struggling. They're fast… and yes, they have the map," Kirandi replied quietly.
"Then we head deeper," Eyang Pradipa responded.
In an instant, the two elders shot through the sky, heading for the heart of the ancestral lands—where the legendary dagger was hidden.
Inside a dim, quiet meditation chamber, only the calm breath of Baskara could be heard. Spiritual energy pulsed around him, gentle but dense, signifying a high level of internal harmony. After receiving the inheritance techniques from Eyang Pradipa, he began studying them one by one.
One technique was an advanced form of Tapak Geni, a fire-based art he had already mastered up to the third level. Though Eyang Pradipa hadn't witnessed his training firsthand, he could sense through spiritual connection that Baskara had broken through into the realm of the virtual hand. It was enough to open the path to even deadlier arts.
Baskara unrolled the next scroll: Soul-Cleaving Machete. A brutal offensive technique—not only did it slash flesh, it split one's very existence. If executed correctly, it could slice straight through a soul, rendering it unable to ever return. This move required inner calm and intense spiritual sensitivity, for to strike a soul was to risk fracturing one's own.
The final technique for the day was Hall Gate—a high-level defensive art.
Just like its namesake—the sacred family hall where vital decisions were made—Hall Gate created an unbreachable shield of will and inner conviction. Nothing leaked out, and no truth was whispered to the wind.
"True defense isn't just blocking attacks, but protecting the core from corruption. Like a sacred hall, sealed and honorable, this technique guards its user with a wall forged from purpose and steadfast heart. Let them strike—so long as the soul holds firm, no truth shall fall."
Baskara absorbed these meanings deeply, letting his consciousness dissolve into insight. Outside, the world was in turmoil. But inside, a young hermit was building an invisible wall—the last line of defense that would someday shake destiny itself.
Among all the techniques, one in particular lit a fire in his soul: Flame Fingers—an evolution of Tapak Geni. This art allowed each of his fingers to emit searing flames. Every touch could trigger explosive heat capable of devastating his enemies.
Mastered at deeper levels, the fingers could summon invisible versions—spiritual flame digits with real destructive power. When struck against the earth, they could erupt molten blasts from beneath, creating chaos.
Baskara's eyes blazed. Everything else faded—family conflict, time, even the world itself. For four relentless days, he trained in wild seclusion, finally reaching the intermediate stage. Now, he could summon five flaming fingers from his palms.
When he emerged from his chamber, his body was worn, but his eyes burned with resolve. He strolled through the halls of Eyang Pradipa's home, headed toward his room—until he froze.
Blood.
Drops trailed along the floor, leading straight to his grandfather's chamber.
He slowed his pace, silent and alert, following the trail. At the door, hesitation gripped him—then worry took over. He pushed it open gently.
Inside, he saw Eyang Pradipa seated cross-legged, robes torn and soaked in blood. Despite his state, he was still channeling energy for self-healing.
"Grandfather…" Baskara said softly, anxiety clear in his voice.
Eyang Pradipa opened his eyes and exhaled heavily. "Come here…" he whispered. From within his cloak, he pulled out a weathered dagger, faintly glowing.
"I retrieved this from our ancestral land… but it came at a cost, Baskara. The Surya Clan resisted us fiercely, and… we were betrayed. By one of our own." His face darkened.
Baskara took the dagger with both hands. His eyes sharpened, his expression deep and solemn.
"How is my father?" he asked quietly.
"He's wounded, but not badly. Your mother is tending to him," the old man replied, closing his eyes again to continue healing.
Baskara bowed deeply. "Then I'll go see him now."
Eyang Pradipa gave a faint nod.
With quiet urgency, Baskara walked toward his family's home—ready for what was to come next.