Dinda pointed toward the center of the hall. "Mom is talking to Aunt Rara near the food table, Bib."
"I see," Tirta nodded. "Have you all eaten?"
"Not yet, Fajar wanted to sit first, he said he's tired," Dinda replied with a small chuckle. Fajar immediately pouted but said nothing.
"Hehe, just sit down for now. The event hasn't started yet," Tirta said with a smile, then opened a small box with snacks and offered it to them.
Baskara took a small cake. "I like this one! You made it, right, Mom?"
Tirta nodded. "Yes, you even finished half the tray yourself."
"Hehe, that's because it tastes really good!" Baskara replied with his mouth full, causing Dinda and Fajar to laugh.
Their atmosphere was so relaxed, like a family that had known each other for a long time. Dinda leaned toward Baskara. "Hey, are you ready for school tomorrow?"
"Ready, of course," Baskara answered quickly. "But I kind of don't feel like waking up early."
Fajar joined in, "I still haven't bought a new bag, the one from before tore because I sat on it."
"How did that happen?" Dinda asked, surprised.
"I was playing with robots, then forgot the bag was on the chair..."
Baskara burst out laughing. "Wow, you could be a superhero with your enemy being your own bag!"
They all laughed. Tirta just shook her head, smiling at their antics.
A few minutes later, the sound of a gamelan started softly from the stage, and the whole room began to quiet. The elder of the family ascended the podium, dressed in full traditional attire. His voice was calm and full of authority.
"Welcome, everyone, to the gathering of our great family. Today, we meet not only to strengthen our blood ties but also to plant the seeds for a future that will grow together..."
As the elder stood and delivered his speech before the family members, his gaze slowly swept across the room. His eyes were firm yet wise, tracing the faces of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren neatly seated in the rows. But when his eyes landed on Baskara—the young boy sitting calmly beside his mother—a slight furrow appeared on the elder's brow.
"Hah...? Impossible..." he murmured softly, as if something troubled his mind. His gaze paused for a moment, but he quickly shifted it and continued his speech.
"My dear family, today I am one hundred twelve years old. An age that is no longer young, but still strong enough to share my hopes and spirit for our next generation."
The elder's voice resonated calmly in the grand hall. He then announced that starting this year, every child turning ten would be required to take a spiritual potential test in the family's main hall. Those who showed potential would be guided to become semediawan and be given the family's martial arts techniques and scriptures.
He further explained that their family had grown rapidly in various fields—spiritual plant and fruit trade, protection services, and undertaking missions that could only be handled by true semediawan.
"May you all carry the spirit and honor of this family," the elder concluded before returning to his seat.
However, just before sitting down, his gaze returned to Baskara. His face showed an astonishment that words could not express.
"There's something… different about this child," he muttered softly, a mix of suspicion and deep curiosity.
Not long after, Teguh, Tirta, and Baskara were called into the elder's main family room. In the quiet and authoritative atmosphere of the room, Eyang Pradipa looked at Teguh intently.
"Tell me the truth, Teguh. Why did you teach Baskara, who is not even ten yet, to meditate...?"
Teguh, who had been sitting quietly, sighed and smiled faintly. "I never taught him, Eyang. The child… is just too curious. Always asking questions, reading old books, and thinking a lot. But I never guided him directly."
Tirta nodded quickly. "Yes, Eyang. Baskara is indeed very curious. But meditation? We've never discussed it in depth."
While sipping tea from an old porcelain cup that seemed to have been around for decades, Eyang Pradipa closed his eyes briefly. The steam from the tea floated gently into the air, setting the quiet mood in the room. Then, without opening his eyes, he spoke in a soft yet deep voice:
"Don't try to lie to me… This child—Baskara—has already entered the Nadi Sukma realm, at the final level… and is just one step away from Perfection."
The tea cup almost slipped from Tirta's hand. Her face turned pale in an instant, her eyes wide as if struck by lightning.
"Mother: {°.°}"
"Father: {°.°}"
Teguh shook his head slightly, his voice barely audible.
"Impossible... Father... That can't be true..." he stammered, a mix of shock and confusion.
However, amidst all the shock, Baskara sat quietly. Slowly, he lowered his head. Not to apologize, nor out of fear. But as a sign... that everything Eyang Pradipa said was true.
The room seemed to freeze. Time itself felt slower than usual.
Eyang Pradipa slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as if piercing through the walls of silence.
"I knew it the first time I saw you. Your spiritual aura cannot be hidden, not even by a child of your age. But… what exactly are you searching for, my grandchild?"
"However, Father... isn't it true that before opening the Nadi Sukma, one must undergo strict physical training? Strengthening the body to support the flow of spiritual energy?" Teguh tried to reason in his confusion. "Baskara only likes to mimic movements carelessly and does regular exercises. Moreover, I never place martial arts books carelessly..."
Eyang Pradipa simply sighed. "I don't know... this child is clearly not an ordinary child. I myself can't explain it. But I will try to ask the ancestors if they are willing to leave their meditation."
He looked at Teguh and Tirta with a meaningful gaze. "Tomorrow morning, bring this child to my house. We must test him further."
"Alright, Father..." Teguh answered slowly, holding back the turmoil in his chest.
"For today... enough. Just enjoy the party. But remember—don't let anyone else know about this. It's not the right time yet."
They nodded, then slowly left the room.
---
After returning to the middle of the party, Teguh and Tirta tried to smile as usual. However, in their hearts, one promise was etched—this secret must not leak, not even to their closest relatives.
Night fell, and at their home, a new conversation began.
"Baskara…" Teguh's voice was calm yet sharp. "Tell me, since when did you start meditating?"
"Honey, take it slow," Tirta interjected, trying to calm him down.
"Ugh… you, Tirta," muttered Teguh. "Even though he's still a child, we must be firm. You know the consequences if someone meditates without a solid foundation. It can harm the body... even—explode."
"Alright, alright, I know…" Tirta replied, half-defeated.
Teguh turned back to his son, now with a mixture of worry and curiosity in his eyes. "Son... since when did you start meditating? And how did you learn?"
Baskara looked down. "Since two days ago, Father... I read books... and often asked Mom and Dad…"
Tirta sighed, then gently patted his son's head. "Next time... don't do it carelessly, alright? You know the dangers, right?"
"Yes, Mom... I'm sorry…"
"Alright. Now sleep. Tomorrow we're going to Grandpa's house, okay?"
After Baskara entered his room, Tirta and Teguh sat in silence, speaking quietly about their child. Both knew—this strangeness could attract many bad things. For now... only they could know.
---
The next morning...
"Good morning, Father," said Teguh politely as they arrived at Eyang Pradipa's residence.
"Good morning. Please, sit."
"Thank you, Father."
"Let's get to the point," said Eyang. "Since it's still early and not many participants have arrived, let's go to the physical testing room first."
In a large room stood several stone blocks, ten meters high, with the word "PHYSICAL" engraved above them. The stones looked solid, as though they had never been disturbed.
"Baskara, come here."
"Alright, Grandpa."
"Do you see that stone? Punch it with all your might."
Baskara stared at the stone unflinchingly. He took a deep breath... then swung his fist.
BOOOM!! The explosion sound echoed throughout the room. The ten-meter-high stone crumbled into dust.
"…."
Eyang Pradipa, Teguh, and Tirta were frozen.
('_')
('_')
('_')
Even Baskara looked confused. (•_•)
Suddenly, the silence was broken by booming laughter.
"Hahahahahaha!! Good! Very good! My grandchild is great! You truly are the chosen child of heaven and earth!"
Teguh was startled. "Father… what do you mean by 'the chosen child of heaven and earth'?"
Eyang Pradipa smiled meaningfully. "I don't know... I just often hear that term from people with narrow eyes…"
Behind the ornate stone gate, there was a magnificent and mysterious corridor. The walls were decorated with ancient symbols from the time of their ancestors, dimly lit by floating crystal lights that spun slowly, as if dancing with their steps.
Eyang Pradipa walked ahead, an old grandfather in a dark brown meditation robe with long black hair tied back. His gaze was sharp but calm. Behind him, the young Baskara—about seven years old—walked lightly. His face was innocent, calm, but radiated a power that had just silenced everyone.
Teguh and Tirta walked together behind their child. Both wore simple formal attire—Teguh with long cloth and a dark brown vest, Tirta in a soft green modern kebaya. Their faces still showed shock, but now filled with curiosity and hope.
Eyang Pradipa spoke calmly but deeply, "Alright… I don't want to attract unnecessary attention. Let's test his potential here." After passing through the long corridor, Eyang Pradipa stopped in front of a stone wall that seemed ordinary. He raised his right hand, then bent two fingers as if saluting the empty space. Suddenly, the engravings on the wall faintly lit up, forming a circle pattern, and sreeeekkk... the wall slowly opened, revealing a secret room.
The room was round, not too large but very quiet. In the center was a circle of golden yellow light that seemed to call out. The walls were covered with ancient symbols and mantras that moved slowly like the flow of water, indicating the place was filled with high spiritual energy.
"Enter," said Eyang Pradipa calmly. "This place will reflect the true potential of anyone standing at its center."
Baskara gazed at the circle. His face remained calm as usual, but his eyes sparkled with deep curiosity. He stepped into the center of the room, and as his feet touched the light on the floor, the air suddenly became heavy. The symbols around him began to shine brighter, vibrating as if responding to the presence of someone extraordinary.
Teguh and Tirta held their breath. They could not look away, witnessing their little son being enveloped by a soft yet powerful light that flowed like a river in the sky.
Eyang Pradipa gazed at Baskara for a long time, then smiled faintly. "Hmmm… deeper than I expected."
As soon as Baskara stood still in the center of the light circle, the room's atmosphere suddenly shifted. A soft vibration spread through the air, then grew into a gentle rumble that could be felt down to the bones.
The symbols on the walls began to light up one by one—its colors dancing wildly, from sky blue, blood red, dark purple, to pure gold. They circled around, slowly separating from the carvings, and began to float around Baskara's body, like ancient spirits just awakened from a long sleep.
Suddenly, a deep, booming voice echoed—not from anyone in the room—but whispered in a language they couldn't understand:
"The old will crumble... the new has emerged…"
Tirta was startled and took a step back. Teguh instinctively pulled his wife's hand, preventing her from getting too close. Although they were the parents of this child, the aura radiating from his tiny body felt... unlike any ordinary child. Too silent, too majestic.
Eyang Pradipa squinted his eyes, then sighed softly. "That… is the language of the Sky Ancestors. This place has never reacted like this since the era when the martial arts sects were still united."
Baskara remained still. He closed his eyes, and the symbols began to merge, forming a pattern like a mandala spinning around him. Faster. Brighter. Until finally—woooommm!—a silent explosion of light erupted from his body, piercing through the room's ceiling.
But strangely... nothing was destroyed. There was no damage. Only tranquility enveloped the room afterward. The symbols slowly returned to their places on the walls, but now they glowed faintly, as if acknowledging Baskara's presence as something higher.
Eyang Pradipa lowered his head. "The potential of the Nadi Sukma's final stage... even before being formally trained," he muttered. "This child... is not only an heir of blood, but a sign of the times." The room fell silent. No one spoke for a while. Only the faint light from the symbols on the walls continued to glow like candles still burning after a storm.
Teguh stared at his son with wide eyes. His hands clenched, his lips trembling slightly. He was a man who usually thought logically and stubbornly assessed everything. But right now… logic couldn't explain what he had just witnessed.
"Baskara…" he whispered quietly.
Tirta stepped slowly toward her child, but her hand paused in mid-air, hesitant. Even though this was her child, the aura surrounding that small body was too sacred to touch casually. She could only stare, her eyes watery—not out of fear, but out of emotion... and a little fear too.
Baskara slowly opened his eyes. He turned toward them, then walked casually as if nothing had happened. A faint smile appeared on his face. "It's over," he said softly, calmly.
That simple sentence made it clear that all that energy explosion... was just a small test for him.
Eyang Pradipa approached slowly, staring at Baskara up close. "Do you know what you just did, child?"
Baskara shook his head. "No... I just felt like this room was too noisy."
The old grandfather sighed, then laughed softly. "Noisy, you say..." He turned to Teguh and Tirta. "You both must keep this secret. Even from your extended family. If not…"
His gaze became sharp and serious.
"…the world will come not to train him. But to bind and control."
Teguh and Tirta exchanged looks. There was fear. But also pride. They knew, from this day on… their lives would never be the same.