In front of a grand wooden door, adorned with ancient carvings in the ancestral style, Baskara stood frozen beside Eyang Pradipa. The aura of majesty emanated from every intricate line of the wood, which, though old, remained sturdy.
"This is where I meditate," Eyang Pradipa said, touching the door's leaf, then turning to his grandson. "From now on... this will also be your place of retreat, one day."
Baskara stood still. His chest warmed, his eyes misted slightly. He realized this was not just a room—it was a symbol of trust, respect… a privilege.
When the door opened, the scent of spiritual plants greeted him. The room was quite spacious, with a meditation altar made of sacred plants that shimmered gently at the center. Surrounding it were plants that strengthened the spiritual aura, filling the space with a calm, deep atmosphere.
The stone walls were adorned with ancient carvings, resembling a living language. There were no windows, but above, soft light streamed down from the transparent stone ceiling, supported by the thick trunks of ancient Bungur trees—creating the sensation of being outdoors, even while inside. It felt strange yet soothing to Baskara.
> "Practice here," Eyang Pradipa said, handing him a small key. "But remember… do not bring anyone here casually."
Baskara gripped the key tightly. "Of course, Grandpa. You handle the family matters, I can train on my own…" he said with a tone of confidence, almost arrogantly.
His grandfather chuckled softly, nodded, and left him alone.
Once the door closed, Baskara took a deep breath and sat cross-legged on the spiritual altar. He opened his first book: "The Silent Step."
A smile full of enthusiasm appeared on his face.
> "Finally... I have my first martial technique."
After entering his magnificent meditation space, Baskara began to open the book given by his grandfather: The Silent Step. The aroma of ancient wood and spiritual incense still lingering in the air made the room feel sacred and serene.
When he opened the first page, the title of the book shimmered faintly in golden ink:
The Silent Step "Silence is movement, movement is silence."
Baskara read slowly. The opening line of the book immediately struck his consciousness:
> "This step is not just about the feet. It is the art of merging with the universe. Slipping through the gaps of sound, and disappearing even from the awareness of the world."
The book explained that this technique had three core layers:
1. First Layer: Silent Step At this stage, the practitioner must train their body to step without making the slightest sound. Muscles, breath, and even the friction of clothes must be fully controlled. This step trains sensitivity to the elements beneath the feet, making each movement feel as though it is carried away by the wind.
2. Second Layer: Silent Run At this stage, silence is brought into speed. A practitioner is capable of moving as fast as a shadow without disturbing a single leaf. Balance, body rhythm, and the flow of energy must merge perfectly for sound to vanish completely.
As Baskara continued reading page after page, his mind began to immerse in the details of the second layer. Here, it was not just about walking slowly or lightly—this was the art of moving as fast as possible, without leaving the slightest trace of sound.
> "Silence does not mean slow. In speed, silence can be deadlier."
This training required the practitioner to understand three main rhythms of the body: breath, heartbeat, and muscle swing. All three must synchronize—like the body has merged with the flow of air. No rustle, no trace, no vibration.
The body's silhouette merges with the shadows of the trees, speeding like wind—never seen but capable of making leaves fall.
Baskara paused, thinking, "So… I must learn not only to regulate my steps but also to adapt myself to the space and time around me…" he thought, feeling his body vibrate lightly from the rising spiritual energy.
---
Third Layer: No Trace
As the page turned to the third layer, the aura of the room felt different. There was a subtle pressure enveloping him. The words in the book were no longer written in common language—rather, they felt like a series of mantras resonating in his mind:
> "If the world does not recognize your step, then the universe will forget your existence."
This layer was no longer about the physical. It was the silencing of one's very existence. A practitioner at this level of the Silent Step could:
Completely hide their spiritual aura.
Erase the trace of energy that high-level meditators could normally detect.
Pass through guarded areas without leaving any sign of their existence.
It was even said that if one mastered this, a meditator in the realm of Purwa Jiwa would struggle to distinguish between a human and the wind.
Baskara reread that part softly, "Grandpa... why did you let me read a technique like this? It's... extraordinary." But instead of feeling fear, a thin smile tugged at his lips. He knew, he was different.
As his body began to sink into understanding, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the spiritual space, right above the sacred plant mat. The light from above softly reflected on his face. He began to regulate his breath. Silent. Still. Yet his mind was like a storm, processing all the concepts of movement, aura, and emptiness in the steps.
Minutes later, Baskara managed to master layer after layer in one go, then he wanted to practice this technique inside the room.
The room was silent. Only the sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears. Between the walls full of ancient carvings and the aroma of grounding spiritual leaves, Baskara stood with his eyes closed. The temperature of the room remained constant, but his body gradually warmed as the energy in his veins began to swirl.
He started with the first layer—stepping without sound.
His feet gently touched the floor, like a shadow touching the earth. No friction sound, no weight. His breath was held halfway, then slowly exhaled, like the evening wind passing through the leaves.
Step two. Step three.
The rhythm began to feel natural. Every movement felt as if gliding over the surface of water.
Then he opened his eyes. With a slight push from his heel, he ran.
But there was no thud. No echo. No dust was lifted. He moved swiftly, circling the room several times, even around the large pillars of the Bungur trees that supported the ceiling. All in perfect silence.
> "This... feels like a dream," he murmured inwardly.
But the real challenge had just begun.
He sat cross-legged again, took a deep breath, and tried to hide his aura. In the third-level technique, it was not the moving body that must be silent, but its very existence. He had to nullify his presence from the spiritual world.
Baskara began to empty his mind. He imagined himself as no one. Not human. Not soul. He was merely part of the room, part of the stone, the roots, the air.
And when that happened—
The spiritual plants around him no longer reacted to his aura. Normally, they would sway or emit certain colors when a meditator's energy was near. But now, they were still. Completely. As if unaware of Baskara's presence.
He succeeded. Half of the third-layer technique—"No Trace"—was achieved.
But Baskara didn't smile. He slowly opened his eyes. His expression was flat, serious. Because in his heart, he knew... this was just the beginning.
> "My steps will be silent… but the echo of my name will one day shake the world."