The transfer order didn't come in an envelope. It came as a coordinate.
[Sector 01. Central Jakarta.]
Bara stood in front of the elevator doors, deep beneath the National Monument. The humidity of the city above had been left behind, replaced by recycled air that smelled of ozone and expensive cologne. The doors slid open to reveal GDF CITADEL - JAKARTA SECTOR. It didn't look like a military base. It looked like a cathedral built for people who hated sunlight. Polished marble floors reflected the overhead lights. High ceilings projected holographic skies mimicking a perfect, cloudless day. Walls were lined with digital murals of heroic Phalanx units standing against sunsets, their armor gleaming without a scratch.
Bara stepped out, his boots making a dull thud against the pristine floor. He felt underdressed in his worn bomber jacket, a relic of a time when armor was made of scar tissue, not ceramics.
"Mewah amat," he muttered, adjusting his collar. "Pajak rakyat lari ke sini semua."
Staff officers walked briskly, clutching slates, looking busy. They glanced at him, the scar on his cheek, the lack of uniform, the sheer tiredness radiating off him. and quickly looked away. He ignored them. He wasn't here for the tour. He was here to ruin the mood.
He took the lift up to the Observation Deck in Sector Alpha. The glass wall was massive, overlooking a simulation arena the size of a football stadium. Inside the arena, the air hummed with the sound of fifteen nuclear batteries idling. Three squads of Phalanx Gen-2.5 "Centurions" stood ready in a triangular standoff.
Bara leaned against the railing, lighting a cigarette. A nearby officer opened his mouth to cite a regulation, saw the glint in Bara's eyes, and decided to let the veteran smoke. Below, the announcer's voice echoed through the stadium speakers.
Joint Training Exercise: Round 3. Team Indonesia vs. Team Malaysia vs. Team Philippines. Scoring System: Active.
Bara exhaled smoke, watching the machines. " Main poin-poinan ternyata."
The battlefield was a simulated urban ruin. Concrete blocks, shattered highways, and digital interference clouds. The movement started instantly.
On the left flank, Team Philippines, designatedTeam Tamaraw. They were led byMateo, Codename: MAYON. A massive unit painted in crimson and gold, sporting heavy volcanic plating. Flanking him were his four squadmates:Rizal (Codename: LAPU), a melee specialist with dual vibro-swords;Clara (Codename: TALA),an aerial scout hovering on thrusters; Bayani (Codename: APO),the heavy artillery; andTira (Codename: HABAGAT), a rapid-response skirmisher.
They moved loud. Thrusters flared as they rushed the center, not bothering to hide.
"Bilisan niyo! Sugod!" Mateo shouted over the squad channel. His unit surged forward like a pyroclastic flow, weapons hot. He switched to the public channel, his voice confident and booming in heavy, accented English. "Hey, neighbors! You sleep in the base? We take the flag first"
On the right flank, Team Malaysia, designatedTeam Harimau. Led byHakim, Codename: JEBAT.His unit was painted in sleek tiger-stripe camouflage. Beside him wereZain (Codename: TUAH), the second-in-command; Siti (Codename: KASTURI),a recon specialist;Amir (Codename: LEKIR), holding a heavy shield; andFarid (Codename: LEKIU), the designated marksman.
They were the opposite of the Philippines. Silent. Methodical. They moved in a perfect phalanx formation, shields interlocking to form a mobile fortress. "Jangan pecah formasi," Hakim ordered calmly in Malay. "Biarkan mereka datang. Kita ambil celah dari sayap kanan. Lekiu, cari posisi tinggi!!."
Hakim responded to Mateo over the public channel, his English formal and slightly condescending. "Philippines, you break formation too early. Very risky. We will teach you discipline."
And in the southern zone, Team Indonesia, designated Team Garuda.Nathan (Codename: NAKULA)andSamuel (Codename: SADEWA)took the point. Behind them stood the massive tank unit piloted byBimo (Codename: BARONG).On the high ground, the sniper Diah (Codename: SRIKANDI)scanned the horizon. And covering the rear radar wasAji (Codename: SEMAR).
They were technically perfect but visibly hesitant. They moved by the book, checking corners, scanning sectors, ensuring every step was compliant with the manual.
"Woy, Filipina ngerusuh banget," Samuel complained over the private comms as a warning shot from Team Tamaraw pinged off a nearby building. "Si Mayon mainnya kasar, gak ada taktik."
"Tahan posisi," Nathan replied, his voice tense as he checked his HUD. "Srikandi, dapet visual?"
"Dapet," Diah's voice crackled, calm and focused. "Tapi Mayon gerak terus, zig-zag. Susah lock. Kalau meleset, poin akurasi gue turun dua persen. Sayang banget."
"Barong, shield depan!" Nathan ordered. "Siap, Mas," Bimo answered, his heavy frame thudding forward, deploying a photonic barrier. "Tapi baterai shield tinggal 60 persen ya. Kalau abis, poin defense kita nol."
While Team Garuda argued over percentages and scores, the battle erupted.
Mateo saw the hesitation. "Look! Indo stopping! Attack!"
Team Tamaraw unleashed a volley of digital stun-rounds. Bright blue streaks of simulated plasma tore through the air. Lapu (Rizal) engaged his thrusters, dashing forward with swords drawn, aiming to break the Malaysian shield wall.
Hakim reacted instantly. "Harimau Two, engage! Shield bash!" Tuah (Zain) stepped forward, slamming his shield against Lapu's blade. Sparks flew, simulated, but blinding. The Malaysian team rotated perfectly, Lekir firing suppression rounds while Lekiu took potshots from the back.
"This is sloppy!" Hakim criticized over the open channel. "Too much emotion, Philippines!"
"Emotion is power!" Mateo laughed, firing a heavy cannon round that shook the ground between the two teams.
Caught in the middle, Nathan tried to adjust. "Semar, update radar! Kita kejepit!"
Aji's voice trembled. "Kanan kiri penuh, Nath! Filipina nge-push, Malaysia nunggu kita blunder!"
"Kita mundur dulu, jaga poin!" Nathan decided.
But it was too late. While Nathan was checking his retreat vector, a stray ricochet from the Malaysian side, aimed at the Philippines, struck Nathan's sensor array.
BEEP. [CRITICAL HIT. PLAYER NAKULA - DISABLED.]
The simulator locked Nathan's frame instantly. The HUD went grey. He wasn't dead. He was just "out."
"Anjir!" Samuel shouted. " Curang! Wasit! Itu Malaysia nembak blind spot! Gak sah!"
Hakim's voice cut in, cool and collected. "That is called ricochet management. Physics, my friend. Not cheating."
Mateo chimed in, laughing good-naturedly. "Too slow, Indo! You calculate too much math. This is fight, not exam!"
Bara watched from above. Nathan disabled because he was checking a score. Samuel complaining about rules. Bimo worrying about battery life. Diah worried about accuracy stats. Even the aggressive Philippines and the disciplined Malaysia were treating this like a sport. A game of tag with million-dollar toys.
It was clean. It was safe. It was pathetic.
Bara reached for the console in front of him. He didn't ask for permission. He jammed his ID card into the slot.
#OVERRIDE AUTHORIZED: ASURA#
The lights in the arena flickered red. The scoreboard died instantly. The holographic sky turned into a stormy, oppressive grey, mimicking the ash clouds of a volcanic eruption. Below, the Phalanxes stopped moving. Fifteen robots looked up, confusion rippling through their movements.
Bara leaned into the microphone.
"Latihannya selesai."
His voice echoed through the entire cavern, flat and bored.
Nathan's head snapped up inside his cockpit. "Pak Bara?"
"Semua unit," Bara said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Team Harimau. Team Tamaraw. Team Garuda. Turun ke hangar. Sekarang."
Fifteen pilots stood in a line in the massive hangar bay. The atmosphere was thick with confusion and residual adrenaline.
Team Tamaraw stood loosely. Mateo popped a bubble of gum, whispering to Clara. "Sino 'to? Matanda na."
Clara shrugged. "Maybe janitor boss?"
Team Harimau stood at attention, but their eyes were judgmental. Hakim adjusted his gloves, murmuring to Zain. "Macam preman pasar je. GDF Jakarta tak ada bajet ke untuk uniform?"
Bara paced in front of them. He didn't yell. He didn't posture. He just looked at them with eyes that had seen things these kids only saw in movies.
He stopped in front of Mateo. "English?" Bara asked.
Mateo straightened up, grinning. "Yes, Sir. Little bit."
Bara nodded. "You have power. Good. But you treat war like a race. You rush in because you know the simulator will respawn you."
Mateo's grin faded slightly. "Sir, aggressive tactic is-"
"Suicidal," Bara cut him off. "If that was a real Abyssal, Lapu is dead. Tala is dead. And you are eating dirt."
He moved to Hakim. "And you. Discipline. Very pretty."
Hakim puffed his chest out slightly. "Thank you, Sir."
"But you wait," Bara continued, stopping right in front of him. "You wait for the enemy to make a mistake. You treat the battlefield like a chessboard."
Hakim frowned. "Strategy requires patience, Sir."
"Abyssals don't play chess," Bara said. "They flip the board."
Bara finally turned to his own team. The Indonesians. Nathan, Samuel, Bimo, Diah, Aji. They looked down. They knew exactly who he was.
"Nathan," Bara said.
"Siap, Pak."
"Tadi kenapa diem?"
"Kalkulasi risiko, Pak," Nathan answered automatically, reverting to his training. "Kalau saya maju, shield drop 20%. Poin tim bakal minus. Sesuai manual GDF halaman 40."
Bara nodded slowly. He moved to Samuel. "Lu. Kenapa teriak curang?"
"Mereka nyerang pas kita lagi komunikasi, Pak. Itu pelanggaran etika simulasi."
Bara laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. It was dry, like gravel grinding against glass.
"Etika. Manual. Poin."
He walked to the center of the hangar, addressing all fifteen pilots. His voice carried without shouting.
"Dengerin baik-baik. Listen close." He pointed at their gleaming Gen-2.5 frames lined up behind them. "Those machines. Efficient. Modular. Nuclear battery. If an arm breaks, the mechanic fixes it in ten minutes."
He stepped closer to Nathan, poking the boy's chest hard. "But you? You are not modular. You are not a spare part. You are not replaceable"
Silence filled the hangar. The hum of the ventilation fans seemed deafening.
Gen 2.5 is designed to be replaced, Bara's voice dropped, turning cold. "If the robot dies, the factory makes a new one tomorrow. But if you die because you are busy counting points... there is no respawn."
He let the sentence hang in the air.
"Start from tomorrow, rules change."
Bara tapped his slate. Behind him, the massive simulation screen flared to life again. But the settings had changed. The friendly blue text turned blood red.
#PAIN FEEDBACK: 40% THREAT LEVEL: UNKNOWN RESPAWN: DISABLED SCORING: OFF#
Mateo spat out his gum. "Forty percent? Sir, that is illegal! Gen-1 protocol! Crazy!"
Hakim stepped forward, breaking composure. "Sir, we cannot agree. Without safety limit, permanent injury is possible. This violates the ASEAN safety treaty."
"Then quit," Bara said instantly.
"Door is there. Go home. Play video games. Be a celebrity."
Nobody moved. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Bara looked at his team again. Bimo. Diah. Aji. Nathan. Samuel. They straightened up. Bimo looked pale. Diah bit her lip until it turned white.
"Saya keras bukan karena saya benci kalian," Bara said, his voice finally softening, just a fraction. "Saya keras karena saya pernah liat temen saya dimakan hidup-hidup gara-gara ragu satu detik."
He lit another cigarette, right there in the sterile hangar. No one dared to stop him.
"Saya gak mau ngubur kalian pakai bendera setengah tiang. Saya mau kalian pulang ke orang tua kalian dalam keadaan utuh."
The silence broke.
"Sir, this is unreasonable," Hakim argued, his calm facade cracking. "We are the best in our regions. You cannot treat us like amateurs."
Mateo nodded, crossing his arms. "Yes. Old man talk big. Maybe you scared we beat your record?"
Bara paused. He looked at Hakim, then Mateo, then Nathan.
"How old are you?" Bara asked suddenly.
Hakim blinked. "Twenty-two, Sir."
Mateo frowned. "Twenty-three."
Nathan whispered. "Eighteen, Sir."
Bara chuckled. He threw his unlit cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his boot.
"Eighteen. Twenty-two. Twenty-three," Bara murmured. "Anak-anak. Babies. You haven't even lived yet."
He unzipped his bomber jacket, tossing it aside, revealing a simple black tactical shirt underneath. He tapped his belt. No gun. No armor. Just a sheathed training vibro-blade and a stun-pistol.
"You think you are the best?" Bara asked. "Prove it."
He pointed to the center of the hangar floor. No robots. Just concrete.
"Hakim. Mateo. Nathan. Step forward."
The three leaders hesitated, then stepped into the circle.
"Three against one," Bara said, drawing the blade. He didn't turn it on. "I use this knife and this taser. You use your phalanx combat suits. Full powered exoskeletons."
Mateo laughed, disbelief written on his face. "Sir? You joke? Phalanx punch can break concrete. You die."
"If you can hit me," Bara said flatly. "If you manage to knock me down, even once... we stick to your rules. Safety on. Points on."
"But if I win," Bara's eyes darkened, "you belong to me."
Hakim looked at Nathan. Nathan looked terrified. Mateo just grinned.
"Deal," Mateo said. "Easy win."
They lunged.
It wasn't a fight. It was a lesson.
Mateo attacked first, relying on the hydraulic strength of his suit. A right hook that could have shattered a wall.
Bara didn't block. He didn't retreat. He stepped inside the guard.
Gen-1 pilots didn't see movement. They felt intent.
Bara ducked under the fist, his movement a blur. He spun, driving the hilt of his blade into the exposed joint of Mateo's knee armor.
Crack.
Mechanics failed. Mateo buckled. Before he hit the ground, Bara jammed the stun-pistol into the gap of his neck armor.
ZZZT~.
Mateo dropped like a stone, convulsing.
Hakim attacked from the blind spot, a calculated Silat kick aimed at Bara's spine. Perfect form.
Bara didn't look. He simply dropped his weight, letting the kick pass millimetres over his head. He grabbed Hakim's planted leg and twisted. Not a martial arts move. A street brawl move.
Hakim lost balance. Bara swept his legs. As the Malaysian pilot hit the floor, Bara's boot was already on his chest, pressing down on his lung capacity.
Nathan froze.
He stood two meters away, fists raised, shaking. He was analyzing. Calculating.
Bara looked at him.
"You're dead," Bara said.
"Pak?"
Bara closed the distance in a heartbeat. He didn't strike. He simply placed the cold edge of the vibro-blade against Nathan's throat.
"While you were calculating," Bara whispered, "I killed your squadmates. And now..."
He pressed the blade slightly. Just enough to draw a single drop of blood.
"...you are dead too."
He released Nathan, shoving him back.
The hangar was silent. Mateo was groaning on the floor. Hakim was gasping for air. Nathan was touching his neck, staring at the blood on his finger in horror.
Bara sheathed his blade. He wasn't even breathing hard.
"Besok jam 5 pagi. Jangan telat."
He turned around, walking away. Dismissed.
Bara walked away before they could respond. He needed air. The act was exhausting. He wasn't trying to be a monster; he was trying to scare the childishness out of them before the real monsters did it for him.
He walked through the long, glass-walled corridor connecting the hangar to the exit. Staff members moved around him like water flowing around a rock, sensing his mood.
Then he stopped.
A few meters away, walking in the opposite direction, was a group of civilian analysts. Lab coats. ID badges. High-level clearance types talking about structural integrity and neural load.
In the middle of the group was a woman.
She wasn't wearing a lab coat. She wore a simple hoodie under a formal blazer, a strange mix of casual and professional. Her hair was tied back loosely. She was listening to a scientist talk, looking bored, tapping a pen against her thigh.
For a split second, she looked up.
The woman from the minimarket.
Bara froze. It's her.
But she didn't react. Her eyes slid past him without a flicker of recognition, focused entirely on the datapad in her hand as she nodded to the scientist.
Project Chimera data is incomplete... he heard her say softly as she passed.
She turned a corner and vanished with the group into a restricted lab sector..
Bara stood there, blinking. The smell of her perfume, something faint like rain and old paper, lingered for a second.
"Salah liat kali gue," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Kurang tidur."
He shook his head, pushing the thought away. Probably just a resemblance. Probably just the stress playing tricks on a broken brain.
He pushed the exit doors open. But as he stepped out into the Jakarta heat, the feeling on the back of his neck didn't go away. The feeling that the random encounter at the minimarket wasn't random at all.
And that the war he thought was coming from the ocean... might already be inside the walls.