Night never truly ended.
It only became sharper.
The schoolyard was filled with movement.
Stretchers rolled past cracked pavement.
Teachers whispered.
Students cried behind closed doors.
Everything was still moving.
But something inside them had stopped.
Bimo sat on the remains of a broken bench, elbows on his knees, staring at the ground.
"…we were too slow."
No one answered.
Because everyone was thinking the same thing.
Sinta stood near the gate, arms crossed tightly.
Rani sat in silence, hands trembling in her lap.
Dika and Tono watched the dark road beyond the fence.
Lila's fingers moved across her tablet nonstop.
Only Arga stood completely still.
No fatigue.
No hesitation.
No distraction.
His eyes remained fixed on the entrance.
Not waiting.
Calculating.
Then he spoke.
"…we're done reacting."
His voice was low.
But it cut through the entire yard.
Everyone looked at him.
Sinta narrowed her eyes.
"…what does that mean?"
Arga didn't turn.
"…it means we hunt them."
Silence.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
Pak Rahmat stepped forward slowly.
"…that road changes people."
Arga finally looked at him.
"…good."
No anger.
No emotion.
That made it worse.
Lila raised the tablet.
"I found their routes."
Three blinking locations appeared.
Moving targets.
"Supply drops," she said.
"Next wave."
Dika cracked his knuckles.
"…finally."
Arga stepped closer to the screen.
One glance.
That was all he needed.
"Team One. Me, Sinta, Bimo."
He pointed to the largest route.
"We hit the center."
Then the second zone.
"Dika, Tono, Rani."
Rani looked up.
"…me?"
Arga met her eyes.
"You're going."
A pause.
"And this time—"
His voice dropped.
"…you don't lose control."
Rani's fingers tightened.
Then slowly—
she nodded.
No one questioned him.
Not because he was loud.
Because everyone already knew—
he was right.
The city was empty.
Streetlights hummed above wet asphalt.
A cold wind moved between buildings.
The van was exactly where Lila predicted.
Parked in the middle of a silent street.
Engine running.
Waiting.
Bimo slowed beside Arga.
"…this feels like bait."
Sinta landed lightly on the pavement.
"…because it is."
Arga kept walking.
"…good."
The side door slid open.
Three men stepped out.
Black jackets.
Boxes in hand.
The smell hit instantly.
Rotten. Artificial. Wrong.
One of them smirked.
"…you came faster than expected."
Arga didn't stop.
"…you stayed longer than you should've."
The man's smile faded.
Then—
everything moved.
He swung the box upward—
Too slow.
Arga's hand shot forward.
GRAB.
The box stopped mid-air.
The man pulled harder.
Nothing.
His expression changed.
For the first time—
fear.
Arga looked directly into his eyes.
Then tightened his grip.
CRACK.
The box folded inward like paper.
The contents spilled uselessly across the road.
The smell spread.
Dead. Fake. Worthless.
Silence.
Even the other two froze.
Sinta stared for half a second.
"…Arga…"
The second man roared and charged.
Fast.
Desperate.
Bimo vanished.
A blur across the street—
THUD!
The man's body slammed against the van and collapsed.
Bimo landed awkwardly, rubbing his shoulder.
"…still dramatic."
The third turned to run.
He took one step.
Then stopped.
Arga was already in front of him.
No sound.
No flash.
Just there.
The man staggered backward.
"…how—"
Arga stepped closer.
The air changed.
Heavier.
Not force.
Presence.
The man's breathing became uneven.
His hands shook.
Arga spoke softly.
"…drop it."
The man gripped the box tighter.
Wrong choice.
The pressure around him thickened.
Not visible.
But undeniable.
His knees buckled.
The box slipped from his hands and hit the ground.
CLACK.
Arga never touched him.
Yet the man collapsed anyway.
Panting.
Broken by fear before impact.
Bimo blinked.
"…okay."
Sinta exhaled slowly.
"…you're different."
Arga looked down at the fake box.
Then crushed it under his foot.
"…I had to be."
Lila's voice came through the communicator.
"Team Two report."
Static.
Then—
Dika laughed.
"Two down."
Tono added calmly,
"Third ran. Not far."
Then Rani's voice.
Quiet.
Steady.
"…I held it."
For the first time—
no tremble.
No fear.
Sinta smiled faintly.
"…nice."
Arga looked toward the dark skyline.
"…they'll adapt."
Bimo groaned.
"…can we enjoy one win first?"
"No."
Arga's answer came instantly.
Because he was already thinking ahead.
He opened his lunch box.
Eight grains.
Brighter than ever.
Steady.
Perfectly aligned.
But now—
they no longer felt like growth.
They felt like readiness.
He closed it.
Slowly.
"…next time—"
His eyes lifted.
Cold.
Sharp.
Certain.
"…we don't stop the delivery."
A pause.
"…we erase the route."
No one spoke.
Because they understood.
This was no longer defense.
This was extermination.
Far away—
inside a dark control room—
the man in the hat read the report in silence.
Three failed drops.
Zero activations.
One entire route compromised.
He smiled.
Not angry.
Interested.
"…excellent."
He enlarged one file.
ARGA
Energy spikes.
Adaptation rate.
Field suppression signs.
The smile slowly disappeared.
"…he crossed the threshold."
He pressed one command.
The screen turned red.
PRIORITY TARGET: ARGA
AUTHORIZATION: ELIMINATE
Behind him—
multiple units began to move.
Stronger ones.
Faster ones.
Not carriers.
Not testers.
Hunters.
And for the first time—
the war stopped being about children.
It became about killing Arga first.