Dinda pointed toward the center of the hall. "Mom's talking to Aunt Rara near the food table, Bib."
"Oh, I see," Tirta nodded. "Have you guys eaten?"
"Not yet. Fajar wanted to sit down first—he said he was tired," Dinda replied with a small chuckle. Fajar pouted but didn't say anything.
"Hehe, just relax for now. The event hasn't started yet," Tirta said with a warm smile. He then opened a small box of snacks and offered it to them.
Baskara picked up a small cake. "I love this one! Mom made it last time, right?"
Tirta nodded. "Yeah, you ate almost half the tray by yourself."
"Hehe, that's because it was really delicious!" Baskara replied, his mouth full, making Dinda and Fajar laugh.
Their atmosphere was relaxed, like a family who had known each other for a long time. Dinda leaned toward Baskara. "Hey, are you ready for school tomorrow?"
"Of course," Baskara answered quickly. "But I'm not looking forward to waking up early."
Fajar jumped in, "I haven't even bought a new bag yet. The old one ripped when I sat on it."
"How did that even happen?" Dinda asked in disbelief.
"I was playing with robot toys and forgot the bag was on the chair…"
Baskara burst out laughing. "Wow, you could be a superhero whose enemy is his own bag!"
They all laughed. Tirta just shook his head at their antics.
A few minutes later, the soft sound of gamelan music began to flow from the stage, and the room slowly quieted. A family elder stepped onto the podium, dressed in full traditional attire. His voice was calm and full of authority.
"Welcome, dear family. Today, we gather not only to strengthen our blood ties, but to plant the seeds of a future we shall grow together…"
As the elder stood addressing the assembled family, his gaze slowly swept across the grand hall. His eyes were sharp yet wise, carefully observing the faces of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren sitting in neat rows. But when his gaze landed on Baskara—the quiet boy seated next to his mother—a faint crease formed on his forehead.
"Hah...? Impossible…" he murmured, as if something troubled his thoughts. His eyes lingered for a moment, but he quickly looked away and continued his speech.
"My dear kin, today I turn one hundred and twelve. An age no longer young, yet still strong enough to pass down hope and spirit to our next generation."
His voice echoed with calm authority throughout the great hall. He then announced that starting this year, every child turning ten must undergo a spiritual potential test in the family's main hall. Those who show promise will be guided to become a semediawan, and gifted with sacred scrolls and inherited martial arts techniques.
He went on to explain that their great family had grown strong in many areas—from the trade of spiritual fruits and plants, to protection services, and sacred missions only fit for true semediawan.
"May you all uphold the spirit and honor of this family," he concluded, before returning to his seat.
Yet before fully sitting down, his eyes found Baskara once more. This time, a look of disbelief crossed his face—silent, but profound.
"There is something… different about this child," he murmured, suspicion and curiosity entwined in his tone.
Soon after, Teguh, Tirta, and Baskara were summoned to the family's private chamber, reserved for serious matters. Inside the solemn and dignified room, Eyang Pradipa looked at Teguh with piercing eyes.
"Be honest with me, Teguh. Why did you teach Baskara—who isn't even ten years old yet—how to meditate?"
Teguh, who had sat calmly until then, sighed and gave a faint smile. "I never taught him, Eyang. The boy… he's just very curious. Always asking questions, reading old books, thinking deeply. But I never guided him directly."
Tirta nodded quickly. "It's true, Eyang. Baskara's always been curious. But meditation? We've never even discussed it in depth."
Sipping from a cup of old porcelain tea, Eyang Pradipa closed his eyes for a moment. The steam drifted slowly into the air, matching the tense silence in the chamber. Then, without opening his eyes, he spoke in a soft yet deep voice:
"Do not lie to me... This child—Baskara—has already reached the final level of Nadi Sukma… and is only a step away from Perfection."
Tirta nearly dropped his teacup. His face turned pale, his eyes widened as if struck by lightning.
"Mother: {°.°}
Father: {°.°}"
Teguh shook his head slowly, his voice barely audible.
"That can't be… Father… That can't be true…" he said, broken between shock and disbelief.
But in the midst of all the astonishment, Baskara remained still. He slowly bowed his head—not to apologize, not out of fear. But as a silent affirmation… that everything Eyang Pradipa had said was true.
The room froze in silence. Time seemed to slow.
Eyang Pradipa opened his eyes at last, his gaze sharp enough to cut through the stillness.
"I knew it from the moment I saw you. Your spiritual aura cannot be hidden, even by someone your age. But… what is it you truly seek, my grandson?"
"But Father… isn't it necessary to go through intense physical training before opening the Nadi Sukma? Strengthening the body to endure the flow of spiritual energy?" Teguh tried to reason amid his turmoil.
"Baskara only likes to imitate movements at random and does regular exercises. Besides, I never leave martial arts scrolls lying around…"
Eyang Pradipa let out a long sigh. "I don't know… this child is clearly no ordinary boy. I can't explain it myself. But I'll try asking the ancestors, if they are willing to come out of their meditation."
He looked at Teguh and Tirta with a meaningful gaze.
"Bring him to my house tomorrow morning. We need to investigate this deeper."
"Yes, Father…" Teguh answered slowly, suppressing the tremor in his chest.
"For today… that's enough. Just enjoy the celebration. But remember—don't let anyone else know about this. It's not the time yet."
They nodded and quietly left the room.
---
Back at the party, Teguh and Tirta tried to smile as usual. But deep in their hearts, they made a promise—this secret must not be leaked, not even to their closest relatives.
Night fell, and back home, a new conversation began.
"Baskara…" Teguh's voice was calm but sharp. "Tell me, when did you start meditating?"
"Take it easy, dear," Tirta interjected gently.
"Ugh… Tirta, please," Teguh grumbled. "Even though he's still a child, we must be firm. You know the consequences of meditating without a proper foundation. It can damage the body… even cause an explosion."
"Alright, alright… I know," Tirta replied, half resigned.
Teguh looked at his son again, his gaze now filled with concern and curiosity.
"Son… when did you begin your meditation? And where did you learn how?"
Baskara lowered his head.
"Two days ago, Father… I read a book… and asked you and Mom some things…"
Tirta sighed, then gently stroked his head.
"Next time… don't do things like this on your own, okay? You understand the risks, don't you?"
"Yes, Mom… I'm sorry…"
"Alright. Time to sleep. Tomorrow we'll go to Grandpa's house, okay?"
After Baskara went to his room, Tirta and Teguh sat in silence, speaking in whispers about their son. They both knew—this oddity could attract dangerous attention. For now… only they must know.
---
The next morning…
"Sampurasun, Father," Teguh greeted respectfully as they arrived at Eyang Pradipa's residence.
"Sampurasun. Have a seat."
"Thank you, Father."
"Let's get straight to it," said Eyang. "While it's still morning and no participants have arrived, we'll go to the physical testing chamber first."
Inside a large hall stood several stone blocks ten meters tall, with the word "PHYSICAL" carved above. The stones looked sturdy, seemingly untouched for a long time.
"Baskara, come here."
"Yes, Grandpa."
"See that stone? Punch it with all your strength."
Baskara stared at the stone without hesitation. He took a deep breath… then threw his punch.
BOOM!!
The explosion echoed throughout the chamber. The towering stone crumbled instantly into dust.
"…"
Eyang Pradipa, Teguh, and Tirta were speechless.
('_')
('_')
('_')
Even Baskara looked confused. (•_•)
Suddenly, the silence was broken by thunderous laughter.
"Hahahahaha!! Excellent! Excellent! What a marvelous child! You truly are a child chosen by heaven and earth!"
Teguh flinched.
"Father… what do you mean by 'a child chosen by heaven and earth'?"
Eyang Pradipa smiled mysteriously.
"I don't know… I've only heard that phrase from slit-eyed folk..."