In the quiet courtyard of his home, Baskara sat cross-legged beneath the shade of a towering Kalaban tree. His body glistened with sweat, his breathing was steady, yet his eyes burned with unyielding spirit. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting a warm, peaceful glow—one that could only be felt at home.
Not long after, the soft steps of a woman approached. She carried a tray bearing a cold herbal drink and a plate of vibrant, refreshing fruits. Her beauty was serene and noble, her smile as gentle as morning dew. In her heart, she murmured fondly, "What a diligent child."
"Baskara, are you thirsty, dear?" she asked tenderly as she neared.
Upon hearing her voice, Baskara turned toward her with the enthusiasm of a child discovering a new toy. His smile spread wide across his face, innocent and joyful.
"Mommmm!" he cried out gleefully.
Yes, the woman was his mother, Tirta—a rare kind of mother, not just because of her grace, but for her unwavering warmth and sincerity.
Tirta chuckled at her son. "Haha, just like always. Even soaked in sweat, you're still full of energy. Sit down, I brought you some spiritual Suo fruit and herbal drink so you'll stay healthy and strong."
"Alright!" Baskara replied, sitting back down with a grin as bright as the morning sun. He grabbed the drink and fruit with theatrical excitement.
"Whoa! Mother, you're truly the savior of this barren training ground," he exclaimed dramatically.
Tirta let out a soft laugh. "You and that mouth of yours. You train so seriously, yet you never stop joking."
They sat side by side beneath the tree. The evening breeze carried the scent of leaves and moist earth. While enjoying the Suo fruit, they began to talk about training and Baskara's future path.
"Mom, I'm not sure what to do. I like training at home, but my friends say if I join a martial school, I'll learn even more powerful techniques. But with you and Uncle, I can joke around and still have fun training."
Tirta looked at her son with affectionate eyes. "You really are something else. Outside you act like a serious little warrior, but at home you're like a kid who refuses to be fed, yet sulks when I don't pay attention to you."
They both burst into laughter. Amid all the training and choices ahead, that moment beneath the tree was the most precious one—when Baskara was not a future warrior, but simply a child enjoying laughter with his mother.
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Chapter: The Curious Student
The next day, Baskara sat cross-legged in his family's small study. Before him lay an old book titled "Fundamentals of Natural Energy and Spiritual Circulation." It wasn't a secret manual or an advanced technique—just a common introductory book used by the Semediawan family to understand the basics of martial cultivation and one's connection to spiritual forces of nature.
Page by page, Baskara read with a furrowed brow and puffed cheeks, clearly puzzled. The text explained that many people could manipulate spiritual energy through a breathing technique called soul circulation. The deeper one mastered it, the faster one could enter meditation, and the more refined their martial techniques became.
But for a seven-year-old, it was like reading lyrics in a foreign language. Baskara understood bits and pieces but struggled to visualize the whole. Closing the book slowly, he stared at the ceiling for a moment—then suddenly stood up and dashed toward the kitchen where his mother was preparing breakfast.
"Mommmmm!" he shouted, dragging the book behind him like a piece of evidence.
Tirta, who was tasting a batch of coconut-root pastry dough, turned around with a start. "Good heavens, Baskara! I just sat down!"
"Mom! Mom! So if I inhale slowly and hold it for five counts, will that make nature's energy enter my body? But… why do I get the hiccups when I try?"
Tirta stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. "That's because you drank cold water right after training. That's not the breathing technique's fault."
"But this book says the breathing method is super important! If I do it right, I can meditate faster! Then why do I always fall asleep when I try meditating?"
Tirta shook her head gently and handed him a glass of warm milk. "That's because you meditate while wrapped in a blanket, lying in bed. Of course you end up sleeping."
Baskara munched on a pastry, his eyes still filled with curiosity. "Mom, teach me how to meditate properly later, okay? I'm even willing to skip my nap just to learn all this!"
Tirta sighed. "Alright, but you have to promise—no more than five questions a day. If you ask more, my brain will start smoking."
"Deal... half!" Baskara grinned and burst into laughter.
Tirta could only shake her head, smiling. Beneath that mischievous exterior, she was proud. The child might still be small, but his burning curiosity and passion were like a little fire that refused to die out.
What she didn't know, however, was that Baskara had already discovered a secret.
Despite his innocent demeanor, Baskara had secretly found and read one of the family's foundational meditation techniques—meant only for those of age and granted permission. With uncanny speed, he had grasped the method in mere hours, understanding how to absorb spiritual energy through breath control, body focus, and mental stillness.
That night, in his dimly lit room, Baskara sat cross-legged atop a thin mat. A blue energy lamp swayed faintly on the ceiling above. His eyes gleamed with mischief, lips curled into a sly smile.
"Hehehe… if I manage to sense natural energy by tomorrow morning, Mom's going to be so shocked."
But this was no ordinary child's prank.
Baskara was born... strange.
While still in the womb, he had stayed inside his mother for ten years—yes, ten full years. A pregnancy that defied all logic. And by the third year in the womb, he could already hear conversations outside. By the fourth year, he understood words and meanings—his mind growing far beyond its time.
When he was finally born, he didn't cry. No sound came out. Just calm, sharp eyes that froze everyone in the room. Those present during the birth stood paralyzed, unsure if what they had seen was real.
His parents had made everyone swear to secrecy. They feared the child would be targeted if the truth got out.
Seven years had passed since then. And now, Baskara was about to take his first step.
Unaware of anyone else, he began his first meditation.
Breathing slowly, he closed his eyes.
"Tomorrow, I'm waking Mom up with a mini wind technique... she's gonna freak out," he whispered with a cheeky grin.
But that night… something unexpected began to awaken within him.
Moments after beginning his breathing exercise, Baskara felt something shift. The air around him seemed alive. Spiritual particles—once invisible—now shimmered like soft stardust, floating freely in the air.
He opened his eyes slowly, a grin forming on his lips. "So this… is spiritual energy? It's overflowing…"
He took a deep breath and chuckled, "Alright then. Begin absorption—Wushhh!"
In an instant, the spiritual particles began gathering above his head, condensing into a mist-like cloud. Then, like a gentle waterfall, the energy cascaded down, washing over him from head to toe. His body felt warm, comforted—as if embraced by a soft, flowing mist entering through every breath, every pore, and into every vein.
"So warm… and comforting…"