Upon arriving at his home, Baskara wasted no time. He walked straight to his father's room, pushing the door open without knocking, his heart pounding.
"Father, how are you?" he asked anxiously, though his voice carried a subtle spiritual pressure that was hard to conceal. Teguh slowly turned his face, and his eyes froze upon seeing the aura surrounding his son—dense, calm, yet burning like a silent ember.
"…Your aura… Have you reached the Padet Sukma stage… the mid-level?" Teguh asked quietly, astonished. "Weren't you just at the Buka Nadi stage before?"
"Hehehe… I've been pushing myself lately. Maybe it's also thanks to Grandpa's guidance…" Baskara chuckled lightly, half boasting, though he'd arrived with a worried face. Then he paused.
"…Where's Mother? How is she?"
"She's fine. She didn't go to the ancestral land. Still at home," Teguh replied as he slowly sat down. "She's currently preparing a spiritual remedy for me—best not to disturb her for now."
"Understood, Father…"
Teguh looked at his son for a moment. His expression grew more serious as he said softly, "Take the wooden box… in that sorog."
Baskara immediately retrieved the old wooden box from the indicated place. Inside was a greenish rock, emanating a warm aura and smooth to the touch.
"Because of this conflict… our family has suffered significant losses. This is all I could bring back. Take it. That's Batu Cadas Sempur. Refine it during your meditation. It will coat your body, making it stronger, smoother, and harder to grasp by enemies. Slippery, yet solid… like stone that refuses to be controlled."
Baskara clutched the stone tightly. "Thank you, Father…" he whispered sincerely. Though he knew his physical strength far surpassed what his parents understood, he still regarded the gift as sacred—a symbol of his father's love, worn and wounded.
Just as they sat together, suddenly—
A tremor echoed from beneath the ground.
The earth quivered, the air thickened, and spiritual pressure surged from all directions.
"Father… is this a disaster?" Baskara asked, standing reflexively, breath sharp with vigilance.
Even Teguh narrowed his eyes. "No… This is… pressure from the Mandala Raya realm. Pure spiritual energy rising… from the return of a great force."
Baskara muttered softly, "Such pressure… could it be a powerful figure appearing in our region? Could it be… an enemy?"
Atop the terrace of an ancient temple, a middle-aged man stood, his white hair neatly tied, eyes scanning the land with piercing sharpness. He hovered above the ground, untouched by gravity, his body wrapped in an aura too profound for words.
From below, Eyang Pradipa emerged, bowing deeply.
"Salutations… Ancestor."
Soon, one by one, seven elders of the Baskara family appeared from all directions, gliding in mid-air and bowing with utmost reverence.
The great ancestral elder of the Baskara family, who had completed his decades-long meditation within the Mandala Raya realm, opened his eyes slowly, gazing at them with unmatched authority.
"…Your energy is unstable," he said gravely. "Some of you are wounded…"
He inhaled, silver glints flashing in his eyes. "It seems… our family is in trouble."
"Is that true?" he asked, his voice echoing like an ancient mountain rumble.
Eyang Pradipa nodded, then gestured downward, toward the family's main hall. "This way, Ancestor. We must speak… about what has transpired."
The elder's gaze sharpened toward the indicated direction. His first step stirred the air itself, as though every movement could shake history.
The main hall of the Baskara family filled with heavy spiritual tension. Intricately carved walls began to glow faintly, reacting to the long-awaited presence.
Draped in a deep grey robe embroidered with the family's crest, the Ancestor entered, flanked by Eyang Pradipa and the seven elders. They sat in a circle, with the Ancestor taking the central seat—an old wooden chair carved specifically for the bearer of the first bloodline.
Silence reigned, broken only by the soft breeze through the hall's vents.
Eyang Pradipa began, his voice calm but heavy.
> "Ancestor… we must report something grave. Not only conflict… but betrayal."
The elder's gaze shifted—no words, no nod. Only a direct stare into Pradipa's eyes, signaling: continue.
Eyang Pradipa went on.
> "Weeks ago, we recovered the ancestral land's secret map—one that should only be accessible through the main bloodline. But… the map had been leaked to our enemies: the Surya family."
A low rumble echoed through the hall. Several elders bowed their heads.
> "The traitor's name is Karno—a distant cousin from a side branch. He sold a copy of the map to the Surya family… in exchange for a position in their eastern territory."
The elder's expression didn't change… but the temperature in the room dropped.
> "As a result," Pradipa continued, "the Surya family infiltrated deep into our ancestral land… undetected. We've clashed several times. They ambushed our outposts. Three were lost. Two elites killed. Four elders injured…"
Elder Kirandi added quietly,
> "We couldn't hold them all back. They know secret paths. They have the map. They even managed to steal half a chest of niskala stones from the Lembah Petang…"
> "And worst of all…" Pradipa's voice softened, "…they broke into the vault at Mount Kanda. Somehow, they stole several of our ancient techniques…"
At last, the elder spoke, voice deep and deliberate.
> "Karno… from the side branch. He chose treasure over honor… and dragged his own blood into an invisible civil war…"
He closed his eyes briefly, as if reading thousands of pages of destiny. Then opened them slowly.
> "We must reclaim the honor that was stolen. Not just the map… but our name."
Eyang Pradipa nodded.
> "That is why… we summoned you back, Ancestor. The Surya family is cunning. They never attack head-on. But now, their feet have desecrated our sacred land. And we fear… if this continues… they will defile the graves of our founders in the Inner Valley."