The screen didn't blink.
It pulsed.
Red.
Red.
Red.
Everywhere.
"Sixteen confirmed incidents."
Pak Rahmat's voice was tight. Controlled.
"…and rising."
No one spoke.
Because this time—
there was nothing to argue.
Sinta stared at the map.
"…we can't cover this."
Bimo shook his head slowly.
"…not even close."
The truth didn't hit all at once.
It settled.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
One team.
Seven people.
Too many fires.
Arga stepped forward.
"…then we stop being one team."
Silence.
That line—
would've broken them before.
Now—
it didn't.
Sinta understood first.
"…controlled split."
Arga nodded.
"…not divided."
That difference—
mattered.
Before—
they split because they didn't trust each other.
Now—
they split because they had to.
Pak Rahmat studied them.
Long.
"…you're sure?"
"…we don't have a choice."
No hesitation.
No debate.
Just reality.
They divided.
Not emotionally.
Not this time.
Strategically.
Unit One.
Arga. Sinta. Bimo.
Fast response. High control.
Unit Two.
Rani. Dika. Tono.
Stabilization. Flexible engagement.
Command.
Lila. Watching everything.
Seeing too much.
Bimo raised his hand slightly.
"…I don't like this."
Sinta didn't look at him.
"No one does."
Rani met Arga's eyes.
No anger.
No apology.
Just—
truth.
"…we don't lose anyone."
Arga held her gaze.
"…no one."
They moved.
Different directions.
Same mission.
Time—
was already gone.
UNIT ONE
They arrived first.
Urban school.
Crowded.
Loud.
Too many people.
Too many ways this could go wrong.
Inside—
one unstable Guardian.
Already breaking.
Already dangerous.
Arga stepped forward.
No hesitation.
But this time—
he didn't rush.
He slowed.
Matched it.
Felt the rhythm.
The energy surged—
then bent.
Then held.
"…breathe," he said.
The boy trembled.
Fought it.
Almost lost.
Arga didn't force it.
Didn't crush it.
He held it—
until it stopped fighting.
The boy collapsed.
Breathing.
Alive.
"…we got him," Bimo said, almost disbelieving.
For one second—
it felt like a win.
Sinta checked the tablet.
Her expression changed.
"…no."
Another spike.
Closer.
Stronger.
"…we're late somewhere else."
UNIT TWO
They arrived—
too quiet.
That kind of quiet.
The wrong kind.
Dika slowed.
"…I don't like this."
Inside—
three.
Not one.
Not manageable.
Not safe.
Three unstable Guardians.
All different.
All breaking.
Rani didn't hesitate.
"Split targets."
They moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Not together enough.
First contact—
failed.
Energy exploded.
Walls cracked.
Air shattered.
Second Guardian lunged.
Tono barely dodged.
Third—
locked onto Rani.
Everything broke.
"We can't hold all three!" Dika shouted.
Rani stepped forward anyway.
"We don't leave them."
That decision—
cost them control.
The room detonated.
Dust.
Heat.
Sound—
gone.
Back at command—
Lila froze.
"…signal dropping…"
Her fingers shook.
"…Unit Two—losing stability…"
No response.
BACK TO UNIT ONE
Arga stopped.
Mid-step.
Just one second.
"…no."
Sinta already knew.
"…that's them."
Bimo didn't think.
"NOT AGAIN."
They ran.
Full speed.
No plan.
No hesitation.
IMPACT
They hit the building—
too late—
almost.
Inside—
silence.
Dust filled the air.
Shapes barely visible.
One Guardian—
down.
One—
gone.
The last one—
standing.
Rani on the ground.
Breathing—
barely.
Dika—
injured.
Tono—
holding position alone.
Barely.
"…we're losing this…" Dika whispered.
The Guardian raised its arm.
Slow.
Precise.
Final.
No one—
fast enough.
Then—
BOOM.
The wall exploded inward.
Arga.
He didn't arrive early.
He didn't arrive perfectly.
But he arrived—
before it ended.
He intercepted the strike.
Clean.
Exact.
The shockwave cracked the floor.
Split the room.
Froze everything.
"…step back."
This time—
they listened.
Sinta moved.
Instant.
Bimo followed.
No hesitation.
Dika stabilized.
Tono adjusted.
Rani—
still breathing.
Still there.
Together again.
Not perfect.
But aligned.
The final Guardian fell.
Silence.
No deaths.
But too close.
Way too close.
Rani pushed herself up slightly.
Looked at Arga.
"…you came…"
A pause.
"…almost too late."
This time—
he didn't answer immediately.
"…almost."
AFTERMATH
Back at base—
no one spoke.
Not right away.
Lila's voice broke it.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
"…one location…"
She stopped.
"…we didn't reach it."
The screen zoomed in.
A red point.
Flickering.
Then—
Gone.
Not stabilized.
Not contained.
Gone.
Sinta closed her eyes.
"…we lost it."
No one asked what that meant.
Because they knew.
Bimo sat down slowly.
"…we were moving the whole time…"
A breath.
"…and it still wasn't enough."
Silence.
Heavy.
Permanent.
Arga looked at the map.
At the empty point.
At the place—
they never reached.
"…not yet."
No one argued.
Because that wasn't hope.
It was something else.
They split.
They fought.
They saved who they could.
And still—
something burned
that they never reached.
And for the first time—
it wasn't about being too late.
It was about knowing—
even if you're fast enough…
there will always be
a fire
you can't get to.