THE CELESTIAL STONE
"Once, we believed the future would be written in lines of digital code and silicon circuits. We were wrong. The future was written in stone."
New York, May 2020
A year that should have marked the pinnacle of industry instead became a silent witness to the fall of an anomaly.
In the frantic heart of New York, the sky split open—not by an explosion, but by a terrifying elegance. A pitch-black monolith landed soundlessly, piercing the asphalt ten stories deep.
The world called it. . .
"The Skystone."
Inside sterile underground laboratories, hundreds of renowned scientists from various nations spent the next decade descending into madness. They did not sleep. They stared into microscopes until their eyes bled, trying to crack the secrets behind the carvings of Ancient Javanese Script and Sanskrit that glowed purple on the stone's surface.
"This isn't just a language," whispered a linguistics professor moments before losing his sanity.
"This is a creation algorithm. This is the genetic code of the universe."
Then they started to call it Vur.
When the code was finally extracted, the world changed overnight. Electricity became an ancient artifact, replaced by the constant glow of elemental crystals. Firearms and human weaponry evolved at a staggering pace through the intervention of Vur.
Humanity began to feel like God.
However, the universe never grants power without demanding a price.
Fifteen years ago, the "sibling" of that monolith returned. But this time, it did not bring knowledge. It brought a storm. DNA-hacking entities we call.
The Celestial Monsters.
The Celestial Monsters descended to take back what we had stolen. Earth nearly crumbled our civilization almost turned to dust.
In the midst of that despair, seven figures emerged. They were not soldiers with tanks, but practitioners of ancient occult arts who achieved the impossible wedding cutting-edge technology with pure mysticism.
The 7 Sacred Warriors .
After a full year of bloodshed that shook the heavens, they successfully sealed the threat within the crater of Mount Merapi. It was a costly victory.
Four of them established humanity's final strongholds four magical academies that divided the world into the four cardinal points.
Kidul Academy: Guardians of the territory from Asia to Russia.
Kulon Academy: The shield for North and Latin America.
Wetan Academy: Guarding the lands of Africa to the Arabian Peninsula.
Lor Academy: The power center of Europe and the UK.
However, history left a gaping hole.
The other three heroes vanished.
Some calculate they were sealed within the Merapi crater as eternal sacrifices. Yet, in dark alleys and slum corners, a rumor persists:
They aren't dead. They aren't gone. They are simply hiding among the crowds of ordinary people, sipping coffee at the same stall as you, waiting for one thing...
The True Apocalypse.
Lo-fi hip-hop with heavy bass thumps and the piercing, soulful sampling of a traditional Sape...
"Okay, let's do this one more time. My name is Davina Seika. I'm eighteen years old. And in a few hours, I'm leaving this house to become the answer to all the chaos out there. You know the formula, right? Power is the price for peace. And honor? That has to be paid for in sweat."
Late afternoon on a barren hill on the outskirts of the city. The setting sun refracts a sharp, piercing orange.
Davina stands amidst a cloud of dust. Her hair is tied high; her stern, "judes" face is taut with concentration. In her ears, wireless earbuds play a fast-tempo rap track.
Boom. Bam. Crackle.
Her hands move like lightning. The air around her distorts. The wind howls, spinning into a small vortex beneath her feet, while sparks of purple electricity the color of pure Vur begin to dance at her fingertips.
"People say I'm ambitious. Maybe they're right. In this crazy world, being 'good enough' is a free ticket to a funeral. I need more. I need to be the strongest."
She leaps, her feet propelled by a blast of wind, and in a mid-air spin, she unleashes a lightning-wrapped fist toward the trunk of a dead old tree.
[STAGE ONE MANTRA: LIGHTNING ELEMENT: FLASHING FIST!]
BOOM!
The tree doesn't just fall; it incinerates instantly. Davina lands gracefully, regulating her racing breath. Her sharp eyes stare at the remnants of her attack without a smile. For her, this is still not enough.
Nighttime.
A simple bedroom filled with hip-hop posters and a route map to Kidul Academy.
A desk lamp powered by a small elemental crystal glows dimly. Davina is neatly folding her old uniform into a large carrier bag. In the corner of the desk sits a family photo; the frame is slightly cracked but wiped spotlessly clean.
"My family? They're the reason I stay grounded when my energy wants to explode into the sky. We don't have much. Dad is just a contract worker, and Mom... she's a kitchen magician who can make a plate of fried rice taste like a royal banquet. They're happy. And my job is to make sure that happiness isn't extinguished by any Celestial Monster."
Knock! Knock!
The door opens.
A six-year-old boy with adorable round cheeks Davina's younger brother runs in.
"Vina! Look! Look!" the little one exclaims, eyes sparkling.
He concentrates all his strength, his face turning red from the effort, until finally...
Pop!
A tiny ball of Vur light the size of a marble appears in his palm. The boy laughs proudly, showing off his raw 'power.'
Davina gives a small huff, almost a smile, though she tries to hide it behind her stern expression. She ruffles her brother's hair.
"Good job, Champ. Keep that safe. Look after Mom and Dad while I'm at the Academy, okay?"
The Living Room.
Mom and Dad sit on old wooden chairs, offering packed meals and warm hugs.
"Be careful at Kidul Academy, Nak," her father whispers, his rough hand gripping Davina's shoulder. "The world outside is wider than just a spellbook."
Davina nods firmly. She shoulders her heavy bag. In her mind, she is already imagining the grand gates of the Academy that guards the border from Asia to Russia. The place where the elites gather.
"This is it. The moment I've prepared for my whole life. I have dual elements, I have discipline, and I have an ambition that cannot be quenched."
She steps out the door, pulling up her hoodie, letting the hip-hop in her ears reach its loudest drop.
"My name is Davina Seika. And I will become the strongest warrior history has ever birthed."
(The screen cuts to black as the beat stops abruptly)
Wide shot of the densely populated neighborhood of New Jakarta. The sky is no longer blue, but a pale yellow with a sun that looks 20% larger than recorded history suggests. Fiber optic cables hang low, glowing purple with the flow of Vur.
Across from Davina's house, on a branch of an ancient Banyan tree whose roots entwine a signal tower, a young man sits casually. He wears a grimy hoodie and is busy with a plastic bag of cilok in his hand.
"Hm, the vibe is pretty strong," the youth mutters while chewing.
His weary eyes watch Davina from a distance. Suddenly, a gust of wind blows a result of Davina's wind element radiating from afar and...
Whoosh!
His bag of cilok flies away.
"Heynahh , my cilok! Damn..."
He nearly chokes, coughing ridiculously, then with a movement almost too fast for the eye to catch, he leaps down.
"Whatever, I'll just buy more."
He then disappears into the shadows of the buildings, leaving behind a fading silhouette.
Davina's Porch.
Davina has just stepped out when her mother's hand catches her arm. Her mother holds out a silver necklace with a dim emerald green crystal pendant.
"Take this, Vina. It's a protective charm from your grandmother. Never take it off, okay? Especially once you reach the Kidul territory," her mother says softly but firmly.
Davina stares at the necklace, her stern expression softening for a moment. She lets her mother put the necklace on her.
"I'm leaving, Mom," she says briefly. No over-the-top hugs, just a firm nod full of promise.
(Hip-Hop Beat enters: Heavy Bass & Lo-fi Drum Kit)
"The first step is always the hardest. But in New Jakarta, if you stop moving, you die. I'm not going there to play around. Kidul Academy isn't just a school; it's my first battlefield. I'm coming home as the strongest, or I'm not coming home at all."
TransJakarta Bus Stop: "Sektor Kota Kasablanka"
The soles of Davina's "Adiduds" sneakers hit the asphalt, leaving behind thin wisps of unstable Mana energy. This bus stop looks like a fortress; its glass walls are lined with copper wire mesh.
Vur Shield
Useful for repelling disturbances from mystical entities that often appear during rush hour.
Davina sits on the far end of the bench, puts on her headset, and closes her eyes. She tries to build a "wall" between herself and the crowd of office workers busy with their digital gold stock holograms.
Crash! Clatter!
"Ouch, ouch... I'm so late! Ugh, and my socks are mismatched—one black, one blue... it's aesthetic, but not like this!"
A girl is...
Reva...
She appears like a small storm. Her hair is a bit messy, and her backpack covered in anime and K-Pop character keychains , looks ready to explode. She stops next to Davina, leaning over with her hands on her knees, gasping for air.
Davina only glances briefly with a "very formal" thin smile (read: polite, but don't talk to me), then returns her gaze to the rails.
"Eh?" Reva suddenly stands straight.
Her eyes lock onto the collar of Davina's uniform, which features metallic silver embroidery.
"Whoa! Wait, seriously? You... You're also going to the Kidul Sacred Academy?"
Davina only gives a small, stiff nod.
"Oh my God, thank God! I thought I was lost!" Reva immediately sits next to Davina without asking, her cheerful-yet-pessimistic energy filling the air.
"I'm Reva. Reva Desta Kartika. Just call me Reva, or 'Re' is fine. Let's be friends! What's your name?"
Reva holds out a hand that is slightly damp from nervous sweat. Davina stares at the hand for three seconds, her brain calculating the efficiency of this interaction.
"Davina."
She doesn't return the handshake, only stating her name.
"Okay, Davina... your vibe is so cool. Like, total main character energy," Reva chatters, wiping her hand on her skirt.
"Honestly, I'm lowkey terrified of Kidul. I heard the tests are insane, right? I'm just relying on luck and a wind element that cuts in and out like a bad signal in the middle of nowhere."
Shortly after, the bus arrives. Davina stands up immediately, ignoring Reva who follows closely behind her.
Inside the Academy-Special TransJakarta Bus
The bus roars smoothly, cutting through Jakarta's traffic. Davina sits at the very back a predator's position, monitoring the entire room.
Reva is beside her, still busy rambling.
"Crazy, right? Our uniforms are fire-resistant, but why is the fabric so itchy? And it's so hard to iron. Anyway, did you know the idol group 'No-Na' just released a song about Batik? So catchy!"
"I don't listen to K-Pop or girl bands. I listen to Hip-hop," Davina replies shortly, staring out the window.
Their bus passes the Monas (National Monument). At its peak, it glows a golden purple, creating an energy dome that protects Jakarta from Celestial Monster air raids.
"By the way... why do you want to be a warrior, Vin?" Reva asks suddenly, her voice dropping an octave, tinged with a sense of insecurity.
"For me, honestly, I just want to be rich. I want to buy anything without looking at the price. Living hard sucks, Vin. I want to be financially secure."
Davina turns slightly, seeing Reva's reflection in the glass. Reva looks scared, as if she's forcing herself to be on this bus.
"The world will indeed collapse if we just sit still and stay afraid, Reva," Davina says calmly. Her voice is ice-cold, yet there is a note of sincerity.
"Power isn't for showing off. It's the price you have to pay if you want to feel real peace. Not just peace in your wallet, but peace for everyone."
Reva falls silent, then smiles faintly.
"That's heavy... but fair."
The camera pans back, moving past the rows of passenger seats.
Exactly two seats in front of them, a man in a black baseball cap sits silently. His name is Adam. He isn't playing on his phone. He just holds an old book, but his ears are sharp, catching every speech pattern and Mana frequency radiating from Davina and Reva.
Adam lowers his cap slightly, watching them both through the reflection of the bus mirror, and offers a small, secretive smile before refocusing on his book.
The sturdy bus tires stop exactly over a glowing magnetic circuit line. The doors open with a futuristic pneumatic hiss.
The air exiting the bus is met with a wild contrast: the cool chill of high-level climate control technology mixed with the thin, elegant scent of jasmine incense.
"Final stop: Main Gate of the Kidul Sacred Warrior Academy. Please check your belongings. And welcome to the Future of Nusantara: Kidul Sacred Warrior Academy."
Davina stands. Her movements are efficient, flawless. She adjusts her hoodie, letting her sharp eyes scan the 15-meter-high black stone pillars ahead. To her, this isn't just a school; it's a fortress.
"Crazy... the vibe is insane, Vin!" Reva nearly jumps out, her hands clutching the straps of her overloaded backpack.
"Look at that, that Wayang Gunungan hologram is such high-res! Spinning around like that... It's like entering an RPG world but with a proper local wisdom version!"
Davina only grunts softly, keeping her awe tightly tucked away.
"Don't be a tourist, Re. Keep it together," she whispers, though internally she is measuring the Mana wave frequency from the carbon fiber pillars.
Around them, hundreds of new students with various styles begin to line up. In front, members of the Sacred Student Council (OSIS Sakti) stand like a row of high-fashion models ready for the runway. Their white-and-gold uniforms glisten under New Jakarta's pale yellow sun.
"Welcome, juniors. Please line up according to your home sector," says a male senior with a baritone voice so smooth Reva nearly forgets how to breathe.
"Gosh, Vin... why does that senior's face look so unreal? Does he use holy water from the Merapi crater for skincare or what?"
Reva whispers, eyes sparkling.
Suddenly, from behind, a youth in a bright red varsity jacket that accentuates his arm muscles pats both their shoulders casually.
"Whoa! Don't just space out at the entrance, guys. You'll get trampled by a bus," the voice is deep and full of energy, yet humble with a wide grin.
It's Gibran.
He carries a large gym bag and a tube containing a weapon of unknown type.
"Hey, take it easy, man!" Reva snaps back reflexively.
"I'm Gibran. From the Kasablanka sector. You two looked like the most 'ready' ones on the bus, so I figured I'd say hi," Gibran grins wide, showing an aura that is very "Jaksel" (South Jakarta) yet humble.
"This is my friend, Adam. He's a bit... well, you'll see."
Beside Gibran stands the youth in the black cap from the bus.
Adam.
He stands with his hands in his pockets. He isn't looking at them; instead, he stares toward the hall with a gaze that looks like he's solving a god-tier calculus problem.
"Twelve seconds," Adam mutters quietly.
"Huh? What's twelve seconds?" Gibran asks, confused.
"The time you guys just wasted on small talk," Adam replies flatly, his eyes glancing at Davina for a split second before shifting to Gibran.
"Your stride is too wide, Bran. You're wasting energy. Focus."
"Geez, Dam! Can't your life be more than just numbers? Enjoy the view for once!"
Gibran turns back to Davina and Reva.
"Sorry about him, he's a chronic perfectionist. I'm Gibran, and my element is Fire. He's Adam, the Water guy whose chill is colder than your ex."
Davina stares at Adam searchingly. There is something 'still' about this youth that makes her wary.
"Davina. Lightning and Wind," she says briefly.
"I'm Reva! Just Wind... not sure what else I can do yet," Reva pipes up quickly, trying to break the tension.
"You guys headed to the hall too? Let's go together so we don't look like lost souls in the middle of these elite kids."
The four of them walk together, forming a unique formation. Gibran leads with a gallant stride, Reva is at his side busy commenting on the smart-glass architecture, Davina walks alertly in the center, and Adam trails behind, occasionally noting something on a small holographic tablet.
"I heard the entrance exam this year is going to be different," Gibran starts, adjusting his gym bag.
"They say they're going to check our Rank immediately using the Real-Time Stone system."
"The probability of passing is below ten percent if you're just relying on muscle, Bran," Adam interjects without looking up.
"Can you shut it, Dam? This muscle is my pride!" Gibran starts to look annoyed, his face flushing slightly—an effect of his fire element beginning to react.
Davina listens to the bickering while keeping her eyes forward, toward the giant Meru Bali building that awaits them.
(Hip-hop beat peaks)
"Gibran the muscle, Reva the cheerleader, and Adam the walking calculator. I don't know if this is luck or a curse, but one thing is certain: the competition starts now. And I won't let anyone, including them, stand in the way of my ambition to be the strongest."
This continuation maintains the "Arcane-Punk" atmosphere, blending modern tactical elements with the mystical hierarchy of your world.
THE GRAND HALL OF KIDUL ACADEMY
Thousands of new students looked like orderly rows of dots atop teak chairs that glowed neon blue from biometric sensors. High above the ceiling, a giant Mana crystal rotated slowly, scattering a golden light that bathed the room in a "sacred" aura.
Davina sat with a rod-straight back, her eyes locked on the stage. Beside her, Reva was busy poking the holographic interface in front of her.
"Vin, look! The canteen menu scrolls just like TikTok! Gosh, they have Mana-broth Seblak? I'm definitely staying here."
Davina didn't respond. Her focus was anchored to the figure stepping onto the podium.
Aditia Shafwan.
The President of the Sacred Student Council stood with the elegance of a modern prince. His white-and-gold uniform was tailored to perfection, hugging his athletic frame. He adjusted the crystal microphone, flashing a subtle smirk the kind of smile that made half the girls in the hall forget how to breathe.
"Good morning, future guardians of Nusantara," Adit's voice echoed, his baritone smooth yet carrying absolute authority.
"You stand here not by luck. You are here because the world needs a shield, and you are the steel to be forged. At Kidul Academy, glory isn't given—it's seized. And I assure you, that glory... will bring a happiness that is worth the price."
He paused, scanning the audience with a sharp, future-focused gaze.
"Prepare yourselves, because—"
CRACK! SHATTER!
Before Adit could finish his poetic sentence, the transparent glass roof above the hall shattered into a million shards. Two figures plummeted through the air, crashing through a giant banner that read "Welcome Future Heroes," tearing it in half, and...
THUD!
They landed in a "pancake" position right in front of the podium. One was face-down with a leg tangled in the mic cable; the other landed sitting up, still clutching a tin of crackers (kerupuk) from God-knows-where.
Thin smoke rose from the impact. Davina stood up instantly, purple sparks of electricity dancing at her fingertips. Gibran, in the front row, had already balled his hands into fists of fire.
"Ow... Tak, I told you, don't use the 'Angrybird' knot for the clothesline! It got snagged, dammit!" complained the one lying face-down
Vasky.
He pushed himself up while rubbing his lower back, his messy hair even more disheveled from the dust.
"Hah! Why are you blaming me? You were the one who wanted a 'superhero entry' style, you idiot!" retorted Noval, alias Si Botak (though his hair had actually started growing into a buzz cut). He stood up, desperately trying to save the remaining crackers in his hand.
"Besides, this building is too high. Doesn't anyone care about my joints?"
The hall fell into a deathly silence. Aditia Shafwan closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose in slow motion a sign his patience was being tested to its absolute limit.
"Vasky... Noval..." Adit's voice sounded like freezing ice.
"Are you aware this is the opening ceremony? And you... are supposed to be sitting down there. With them. Not falling from the sky like a pile of meteor scrap."
Vasky grinned wide, completely unrepentant despite his soot-stained face.
"Uh, Mr. President... we were just 'test-driving' the aerial security. What if a Celestial Monster snuck into the vents? As virtuous seniors, we have to be proactive, right Tak?"
"Right on! Safety first, Bro!" Noval gave a thumbs-up while crunching a cracker with a loud SNAP that pierced the silence.
Suddenly, the air turned unnaturally cold. A woman with a terrifyingly intimidating posture approached.
Madam Namarta.
The click of her high heels sounded like a funeral bell.
"Aerial observation, is it?" Namarta smiled. It was the kind of smile that made even the muscular Gibran shudder.
"Such dedication. Coincidentally, the back field needs some manual 'observation.' With a shovel. Until midnight."
Vasky turned pale instantly.
"Uh, Instructor... I can explain. This was purely a technical error with my landlady's clothesline—"
WHOOSH!
Without a word, Namarta's hand shot out like a lightning strike. She grabbed both Vasky and Noval by their back collars simultaneously. The two boys were hoisted off the floor, their legs kicking the air like kittens caught stealing fish.
"Instructor! Let me go!! I'm the future King of the Pirates in these seas!! Tak, do something, Tak!" Vasky yelled ridiculously, trying to "swim" through the air.
"I'm trying, you moron! Instructor, please, I just washed my hair!" Noval shouted in resignation.
Namarta didn't flinch. She dragged them offstage with one hand while waving gracefully to the new students with the other, as if nothing had happened.
Aditia Shafwan took a deep breath, trying to reclaim his fractured dignity.
"Ignore that disturbance. Let us proceed..."
Davina lowered her hand, rolling her eyes.
"What kind of seniors are those?" she thought.
Reva, however, was giggling.
"Vin, those upperclassmen have total Deadpool vibes. I love the chaotic ones!"
Adam: (Writing on his tablet) "The probability of them escaping the Instructor's punishment is 0.02%."
Gibran: "Whoa, crazy... lifted with one hand? That Instructor's muscles must be solid!"
Natasha glanced at Aditia, who was still rubbing his forehead—a gesture of "soul-deep exhaustion" only a childhood friend would understand.
Adit stepped back, making way for Natasha, whose aura of authority instantly froze the laughter in the hall.
"Apologies for the technical glitch... or rather, the disciplinary glitch," Natasha said.
Her voice was clear, sharp, and made thousands of students sit upright again.
"Let's return to the main agenda. Everyone, please press the round button on the right side of your desk. Now."
Davina pressed the button. A neon blue holographic screen appeared with a satisfying ting.
"Use your ID Cards. Tap them on the sensor below the desk. The system will auto-scan your initial data," Natasha instructed.
Davina pulled out her silver card.
Tap.
The screen processed the data immediately.
NAME: DAVINA SEIKA
STATUS: PENDING
ELEMENT: UNKNOWN
RANK: UNTESTED
Beside her, Reva started to panic. She was flipping her card over like a broken TV remote.
"Ugh, why isn't it showing up? Please don't error now. I don't want to be 'illegal' on my first day!"
"The chip side goes down, Reva," Davina said without looking, her eyes fixed on her own screen.
"Eh? Oh... my bad! Thanks, Vin! You're seriously my savior," Reva grinned as her screen finally flickered to life.
"Now," Natasha continued, the giant screen behind her displaying six majestic, glowing icons.
"Choose your path. This Academy isn't just a physical training ground; it's Earth's defense ecosystem. Choose your path, and choose wisely."
Six options appeared on Davina's screen with holographic descriptions:
Warrior (Pendekar): The vanguard. Blade & Blood.
Mage: Mana Manipulator. Artillery.
Medic: Life Weaver.
Supply/Storage: Logistics & Gear Master.
Blacksmith: Futuristic Weaponsmith.
Analyst: Strategy & Weakness Finder.
Without blinking, Davina tapped the Warrior icon. To her, peace could only be guarded by those brave enough to stand at the very front with a sword in hand.
In another corner, Adam—with highly efficient movements—immediately chose Analyst. To him, numbers never lied. Meanwhile, Gibran, with a confident smirk, slammed the Warrior choice. "Muscles won't lie when you're in front of a monster!" he muttered.
"I... what should I choose? Blacksmith looks cool, I could make gadgets? But Medic is okay too so I can just chill in the back..."
Reva muttered in confusion, her finger trembling over the screen.
Natasha touched her own podium screen.
"For comparison, here is my active data. Just to give you a benchmark."
The giant screen exploded with Natasha's profile:
STATUS: WARRIOR + STUDENT COUNCIL VICE PRESIDENT
ELEMENT: CRYSTALLIZE
RANK: SILVER 7
"Silver 7?!" Murmurs erupted in the hall.
"Damn, that's high-level for a student!"
"I heard she can freeze bullets into crystals with just a snap of her fingers."
Davina narrowed her eyes.
Silver 7, huh? Just wait. I'll catch up soon.
The ceremony concluded. Thousands of students began flooding the corridors. The walls were extraordinary; every time Davina passed, sensor panels displayed her personal route to Class A-1.
"Crazy! Vin! We're in the same class!" Reva jumped with joy, nearly colliding with another student.
"I would've literally fainted if I were alone in a class full of ambitious people like you or Natasha. Class A-1... they say it's full of 'dangerous' seeds, right?"
"Or unstable ones," Davina said flatly, keeping her pace.
As they passed the lush central garden, their steps slowed. The smell of wet earth was in the air, but what was more pungent was the "killing intent" radiating from a woman in black tactical gear.
Instruktur Namarta.
"Faster! If even one blade of grass is still standing by 12:01, I promise you won't see a plate of Nasi Padang for a week!" Namarta shouted with a voice that could crush the soul of the bravest warrior.
Under the scorching sun, Vasky and Noval were on their knees, glaring at the grass.
"Aw, beautiful Namarta, idol of all lonely hearts... my hands have 'glowed down,' they're all blistered," Vasky complained, showing his perfectly unblemished palms.
"Why is a warrior being told to go to war with grass? We're supposed to be taking the lives of Entities, not plucking decorative plants."
Namarta smiled "sweetly."
"Oh, you want to take lives? How about I take your lunch privileges instead, Vasky?"
"No! Food is a basic human right protected by the constitution, Instructor!" Vasky yelled in panic, his hands suddenly moving like an automatic lawnmower alongside Noval, who could only chant under his breath:
"You only live once, you only live once..."
Reva suppressed a laugh beside Davina.
"They're so ridiculous. Are they really seniors?"
Davina stopped for a moment, watching Vasky busy joking while pulling weeds. Her eyes narrowed.
Wait.
Vasky is pulling that grass without looking, but every movement of his hand is precise, hitting the deepest root. No wasted motion. So... efficient. Too efficient for someone who looks 'weak'.
"Vin? Why'd you stop? We're gonna be late!" Reva pulled her.
Davina looked away.
"Only lazy people look for the quick way. Focus, Davina. Focus."
The four of them Davina, Reva, Adam, and Gibran met at the door of Class A-1.
Gibran greeted them enthusiastically, "Yo! Guess fate is on our side, the four of us are in the same class!"
Adam only gave a slight nod while staring at his digital watch.
"Go in now. Less than ten seconds before the instructor arrives."
The automatic sliding door hissed open, revealing Class A-1. The interior felt like a sterile aircraft carrier cockpit: cold, efficient, and advanced. The desks and chairs didn't touch the ground; they floated stably via Maglev technology, giving the impression that every student here was "drifting" above the world's expectations.
Davina stepped firmly toward the desk with the holographic panel reading Seat 14. She sat, and the magnetic chair instantly adjusted to her body contours with sensory precision. Beside her at Seat 15, Reva landed with far less grace.
"Gosh, Vin! The chairs are auto-pilot! I feel like Tony Stark," Reva whispered excitedly, pulling out a set of colorful pens that were completely irrelevant to the integrated touch-screen desk in front of her.
In the middle row, Gibran was doing some light stretching, making his magnetic chair groan slightly under the weight of his muscles. Meanwhile, in the front corner, Adam was already submerged in a data stream, his fingers dancing over the holographic desk as if speedrunning a hack into the academy's servers.
The atmosphere suddenly chilled. The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees as the door hissed again.
Her steps were silent, but her aura weighed down the room's atmosphere.
Instruktur Fatima Azzahra.
She entered with the elegance of a desert queen. Her black tactical abaya swept the floor, and her hijab was perfectly set, framing a face that was calm yet held a deadly intensity.
She stopped at the front of the class, glancing briefly out the window where Vasky and Noval could still be seen digging grass in the distance.
"Welcome to Class A-1," Fatima's voice was soft, flowing like a melody, yet it held a blade in every syllable.
"Ignore those two 'fossils' out there."
She offered a thin smile—the kind that made Davina feel like she was being watched by an apex predator.
Fatima touched the sensor panel on the instructor's desk with a slender fingertip.
The giant holographic screen behind her exploded with dark purple data:
NAME: FATIMAH AZ ZAHRA
ORIGIN: Medina, Saudi Arabia
STATUS: Senior Instructor, Class A-1
ELEMENT: Shadow Chains
RANK: PLATINUM 5
"Platinum 5..." Adam muttered under his breath, looking up from his desk for the first time. In the world of warriors, Platinum 5 wasn't just "strong"—it was a walking disaster level.
"My name is Fatima," she continued, her voice remaining gentle yet filled with elegant sarcasm.
A noble-looking student in the front row cleared his throat, straightening his perfectly pressed collar.
"Instructor, when will we receive our official Ranks? I feel the sensor system in the hall was too... general to measure my potential."
Fatima stared at the student for three seconds.
The shadows beneath Fatima's feet suddenly vibrated, as if something were crawling there.
"Patience, young man. Rank is a number, but life is your pride." Fatima walked around the class, stopping right behind Davina's chair. Davina could feel the hair on her neck stand up; a scent of luxury oud mixed with a strange chill.
"We will start with something simple."
Fatima touched Davina's desk, and instantly, the holographic screens of the entire class turned blood-red.
The holographic screen behind Instructor Fatima vibrated, refracting purple light into a complex geometric pyramid diagram. She didn't use a laser pointer; she moved her fingers through the air, and small strands of Shadow Chains emerged from her shadow, dancing to point at data points with terrifying precision.
"Our world is no longer about who has the biggest bank balance, but about how much Vur capacity your body cells can hold,"
Fatima's voice sang out, yet her gaze remained piercing.
She glanced at Arcadiaz, a student from Singapore sitting in the front row with his chin held high. Arcadiaz had just turned off his personal hologram which boasted a Bronze 2 status.
"What this handsome student in the front says is true," Fatima teased subtly as she paced between the maglev desks.
"You all start at Bronze. The beginner level, where you're just learning not to blow yourself up while casting a spell. Normally, civilians out there peak at Bronze 5. But you? You are in Class A-1."
Fatima snapped her fingers. The diagram shifted colors.
"You will climb from Bronze to Silver, then Gold. When you graduate, the average student will reach Silver 5. But for those of you who feel 'gifted'..."
Fatima stopped right next to Arcadiaz's desk, making the boy tense up despite his attempts to look arrogant.
"...your target is Gold 4. That is the gold standard for becoming an elite."
Arcadiaz snorted softly, glancing at Davina with a look of disdain.
"Only Gold 4? That's a target for the weak. The highest throne is only for those who can conquer everything," Arcadiaz muttered loud enough for the whole class to hear.
Fatima chuckled, a sound like iron chains rubbing together.
"How ambitious. But remember, above Gold lies Platinum. That is my level, and the average level of instructors at Great Academies like Kidul. Platinum 5 is the peak for instructors here. In small academies? They're lucky to have one teacher at Platinum 4."
The holographic screen switched to show the global military structure.
"The world outside is crueler. Ordinary soldiers have Ranks equal to our instructors. Captains, Secretaries-General, up to Generals continue to rise by two-level intervals. Even your President must reach Platinum 7 just to get the keys to their office. Above that? There are Diamond and Titanium—the levels of the monsters who lead wars."
The classroom went dead silent as Fatima manifested seven pillars of light at the highest peak of the diagram.
Pitch black, yet glowing with magic.
"And finally... Obsidian. The level of legends. There are only seven people on this planet who have reached it. Our four headmasters, and the three warriors who... well, nobody knows where they are now."
Davina clenched her fists under the desk. Her eyes stared intensely at the Obsidian pillar.
"That's my spot," she thought firmly.
"Vin, did you hear that?" Reva whispered in a panic, her face pale.
"The President is only Platinum 7. I'm not even sure I'm a stable Bronze 1. I should probably just join the logistics team and sell seblak on the battlefield..."
"Shut up, Re," Davina cut her off.
"Listen to the instructions."
Fatima returned to the front of the teacher's desk.
"Since Arcadiaz was so eager to discuss Rank, let's prove if his mouth is as strong as his Fire and Lightning elements."
Fatima looked at the entire class with a smile that suddenly felt very predatory.
This continuation translates the escalating tension of the classroom reveals and the transition to the academy's living quarters, maintaining the "Noble-Punk" hierarchy and the sharp, witty tone of the characters.
"Before we head to the Simulation Room, I want to know exactly what 'assets' I have in this class," Fatima's voice drifted through the room, her eyes scanning them with a predatory sharpness.
"State your name, element, and why you think you deserve to be in A-1. Start with 'Sir Throne' in the front."
Arcadiaz stood up with a deliberately slow, rhythmic grace.
"Arcadiaz. Singapore. Fire and Lightning. Rank: Bronze 2. I'm not here to learn how to survive; I'm here to make sure everyone below me knows exactly who's in control."
He shot Davina a lopsided smirk before sitting back down.
Nadia Asri stood next. The girl had the sharp, refined features typical of her Bangladeshi heritage, and her uniform looked incredibly expensive.
"Nadia Asri. Bronze 2. Elements: Water, Rubber, and Cotton."
Gibran snorted quietly.
"Cotton? What, you gonna make us some pillows?"
Nadia turned slowly, her gaze like a sheet of ice.
"Cotton that can clog your windpipe in a second, gym-rat."
It was Gibran's turn.
He stood, flexing arm muscles that strained against his tight uniform.
"Gibran Ananta. Fire. I don't need a bunch of elements; one is enough as long as it explodes! My motto: Muscles are a man's pride!"
Adam merely raised a hand without standing.
"Adam Sebastian. Water. Analyst. Life is a sequence of numbers, and I'm here to make sure your variables stay positive."
Reva stood up awkwardly.
"I'm... Reva Desta Kartika. Wind. My only goal is to get filthy rich so I can buy a truckload of limited-edition K-Pop albums."
Finally, Davina stood. The atmospheric pressure in the room seemed to spike instantly.
"Davina Seika. Lightning and Wind. I don't need a throne or riches. I only need the power to pay the price of peace."
Fatima tapped her electronic ruler against the desk. Zzap! A tubular graph manifested in the hologram.
"Good. Now, let's talk about your fuel: Vur,"
Fatima explained with a tone of elegant boredom.
"Your initial capacity averages between 500 to 700 Vur. Every time you cast an element or channel energy into an object, you burn 100 to 250 Vur. Do the math—see how long you'll last on the battlefield before collapsing like a soggy cracker."
She walked toward the window.
"You can level up this capacity to 1000 Vur within six months if you're diligent with meditation and insane physical training. But be careful..." Fatima turned, her smile suddenly turning wicked.
"The energy vessel in your body, the Vur Plate, has a limit. If you force energy into it beyond its capacity... Boom. Your internal organs will disintegrate from the inside out. So, don't try to be a hero."
Fatima tapped her ruler again. This time, the screen displayed a gold coin embossed with a digital lotus silhouette.
"In Kidul Sacred Academy, your paper money is worthless," Fatima said, her voice sweet but her gaze piercing.
"We use Atma Points. You all start with a capital of 500 Atma."
The number 500 glowed red on each student's desk.
"These points are your life. Your academic grades, behavior, achievements, and Rank determine this number. Every Monday morning, the system resets or adds to your points. Want to eat well? Use Atma. Want to buy a new weapon? Use Atma."
Fatima smiled a saccharine smile—the kind usually reserved for shojo anime villains—as she rested her chin on her hand.
"Oh, and just a tip for those of you lacking motivation... the conversion rate is 1 Point to 3,000 Rupiah. So, if your points hit zero, you're not just a loser in the academy; you're worthless on the outside too. Calculate your own value if you're lazy. How sad... Ikh... Veryyy poor~"
The last sentence was uttered in a mocking, pampered tone that left the entire class in a stunned, rigid silence.
Arcadiaz clenched his fist.
"500 Points? That's not even enough to buy a martabak in Singapore."
Reva did some quick math on her desk screen.
"500 x 3000... One and a half million?! Vin! Our starting capital is 1.5 million! I can't lose a single point or I'll be eating antacids for dinner all month!"
Davina just stared coldly at her point display. To her, that number was simply a resource to purchase greater strength.
Instructor Fatima clapped her hands, signaling the bickering students to settle down.
"Right, time to head to the Simulation Room."
She held her hand out, palm open.
[ADVANCED MAGIC: TELEPORT]
In an instant, they were standing in a vast simulation chamber. Several students stood frozen in awe. The room was dome-shaped, with floors covered in impact-absorbing material. In the center grew an anomaly:
The Arcanum Tree.
The tree stood three meters tall, its trunk made of grey crystal fibers that pulsed with a dim glow, its roots embedded into mana circuits in the floor. This was no ordinary plant; it was a high-precision static strike-force gauge.
"The rules are simple, my sweet children,"
Fatima's voice was melodic but challenging.
"Destroy or damage this tree with the full capacity of your Vur. The screen above will record the damage output and the remaining Vur in your Vur Plate. Please, Sir Throne... show us your talent."
Arcadiaz stepped forward first. He shed his uniform jacket, revealing a white shirt with sleeves rolled up.
[COMBINED MAGIC:
Crackle! Whoosh!
Red fire flared in his right hand, while yellow lightning sparks wrapped around his left. He slammed them together, forming a hybrid energy sphere.
HYBRID BALL!!!]
BOOM!
A massive explosion slammed into the trunk. Smoke billowed.
RESULT ARCADIAZ:
Damage: 850 | Remaining Vur: 200.
The trunk was deeply cracked, but the crystals immediately began to auto-regenerate.
Nadia Asri stepped up calmly, moving her hands like a dancer. Water materialized from the air, freezing into sharp ice crystals, which were then wrapped in cotton fibers compressed as hard as steel.
[COMBINED MAGIC: TITANIUM ATOMIC]
Sliiice! Thud!
Her attack slammed into the exact same spot as Arcadiaz's, widening the fissure.
RESULT NADIA:
Damage: 845 | Remaining Vur: 250.
Gibran wouldn't be outdone. He sprinted forward, punching the air. Pure fire erupted from his palms.
[FIRST MAGIC: FIRE VORTEX!]
BOOM!
RESULT GIBRAN:
Damage: 860 | Remaining Vur: 150
(Inefficient energy consumption due to muscle mass).
Now it was Davina's turn. The room fell into a sudden hush. Reva held her breath.
"Vin, you got this! Remember, our 1.5 million is on the line!"
Davina didn't attack immediately.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. In her ears, the hip-hop beat reached its drop. She drew a sandalwood training sword—reinforced with mana circuits—from her back.
A low hum of static electricity...
Vvvmmmmm...
Davina didn't hurl her elements like the others. She did something far more difficult.
[ Vur Channeling]
"Hoh... interesting," the instructor thought to herself.
Davina compressed her Lightning and Wind elements, channeling them directly into the wooden blade. The once-ordinary brown wood now glowed a sharp purple, with wind swirling violently around the edge, creating an invisible chainsaw effect.
"Huh? She's just gonna whack it with a stick?" Arcadiaz muttered dismissively.
Davina vanished. Her footsteps were silent. In one precise horizontal swing...
SHREEEEEE—CRACK!
The wooden blade bit into the Arcanum Tree. There was no explosion—only a deafening, high-frequency grinding sound. The sword sliced through the outer crystal layer, creating a thin but incredibly deep gash that circled the trunk.
RESULT DAVINA:
Damage: 855 | Remaining Vur: 550.
In terms of pure numbers, Davina was on par with the others. But one thing was fundamentally different.
Instructor Fatima stared at the biometric readout on her tablet. Her eyes, usually drowsy, widened slightly as she analyzed Davina's frequency graph.
"This girl..." Fatima thought.
"Her damage looks the same as Arcadiaz's, but she didn't waste her Vur... exactly like—" She trailed off.
Fatima glanced at Davina's wooden sword, which was now slightly smoking. The tip wasn't broken, despite hitting the incredibly hard Arcanum crystal. That meant Davina's Mana control was already at the level of 'absolute precision.'
"A... decent result," Fatima said in her forced kawaii tone, masking her shock.
"You're all roughly in the 800s. But remember, this tree can't hit back. Your future enemies won't just stand there while you show off."
Fatima walked past Davina, and as they crossed paths, she whispered something only Davina could hear.
"Nice sword, Davina. But make sure your Vur Plate doesn't shatter before you get to use a real one. Don't die too soon, okay~?"
Davina stood still, watching Fatima's retreating back. She knew the instructor had just seen through her secret.
Instructor Fatima snapped her slender fingers. Instantly, the shadows beneath each student's feet elongated, coiling around their ankles like cold, black snakes. In the blink of an eye—
WUSH!
The Simulation Room vanished, replaced by the sterile warmth of Class A-1. A high-level Shadow Teleportation technique.
"Sit back down, my sweet children,"
Fatima's voice drifted as she leaned back in her maglev chair.
"Your Vur usage back there... well, at least you didn't blow the building up. But remember, channeling energy into objects like Davina, or wasting fire like Gibran, drains the Vur Plate. Practice breathing, not just screaming."
She tapped a hologram panel on her desk. A row of neon-glowing logos with futuristic-traditional designs appeared.
"Aside from these boring lessons, you are required to join a Union," Fatima explained, her fingers dancing in the air to show the list.
"These aren't your typical school clubs where you play hide-and-seek. This is how you fill your Atma Point coffers. Without Union connections, you're just a lonely warrior who'll die at the hands of an Entity without anyone knowing... isn't that just tragic?"
The Union list appeared on each holographic desk.
Scientific Union: Techno-Mages & Data Junkies. (Adam's eyes lit up instantly).
Music & Performance Union: Mana manipulation through sound frequency.
Sports Union: Basketball, Football, Takraw based on Mana coordination.
Silat Union: Nusantara martial arts & Traditional Weaponry. (Davina stared intensely at this logo).
Sacred Student Council Union: The political elite. Exclusive. (Where Aditia and Natasha ruled).
Benefactor Union: Social missions in high-risk zones.
"Choose wisely," Fatima concluded with a thick layer of sarcasm.
TUNG... TUNG... TUNG...
A low-frequency digital Slendro tone echoed, vibrating the smart glass of the classroom. It wasn't a standard school bell; it was a Mana-sync signal for every inhabitant of the academy.
"That's enough for today," Fatima closed her hologram with a flick of her finger.
"Follow the coordinates on your smart bands to the Dormitory. Curfew is at 21:00. Any later? My Shadow Chains will be the ones picking you up... to 'play' in the dark room."
Davina stood up, shouldering her carbon-fiber bag with efficient movements. Arcadiaz passed her, deliberately bumping her shoulder.
"Enjoy the bottom floor of the dorm while you can, Short-circuit," he whispered arrogantly before sauntering off.
Davina and Reva stepped out of the main building. Before them, two twin towers pierced the pale yellow clouds of New Jakarta. The Candra Tower (Girls) glowed with a cold silver light, while The Surya Tower (Boys) pulsed with a warm gold.
"Gosh, Vin! The towers are so high!" Reva looked up until she almost tipped over.
"What floor are we on? Please don't tell me it's the first floor for 'budget' people like me."
Davina checked her smart band. Floor 3, Room 304.
The dorm hierarchy was clear and cruel:
Floors 1-4 (Bronze Zone): Crowded, noisy, standard. For 'beginners' with mediocre Vur capacity.
Floors 5-8 (Silver Zone): Quiet. Meditation facilities here reportedly speed up Vur recovery by 20%.
Floors 9-12 (Gold Zone): The floor of the 'Gods.' Occupied only by instructors and genius students. Legend says the oxygen there is infused with pure Mana particles that keep skin glowing and energy limitless.
"Floor 3, Re. Still in the Bronze zone," Davina said flatly.
"Well... at least we aren't on the ground floor next to the bus park," Reva consoled herself.
"But Vin, look at floor 12. When will I ever get a breath of that expensive oxygen?"
Davina stared at the peak of the Candra Tower, shrouded in thin mist. Her eyes flashed with cold determination.
"Pure oxygen, huh? I'll be up there before this semester ends."
The two of them walked toward the dormitory's magnetic lift. In the lobby, they spotted Gibran and Adam heading toward the Surya Tower, Gibran loudly protesting as Adam continued to lecture him on the efficiency of his walking gait.
(To be continued)