Intan pressed both palms flat against the flagstones to brace herself. The spire groaned, hairline fractures spiderwebbing up its obsidian base. Badai cackled, teeth bared against the wind. “Give in, boy! Embrace the purification! Let the world return to primordial dust!” [CORE INTEGRITY AT 3%. PLANETARY RESET SEQUENCE INITIATED. UNEXPECTED DATA SPIKE DETECTED. RECOMMENDING IMMEDIATE CATASTROPHIC FAILURE PROTOCOL.] Bolo dug his claws into Intan’s tunic, all six of his eyes dilated into black saucers. He understood, in his simple, energy-hungry way, that something was terribly wrong, something beyond even his immense appetite. Then, Guntur moved. His stance snapped into a crisp iron-horse posture. His right fist, glowing with the compressed, world-ending power, didn't move outward, didn't aim at the spire, or the ceiling, or Badai. It arced inward, a perfect, controlled trajectory towards his own chest, directly over his heart. Intan caught her breath with a sharp hiss. Badai stopped mid-laugh, his mouth slack. “What are you doing?!” he shrieked, a flicker of panic entering his voice. With a soft thud that was swallowed by the roaring energies around them, Guntur Perkasa punched himself. There was no explosion, no outward burst of destructive force. Instead, the blinding light around him imploded, rushing inward, a whirlpool of raw cosmic potential collapsing into a single, infinitesimally small point within his being. [CRITICAL HIT MULTIPLIER: 1,000,000x. TARGET: BIO-CORE. EFFECT: INTEGRATION. OLD PROTOCOL DEACTIVATED.] The tempest cut off like severed wire. The roaring wind died. The ground stopped trembling. The spectral bindings vanished from the spire. The jagged purple veins on the dark stone faded, leaving it pristine and unmarred. The cracks in the sky above the floating islands stitched themselves back together, leaving only a serene, cloud-strewn canvas. The only sound was the faint, rhythmic *thump-thump* of Guntur’s heart. He stood motionless, eyes shut, knuckles resting against his sternum. Badai stared, the carved bone talisman dangling cold between his fingers. Then, a new voice. Not the sterile, indifferent drone from before, but something resonant, echoing from everywhere and nowhere, a whisper directly in the mind. [MANUAL OVERRIDE COMPLETE. WELCOME, ADMINISTRATOR.] Guntur opened his eyes. The usual cheerful innocence was still there, but beneath it, a depth, a calm, undeniable power that made the air around him feel thick and heavy. His aura no longer flared chaotically; it settled around him like a perfectly tailored garment, warm and steady. He stepped out of the Core Stabilizer, his sandals clicking against the smooth floor. Badai retreated two paces, his boots catching on an uneven flagstone. “No… no, this is not possible,” Badai stammered, clutching his lifeless talisman. “The Seed cannot be controlled! It is a force of divine purification! You… you were meant to *trigger* it!” Guntur walked towards him, his pace unhurried. Intan fell into step beside him, resting two fingers against his forearm. Guntur offered her a small, reassuring smile. “The final exam, Guru,” Guntur said mildly, “is pass or fail.” He reached down and plucked a small, smooth pebble from a loose crack in the floor. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, examining it for a moment. There was no glow, no buildup of destructive energy. He flicked it. The pebble spun through the air, seemingly innocuous, with no discernable force behind it. It traveled perhaps five paces, a simple stone arcing gracefully. It struck Guru Badai’s talisman dead-center. There was a faint *ping*, like a tiny bell, and then the dark stone, which had once channeled world-breaking power, fractured into a thousand glittering shards that dissolved into faint smoke. Badai staggered back, heels grating on gravel. He stared at the scorch mark on his palm, jaw working soundlessly. Days later, the Puncak Langit Academy was still abuzz. The swift, inexplicable stabilization of the islands, the sudden discrediting of Guru Badai (who was found babbling incoherently about 'divine purification' and 'seed planets' to anyone who would listen), and the legend of Guntur Perkasa’s impossible feat were the sole topics of conversation. “Guntur Perkasa, we are honored to admit you to the Puncak Langit Academy,” the Headmaster, a stern but now relieved woman named Cendana, announced from her ornate desk. She gestured to a scroll bearing Guntur’s name. Intan stood beside him, a hint of pride in her stance, Bolo peeking out from Guntur’s collar. Guntur looked at the scroll, then out the panoramic window at the expanse of Nusa Indah, the emerald islands stretching to the horizon. “Thank you, Headmaster Cendana,” Guntur said, bowing from the waist. “But I must respectfully decline.” Cendana blinked, her composure momentarily slipping. “Decline? But… why? After all you’ve shown, the incredible potential…” Guntur turned to Intan, then gently stroked Bolo’s head. “My power, even when controlled, has left its mark on this world. The tremors, the distortions… they need to be tended to. I believe my true path lies not within these hallowed halls, but out there, helping to heal what I nearly broke.” Intan nudged his ribs with her elbow. Bolo chittered happily, nudging Guntur’s ear. “So,” Guntur said, turning to Intan with a grin. “Ready for an adventure?” She laughed, a joyous sound. “More than ready.” Guntur leaned over the sill, watching the sun hit the emerald peaks of the lower islands. He smiled. “I think my real test is just beginning.”

Critical Hit: Zero