Banyu’s walk home from the bridge was a blur of fractured pavement and distant shouts he barely registered. The Kembang Hati, still clutched safely in his left hand, felt like a burning coal, yet its presence was a comfort. The right hand, the one that had touched Tulus, throbbed with a dull ache he ignored. Every rhythmic placement of his feet on the worn flagstones of the lower district, every scuff against loose gravel, brought a faint, almost imperceptible tremor through his body. [Batin Core +25,789] [Batin Core +28,112] [Batin Core +30,501] He forced himself to walk slowly, to not draw attention, to let the world around him appear normal. But the notifications, appearing like wisps of clear light only he could see, were anything but. His body felt lighter, stronger, an internal furnace roaring to life with each deliberate movement. He could feel the residual heat on his palm, the ghost of the shattering stone, but he pushed it down, locking it away behind the familiar, quiet mask he wore for Lestari. The air grew heavy with the smell of cooking rice and drying herbs as he neared their small dwelling. The door, a flimsy sheet of scarred timber, was a welcome sight. He pushed it open gently, the familiar creak a sound he cherished. Lestari sat by the window, her small frame dwarfed by the single, threadbare blanket draped over her shoulders, her gaze fixed on the distant, glittering peaks of Akademi Puncak Awan. Her face, usually pale, brightened immediately. “Banyu! You’re back! I was starting to worry. The sun is almost down.” Her voice was soft, like the rustle of dry leaves. He managed a tired smile. “Just a little delayed, little sparrow. I have something for you.” He held out the Kembang Hati. Its petals, an impossible shade of violet, shimmered even in the dimming light of the room. Lestari let out a sharp breath, her thin fingers trembling as they reached out. “The Kembang Hati? Oh, Banyu, it’s… beautiful. But it’s so expensive. Did you…?” She trailed off, her brow furrowing with a familiar concern. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, brushing the concern aside with a flick of his wrist. He stepped further into the cramped room, careful to keep his posture relaxed, hiding the slight limp that threatened to surface, the faint discoloration blooming on his ribs where Tulus’s initial kicks had landed. The system, relentless, continued its work. [Batin Core +33,005] [Batin Core +35,670] He knelt beside her, a genuine warmth spreading through his chest as she gently took the flower. He reached for the small pestle and mortar, quickly grinding the petals into a paste, mixing it with the clear, filtered water they carefully saved. Lestari watched him, her hand reaching out to touch the faint bruise above his eye that he hadn't managed to conceal completely. “You fought, didn’t you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with a raw worry that pricked at his heart. “Those boys from the upper districts again?” He paused, the pestle hovering. He didn’t want to lie, not to her. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not now. “Just a misunderstanding, Lestari. Nothing serious.” He forced a lightness into his tone. “See? I’m fine.” He offered her the bowl of medicine. She took a slow sip, her gaze never leaving his face. “Please, Banyu. Promise me. Give me your word you won’t fight anymore. You’re all I have.” Her eyes, large and earnest, pleaded with him. Her words were a balm and a brand, searing a new resolve into his core. He swallowed, the bitter taste of the medicine on his tongue, though he hadn’t drunk it. “I promise,” he said, his voice low and firm. He gave his word that he wouldn't fight. Yet he never swore he would stay weak. So strong that no one would ever dare touch her, or him, again. So strong that no fight would ever be necessary. [Batin Core +38,400] Lestari finished the medicine, a peaceful exhaustion settling over her. He helped her to their shared mat, tucking the blanket around her. Soon, her breathing evened out, soft and steady. Banyu watched her for a long moment, a fierce protectiveness swelling within him. He rose quietly, moving to the small window, his gaze drawn to the distant floating redoubt, its crystalline spires now glittering under the nascent moon. The room was small, barely wide enough for him to take three full steps without bumping into the worn wooden chest or the rickety table. He started to pace, a nervous habit he’d developed over years of worry. One step. [Batin Core +41,200] Two steps. [Batin Core +44,150] Three steps. Turn. [Batin Core +47,200] Another step. Another turn. [Batin Core +50,345] [New Skill Unlocked: Silent Stride] Silent Stride. He took another step. No sound. His feet, though still wearing his old, scuffed boots, moved with an impossible lightness, absorbing all impact. He felt no friction, no vibration. He was a ghost within his own body, and with each imperceptible movement, the system numbers continued to skyrocket. He paced, faster now, a quiet urgency building. [Batin Core +53,600] [Batin Core +57,000] [Batin Core +60,500] He continued for what felt like an hour, the notifications flickering past his vision like a torrent of falling stars. The sensation was exhilarating, intoxicating. His very being hummed with an unimaginable energy. He closed his eyes, sensing the raw power swirling within him. He was no longer the weak, struggling boy from the lower district. The Batin he now commanded felt like a river, vast and boundless, easily exceeding what he'd heard whispered of even seasoned masters. He could feel the internal pathways, the *Meridian* points, ablaze with energy. He could feel the potential. He could feel the Akademi calling. He would go there, not for status, but for strength. For Lestari. A soft, hesitant knock echoed through the quiet room, startling him. He froze, his Batin flaring instinctively, before he forced it to subside. Who could it be at this hour? Lestari stirred, a soft groan escaping her lips. He moved quickly to the door, peering through the worn crack, his hand hovering over the latch. Standing outside, framed by the dim light of the street lantern, was Cahya. Her long, dark hair, usually meticulously braided, was slightly disheveled. Her eyes, the color of warm honey, held a troubled glint. In her hands, she clutched a small, intricately carved wooden box. “Banyu?” Her voice was low, tinged with a delicate concern. “I… I saw. On the bridge. Are you alright?” She held out the box, a faint, sweet aroma emanating from it. “My grandmother makes this balm. For… for deep bruises. It’s rare.” Her gaze drifted, lingering on the subtle swelling around his eye, the way he subtly favored his left side, even now. Her brow furrowed, her expression a mix of apprehension and quiet observation. “What really happened on that bridge?”

A Hundred Promises