Banyu pulled the door open just enough for Cahya to step inside the narrow corridor, though he kept his body angled to obscure the view into their small living space. Lestari’s soft snores were a fragile sound in the quiet apartment. “I’m fine, Cahya,” he murmured, his voice low, trying to project an air of nonchalance he didn’t feel. He took the wooden box from her, his fingers brushing against hers, a fleeting warmth. The scent of crushed herbs and mountain spring water rose from the balm. “Thank you. But there’s no need.” Cahya’s honey eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on the faint discoloration beneath his left eye. “No need? Banyu, I saw Tulus’s guards. They were… brutal. And the way the bridge cracked… I don’t understand. Tulus should be expelled for such a display of uncontrolled Batin.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “My cousin, Jati, he was there too. He said… he said you touched the ground and it shattered. That’s impossible for someone without a cultivated Batin Core.” Banyu felt a prickle of unease. Jati. The name felt heavy, resonant with something he couldn’t place. “It was an accident,” he said, forcing a calm smile. “A loose stone, perhaps. Tulus was merely… overzealous. I defended Lestari, that’s all.” He gestured vaguely, hoping to dismiss her questions. He couldn’t tell her about the plummet, the system, the terrifying, exhilarating surge of power. Not yet. Not when Lestari’s peace depended on his stability. Cahya studied him, her expression unreadable. She seemed to weigh his words, then the subtle tension in his frame, the way his movements were just a fraction too stiff. “Perhaps,” she said at last, though her tone suggested profound doubt. “Still, use the balm. It helps with more than just bruises.” She turned to leave, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. “The Akademi entrance exams are tomorrow. You should take them. Your mother… she always wanted you to.” Banyu watched her go, the words hanging in the air. The Akademi. A place he’d never dared dream of, a bastion of the elite, far removed from the dust and struggles of the lower districts. But Lestari’s safety… that was his new dream. With a single, quiet nod, he closed the door, the scent of the herbal balm a reminder of both his visible wounds and the unseen ones he now carried. *** The following morning, Banyu found himself standing before the towering gates of Akademi Puncak Awan. The air here was thinner, crisper, carrying the faint tang of petrichor and ancient stone. Youths, their robes pristine and emblazoned with family sigils, moved with an arrogant grace, their internal reservoirs radiating quiet power. Banyu, in his simple, worn tunic, felt like a shadow. He made his way to the examination grounds, a sprawling courtyard where various Batin-measuring artifacts gleamed under the perpetual, filtered light of the floating mountain. The first test was the ‘Uji Getaran’, a simple Batin resonance test. Candidates placed their palms on a large, crystalline plinth, and its internal lights would flare, indicating the strength of their internal energy. Most applicants managed a modest glow, a few a vibrant pulse. When Banyu’s turn came, he placed his hand, closing his eyes, remembering Lestari’s smile. A soft hum resonated through the plinth, then, without warning, a brilliant, blinding white light erupted, washing over the entire courtyard. The crystal began to crack, thin fissures spiderwebbing across its surface, before it exploded into a shower of glittering fragments. An elderly examiner, his face pale, dropped his slate. The entire area fell silent. [Synchronization Complete. Batin Core +1,000,000] [Synchronization Complete. Batin Core +2,000,000] [Synchronization Complete. Batin Core +4,000,000] [New Skill Unlocked: Dinding Abadi] Banyu blinked, looking at his palm. He hadn’t even realized he’d shifted his weight while placing his hand. The examiner finally stammered, “Un… unprecedented. Never… in history…” The subsequent tests were equally absurd. The ‘Uji Ketahanan’ required candidates to withstand a concentrated Batin blast from a training construct. Most were pushed back several meters, some collapsed. Banyu stood his ground, unmoving, feeling nothing but a faint breeze. The construct overloaded and sputtered into silence. The ‘Uji Kecepatan’, a sprint across a marked track, saw him cross the finish line before the starting gun’s echo faded, leaving a faint, shimmering afterimage. He felt a profound calm, an almost detached awareness of his own, impossible capabilities. He had broken every record, destroyed several testing implements, and left a trail of bewildered examiners in his wake. As he walked toward the administration building, a notification appeared: [Akademi Puncak Awan Entrance Granted. Rank: Prima Suta (Unrivaled)] Banyu felt a pang of triumph, quickly followed by the familiar ache of responsibility. This was for Lestari. His path was suddenly blocked. Standing before him, flanked by a small entourage of grim-faced youths, was Jati. His dark hair was impeccably styled, his institute uniform pristine, and his eyes, usually a cool, intelligent grey, now burned with an almost feverish intensity. Cahya stood slightly behind him, her gaze troubled, darting between Banyu and her cousin. “So, the demon has arrived,” Jati’s voice cut through the murmuring crowd, sharp and clear. “Here to corrupt even this sacred ground.” His words were not a question, but a bitter declaration. Onlookers around them gasped, some murmuring about the audacity of challenging a newly appointed Prima Suta, others recalling the incident on the bridge. Banyu met Jati’s gaze, a ripple of unease moving through him. “Jati,” he said, his voice quiet, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t you?” Jati scoffed, a dark laugh escaping him. “The world remembers, Banyu. *I* remember. The monster who will drown us all in the echoes of his power. You think you can hide it? The Batin that shattered the bridge, that broke the Uji Getaran crystal? This isn’t a blessing, it’s a blight! A parasitic cancer devouring our reality!” He stepped forward, his hand raising, a faint azure glow emanating from his palm. “I will not stand by and watch you destroy everything! Not again!” Before anyone could react, Jati lunged. His movements were a blur, a practiced dance of lethal precision. His Batin flared, not in a crude, raw burst, but in a series of intricate, flowing strikes. His fist, imbued with spiraling energy, aimed for Banyu’s chest. This was no novice technique; it was an ancient, cultivated art, honed over lifetimes. Banyu stood still, recalling Lestari’s soft voice, her hand in his. *“Promise me you won’t fight, Banyu. Promise me you’ll be safe.”* He had promised. He would not initiate violence. But he would endure. He would become an immovable object for her sake. Jati’s fist slammed into Banyu’s sternum. A dull thud echoed through the courtyard. Banyu didn’t budge. He felt a slight pressure, like a persistent insect landing on his skin. Jati stared, disbelief sharpening the lines around his mouth. He pulled back, then struck again, a flurry of rapid-fire blows aimed at Banyu’s ribs, his head, his legs. Each strike carried enough force to shatter stone, to send an ordinary peer reeling. [Synchronization Complete. Batin Core +8,000,000] [Synchronization Complete. Batin Core +16,000,000] [Synchronization Complete. Batin Core +32,000,000] Banyu remained rooted. His shirt rippled with the impact of Jati’s furious attacks, but his body absorbed every ounce of force, his passive regeneration from the Echo Step System instantly knitting away any potential damage, turning Jati’s most powerful techniques into mere vibrations. He felt his Batin Core swelling, doubling, quadrupling with every tiny shift of weight, every microscopic adjustment to his posture as he passively resisted the blows. Jati’s attacks grew more desperate, more frantic. He invoked more complex Batin patterns, summoning crackling bolts of raw energy, creating miniature gusts of wind that tore at Banyu’s clothes. He spun, kicked, elbowed, each movement a masterpiece of martial cultivation. Dozens, scores, hundreds of strikes landed. Banyu’s expression remained placid. On the three hundred and first strike, he took a single, almost imperceptible step back. The crowd, which had watched in stunned silence, let out a collective gasp. It was impossible. “Stop this madness!” A booming voice cut through the tension. From the main complex, a figure emerged, tall and imposing, clad in the deep violet robes of the Headmaster. He strode forward, his own Batin radiating a calm, immense power that immediately quelled the volatile energies of the duel. “Jati, what is the meaning of this unprovoked assault on a newcomer?!” Jati glared at Banyu, his chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow. “He is a threat, Headmaster Lokana! A world-ender!” Headmaster Lokana waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense! I witnessed his examination. He possesses an unprecedented, untamed Batin. Such potential must be nurtured, not attacked.” He turned his piercing gaze on Banyu, a flicker of profound curiosity in his eyes. “You, boy. Banyu, was it? You stood against him without raising a hand. Remarkable.” Jati clenched his fists, his body trembling with a mixture of fury and frustration. He shot one last, burning look at Banyu. As he turned to stalk away, his voice, barely a whisper, carried only to Banyu’s enhanced senses, sharp and clear above the murmuring crowd. “This time, I will kill you before you sacrifice her.” The air turned frigid in Banyu's lungs. *Her?* Who was ‘her’?

The Weight of a Memory