Bimo flinched so hard his spine felt like a coiled spring. The stranger, all sharp angles and glowing eyes, blocked the shop entrance, casting a long shadow over the display case of half-baked pandan cakes. Contain? Bimo just wanted to find his rolling pin and maybe hide under the counter until morning. “C-contained?” Bimo stammered, his voice a reedy squeak. “I, uh, I think it was just a… a draft? Yes. Very windy today.” He gestured vaguely at the pristine, untouched ceiling, then remembered the gaping hole across the street and quickly dropped his hand. Jaka took a measured step into the bakery, his heavy boots clicking on the tiled floor. The air inside grew thin, humming like an overloaded conduit. “A draft, citizen? Are you suggesting the Sect’s Inti-detectors are susceptible to a mere breeze? I sensed a surge of raw, untamed force emanating from this location. A power not cultivated, but… manifested.” His gaze narrowed, burning into Bimo. “Surrender the source of your unnatural strength. It belongs to the Sect, for the greater good of Zarathos.” Bimo squeezed his elbows tight against his ribs. Pins and needles pricked his palms while sweat turned his collar soggy. His eyes darted past Jaka, searching for an escape route, any route that didn't involve direct eye contact or, worse, *talking*. Just then, the clatter of Kirana’s flour sacks announced her return. She rushed through the door, her cheerful expression dropping flat as she took in the scene: the stern warrior, the trembling flour-dusted clerk, and the general mess. “Hey! What’s going on here?” Kirana demanded, stepping between Jaka and Bimo, her small frame surprisingly defiant. Her hands went to her hips. “You can’t just barge into Adiputra Bakes and start making demands. Who are you?” Jaka blinked, momentarily taken aback by Kirana’s sudden appearance and lack of deference. He straightened his spine. “I am Jaka Wiraguna of the floating academy, sent to neutralize a dangerous anomaly. This baker possesses power he has clearly stolen or acquired through illicit means.” “Bimo? Stolen power?” Kirana scoffed, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. “He’s terrified of his own shadow, let alone stealing anything. He probably just dropped a particularly heavy flour sack.” She shot Bimo a reassuring, if slightly exasperated, look. “Right, Bimo?” Bimo, emboldened by Kirana’s defense, managed a nod. “I… I wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he mumbled, then winced, realizing the irony given the state of the street outside. Jaka, however, was not amused. His eyes, now intensely azure, flickered with annoyance. “This is not a matter for civilians. Step aside, woman. I will deal with the anomaly.” He made a dismissive hand gesture, a clear command. Kirana didn't budge. “No. Bimo is my friend. If you want to talk to him, you’ll talk to me first. And you’ll do it politely.” The room went brittle. Bimo’s anxiety reached critical mass. He hated confrontations. He hated being the center of attention. He just wanted everyone to be friends. His gaze dropped to a wire rack holding freshly baked pastries, golden and flaky. An offering. A peace treaty. He snatched one, the warm, buttery scent filling the air, and extended it tentatively towards Jaka. “Here. For you. It’s… it’s a pain au chocolat. With extra chocolate. It’s very good.” Jaka stared at the pastry, then at Bimo, then back at the pastry as if it were a venomous snake. His face twisted into a mask of pure indignation. “A *pastry*? Is this an attempt at mockery, baker? Do you think the grand academy can be appeased with sugar?” With a sharp flick of his wrist, Jaka slapped the roll from Bimo’s hand. It spun through the air, splattering against the wall in a pathetic shower of flakes and melted chocolate. Bimo gasped, a small, wounded sound. His beautiful baked roll. His peace offering. Ruined. His crippling social anxiety suddenly warred with a primal, unprecedented surge of injustice. Not at Jaka, but at the *waste* of a perfectly good pastry. [Punch of Disappointed Hospitality] has been added to the Stack. Current Multiplier: x1,000 Jaka’s eyes blazed. “You dare. You *dare* challenge the authority of the Sky-Piercer Sect? Very well. If you refuse to surrender your power, I will extract it by force. Consider this a duel, baker. A very, very short duel.” He adopted a wide, low stance, Inti crackling around his fists. Bimo’s mind went blank. Duel? He couldn't even manage a coherent sentence most days, let alone fight a glowing warrior. Nausea seized his throat. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, and threw out a series of frantic, utterly pathetic punches into the air, more like a drowning man flailing than a combatant. [Punch of Utter Desperation] has been added to the Stack. Current Multiplier: x1,250 [Punch of Mild Self-Loathing] has been added to the Stack. Current Multiplier: x1,562 [Punch of Vague Regret for Croissant] has been added to the Stack. Current Multiplier: x1,953 Jaka watched Bimo’s ludicrous display with an expression of thinly veiled disgust. He effortlessly sidestepped each wild, wind-milling swing, barely disturbing his own perfectly coiffed hair. “Pathetic,” he sneered, moving with an impossible fluidity. “Your movements are sloppy, your form nonexistent. This isn’t a duel; it’s an embarrassment.” [Punch of Embarrassed Wailing] has been added to the Stack. Current Multiplier: x2,441 [Punch of Deep-Seated Mortification] has been added to the Stack. Current Multiplier: x3,051 Kirana watched in horror, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth. This wasn’t a fight; it was Bimo having a complete breakdown, slowly, in public, while an elite warrior toyed with him. “Bimo, stop! You’ll get hurt!” Jaka, tired of the charade, finally decided to end it. He gathered his Inti, a sapphire aura engulfing him. “Enough. Witness the Heaven-Piercer Lance!” He surged forward, his arm transforming into a spear of pure azure energy, aimed directly at Bimo’s chest. The air shrieked around the attack. Bimo, still flailing, his eyes tightly shut, tripped over his own two feet. His left hand, still balled into a fist, flew forward in a wild, uncoordinated arc as he began to fall. It wasn't aimed. It wasn't powerful. It was just a desperate, clumsy lurch. His falling fist, by some unfathomable cosmic joke, connected with Jaka’s chin. Not with force, but with a light, almost accidental tap. [Punch of Absolute Panic] has been added to the Stack. Current Multiplier: x5,421 A small *ping* echoed off the tiled walls. Jaka, mid-charge, froze. His eyes bulged, his sapphire aura flickering wildly. A moment later, his body, rigid as a statue, shot upwards. Not gently, but like a rocket launched from the earth. He blasted through the plaster ceiling, leaving a perfectly circular hole, then through the roof shingles, spraying cedar splinters and dust. Higher he went, a rapidly diminishing speck against the darkening sky, until, with a final, distant *twinkle*, he vanished entirely. Silence settled over the shop, broken only by plaster dust pattering onto the floor. Bimo, still sprawled on the floor from his trip, opened his eyes, blinked, then slowly looked up at the gaping hole in his ceiling. He looked at Kirana, whose jaw was practically on the floor. Then he looked down at his own fist, still clenched. Pusaka’s voice screamed in his head, “YOU ARE ACCELERATING THE UNRAVELING!”

The Sky-Piercer's Pride