“Erase him,” the gaunt senior master declared, his voice a low vibration that scraped against Bimo’s teeth. The very air around them thickened, turning viscous and heavy. Bimo rooted his boots to the threshold, his pulse drumming against his eardrums. Beside him, Kirana drew her elbows tight against her flour-dusted apron, her chin jutted forward. “Wait!” Jaka Wiraguna shouted, stepping forward, his boots skidding on fractured slate. “Sect Masters, this is illogical! His output possesses an uncharted resonance. We should observe, integrate, not destroy!” Another magistrate, a woman with a severe topknot and eyes like chips of flint, drifted closer. Her every movement was a silent ripple in the air. “Jaka. Your assessment is flawed. The anomaly jeopardizes the Veil of Veridia. He must be removed before the Grand Rift.” Her hand, skeletal and adorned with arcane rings, began to gather a swirling vortex of cerulean Inti-energy. Wisps of freezing vapor coiled around her knuckles, crackling with an unnerving hum. Bimo recoiled, his spine slamming the doorframe. He was going to be erased. Just like that. His hands, still coated in a fine layer of semolina from his morning bake, trembled. No, he couldn’t let that happen. Not with Kirana standing here. Not after he’d finally decided to be brave. He forced himself to meet the obsidian gaze of the lead master. “I… I won’t let you,” Bimo stammered, his chin dropping, his voice thin against the wind. “I won’t let you hurt anyone.” Jaka checked his stance, hands loose at his hips. “My apologies, Masters. My data indicates a higher probability of success in an alternative strategy.” With a fluid pivot, he lunged at the charging woman with the cerulean vortex. A flash of emerald light erupted from Jaka’s palm, a focused beam of cultivated Inti that slammed into her barrier, cracking her technique. “Kirana! The power conduits beneath the pavement! The auxiliary junction is five meters west!” he yelled over the howling gale. Kirana didn’t hesitate. “On it!” she barked, already sprinting toward an iron plate bolted into the street where the city’s auxiliary Inti-grid ran close to the surface. She ripped open a loose manhole cover, revealing glowing conduits, and began to frantically re-route power, diverting raw Inti into unstable feedback loops. The lead master scoffed, raising an open palm. From the clouds, a colossal fist of solidified darkness plunged toward the roof, aimed squarely at Bimo. The air howled. Dust and debris swirled into a vortex. This was a force that could level a small mountain. “Foolish child. Your defiance is a whisper against a tempest.” Bimo tracked the dark silhouette expanding across the sky, his breath sawing raggedly. He couldn’t punch that. He couldn’t even look at it! But then, he remembered Kirana’s words, Jaka’s betrayal for his sake. He remembered the flour on his hands, the warmth of the oven, the smell of fresh bread. He remembered his promise. He didn’t know how to punch umbral constructs. But he knew how to knead. Drawing air, Bimo thrust his knuckles forward in rapid, imperceptible pats against the plunging void. His movements were rhythmic, working it like cold, stubborn dough. Each pat, faint as dropping flour, sent a microscopic tremor through the descending gloom. The system chimed. [Punch of Determined Dough-Work] has been added to the Stack. [Punch of Rapid Yeast Activation] has been added to the Stack. [Punch of Gentle Aeration] has been added to the Stack. [Punch of Precise Glaze Application] has been added to the Stack. Multiplier: x2,104,789 Multiplier: x3,219,005 Multiplier: x4,567,123 Multiplier: x6,890,345 The descending mass shuddered, then rippled. With a sound like thousands of parchment sheets tearing simultaneously, it frayed into drifting soot. The lead master stepped back, his jaw dropping. Across the street, Jaka traded emerald bursts against elemental barrages from the other two cultivators, his sweeps crisp but visibly slowing. “Hurry, Bimo! My deflections will not hold long against their combined rank!” Kirana yanked an emergency disconnect in the open pit. A blinding discharge surged upward, sending power fluctuations through the streetlights. Streetlights exploded, and the Elders momentarily staggered, their control over their elemental powers wavering. “EMP feedback loop active!” she yelled, triumph clear in her voice. Bimo grabbed his wooden cylinder off the flour table, its oiled maple cool against his palms. He didn’t swing it like a weapon; he treated it like a tool at the prep bench. With a flick of the timber, he whipped a dense lump of leftover croissant butter-dough at the frost cultivator. It clipped her sternum with the blunt crash of a cannonball, catapulting her through a reinforced brick partition into the alley. Before she could recover, Bimo bounded outside, rapping the maple cylinder against the cobbles; the stone fractured, sending vibrations through her boots. [Punch of Aggressive Dough-Slam] has been added to the Stack. [Punch of Crumbly Concussion] has been added to the Stack. Multiplier: x9,999,999 Multiplier: x14,567,000 The third senior cultivator, wrapped in crackling crimson arcs, roared in fury. He hurled a barrage of red plasma straight down, seeking to scorch the baker alive. Bimo darted sideways, the wooden dowel spinning between his fingers. He wasn't retreating; he was patting. Rapping the air, nudging the cobbles, nudging the incoming arcs as they sheared past. Each brush, minute and precise, created a miniature deflection wave. [Punch of Static Discharge] has been added to the Stack. [Punch of Arc Suppression] has been added to the Stack. Multiplier: x20,000,000 Multiplier: x30,000,000 The lightning bolts, instead of striking, began to dissipate into harmless sparks. The lightning master shrieked as his spears decayed into drifting embers. Bimo scooped a cooling sourdough boule off a metal wire rack with his wooden cylinder, snapping his wrist. The crust crashed straight into the man's nose with brutal velocity, knocking him limp and sending him crashing down into the gutter. The lead master, left alone, stared at his unconscious colleagues. Blood rushed to his temples. He clapped his palms together, compressing a dense orb of pure, volatile Inti to obliterate the bakery. “You will not stand!” But Bimo was no longer the shrinking baker. He had seen Kirana fight, seen Jaka make his choice. He wouldn’t cower. Bimo inhaled and extended the wooden dowel. Aiming directly for the core of the glowing orb, his wrists blurred in thousands of miniscule, rapid strikes, rapping against the outer aura. [Punch of Atomic Deconstruction] has been added to the Stack. [Punch of Fundamental Dispersal] has been added to the Stack. [Punch of Reality Weave Flossing] has been added to the Stack. Multiplier: x50,000,000 Multiplier: x75,000,000 Multiplier: x100,000,000 The sphere of destructive Inti shimmered, then fractured, then simply ceased to exist, dissolving into individual particles of light. The master stumbled back onto the curb, his cheeks ash-gray. He gaped at Bimo, at the cracked bricks, at the fallen martial artists, and finally at the squashed bread loaf still resting across his comrade's jaw. His pride, his power, his entire martial philosophy had been reduced to absurd defeat. “This… this is an abomination!” he hissed, retreating two paces. With a furious glare, he triggered an escape talisman, vanishing with his two fallen comrades into the sky. The sky above them, once bruised and heavy, began to clear. Bimo exhaled, lowering the flour-dusted wood. His forearms twitched with leftover adrenaline, staring in disbelief at the shattered pavement. He looked at Kirana, who gave him a wide, triumphant grin, and then at Jaka, who stood with his arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Remarkable,” Jaka said, adjusting a stray lock of hair. He walked over to Bimo, his gaze steady. “My previous assessment of your potential was… insufficient. The data has been re-calibrated. My logic is flawless. Your victory is statistically inevitable. I choose the winning side.” He offered Bimo a hand, a gesture of unexpected camaraderie. “Now, about this ‘Great Unraveling’ you mentioned. I require more parameters for my strategic models. Let’s begin with an analysis of your ‘stack’ capabilities, starting with the peculiar efficacy of yeasted products in high-energy combat scenarios. I assume you have more of that… concussive croissant dough?” He looked around the damaged bakery, then his eyes settled on the faint, intricate seal on Kirana’s flour sack, which was now glowing with a soft, pulsing light, a beacon in the settling dust.

An Unlikely Alliance