The alley felt tighter.
As if the walls were slowly closing in.
The air— too heavy. Too still.
No sound.
No movement.
Only—
footsteps.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Three men.
Closing in.
Arga tightened his grip on the box.
Inside his bag— his own lunch box pulsed faintly.
The glow was stronger now.
The energy inside him stirred.
Faster.
Sharper.
Sinta stepped closer to his side.
"Don't step back," she whispered.
Behind them—
Bimo shifted his weight.
"…I'd really like to run right now."
No one laughed.
The man in front stepped forward.
"Hand it over."
"No."
Arga's answer came instantly.
No hesitation.
It hit the air— hard.
Silence followed.
Then—
everything moved.
The first man lunged.
Too fast.
Arga reacted—
just in time.
A step.
A twist.
Barely avoided.
The second man came from the side.
Sinta jumped—
high.
Too high.
She cleared the strike—
but landed wrong.
Her foot slipped.
"—!"
For a split second—
she lost balance.
That was enough.
The man grabbed her arm.
Tight.
Sinta gasped.
Pain shot through her.
"…Arga—"
"SINTA!"
Bimo dashed forward—
too fast.
Uncontrolled.
BANG!
He slammed into the man.
Both crashed into the wall.
Dust exploded into the air.
But the man didn't fall.
He stood.
Still holding Sinta.
"…reckless."
His grip tightened.
Sinta winced.
Arga moved—
but the third man stepped in front of him.
Effortless.
Blocking.
"You're not ready."
The words hit harder than the strike that followed.
THUD!
Arga was thrown back.
His body hit the ground hard.
Pain exploded across his chest.
His vision blurred.
"…too slow."
Everything spun.
Bimo struggled—
trying to pull Sinta free.
But his movements were messy.
Uncontrolled.
The man twisted.
Bimo lost balance—
and crashed again.
"…not again—!"
"STOP—!"
Arga forced himself up.
Breathing hard.
This wasn't working.
They were losing.
Fast.
"…Arga…"
Sinta's voice cut through.
Strained.
"…think…"
Not fight.
Think.
For a moment—
everything slowed.
The noise faded.
The panic pulled back.
The energy inside him—
was still there.
But it wasn't wild anymore.
It was waiting.
He inhaled.
Slow.
Then focused.
Not on power.
On control.
Arga stood again.
Steady.
Different.
The man noticed.
"…oh?"
Arga moved.
Not faster—
smarter.
He stepped in.
Redirected the grip.
Shifted his weight.
Twisted—
The man holding Sinta lost balance.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Sinta dropped—
rolling free.
Bimo grabbed her.
"Are you okay?!"
"…I'm fine—just go!"
Arga faced them again.
Breathing controlled.
Eyes sharp.
"This isn't about strength…"
he said quietly.
"…it's about timing."
The man smiled.
"…better."
Then he moved.
Faster.
Stronger.
Arga barely blocked.
BANG!
Their arms collided.
The force pushed him back.
His feet slid across the ground.
Pain surged—
stronger this time.
He couldn't hold it.
Sinta stepped forward—
jumped—
but her landing faltered again.
Her leg trembled.
"…I can't control it—!"
Bimo ran—
his speed spiked—
too much—
CRASH!
"…not again—!"
Arga looked at them.
Sinta—unstable.
Bimo—out of control.
The enemy—
still calm.
Still precise.
Still in control.
They were losing.
Again.
And this time—
worse.
Arga clenched his fists.
"…we can't win like this."
"Exactly."
The man stepped closer.
"You're not ready."
Arga looked at Sinta.
Then Bimo.
Then made a decision.
"…we're not fighting."
Sinta blinked.
"…what?"
"We're escaping."
Bimo nodded instantly.
"…best idea today."
Arga moved first.
Not toward them—
but past them.
Fast.
Unexpected.
For a fraction of a second—
the man hesitated.
That was enough.
"Sinta—NOW!"
She jumped—
this time controlled—
clearing the path clean.
"Bimo—GO!"
He ran—
fast—
but focused.
No wild burst.
No crash.
No loss of control.
They broke through.
Out of the alley.
Into open space.
They didn't look back.
And the men didn't follow.
They didn't need to.
They had already proven their point.
Arga slowed.
Then stopped.
Breathing hard.
Sinta leaned against the wall.
"…we almost lost."
Bimo dropped to the ground.
"…we did lose."
Silence.
Arga didn't argue.
Didn't deny it.
He opened his bag.
The lunch box glowed brighter now.
He opened it.
One.
Two.
Three.
Three grains of light.
Pulsing together.
Steady.
Alive.
But this time—
it didn't feel like victory.
It felt like growth.
Earned through failure.
Arga closed the box slowly.
His voice was quiet.
"…we're not ready."
Sinta nodded.
"…but we will be."
Bimo exhaled.
"…next time…"
A small pause.
"…we don't run."
Arga lifted his gaze.
Eyes steady.
Focused.
"…next time…"
A beat.
"…we win."