The kitchen was alive again.
Machines thundered.
Steam climbed through white lights.
Metal trays slammed into place.
Orders were shouted.
Feet moved fast.
Hands moved faster.
Everything looked normal.
That was the lie.
Because after what happened here—
normal no longer existed.
Arga stood in the middle of it all.
Still.
Watching every movement.
Every exit.
Every blind spot.
Every second that could be stolen.
Sinta leaned against a steel counter.
Arms crossed.
Eyes sharp enough to cut.
Bimo sat on stacked crates, bruised and bitter.
"…if anyone says 'mission' tonight, I'm leaving."
No one smiled.
Rani stood near the door.
Quiet.
Breathing carefully.
As if control could shatter if she inhaled too hard.
Pak Rahmat placed a tablet on the table.
One red mark glowed on the screen.
"They'll hit us again."
No one asked who.
They already knew.
Arga finally spoke.
Low.
Certain.
"Then we hit first."
The room went still.
Bimo closed his eyes.
"…there it is."
Pak Rahmat enlarged the map.
A warehouse near the industrial edge of the city.
No cameras.
No public traffic.
Late-night movement detected.
"Distribution hub," he said.
"Fake labels. Fresh stock. Active now."
Arga stepped forward.
"We go clean."
He looked at each of them.
"No noise.
No panic.
No mistakes."
Then at the map.
"We end it in one move."
Night swallowed the roads.
Streetlights buzzed over cracked pavement.
The industrial zone was empty.
Too empty.
The kind of silence that waited for blood.
The warehouse stood alone at the end of the block.
Dark.
Locked.
Watching.
"Positions."
They split instantly.
Sinta scaled the side wall and slipped through a broken upper window.
Bimo vanished around the rear loading dock.
Rani moved through the side entrance.
Shoulders tense.
Breathing steady.
Arga walked to the front door.
No stealth.
No hurry.
He opened it himself.
Inside—
rows upon rows of boxes.
Fake MBG logos.
Stacked to the ceiling.
Enough to poison schools for days.
The smell hit first.
Rotten oil.
Burned sugar.
Chemical heat.
Wrong in every possible way.
Arga's eyes hardened.
"…burn the network."
The lights snapped on.
Three men stepped out between the stacks.
Not workers.
Not scared.
Waiting.
"You shouldn't be here."
Arga kept walking.
"Neither should these boxes."
They rushed him.
Mistake.
The first man swung wide.
Arga stepped inside the strike and drove a palm into his sternum.
THUD.
The body launched backward through cardboard towers.
The second reached into his jacket.
Bimo appeared beside him in a blur.
Hand twisted.
Weapon gone.
Man down.
The third charged Rani.
She flinched—
then remembered.
Breathed.
Centered.
Energy formed in her palms.
Stable.
Sharp.
Controlled.
CRACK.
He dropped where he stood.
Three enemies.
Three seconds.
Three breaths.
Finished.
Silence returned.
Sinta landed beside Arga.
"Clear."
Arga tore open a box.
Dark packets.
School routes.
Morning delivery schedules.
Names.
Ages.
Targets.
Rani stared.
"…they already chose them."
"Yes," Arga said.
"And now we choose back."
"Destroy everything."
They moved like a machine.
Boxes split.
Labels ripped.
Inventory crushed.
Routes erased.
Stacks collapsed one after another.
For one perfect moment—
control belonged to them.
Clap.
Slow.
Measured.
Cruel.
Everyone froze.
The man in the hat stood in the doorway.
Hands together.
Smile untouched.
"…excellent."
The temperature dropped.
Bimo groaned.
"…I knew this was too smooth."
Arga faced him.
No fear.
No hesitation.
"You're late."
The man's smile widened.
"…am I?"
He lifted one finger.
Every broken packet in the room began to shake.
Rani stepped back.
"…what did you do?"
The packets exploded.
A black cloud swallowed the warehouse.
Powder. Smoke. Corrupted energy.
It entered lungs.
Skin.
Thought.
Bimo dropped first, coughing violently.
Sinta hit one knee.
Rani's hands began shaking again.
Faster.
Harder.
Worse.
The cloud wasn't poison.
It was collapse.
It turned discipline into panic.
Balance into violence.
Control into fear.
And it was everywhere.
The man in the hat walked through it untouched.
"You came to destroy supply."
A pause.
"…so I delivered it directly to you."
Arga felt it claw into his chest.
Noise.
Pressure.
Fragments of rage trying to rip his rhythm apart.
His vision blurred.
The room bent.
Voices stretched.
Then he heard them.
Bimo choking.
Rani breaking.
Sinta forcing herself to stand.
His team.
Something inside him went cold.
He inhaled.
Once.
Deep.
Absolute.
The energy in his body did not surge.
It descended.
Heavy.
Precise.
Unavoidable.
The air changed.
Dust froze mid-fall.
Loose metal stopped rattling.
The black cloud slowed.
Then stalled.
The pressure dropped.
Bimo dragged in clean air.
Sinta lifted her head.
Rani's trembling weakened.
The cloud bent away from Arga.
As if reality itself refused to cross his space.
The man in the hat stopped smiling.
"…there you are."
Arga raised his eyes.
Cold.
Still.
Merciless.
Everything unstable in the room folded inward.
Compressed.
Contained.
Held.
No explosion.
No chaos.
No escape.
Only silence.
Sinta whispered,
"…Arga…"
His answer came like steel.
"I decide what moves."
The man in the hat stared at him.
Studying.
Hungry.
Satisfied.
Then he laughed softly.
"…perfect."
He stepped backward into darkness.
"Phase Two confirmed."
And vanished.
The pressure released.
The room breathed again.
No one moved.
Because what they had just seen was bigger than victory.
Bimo spoke first.
Voice shaking.
"…okay."
A pause.
"…that was terrifying."
Rani looked at Arga like she was seeing someone new.
Someone stronger.
Someone farther away.
Sinta stepped closer.
"…you controlled the whole room."
Arga looked at his hand.
Opened it.
Closed it.
No tremor.
No strain.
Pak Rahmat entered through the broken entrance.
One glance was enough.
"…so it awakened."
No one asked what.
They all felt it.
Arga opened his lunch box.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Seven grains glowed inside.
Brighter than ever.
Perfectly synchronized.
But Arga barely looked at them.
His eyes stayed on the doorway.
Where the man had disappeared.
"…next time…"
The warehouse fell silent again.
His voice dropped colder than the night outside.
"…he doesn't leave breathing."