The central kitchen was alive again.
Machines restarted.
Steam rose.
Voices returned.
Metal clanged.
Orders were shouted.
Workers moved in perfect rhythm.
Everything looked normal.
But to Arga—
it felt like a graveyard pretending to breathe.
He stood in the middle of it all.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
The memory wouldn't leave.
The boy collapsing.
The shaking hands.
The breath that almost stopped.
Too slow.
Too late.
Again.
Slowly, Arga opened his lunch box.
Five grains.
Glowing.
Steady.
Alive.
Once, that light had felt like power.
Now—
it felt like a countdown.
"…still not enough," he said.
Sinta heard him.
She said nothing.
Because she understood.
Pak Rahmat stepped forward.
"There's something you need to see."
The tablet lit up.
A map of Indonesia.
Then the room froze.
Green lights.
Red lights.
Hundreds of them.
Blinking.
Spreading.
Breathing.
Like the country itself had become a battlefield.
"What do the colors mean?" Sinta asked.
"Green means stable zones," Pak Rahmat said.
"And red…"
His jaw tightened.
"…compromised."
Silence dropped over the room.
Heavy.
No one moved.
Pak Rahmat zoomed in.
"These aren't random incidents."
"They're targeting schools."
"They're poisoning trust."
He turned to them.
"If children stop believing in MBG…"
"…everything collapses."
Bu Maya's hands tightened at her side.
"…years of work," she whispered.
"…gone."
Bimo stared at the screen.
"There's too many…"
He was right.
Dozens.
No—
hundreds.
Across cities.
Across islands.
Across places they would never reach in time.
Arga felt his chest tighten.
"…we can't save all of them."
"No," Pak Rahmat said.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"…you can't."
The truth hit harder than any enemy ever had.
A sharp sound broke the silence.
BEEP.
A notification flashed across the screen.
URGENT INCIDENT REPORT
Location: Surabaya
Status: CRITICAL
Pak Rahmat opened it.
His expression changed instantly.
"…they hit another school."
Sinta stepped closer.
"How bad?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"Multiple students collapsed."
A pause.
"…some haven't woken up."
No one breathed.
Bimo's voice cracked.
"…we were too late."
Rani lowered her eyes.
"…again."
That word cut deeper than a scream.
Again.
Another notification.
Jakarta.
Another.
Bandung.
Another.
Makassar.
Then more.
More cities.
More red lights.
More failures.
"They're done testing," Sinta said quietly.
"They're trying to break everything."
Arga stared at the map.
Each red light felt personal.
A child they didn't reach.
A second they didn't have.
A life slipping away somewhere they couldn't see.
His breathing slowed.
One inhale.
One exhale.
Steady.
Cold.
Then he spoke.
"…then we stop reacting."
Everyone turned.
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
"…we cut them off before they move."
Pak Rahmat studied him.
Longer than before.
"…you've changed."
Arga didn't answer.
Because he had.
Another sound.
BEEP.
One red point began pulsing faster than all the others.
Brighter.
Closer.
Pak Rahmat zoomed in.
An address appeared.
Sinta leaned forward.
"…wait."
Bimo straightened.
"…that's…"
No one finished it.
They didn't need to.
Their school.
Everything stopped.
Arga felt it instantly.
Inside his bag—
the lunch box flared.
Heat shot through his body.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Commanding.
Not a warning.
A summons.
He closed his eyes.
The energy inside him rose—
then did something new.
It didn't explode.
It settled.
Then spread.
Invisible.
Silent.
Real.
The flickering lights above steadied.
The pressure in the room thinned.
Everyone felt it.
Sinta blinked.
"…what just happened?"
Bimo frowned.
"…why does it feel easier to breathe?"
Rani looked at her hands.
They had stopped shaking.
"…my control…"
Arga opened his eyes.
Calm.
Focused.
Different.
"I can feel all of it," he said quietly.
Not just his own power.
The fear in the room.
The unstable energy in their bodies.
The imbalance in the air.
Everything.
And for the first time—
he wasn't fighting against it.
He was holding it.
Guiding it.
Pak Rahmat's eyes narrowed.
"…so you reached it."
Arga looked at his own hand.
Slowly clenched it.
He understood now.
He wasn't just stabilizing one person anymore.
He could stabilize the field itself.
Not perfectly.
Not forever.
But enough.
Enough to change the outcome.
The pressure continued to drop.
Sinta rolled her shoulders.
"…I can move better."
Bimo grinned nervously.
"…okay… that's insane."
Rani exhaled.
"…I'm steady."
Arga looked at them.
"…stay close to me."
No one questioned him.
Because they had already felt the truth.
For the first time—
they weren't just allies.
They were connected.
Pak Rahmat nodded once.
"…then go."
No hesitation.
They moved.
Far away—
inside a dark room—
the man in the hat watched the same map.
That single red point burned bright.
Locked.
Waiting.
He smiled.
Slowly.
Certainly.
"Target confirmed."
Behind him—
screens lit up.
Vehicles deployed.
Units mobilized.
Not three.
Not five.
An army.
Back at the school—
the wind moved through empty corridors.
Lights flickered.
Classroom doors creaked open.
Then shadows appeared at the gate.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Still.
Waiting.
The battlefield had already begun.
Arga stepped forward.
At the front.
Not behind.
Not beside.
Leading.
His eyes sharpened.
Cold.
Certain.
"…this time…"
A pause.
"…we don't just survive."
The light inside his bag pulsed once.
Bright.
Violent.
Alive.
"…we take control."
And somewhere in the dark—
something answered.