Chapter Three:Trial at the Stone Gtate

The sun was slipping fast behind the jungle canopy, bleeding gold into the misty sky as Budin scaled the cliffs.

Each breath burned. His fingers were raw from clawing into stone and vine. Below him, the jungle waited, dark and ancient—its silence thick, like something holding its breath.

> "Reach the stone gate before sunset… or the forest will take you."

Rania's warning echoed again, more like a prophecy than advice.

He hoisted himself over the final ledge and rolled onto the mossy summit. There, in the fading light, stood Batu Gerbang—the Stone Gate.

It was massive, carved from dark granite, etched with ancient jawi script and snarling tiger faces. Vines twisted along its edges, but nothing could hide its power. It pulsed faintly, as if alive, waiting.

As Budin stepped forward, the wind stopped.

The forest held its breath.

Then, with a crunch of leaves, something moved.

A great shape emerged from the jungle's edge—part smoke, part stone. Its body was wide and humanoid, but its head was a beast's: tusked like a boar, glowing eyes of green fire, and limbs covered in vine-like veins.

It spoke in a language older than thunder:

"Only those who carry strength of both body and soul may pass.

Show me your spirit. Show me your silat."

The guardian's foot slammed the ground. The earth shuddered.

Budin lowered himself into stance. Silat Harimau—tiger form.

The guardian charged.

What followed was not a fight. It was a dance—thunder and lightning.

The guardian struck with arms like tree trunks, crashing into the ground with brutal force. Budin ducked low, rolled to the side, striking with elbows and knees. But the beast didn't bleed. It didn't even grunt.

"Your form is skilled," it growled, "but your spirit is unfocused."

Budin panted, stumbling back. This isn't working.

Then—he remembered.

His father's voice in the old hut, years ago:

"Silat isn't just motion. It's Intention. You must know why you fight."

Budin closed his eyes for a heartbeat. Why was he here?

He saw his father, vanishing into the jungle years ago. He saw Mak Bidah's tired hands. He saw Sari's eyes when he left. He saw the dream—not of power, but of protection.

And that was when the keris began to hum.

Wrapped in cloth, hidden on his belt—it trembled.

Budin ripped the cloth off. The blade shone faintly silver, etched with glowing jawi runes: "Blood and Shadow. Legacy and Spirit."

Budin surged forward with new power.

He leapt—not like a boy, but like a tiger mid-pounce—slamming his palm into the guardian's chest.

The creature staggered.

Then… bowed.

"You carry fire, Child of Soul Warrior.

Pass."

And with a groan like stone waking from sleep, the gate opened.