The sun rose, casting its golden light across the world of Uranion.
In the terraced rice hills of Wanasura Village, chickens clucked to greet the morning. A few local farmers approached their fields, only to freeze in surprise when they discovered that one of their plots had been damaged. Small footprints marked the soil—clearly belonging to a ten-year-old boy. The farmers were familiar with those footprints. They knew exactly who the culprit was.
Wanasura was home to warm and friendly people. Most of its residents were farmers, blessed by the fertile hills they inhabited. Outsiders were often welcomed with kind greetings. This peaceful village was Sancaka's homeland.
The two boys raced toward school, carrying bags filled with books and writing tools. When they reached the wooden school building, Sancaka jumped up and down in celebration of his victory. Behind him, Gatot walked slowly, exhausted from trying to keep up.
"I'm tired," Gatot said, catching his breath. "Why do we have to run every time we go to school?"
"So we won't be late. And it counts as exercise," Sancaka replied.
"But we leave before sunrise. There's no way we'd be late," Gatot protested. "And why do we even need exercise?"
"So we can grow strong and stay motivated to become Dharma," Sancaka answered proudly.
"Unbelievable… you really never change. Always this energetic in the morning," Gatot sighed.
They entered the wooden classroom, where their teacher was already waiting. As they stepped inside, Sancaka and Gatot realized their sandals were dirty—likely from cutting across the rice fields, leaving them covered in mud.
The teacher noticed their muddy footprints and told them to clean their footwear before joining the lesson. Using fallen leaves from a nearby tree, they wiped their sandals clean before returning inside.
Sancaka and Gatot always sat at the very front. They joked and chatted before the other students arrived. Today, Gatot excitedly discussed the story of Iron Skies—a fictional tale about a group of heroes piloting giant iron constructs to save the world.
Gatot was an avid fan of Iron Skies. He read every new volume the moment it was released. If he had enough gold, he would buy an entire bundle. If his savings were thin, he would settle for just one book. He also collected shadow puppets based on the series and kept them proudly at home.
Gatot loved reviewing and retelling the stories he read. Sancaka listened while casually sketching on his empty slate, occasionally glancing at his friend who spoke with such passion. Truthfully, Sancaka didn't fully understand the discussions and had never read the series himself. Still, he nodded along as if he did. He listened mostly out of kindness—few others had the patience to hear Gatot talk endlessly about his favorite tales.
"Wasn't it amazing when Iron Skies fought the giant dragon?" Gatot said excitedly.
"Yeah, that sounds incredible. Now I'm curious about the next chapter," Sancaka replied, still staring at his drawing.
Gatot narrowed his eyes. "Were you even listening? You were busy drawing."
"I listened to everything while drawing. No need to get mad," Sancaka said with a grin.
"Just admit you weren't listening!" Gatot grumbled, lightly punching his shoulder.
"Ow! I really was!" Sancaka laughed, amused by Gatot's serious expression.
"You should pay attention when someone's talking…" Gatot began lecturing.
Sancaka loved to joke, while Gatot took nearly everything seriously. Because of that, Gatot rarely laughed and often slipped into giving advice. Yet somehow, Sancaka still felt happy having a friend like him.
When all the students had arrived, the lesson began. Today's subject was history. The teacher wrote on the stone board with chalk. Gatot diligently took notes, carefully recording and reviewing every explanation.
Sancaka, meanwhile, simply listened—though he often forgot what was just taught because he rarely wrote anything down. Soon, he found himself sketching again. The teacher noticed.
"As I explained earlier, during the war when the Kurawa and the dragons attempted to attack Jayakarsa City, which force stepped in to defend it?" The teacher looked directly at Sancaka, who was still drawing. "Sancaka, please answer."
Startled, Sancaka looked up. He had no idea what the correct answer was. "The Lutung Troops, ma'am?"
"Incorrect. The correct answer is the Dharma forces," the teacher replied sternly. "Pay attention to the lesson. Write down what I explain. Do not draw while I am teaching."
"Yes, ma'am," Sancaka said, quickly putting his slate into his bag and opening his notebook to begin writing.
"Hey, Sancaka, the Lutung Troops weren't even involved in the Jayakarsa war," Gatot whispered.
"I know. I was just pretending not to remember," Sancaka replied casually.
After three hours of indoor lessons, the students had a thirty-minute break before physical training began in the schoolyard.
All the students gathered on a wide, open field—an area deliberately left unused by farmers. It served as a training ground for physical conditioning, sword practice, archery, and sports. The teacher instructed them to run laps as a warm-up.
Everyone began running, including Sancaka and Gatot. They started side by side but gradually separated. Up ahead, Sancaka glanced back and saw Gatot collapsed on the ground. Other students simply ran past him. Sancaka immediately turned back.
He had predicted this would happen. Gatot was never good at physical activities, though he excelled in classroom subjects like languages, history, and mathematics. Sancaka, on the other hand, thrived in physical training.
"Gatot, are you okay?" Sancaka asked, kneeling beside him. Sweat drenched Gatot's body. "Come on, give me your hand."
"I'm tired," Gatot muttered weakly, still lying on the ground. "You go ahead… I don't feel like exercising anymore."
Without another word, Sancaka turned around and crouched. He told Gatot to climb onto his back. Gatot refused at first, not wanting to be a burden—but Sancaka insisted until he finally gave in.
Sancaka ran another full lap carrying his friend. After completing the lap, they rested with the others, sitting in a circle on the ground. Eight students formed the circle, and in the center sat a clay jug filled with water and several cups.
Knowing Gatot would be too exhausted to move, Sancaka poured water for him.
"Here, this is for you," Sancaka said, handing him a cup.
Gatot looked at him holding two cups and took one. He drank quickly.
"Don't gulp it down," Sancaka warned. "You'll choke."
"I'm so tired… I don't want to exercise anymore," Gatot said, lying flat on the ground.
"That was just the warm-up. You have to stay motivated if you want to join the Dharma forces," Sancaka said.
"I don't think I can continue…"
"That's why you need to exercise more and eat vegetables. Stop reading books all the time. To become Dharma, you have to be strong and active—like me."
From across the field, the teacher shouted instructions for sword training. Students were told to find partners. As usual, Sancaka and Gatot paired up.
They had always partnered together. Their "team" began years ago when Gatot struggled to find someone willing to work with him. Only Sancaka had stepped forward. Since then, they had grown inseparable—sharing stories and helping one another.
On the field, each pair stood at a distance from the others to avoid collisions. Wooden practice swords and archery equipment were provided by the school. In the center of the field, Sancaka and Gatot stood ready with their wooden swords.
Before beginning, Sancaka noticed Gatot's stance was wrong.
"Your footing is incorrect. And you're holding the sword the wrong way," Sancaka said.
"Really? I memorized the theory. I should know this," Gatot muttered, adjusting awkwardly.
Sancaka stepped closer, correcting Gatot's hand and foot positions. Once finished, they began.
"Get ready, Gatot. I'm attacking."
Sancaka lunged forward. Gatot attempted to defend—but Sancaka struck his stomach.
"Your defense is still wrong. Let's repeat it," Sancaka said firmly. "We'll keep practicing until we're chosen to become Dharma."