Near the northern border of Korasium, hidden among thick forests and rolling hills, lay a small village called Elora Hamlet. Shielded from the chaos of war beyond, the village thrived in peace. Green rice fields swayed with the wind, children ran along dirt paths, and laughter echoed from warm kitchens.
Among the villagers lived a boy named Bima, with an old man everyone knew as Pak Tanu. Their home was modest—straw-roofed, wooden walls weathered by time, with a small garden beside it full of herbs and vegetables.
To Bima, Pak Tanu was not just a guardian or caretaker. He was a father, a teacher, and the only family Bima had ever known.
"Pak Tanu, why is this flower planted in the corner?" Bima once asked, pointing at a pale purple blossom.
"That's a protection flower," Pak Tanu replied while trimming dried leaves. "Long ago, people said it could ward off evil spirits... and cure fever."
"Pak Tanu knows everything," Bima beamed with pride.
Pak Tanu sighed, looking at the boy with deep affection. "Because I've lived long enough to see many things, Bima. But you... you will see far more than I ever did."
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Though raised in a peaceful village, Bima was unlike the other children. He woke earlier, trained by cutting through fallen logs, crossing rocky streams, and climbing steep ridges surrounding the hamlet. No one forced him—his determination came from within.
"I want to be a general," he once said at night as they sat by a small fire.
Pak Tanu smiled, eyes reflecting the flames. "A general is not just about fighting. It's about responsibility, courage... and sometimes painful decisions."
Bima nodded, his face full of resolve. "I want to be a general who protects everyone. Even you, Pak Tanu."
Pak Tanu chuckled softly. "Then you must be stronger than you ever imagined. Because the world beyond... is not as kind as Elora Hamlet."
---
Every morning before the sun rose above the hills, Bima was already up. He brushed dew from leaves, washed his face in the cold river water, and checked his old rattan basket—his faithful companion on his herbal quests.
Pak Tanu had taught him the names of hidden plants, bitter roots that healed, and rare leaves growing on cliff edges.
"The best medicine is often found in the hardest places," Pak Tanu said one day. "And those who find it... must be more patient than soldiers, tougher than hunters."
Bima took those words to heart.
Day by day, his body grew used to the harsh terrain. He trekked over twisted roots, climbed slippery hills, and once continued even after being bitten by a small snake, treating himself with mamba leaves along the way.
By age twelve, Bima could carry a basket weighing 100 kilograms—filled with stones and herbs—on his back. He walked deep into the forest, sweat pouring, but his steps never faltered.
When he returned at dusk, villagers watched him in awe. But Bima only smiled, sat beside Pak Tanu, and began cleaning the plants he had gathered.
At night, under the starlit sky, he looked up in silence.
"Pak Tanu... if I'm this strong, can I become a general?"
Pak Tanu smiled, running a hand through Bima's sweat-damp hair.
"General Kael is great in battle and leads at the front lines. But do you know who draws the plans behind the scenes? Who knows when to strike and when to hold back?"
Bima's eyes lit up. "General Yuvan."
Pak Tanu nodded. "He's a brilliant general. He wins wars before a sword is ever drawn. He reads the enemy like an open book. If you wish to be like him, you must be more than strong... you must be sharp, patient, and able to read the world around you."
Bima gripped Pak Tanu's hand. "I'll learn. I want to be like General Yuvan. Not just strong... but smart."
Pak Tanu said nothing. He only watched the dancing flames, as if glimpsing a future yet to be written—a future where Bima stood tall on the battlefield, not as a boy from a remote hamlet, but as a light for a wounded land.