The black car stopped in front of the school gate.
Its engine kept running.
A low hum lingered in the air—subtle, steady, wrong.
The kind of sound people noticed without knowing why.
Students nearby began glancing toward it.
"Uh... who are they?" Bimo whispered.
"I don't know," Arga replied.
But his body already knew.
Something was wrong.
Two men stepped out of the vehicle.
Gray jackets.
Caps pulled low.
Faces hidden beneath shadows.
The trunk opened.
Inside were several large metal containers.
Each one carried the same blue letters:
MBG.
Arga's chest tightened instantly.
Wrong.
Real MBG deliveries never arrived like this.
"Isn't lunch already over?" Sinta murmured.
"Yeah..."
One of the men lifted a container.
Too smooth.
Too careful.
Like someone trying not to attract attention while knowing everyone would notice anyway.
Arga took a step forward.
The energy inside him shifted.
Not warmth.
Heat.
Sharp.
Warning him.
Then he smelled it.
Not rice.
Not vegetables.
Something bitter.
Something rotten.
Something that wasn't food.
"Arga..." Sinta said quietly.
"You feel that too?"
He nodded.
"Don't get closer."
But it was already too late.
The container was placed near the canteen.
The lid opened—
just enough.
That was enough.
Students immediately gathered around it.
"Hey! More food!"
"No way, seriously?"
"Awesome!"
"Wait—" one of the men said quickly.
Too quickly.
Arga's eyes locked onto the container.
Every instinct inside him screamed the same warning.
Don't.
"Don't eat that," he said.
Bimo frowned.
"Why?"
Before Arga could answer, Sinta grabbed his arm.
"Look."
Arga followed her gaze.
The sticker.
MBG.
But something was off.
The rice logo was tilted.
The print quality was poor.
The blue color looked faded.
Fake.
Arga's voice dropped.
"That's not from our school."
Bimo swallowed.
"...So it's fake?"
Too late.
A younger student reached into the container and grabbed one of the meal packs.
Arga moved instantly.
"DON'T EAT THAT!"
The boy flinched.
But not enough.
He took a bite.
Silence spread through the crowd.
The boy frowned.
"...It tastes bitter."
Then he froze.
The meal slipped from his fingers.
His expression twisted.
"Hey...?"
His hand began to tremble.
Then his knees buckled.
THUD.
He hit the ground hard.
Gasps erupted around them.
Someone screamed.
The world seemed to snap into focus.
Arga's vision sharpened.
Too sharp.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
"What's happening?!" Bimo shouted.
Sinta dropped beside the boy immediately.
"Hey! Stay with me!"
The student's body trembled.
Not violently.
But unnaturally.
As if something inside him was fighting itself.
Arga stepped closer to the open container.
For a split second, he saw what was inside.
Not food.
Dark packages slick with oil.
Dry.
Lifeless.
His body reacted instantly.
The heat inside him surged—
then twisted.
Rejecting it.
"Stop! Don't eat it!" one of the men suddenly shouted.
"Maybe it's spoiled!"
Lies.
No one believed him.
Fear spread through the crowd like smoke.
Bimo's voice dropped to a whisper.
"...That's not food."
Sinta clenched her fists.
"They did this on purpose."
Arga looked toward the men.
And realized something.
They weren't watching the students.
They weren't watching the teachers.
They were watching him.
One of the men stepped forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Each step carried purpose.
Arga didn't move.
The energy inside him surged again.
Stronger than ever.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Fight.
Sinta stepped beside him.
"Arga..."
"Yeah."
"This is bad."
Bimo swallowed hard.
"...What do we do?"
Arga never took his eyes off the stranger.
"We stop them."
The man stopped several steps away.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"So."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"You reacted."
Arga's chest tightened.
The man's gaze dropped to the lunch box in Arga's hand.
"Good."
He looked back up.
"That means it's working."
Sinta froze.
"...What?"
The man tilted his head slightly.
"A contamination test."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
"We needed to observe the difference."
His eyes settled on Arga.
"And now we know."
Bimo stared at him.
"You did this on purpose?!"
The man's smile widened.
He raised one finger.
Not toward the fallen student.
Toward Arga.
"Between them..."
His eyes sharpened.
"...and you."
The sight of the boy lying on the ground snapped something inside Arga.
He moved.
Faster than ever before.
One second he was standing still.
The next—
his hand had grabbed the man's collar.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Sinta's eyes widened.
"Arga!"
But he didn't hear her.
The heat inside him exploded.
The stranger didn't resist.
He simply smiled.
"Unstable."
Then he moved.
Too fast.
His wrist twisted.
Arga's grip broke instantly.
Pain shot through his arm.
Sharp.
Real.
He staggered backward.
For the first time since everything began—
he felt outmatched.
The man stepped closer.
"You're not ready."
Arga tried to move again.
His body hesitated.
Not fear.
Instinct.
Danger.
Sinta grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"STOP!"
The stranger glanced at her.
Then at the fallen student.
"...Sufficient data."
He tapped his earpiece.
"Phase One complete."
The second man immediately closed the container.
Quick.
Efficient.
Practiced.
They turned and walked back toward the car.
No panic.
No urgency.
As if this—
was routine.
The engine roared.
The black vehicle pulled away.
Leaving behind silence.
And one student still lying on the ground.
Sinta knelt beside him again.
"He's breathing..."
Her voice trembled.
"...but weak."
Bimo's face had gone pale.
"They just poisoned him..."
Arga stood motionless.
His fists trembled.
Not from fear.
From rage.
Pure.
Burning.
He kept staring at the road long after the car disappeared.
The fallen student.
The fake food.
The stranger's smile.
They had tested children.
Like lab rats.
Something cold settled inside his chest.
For the first time since all of this began—
Arga wasn't afraid.
He was angry.
And somewhere deep inside him, the power awakened by the lunch box seemed to share that anger.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady.
"This isn't over."
This was no longer about strange lunches.
No longer about unexplained powers.
Someone had deliberately hurt a child.
And Arga knew one thing with absolute certainty.
This was war.