Capital of Wilwatikta, Bitter Maja

The Kingdom of Wilwatikta had undergone a staggering transformation since the integration of mana-organ technology. Although R-18 had long researched ways to harness these organs for their civilization, it was only after the awakening of the Vivid Dream that such advancements could reach every corner of the realm.

The ability of a Vivid Dream to replicate mana organs meant that Wilwatikta never had to worry about resource depletion. Moku had adapted the concepts of subways and highways from his past memories. Instead of random cavern tunnels, Capital’s main arteries were built in concentric, vertically layered rings, connected by broad underpasses paved and hardened with stone. These underpasses served as primary logistics routes and tactical camouflage zones, designed to trap enemies should the surface defenses ever be breached.

The citizens no longer lived in squalid caves. The "burrows"—the subterranean dwellings of Wilwatikta—were organized into blocks resembling Brutalist-style apartment complexes. The outer walls were forged from a mixture of earth, stone, and the hardening secretions of earth-boring monsters. Every block was interconnected, not merely for socialization, but to create a lethal network of crossfire zones in the event of an invasion.

Massive ventilation ducts were fitted with the lung organs of ice or wind-element mutated beasts. These artificial lungs pulsed and throbbed rhythmically, exhaling fresh, cool air throughout the burrows. Inside the homes, stoves no longer required firewood. Instead, stone tables featured central cavities where the fire glands of mutated salamanders were implanted; a simple flick of a lever stimulated the organ to produce a steady flame. In the corners of the rooms, thick-walled stone boxes housed ice glands, functioning as biological refrigerators to preserve meat.

Moku had also prioritized modern sanitation. He utilized the giant smooth muscles of worm-like mutated beasts as living, slow-pulsing water pumps, siphoning clean groundwater into the burrows and vacuuming waste out through drainage tunnels toward underground rivers. Anyone walking through Wilwatikta today would hear a low, constant hum—not from engines or electricity, but from the collective pulse of millions of artificial organs breathing, pumping, and glowing.

Yet from the surface, Bitter Maja looked exactly like a primordial rainforest—a rain forest wilderness untouched by civilization. Titanic trees with buttress roots towered dozens of meters high, their canopies choking out the sunlight, while silt-brown rivers teemed with predators. There were no castle walls, no watchtowers, and no wheat fields. It was absolute camouflage.

The entrances to Wilwatikta were hidden behind artificial waterfalls, within the hollowed trunks of giant ulin trees, or beneath dense networks of hanging roots. An invading army could march for weeks across the soil of Bitter Maja without ever realizing that just a few hundred meters beneath their boots, a monstrous metropolis was throbbing with life.

In the heart of this hidden world, a massive rectangular structure stood out—not because of its shape, but because it hovered above everything else, providing a bird’s-eye view of the flickering biological neon lights from the underpasses and burrow blocks below. There were no grueling staircases here; to reach the heights, residents used a biological elevator system. A circular cabin was tethered to the "esophagus" of a gargantuan mutated beast, an organ both incredibly elastic and strong. With biological electrical stimulation, the shaft would contract through peristaltic movement, smoothly pulling the room-capsule upward through the stalactites in total silence.

The floors of this building were made of obsidian, polished with acid secretions until they reflected shadows like luxury marble. There were no smoky torches. The walls were embedded with bioluminescent veins whose intensity could be adjusted—from a bright white for reading to a warm yellow for relaxation—simply by channeling a trace of Dragon Prana into the walls through biological switches.

This was the most sacred and vital location in the kingdom: The Ku’s Palace, the residence of Moku and his family. Unlike the noisy, humid lower districts, the rooms here were perfectly soundproofed thanks to layers of organic sponge within the stone walls. The temperature was maintained at a crisp 22 degrees Celsius by giant "ice lungs" purring softly in the rooftop vents. It was in the center of this room, atop a carpet of the rarest monster fur, that Moku sat cross-legged in absolute silence.

As was often the case, he had no master to guide his power. Dealing with Sabdo Palon had proven far more difficult than dealing with Garuda. While Garuda was unfriendly and perpetually annoyed, the sovereign of the Mind Realm would at least answer Moku’s questions. In contrast, every time Moku questioned Sabdo Palon, he received only more questions in return. The guardian of the Spiritual Realm had a penchant for speaking in riddles that frequently made Moku grit his teeth in frustration.

Ultimately, he had to return to a process of trial and error to comprehend the power granted by the Spiritual Realm. Based on the number of seven chamber that he looks with his Inner Eyes, only one chamber of his Dragon Breath Cultivation remained unfilled by Dragon Prana. This meant only one final gate of evolution stood between him and becoming a perfect being who mastered the Astral, the Mind, and the Spiritual.

Through the Astral Realm, he had gained control over the physical body and biofield. Mastering the Mind Realm allowed him to manifest imagination into reality. What, then, would the Spiritual Realm provide? Did it pertain to the connection between souls?

Moku was plagued by confusion until he finally chose to stop actively seeking the power. He chose stillness, emptying his mind until he reached "point zero." Five months had passed, and he had yet to stir from his meditation. By now, his body no longer required food or sleep.

Moku knew time was running thin. He had to master the Spiritual Realm and once again become a shield for his people before their secrets were exposed—before the Demon race decided to discard them. Moku needed the power to stand against a Level 9 Constellation Mage.

But unfortunately, enlightenment has never cared how fast time is chasing you.

Moku knew he had to be patient. He would find the answer. There was no use in rushing. He had to be confident in himself and what he would risk for this.

Until Sabdo Palon’s words suddenly reappeared in his mind.

"...The process of ascending the evolutionary ladder isn’t a transformation—it’s a return to their original form of creation. The purest form, the one closest to the Supreme Creator."