Bitter Maja, Capital City of the Wilwatikta Kingdom
The sun had only just begun its ascent over the horizon of Wilwatikta, yet the light that bathed the capital no longer felt like the same light from three months ago. There was a shift in the very air the inhabitants breathed. The heavy storm clouds had finally parted, and the damp, wintry chill of the rains had given way to a burgeoning warmth. The fog that once choked every inch of the Bog Forest was retreating back into hiding.
Along with the changing weather, the footsteps of the monsters emerging from their burrows sounded lighter, almost rhythmic. Neighbors greeted one another with genuine, warm smiles. In the wake of the bloody campaign against Furfur, Wilwatikta was no longer merely a collection of settlements for outcast races; it had transformed into a single, living organism.
The marketplaces were teeming with monsters who smiled freely, even as they spoke of mundane daily chores and trivial gossip. The Hobgoblins, once shadowed by perpetual gloom, no longer furrowed their brows when an Asura passed by. Druids no longer felt the need to walk in shame with their mutated animal forms; instead, they moved proudly through the crowds. Groups of monster children even flocked to them, staring in awe at the lingering scars marking their massive frames.
Tales of the epic battle to defend their home had become the centerpiece of every gathering. There was no longer a hint of conspiracy or discontent to be found—neither in the tone of their voices nor the depths of their gaze. A single, lethal war that had nearly claimed a quarter of their entire population had somehow forged a bond tighter than anyone thought possible. This was the true nature of monsters.
They breathed in a shared rhythm; a pulse tempered by the blood of fallen comrades and unified by the fierce pride of a species that refused to go extinct. Internal darkness—inter-racial suspicion, old grudges, and rigid castes—had been incinerated in the fires of war.
Yet, they knew the next great struggle loomed on the near horizon. The Demons would not leave them in peace. The death of Furfur and the total annihilation of the demonic host had turned Wilwatikta into a black sheep among a flock of white. Furthermore, the secret of their existence—as a species of Monster rather than Mana Species—was on the verge of being exposed. Soon, the entire world would become their enemy.
But not a single monster felt fear at the prospect. In fact, they welcomed it. They all held fast to Moku’s promise: that he would give them the chance to relish that great battle to their hearts’ content.
And Moku had offered no empty vows. The construction of the Nest of Calamity had already begun. Goblins and Hobgoblins poured every ounce of their ingenuity into the project. Every monster worked shoulder-to-shoulder, laying stone after stone for the foundation of the Altar of Evolution—the very gateway that would lead them to the promised war.
Yet, while the citizens of Wilwatikta rejoiced in anticipation, a heavy shroud of anxiety loomed over the kingdom’s high-ranking officials.
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Inside the throne room, the atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the tranquility outside. The vast hall, lined with pillars of black stone, felt cramped under a suffocating tension. The kingdom’s high-ranking officials were gathered, seated in rows to the left and right, flanking the throne at the center of the room. Moku sat upon his throne with a composed expression, his chin resting on one hand. In his lap, Nezena—pregnant once more—seemed drowsy, her eyes fluttering shut occasionally.
In the center of the room, Swa had just concluded his report. Although Wilwatikta was currently focused on the construction of the Nest of Calamity, they could not afford to be blind to the world beyond. The Intelligence Department led by Swa continued its work as usual, spreading its "threads" across every corner of the Bog Forest to monitor the movements of the Mana Species surrounding them.
"Repeat that once more," Boku growled. His back was rod-straight, his body leaning forward with eyes wide and piercing. His brow was furrowed with deep concern.
"The war has stopped, Boku," Swa’s voice rang out again, repeating the conclusion drawn from all the intelligence gathered by his scouts. His tone was flat, but to Boku, the words sounded like the whisper of wind through a graveyard.
"Reports from the northern and western borders confirm the same. Human blades and Demon fangs no longer clash. Stent Gaht’s forces have retreated to their fortresses, and Lucifer’s Legion has halted its invasion. Not only that, the war between the Demons and the Elves has also stopped. Their armies have pulled back a hundred kilometers; they face one another, yet not a single sword is drawn, nor a single spell cast."
Each official in the room racked their brain, searching for an explanation for what was truly happening. A ceasefire? An imminent clash between Level 9 entities about to erupt? Or perhaps both sides were preparing for a massive, coordinated strike? They entertained various wild possibilities simply to reject the one grim reality their logic was already whispering to them.
Ez, however, had no interest in imagination. The words that left his mouth were the bitter truth everyone was trying to deny.
"They are talking," Ez said. There was no strain in his voice, yet everyone who heard him felt the hair on their necks stand up.
The word ’talking’ fell like a bomb in the center of the room.
The Second Mana Species War was the largest conflict most of them had ever known; their parent had not even been born when the First Mana Species War took place. Nevertheless, Wilwatikta had studied the history of that first war through documents seized from captured Mages and looted books.
They were well aware that Wilwatikta would not last long if it interfered openly in the Mana Species War. Unfortunately, the Bog Forest they called home had become the primary theater of conflict. Humans and Elves used this vast forest as a shield against the Demon invasion to keep the war away from their own doorsteps. Consequently, Wilwatikta had been forced to get involved. The strategy they chose then was to build a grand lie: the construction of the West Fortress and the creation of a new Mana Species identity known as the Arion.
That false identity was their way of masking the truth—that they were not a Mana Species, but Monsters. By doing so, Wilwatikta could grow in the shadows of the slaughtering Mana Species. However, once the lie was exposed and the Mana Species stopped killing one another, the death warrant for the monster species was effectively signed.
"This makes no sense!" Nerphyl shouted. Her clenched fists trembled violently with a mixture of rage and dread. "How could Lucifer shake hands with the Mana Species of the Meer Continent, whom he has always viewed as nothing more than livestock for the Mana Demons? This has to be a trap!"
A sudden silence fell over the throne room. They knew that with Furfur’s previous surprise attack, their secret had been outed, and Lucifer would not remain idle. However, they had assumed only the Demon race would strike, while the other species remained in the dark.
The Second Mana Species War had raged for decades, claiming hundreds of millions of lives. Deep-seated grudges should have made unity impossible. Even the First War, which ended a century ago, had left behind a profound hatred between Humans and Elves.
This logic was why Wilwatikta’s leaders still fantasized that they would only have to fight one or two species. After all, Humans, Elves, and Warbeasts had long considered Wilwatikta to be the Arion Kingdom. Even when they had attacked humans, the damage Wilwatikta caused was relatively minor; they had only occupied the city of Heles and killed a few thousand Mages. The Human Alliance, with its hundreds of kingdoms and thousands of cities like Heles, should not have viewed that as an existential threat.
Even when Wilwatikta attacked, only the Valya Family—one of the five Mana Ruling Families—had intervened. Even then, it was a faction considered weak compared to the strength of the PSA faction currently controlling the Human Alliance. Combined with Ez’s good relations with Aquanorin and Princess Seraphina’s status as Moku’s secret wife, these facts made them feel they still had a "safe path."
"It is not a trap," interrupted Ez, his voice trembling. "This is the logic of predators. They have realized that there are beings other than the Mana Species growing as strong as them at an irrational speed. They have realized we are no longer mere pests to be ignored. They are uniting... to ensure we never see the sun of next year."
The throne room erupted into chaos. Heated debates broke out; the scent of cold sweat and unstable mana circulation filled the air. Anxiety began to haunt them. These leaders did not fear death, but the burden on their shoulders was immense. A single mistake in a decision born in this throne room would mean the destruction of the Wilwatikta Kingdom and the extinction of their species. In this situation, no caution was considered excessive, and no anxiety was deemed trivial.