The Record of Orc Civilization - Chapter 435: The Hall of the Five Sovereigns

The air caught in Diru’s throat. His heart hammered against his ribs. Before him, five titanic statues towered in a semi-circular formation, carved with such vivid detail it felt as if the gods of war themselves had been frozen into stone.

Yudhistira the Puntadewa: Positioned at the dead center, this statue radiated an aura that weighed upon the soul rather than the body. His face was carved with a “lethal gentleness”—a look known as luruh. His eyes were half-lidded, gazing downward with the compassion and absolute resolve of a just sovereign. There was no anger on his face, and that was precisely what made him so terrifying.

He wore the Gelung Supit Urang crown, simple yet majestic. His warrior robes were carved to flow seamlessly, as if untouched by worldly winds, and a mystical necklace glowed faintly upon his chest. His hands held no sword; instead, he clutched a sacred scroll before his chest—the Jamus Kalimasada. That scripture symbolized that his greatest power was law and reality itself. Diru recalled the legends of Moku using this very book to defeat a high-tier Demon. The statue stood perfectly straight, feet together; his posture was passive, radiating absolute peace in the eye of a slaughterous storm, demanding that all who looked upon him fall to their knees in submission.

Bima the Werkudara Standing to the right of Yudhistira, this titan was the manifestation of pure, unadulterated physical brutality. His face was a mask of ferocity, defined by wide, piercing bulging eyes and a thick, horizontal mustache. His lips pulled back in a slight snarl, revealing the primal savagery of an apex predator hungry for slaughter.

He wore neither chest armor nor a crown; instead, his hair was bound in a high, intricate bun. Wrapped around his waist was a heavy poleng bang bintulu—a checkered cloth of red, white, and black—symbolizing the eternal balance between creation and destruction. In his right hand, he hoisted a serrated mace the size of a mountain: the Gada Rujakpolo. His left hand was thrust forward, displaying the Kuku Pancanaka—thumb claws curved like butcher’s knives, weapons destined to tear the throats from the gods themselves.

It was said that Moku’s Dawnshadow Blade shared traits with these claws, though without the power of a Vivid Dream, its strength paled in comparison to the legendary original. Goku, however, in his Vivid Dream state, preferred the Gada Rujakpolo; a single swing was capable of shattering any defense, perfectly attuned to his relentless, berserker combat style. The statue stood in a wide, aggressive stance, leaning forward as if ready to leap from its pedestal at any moment to pulverize anyone daring to challenge Wilwatikta.

Arjuna the Janaka To Yudhistira’s left stood the very definition of lethal precision. His face was peerless—handsome, serene, and cold. His gaze was fixed straight ahead with the absolute focus of an eagle locking onto prey from thousands of miles away.

He wore a breastplate embossed with jasmine reliefs. Upon his back was the Prabha, a divine aureola carved like wings of light that signified his status as a legendary kshatriya. His hands pulled a massive bowstring to its limit. Set upon the bow was the Pasopati Arrow, a celestial projectile whose tip was carved to radiate a frozen spark of lightning. Diru had once seen Mige use this arrow to strike down enemies from a distance that spanned the entire Bitter Maja. The statue stood in profile, its posture elegant and flawless. Every stone muscle in his arms was taut, freezing the split-second before the herald of death was released.

Nakula the Blade of Lightning Positioned at the edge of the formation, this statue represented tactical brilliance and extreme agility. His face was sharp and vigilant; if Arjuna was the calm, Nakula was the strike of a lightning storm. He wore a spiked jamang crown and intricate ear ornaments known as sumping. His armor was light and minimalist, designed to highlight his lithe, coiled musculature.

He wielded a pair of shimmering twin blades, the Tirta Manik Swords, their edges curved like the fangs of a dragon. Diru had heard that when Swa utilized his Vivid Dream, he could flicker in and out of existence like a shadow; a single stroke of his blade could decapitate an enemy commander before they even realized he was there. His posture was dynamic—one leg raised, body twisting low in a dance of death, evading an imaginary strike while simultaneously slicing through an opponent’s throat.

Sadewa the Seer of Destiny Standing symmetrically to Nakula at the opposite end to complete the phalanx, his face was identical to his twin’s, yet his eyes were carved to stare into the far distance—as if peering through the illusions of the future to find the enemy’s hidden weakness known as Aji Purnamajati. He wore light kshatriya armor similar to his brother’s.

His hands gripped a long, double-edged halberd. With the exception of Moku, Swa was a true anomaly in the use of Vivid Dream, for he could manifest more than one form. When his demeanor suddenly turned somber and his usual foolish grin vanished, Swa became someone else entirely. The Tirta Manik swords would vanish, replaced by this halberd. In those moments, the first-generation Asuras no longer called him Swa, but Laya—the name of Swa’s twin who fell in the battle against the two sorcerer brothers. Unlike Nakula’s offensive stance, Sadewa stood in a perfect defensive guard, his halberd crossed before him to create an impenetrable wall, ready to launch a fatal riposte.

However, as Diru tried to peer behind the five sovereigns, his body began to tremble. It wasn’t the five gods of war that made his Asura knees buckle—it was the figure looming beyond them.

Near behind the Pandava formation, rising from the darkness of the crater, stood a sixth statue. It was not carved from common basalt, but from pure obsidian that seemed to swallow the very light around it. As Diru stared, a terrifying resonance shook his Dragon Prana. The statue radiated an aura identical to their Ku; it felt as though he were staring at Moku himself, immortalized in a gargantuan form.

Gatotkaca the Engine of Doom. His face was the embodiment of terror. Small fangs protruded slightly from his lips—the mark of the ancient Rakshasa blood flowing through his divine veins. His eyes bulged with a savage glare, challenging the heavens and swallowing the earth.

Carved into his chest was the Kotang Antakusuma, a magical star-patterned armor that granted him immortality in the skies. From his back spanned a pair of Badong—mechanical wings of hardened carapaces resembling those of a giant bat, ready to shred the clouds. His head was protected by the Caping Basunanda combat helm.

This statue held no weapons, for his body was the weapon—”muscles of wire, bones of iron.” Both arms were carved with massive proportions, laced with bulging veins as hard as diamonds. It was known that when Moku invoked his Vivid Dream, he could wield the weapons of the other five statues at will.

The statue of Gatotkaca did not rest upon the ground. It was carved into the high cliffs at the back of the crater in a dive-bombing position. Both fists were pulled back behind his head, freezing the moment just before his strike would hit the earth and create an apocalyptic crater that would erase all of existence.

Diru stood in stunned silence, his breath trapped in his throat. He had often heard of the Pandavas’ grandeur, but only now, seeing it with his own eyes, did he truly understand the terrifying beauty and majesty of this place.

But he had no time to be transfixed. Though the flow of time in the Mind Realm differed vastly from reality, he knew that outside, his physical body was locked in a struggle for survival. The massive orb of light that would turn him to dust was drawing closer.

To awaken a Vivid Dream, an Asura must choose the vessel of their power. This was done by placing their soul’s imprint into one of these monolithic statues. But in truth, the Asura did not choose the statue; the statues chose the Asura.

Diru felt his soul being pulled toward one of the monuments. His feet moved without hesitation.