This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange - Chapter 808: 808: Me? A God?

Chapter 808: Chapter 808: Me? A God?

His narrowed gaze shifted eastward, toward the boundary of the World Tree’s territory. Something new caught his eye—a distant glimmer beyond the immediate glade. Channelling spiritual power into his eyes, he enhanced his vision, zooming in like a hawk. There, at the edge, rose a fledgling city or town under construction.

Crude yet sturdy structures of stone and wood dotted the landscape, built into a gentle hillside for natural fortification. Smoke curled from forges, and the faint clang of hammers echoed across the distance. Dwarven figures bustled about, their stout forms hauling materials and shaping foundations. Kain marveled at the rapid progress; Pangea’s accelerated time flow—days here equating to hours outside—had allowed the dwarves to advance from beings with childlike minds, to skilled builders in what felt like mere weeks to him but had been months, to maybe even years, for them.

Sensing his arrival, Bai Lian approached, her figure covered in a robe woven from vine-thread and translucent silk, her now golden-green eyes (so different from their original dark brow) glowing faintly as she smiled in welcome. The steward of the World Tree exuded an ancient calm, her pointed ears peeking through her hair. Noticing Kain’s gaze fixed on the distant settlement and the root in his hand, she tilted her head.

“You’ve returned at an opportune time. The dwarves have been remarkably productive and the mental maturation under the guidance of myself and the World Tree. Let me give you a tour of their emerging city.”

Kain hesitated, the root’s pulse urging him onward, but Bai Lian’s suggestion intrigued him. The dwarves’ rapid societal growth could offer insights into Pangea’s evolving dynamics and how the intelligent species he’d introduce later on may develop. Nodding, he pocketed the root and followed her eastward, the lush glade giving way to rolling hills carpeted in wildflowers and spiritual grasses that swayed in a gentle breeze.

As they neared the fledgling city, its details sharpened into focus. Nestled against a rocky hillside, the settlement was a harmonious blend of functionality and rustic charm, designed with dwarven ingenuity. Thick stone walls, etched with basic protective runes that glowed faintly, encircled the area, providing defense against potential threats from Pangea’s untamed wild spiritual creatures. Wide dirt paths, soon to be paved with cobblestones, wound through the layout, leading to communal halls with thatched roofs supported by sturdy timber beams. Forges dominated one quarter, their chimneys belching smoke as hammers rang against anvils, crafting tools, weapons, and ornaments from the ores they’d mined. Living quarters were burrowed into the hillside, cave-like homes with rounded entrances framed by carved stone arches depicting hammers and anvils—early symbols of their cultural identity.

Underground tunnels hinted at expansive mining operations below, with carts rumbling along tracks laden with glittering ore. Communal ovens baked hearty loaves, filling the air with the scent of fresh bread mingled with earth and molten metal. Simple banners fluttered from poles, embroidered with motifs of crossed picks and glowing forges, fluttering in the wind like proud declarations of independence.

The city was small—perhaps a few dozen structures—but alive with activity, dwarves of varying ages working in unison, their stout bodies clad in simple tunics and aprons stained with sweat and soot.

Kain’s eyes widened at the sight of population growth; due to Pangea’s faster time, several dwarves carried bundled infants or tended to toddling children, who played with wooden tools mimicking their parents’ work. Families worked side by side, passing knowledge through demonstration, the young ones hammering small stones or sorting pebbles with earnest concentration. It was a thriving community, born from his creation, expanding naturally through births that drew from the Soul Pool.

As they entered, Kain noticed the accommodations: every doorway and entrance was unusually tall and wide for dwarven proportions, easily allowing his and Bai Lian’s taller frames to pass without even needing to duck down.

Peering into an open home, he saw sturdy furniture—low tables and benches carved from rich wood—but at the head of each dining table stood an unused, larger chair, ornately carved with extra care and too large for even the biggest dwarves to sit on comfortably. It was clearly ceremonial, reserved for a figure of reverence.

Bai Lian caught his observation and smiled softly. “Apparently, they remember their birth in fragments—the Cradle, the light of their awakening. They vaguely remember you as their creator, the one who breathed life into them. To them, I’m your messenger, the steward who guides in your absence. Out of respect, they’ve designed everything to accommodate us; no home is built without space for you to enter comfortably. That chair is largely ceremonial unless you were to actually enter their homes—a seat always kept empty, symbolizing your presence at their hearths and even toast to it before beginning any of their meals.”

Although young as a society, the dwarves were forging customs: communal gatherings where elders (though none were truly old yet) shared tales of their “awakening,” rituals honouring the World Tree as their great protector with offerings of crafted trinkets placed at its roots. Basic guilds formed around mining and forging, with apprenticeships passed down. Kain overheard rhythmic chants praising diligence and loyalty, early songs that wove themes of earth and creation into their budding culture.

Bai Lian noted softly that their reverence for Kain was deepening; soon, it might crystallize into a religion, with him at the center as a deity, potentially leading to temples or shrines in his honor.

As they walked the paths, the dwarves’ reactions confirmed it. Every stout figure stopped in awe, eyes sparkling with unbridled reverence. A blacksmith paused mid-hammer, dropping to one knee in a deep bow; a mother with a babe in her arms prostrated gently on the ground, murmuring thanks in their developing tongue—a guttural yet melodic language blending ancient dwarven roots with one of the languages from Earth taught to them by the World Tree using the Earth’s absorbed inheritance. Others offered small gifts: a polished stone etched with a hammer symbol, a fresh lump of ore gleaming from being polished. They treated Kain like a visiting god, their faces alight with joy and humility, bowing or prostrating without hesitation.

Kain reflected on this rapid evolution, a mix of pride swelling in his chest at their loyalty and productivity, tempered by responsibility and a touch of unease at suddenly being deified.

He appreciated how they’d transformed barren land into a vibrant hub, but pondered the long-term implications—how their growth might shape Pangea’s ecosystem, and his role as overseer. Would other races he created revere him similarly? Could this lead to conflicts? Wars over faith?

After the tour, Kain and Bai Lian returned to the World Tree’s clearing, the lush surroundings enveloping them once more. Satisfied with the dwarves’ progress, Kain retrieved the dried-up root, its brittle form warming slightly in his palm. As he held it near the Tree’s trunk, it began to pulse faintly, syncing with the ancient heartbeat emanating from the bark. Bai Lian’s eyes widened as the World Tree presumably communicated with her.