Everyone raised their cups high.
"To Garnolith!"
The festival lasted into the night. There was dancing, singing, and joy.
And above it all, the stars watched in silence—
as a new kingdom found peace and pride for the very first time.
10 days later.
It all started with a cart.
It was old. Its wheels creaked on the dirt road. But the merchant driving it wore a big smile. He had just come from a strange city deep in the forest—Garnolith.
In his cart were shiny stones, strong ropes, clean cloth, and bottles of mana water. Things you couldn't find in normal towns.
As he entered the border town of Bellen, people quickly gathered around him.
"Where did you get all this?" a woman asked.
The merchant grinned. "From Garnolith."
"Garnolith? Never heard of it."
"It's a city in the forest. Hidden. Big. Made of stone. Strong walls. Magic lights. And it's filled with people who used to be lizardmen."
The crowd gasped.
"Lizardmen? You mean the wild ones?"
"Not anymore," the merchant said proudly. "They've changed. They build, they trade. They follow a leader—some call him a golem-king. He has golden eyes."
People whispered.
The merchant told them more. About the great stone gates, guarded by giant golems. About the mana market. About a black and gold flag flying above the city.
"Impossible," one man muttered. "Lizardmen can't do that."
"They can now," the merchant replied.
The very next day, the story spread to another town. Then another.
More merchants came from Garnolith. Some brought gems, some brought herbs. All brought stories.
And soon, people in taverns and inns were talking.
"There's a stone kingdom deep in the forest."
"They say the king used to be a monster."
"No, he's a god! He speaks and the earth moves!"
Some believed. Some laughed. But no one stayed quiet.
In the port city of Vaelor, a bard sang in the streets:
> "Deep in trees where no sun gleams,
A stone king rose from dust and dreams.
With eyes of fire and heart so wide,
He made the forest his new pride."
Coins clinked in the bard's cup. People clapped. Children hummed the tune.
Garnolith had become a legend.
But legends don't always bring peace.
In dark corners of inns, strangers whispered:
"A city that strong? We should watch them."
"If he's a golem-king… is he even human?"
"What if he grows too powerful?"
The name "Jin" spread far and wide.
Some heard it with wonder.
Some heard it with fear.
And far away, in the mountains, a powerful figure opened an old map. Their finger landed on a name written with a shaky hand.
"So… the Stone King lives."
---
The name "Jin" traveled faster than the wind.
From mouth to ear.
From ear to heart.
From heart to song.
In every town, bards picked up the tale. They loved stories of magic, kings, and monsters turning noble.
One bard stood in a busy square, wearing a red cloak and holding a silver harp. He sang:
> "With arms of stone and burning light,
He built a home, he stood for right.
A god reborn, not born of man,
He carved a kingdom with his hand."
People cheered. Coins flew. Children shouted questions.
"Did he fight a thousand knights?"
"Did he crush a mountain?"
The bard smiled. "Of course. He fears no army. He speaks with trees. He sleeps beside mana beasts."
The stories weren't all true. But they were beautiful. And beauty spreads faster than truth.
Other bards joined in.
They told tales of Jin stopping storms, raising mountains, walking into volcanoes and walking out untouched.
In the cold northern city of Marrowind, a noblewoman heard the song and frowned.
"A god? Nonsense."
"But the people believe it," her servant whispered.
"Fools believe anything," she muttered. "Still… we must keep watch."
In another land, a high priest listened to a bard's song. His hands shook on his staff.
"A false god rises," he growled. "This must be stopped."
Back in Garnolith, Jin knew nothing of this.
He sat in his citadel, reading old runes. He shaped stone with his hands. He taught his people.
He didn't call himself a king. He didn't ask to be a god.
But the world gave him names anyway.
Some called him a hero.
Some called him a monster.
Some called him a god.
And soon, more than stories would arrive.
Footsteps.
Boots.
Eyes.
Adventurers were coming.
---
The sun was bright, and the wind was warm.
The gates of Garnolith stood high and proud.
One morning, five people stepped from the trees. Adventurers—strong people who hunted monsters, searched ruins, and chased legends.
There was a man with a giant axe.
A woman with twin swords.
A tall mage in red robes.
A short girl with a bow.
And a beastman with sharp claws and quiet eyes.
They stopped at the edge of the stone road.
"This is it," the axe man said. "Garnolith."
The girl with the bow gasped. "It's… beautiful."
Stone walls rose like mountains. Towers gleamed with golden tops. Carvings of lizardmen and golems covered the gates.
"This isn't a town," the mage whispered. "It's a kingdom."
Two stone golems guarded the gate, standing still as statues.
Then one moved. Its eyes lit up blue.
"Halt," it said in a deep voice. "State your name and purpose."
The adventurers looked at each other.
"Uh… just travelers," the axe man said. "We heard stories. We came to see."
"Do you seek trouble?" the golem asked.
"No! No trouble," said the bow girl quickly. "We want to trade… maybe stay."
The golem paused. Then stepped aside.
"Enter. Respect the laws of Garnolith."
The gates opened with a deep rumble.
Inside, the adventurers saw something unreal.
Stone houses in neat rows.
Clean streets.
Laughing children.
Lizardmen in armor.
Humans working side by side.
Magic lights hanging from tall poles.
They passed gardens with flowers and fruit trees.
They saw a great hall with black pillars and gold banners.
"Is this real?" the beastman whispered.
Soldiers trained in open fields. Golems built new towers. The city was alive.
"This place has power," the red mage said. "Power we don't understand."
From the top of the citadel, Jin watched them. Quiet. Calm. Knowing.
Many more would come.
With swords.
With questions.
With dreams.
The world was watching Garnolith now.
And Garnolith was watching back.
---
Jin stood on the highest tower of the city.
His golden eyes looked out across the forest.
The wind played with his long silver cape.
Below him, Garnolith thrived.
Lizardmen worked in the markets.
Humans trained in the fields.
Children laughed in the gardens.
But beyond the trees, the world whispered.
"The Stone King."
"The Golem God."
"A monster in the forest."
"A god among beasts."
Every day, the stories grew.
Some admired him.
"He saved monsters."
"He built peace."
"He rules with kindness."
Others feared him.
"No one should have that power."
"He's a threat to all kingdoms."
"What if he wants more?"
In royal courts, nobles argued.
"Let him be," said one.
"Trade with him," said another.
"No—destroy him before he grows stronger," warned a third.
In shadows, kings gave orders.
"Send spies."
"Watch the Stone King."
"Find his weakness."
But Jin didn't care about titles.
He didn't want war. He didn't want fame.
He only wanted one thing: a home.
A place where his people could live in peace.
Still, he could feel it—something was coming.
That night, under the moonlight, Jin sat alone in the citadel. His hand rested on a stone table.
He looked up at the stars.
"I didn't ask for fame," he whispered.
"But I will protect this place."
He turned toward the banner behind him—black stone, golden crest.
"Let them come," he said.
"Let the world watch."
"I will not bow. I will not fall."