The next morning, sunlight streamed through the canopy of Everwood as the sound of hammers echoed across the clearing.
Itsuki stood before the rising frame of the banquet hall, directing groups of elves and beastkin. The skeleton of the structure was already taking form massive wooden beams locked together with iron joints, their size and polish a testimony to both Itsuki's Codex and the villagers' labor.
"Lift slowly! Balance on three!" he called.
Beastkin warriors strained with the weight of a massive crossbeam while elven builders guided the placement with ropes and ladders. Children ran errands, carrying pegs and tools. For once, Everwood wasn't simply surviving, it was creating.
Lyra, bow at her back, glanced up at him from the scaffolding. Her clan members worked nearby, cutting and smoothing planks. She caught his eye and smiled faintly, pride in her gaze. Though her clan had no ties to the distant Elf Queen, she clearly saw this place as theirs.
By midday, the hall began to resemble something more than timber and nails. Carved wolf motifs wound along the outer supports, honoring the beastkin who had already pledged loyalty. The inner walls bore leaves and vines, etched by elven hands. And in the center, Itsuki placed a massive hearthstone an anchor to symbolize unity.
[System Notice: Communal Project Advanced – Progress 65%.]
Itsuki exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. "This… this will be the heart of Everwood."
As if summoned by his words, the ground trembled faintly. At first, the villagers thought it was thunder but then came the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the grinding creak of wagons.
The dwarves had arrived.
They came not silently, but like an army. Massive boars clad in steel harnesses pulled blackened oak wagons, each wheel bound in iron. The banners of the Dwarven Kingdom two hammers crossed over a mountain snapped in the breeze. Warriors in chain and plate marched beside the convoy, their beards braided, their eyes sharp.
The villagers drew back instinctively. Even the beastkin, proud and broad-shouldered, muttered among themselves. Dwarves carried the air of stone itself—unyielding, immovable.
At the front rode the Dwarven King, Balgrum Stonevein, his armor inlaid with runes that glowed faintly like smoldering coals. His presence felt heavy, as though the earth itself leaned closer to listen.
He reined his boar to a stop before Itsuki. His dark eyes swept over the unfinished banquet hall, the walls, the gathered elves and beastkin… and finally rested on Itsuki himself.
"So. You are the one who dares build a kingdom in these wild woods," Balgrum rumbled. His voice was gravel and thunder.
Itsuki met his gaze evenly. "I am Itsuki. Welcome to Everwood."
The king's lips twitched—was it amusement, or disdain? "Hnh. Your tongue is polite. But I did not march through half a continent to taste words. A hall of wood is not enough to impress a king of stone."
The dwarves dismounted. Their master craftsmen, led by Gorrim Ironbinder—the famed smith of their forges—spread out, examining the settlement. They tapped walls, scrutinized the villagers' tools, even tested the soil by crumbling it in their palms.
One dwarf sneered openly. "Huts of timber, walls of logs… it would not last a season against dragonfire."
Another snorted. "A hall without stone is but a feast for termites."
The villagers stiffened, but Itsuki only raised his head. "Then watch, and judge with open eyes. Everwood is not finished—it is only beginning."
Balgrum's brow arched, and he waved his hand. "Show us, then. Not with boasting. With craft. With wisdom."
The test began.
Itsuki called forth the Codex and, before the dwarves' eyes, shaped a tool: a farming plow reinforced with steel, its edges sharp and smooth, designed for both durability and ease of use. He explained how it would allow even weaker villagers to till soil quickly, ensuring food through winter.
The dwarves muttered among themselves. Some looked unimpressed, tools were nothing compared to weapons, but others frowned thoughtfully at the elegance of the design.
Then Itsuki revealed a defensive weapon: a rifle, sleek and alien in their eyes. He fired once into a distant tree trunk the shot cracked like thunder, splitting the wood clean through.
Gasps rippled among the villagers. Even the dwarves' discipline faltered; their eyes widened, their hands instinctively going to their axes.
Balgrum's expression hardened. "A weapon that kills from afar. Dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous."
But beside him, Gorrim Ironbinder stepped forward. He took the rifle from Itsuki, weighing it in his thick hands, examining the strange construction with fascination.
"This balance… this mechanism… it is unlike any forge-work I have ever seen." His voice trembled with both respect and hunger. "Human… what fire tempers this steel? What art shapes these parts so fine?"
Itsuki met his awed gaze. "Not fire. Knowledge. I can teach, if there is trust."
For the first time, the king's stern mask cracked. He stroked his beard slowly, studying Itsuki not as a boy, but as something more.
"Hnh. You speak like a king, yet forge like a craftsman," Balgrum said at last. "Perhaps there is more to Everwood than timber after all."
That night, as torches lit the unfinished banquet hall, elves and beastkin whispered among themselves, still tense from the dwarves' arrival.
But in the shadows of the hall, Gorrim lingered beside Itsuki. His voice dropped low, meant only for him.
"If you'll permit it… I would remain. I and my apprentices. There is more to learn here than in any mountain forge. Perhaps… this Everwood is where stone and steel may grow beside root and leaf."
Itsuki looked at him, the firelight catching the reflection in his eyes. Slowly, he nodded. "Then stay. We'll build something greater together."
And as the night deepened, Itsuki realized: Everwood was no longer just a village. It was becoming a beacon, drawing kings and craftsmen alike, testing him, yes, but also binding themselves to the spark he had lit.