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Sillan blinked upon seeing Iniya.

‘Ah, that must be the new Elf leader, right?’

As expected of an Elf, she was an extraordinary beauty. Since she had become a new member of the Duchy, he thought it would be proper to greet her, so Sillan approached Iniya cheerfully.

“Hello?”

Iniya’s expression turned ferociously hostile. What was this boy, who looked disgustingly feminine despite being a male?

Sillan flinched but continued his self-introduction.

“Uh, I am Sillan, a servant of Philanence…”

The moment she heard the name, Iniya’s gaze became even sharper.

Nodding her head, she scrutinized Sillan from head to toe without responding. Then, with an expression that seemed to understand something, she coldly opened her mouth.

“I will not lose.”

“…Pardon?”

Iniya glared coldly at the bewildered Sillan. She had heard various stories among the Orc soldiers on her way to the Duchy, including rumors about this young saint.

‘This boy is the one who has captured Repenhardt’s attention…’

Before she knew it, she had naturally started addressing Repenhardt with an honorific.

Snorting, Iniya arrogantly turned her head.

“Hmph!”

She then walked to the other side of the corridor. Behind her, Sillan, who did not understand the situation, could only blink his eyes in confusion.

“…?”

* * *

Meanwhile, Guru Attila of the Trolls was rescuing his kin from across the continent and persuading the hidden tribes to migrate to the Duchy of Antares.

Of course, the persuasion was not easy. Trolls themselves knew best how humans valued them as precious monsters. Relocating their entire tribe to human lands was not an easy decision.

However, Attila’s words carried weight, as he had been rescuing Trolls and wandering the continent for a long time. The rumors of the Duchy of Antares also played a role in their decision.

Eventually, hundreds of Trolls living in small groups and avoiding human eyes migrated to the Gloten Mountain Range.

Another forest about 20 kilometers south of the Elven Forest.

There, about a hundred Trolls were diligently building their settlements. Three villages were already completed, and another one was steadily taking shape.

In the middle of the forest where the Trolls lived, there was a large clearing where dozens of dugout houses had already been completed. True to the traditional Troll architecture, these dugouts were about one meter deep, with low walls built up from the ground and roofs constructed on top, forming semi-underground houses.

Siris, wandering through the village, looked at the Troll houses with a surprised expression.

“Wow, the houses are really pretty!”

The dugouts were far from shabby. The walls were made of packed earth, the roofs were topped with baked tiles, and the interiors were adorned with all sorts of colorful ceramics. The outer walls and floors were covered with beautifully patterned tiles. The entire village was quaint and vibrant, like a collection of toys in various colors.

What was most surprising, however, was that all the windows were fitted with glass.

Glass was a rather expensive material, typically used only by great lords or royalty. Stained glass, which emerged due to the high cost of clear or colored glass, was a method where small glass pieces were assembled to form windows. While stained glass looked beautiful, it was primarily a way to economize on the otherwise costly transparent or colored glass.

“Even in the Duchy of Antares, buildings with glass windows are limited to the ducal palace or temples, but here everyone uses glass…” Siris marveled.

Repenhardt, walking beside her, responded nonchalantly, “Traditionally, Trolls have developed techniques for handling earth, and with their shamanic ability to transform geological components, glass manufacturing is not difficult for them.”

Though forgotten in modern times, just as Dwarven culture is synonymous with stone and iron, other races have their own unique cultures.

Elves are exceptionally skilled in weaving fabrics and crafting wooden artifacts.

The Orcs excel in tanning and leatherwork, surpassing all other races in this regard.

And the Trolls have a traditional culture of working with earth.

This stems from their shamanic culture that venerates the flow of nature.

While Elves are called children of the forest and spirits of the forest, Trolls are essentially the forest itself. Elves use trees only when it does not hinder the forest’s growth, but Trolls, who follow the flow of nature, do not cut down a single tree. If Elves are nature-friendly, Trolls are nature-assimilative.

Therefore, Trolls build their houses with earth, and most of their household items are made from fired pottery. Trolls’ pottery, ceramics, and glassware are so intricate and superior that they are incomparable to those made by humans.

Troll pottery, which preserves their primal senses and embraces nature, is considered astonishing art by other races, even if it is just a simple dish. There were even instances where pottery that Trolls had used as chamber pots flowed into the human world and was treated as treasure, being used as noble tableware.

“Humans believe they are the most civilized, but they have no idea how much outstanding art is hidden in the world they can’t see…”

Repenhardt murmured with a sigh as he continued walking. A few Trolls nodded lightly as they saw him. It was not unusual for Repenhardt to inspect the multiracial villages, so no one found it strange.

However, some Trolls—especially the women—watched Repenhardt’s group with considerable interest.

Although it was a routine inspection, today there was something different about him.

“The Duke is here?”

“Oh my, there’s a young lady with him today.”

“The Duke knows how to handle things, doesn’t he?”

Affairs of the heart always intrigued women, regardless of race.

The Troll women giggled as they looked at the beautiful Elf woman with purple hair who stood on Repenhardt’s left, opposite Siris.

This Elf woman kept clasping her hands and exclaiming in admiration every time Repenhardt explained something.

“Your knowledge is truly impressive. I am in awe.”

“Oh, um…”

Repenhardt stared blankly at the Elf woman, Iniya, who stood to his left.

He had been about to go on a routine inspection of the multiracial village with Siris, as usual. But then Iniya had suddenly appeared, pleading to accompany him. Her reason was that, as someone settling in this land, she needed to build a rapport with the neighbors.

Since it wasn’t an unusual request, Repenhardt readily allowed her to join. And so, they had come to the Troll village.

“Oh my, what is that?”

Iniya pointed to one side of the Troll village and asked, subtly linking her arm with Repenhardt’s. Through his arm, he could clearly feel her ample chest.

Blushing, Repenhardt stammered out a response.

“Oh, that is…”

There, a dozen Troll shamans were stomping on a large pit filled with clay.

The Troll gurus, called “earth kneaders,” continually worked the clay while singing traditional shamanic songs. The clay’s composition began to change, gradually turning gray.

Repenhardt, gently pulling his arm free, explained.

“It is called Opus Cementerium. It is a traditional building material that only trolls can make. The Cementerium, which is transformed with shamanic power, hardens like stone in a short time, so it is used to make the pillars of houses or altars. It’s quite a valuable item for trolls since only their shamans can make it like glass.”

Finishing his explanation, Repenhardt had a wistful expression.

The trolls’ shamanic technique of transforming the earth’s components might seem trivial, but it was a miracle impossible with the magic science of the current era.

The three great taboos: time, space, and matter.

Among them, the incredible technique of transforming matter itself was one of the significant contributors to his ascent to the 10th circle.

‘The spell I created by researching the trolls’ shamanic techniques and the underground sun Magrim was the Nuclear Burst. To transform elements so easily, it’s truly amazing.’

Well, the trolls were just doing it without understanding the theory.

Originally, shamanism was not systematized like magic, where the cause and process were identified; it only emphasized the act and the result, so even the shaman didn’t know why it worked that way.

“I see. It’s amazing how deeply you understand other races, Repenhardt-nim.”

Iniya nodded and praised him again, her eyes shining as she looked at him. Her attitude was so different from before.

“Just call me Repenhardt, Iniya.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m calling you that because I want to.”

It seemed she was determined to stick with that form of address. Why was she doing this when she never used honorifics even when he became the emperor in his past life?

Repenhardt scratched his cheek, thinking that her personality had changed quite a bit because of his time regression.

‘This is really hard to get used to.’

In another situation, he might have wondered, ‘Does this girl have feelings for me?’ But Repenhardt couldn’t even entertain such a thought. The cold treatment from his past life was deeply ingrained in his memory.

And the Stiria Tribe originally had a lot of physical contact. Living in such a cold place, physical intimacy naturally developed as a common culture. In fact, even in his past life, other elf women, except Iniya, often hugged Repenhardt without much thought.

So, he could accept it without much concern.

‘Hmm, this Iniya from this timeline seems to have quite an outgoing personality.’

On the other hand, the girl from the Dahnhaim tribe, who lived in a very hot place where physical contact was rare even between parents and children unless they were a couple, kept glaring.

‘Who is that woman?’

Siris pouted her lips, recalling the first time she met Iniya.

* * *

When Siris heard that there was an Aura User among the elves, and that their level was enough to face off against Kalken, she immediately sought out Iniya. As a swordswoman, she couldn’t miss the chance to meet such a great member of her kind.

With a somewhat excited heart, when she first faced Iniya,

“Oh, you’re the famous Swordswoman of the New Moon?”

“I am Siris Valencia of the Dahnhaim tribe.”

Out of respect for her senior, Siris introduced herself first. Iniya placed her hand on Siris’s shoulder and introduced herself as well.

“I am Iniya of the Stiria tribe.”

And then, smiling at Siris,

“You are the girl whom Repenhardt-nim cherishes ‘like a daughter,’ right?”

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Siris felt certain words were emphasized. Siris’s expression slightly hardened. Iniya’s attitude subtly annoyed her.

Iniya glanced up and down at Siris before smiling.

“Hm…”

And then, glancing at Siris’s chest, she gave a subtle smile. For some reason, it made Siris feel extremely unpleasant.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

With a victorious expression, Iniya gracefully left the room. Siris’s face contorted in frustration. She felt inexplicably defeated.

‘What’s with that woman!’

…For the record, Siris had a surprisingly strong competitive spirit.