A Year of Growth: Elves Brace for Winter and Forge First Contact
As I binged through Yujin's training montage and championship saga like some slightly delayed drama series, another year slipped by before I knew it. Damn, he'd grown up nice. He could handle even advanced magic with ease now... Hell, it felt like that personality of his was outshining me at this point.
Meanwhile, it had been three years since I created the elf race. Time on their planet hadn't even reached a full year yet. I'd tweaked the planet's tilt to introduce four seasons, so the northern hemisphere was transitioning from late autumn into winter prep, while the south was moving past spring into summer.
The group led by that female elf leader I'd been keeping an eye on, Rasl, had grown from the original 1,000 to around 1,050. They'd dipped to about 900 after various hardships, but pregnancies led to 150 newborns. I'd set their gestation to ten months, like Terrans, so the kids came faster than expected. Hmm... Maybe I should've stretched the pregnancy period considering the orbital cycle. But whatever—increasing the population quicker is better anyway. Even if planetary saturation hits fast, they can expand into space; numbers won't matter then.
The village already had moats and fences for solid defense. They'd even sharpened stones into spears and developed slings for stronger throws, making them way stronger than local beasts could handle. Hit by slings, pierced by thrown spears... Plus, the moat made approach tough without water access. Beasts eventually gave up on the village and started targeting elves foraging outside.
But those foragers had spears, thrown weapons, wooden armor, and shields—not easy prey. Still, not everyone could venture out, limiting fighters, so they were pondering better weapons and armor. At least village safety was secured. Now was the time for stable breeding to boost numbers under protection.
Safety locked in, breeding underway, population rising—next up, food to sustain it.
"It's enough for now, but this won't last. 'Mellow' is passing, and the cold is returning. If 'Mellow' comes back next time, great... but if not, we'll endure endless chill. Food shortages could get dire."
Rasl's "Mellow" meant "warm days" in her village tongue—the endless summer of the past year. This planet's winter wasn't brutal. With seasons lasting a full standard year, constant subzero temps would suck. Their "Arrow"—meaning "cold days"—bottomed at 3°C, warming to 10°C on sunny days. Like late autumn in my past-life Korea.
But without proper heating, insulation, stockpiles, or even food production tech, it was deadly for primitive elves. Their bodies were tough; cold wasn't an issue for adults—remember, they first spawned in winter. But infants changed that. Babies and caregivers huddled fireside all day, doing nothing.
Even excluding caregivers from labor, others moved less in the cold, and winter meant scarcer food. More mouths, less grub—for a whole year. No wonder leader Rasl fretted. Same for other groups. How to survive the returning freeze?
Farming or livestock would solve it easy, but none had advanced that far. Best bet: hoard and store as much as possible now.
Should I teach farming or animal husbandry? Potatoes in winter would carry them. Livestock takes longer, but whatever—they'd survive without me. Southern hemisphere buddies were in peak summer; food overflowed even with new babies.
...Honestly, my real worry was elsewhere.
"Ooooh! God! Thank you for granting us food even in this cold!"
"We offer tribute to the god! Great god!"
......You crazy bastards, sacrificing the food you barely caught to me? And after the ritual, leaving the "offering" untouched like it's not for eating, nibbling scraps instead. No wonder population growth stalled despite help—it's shrinking.
Ha... How do I fix these cult nutjobs? Silver lining: no beasts approached anymore. Fanaticism made them fearless; they'd charge "tributes" at tigers and bears like zombies, scaring wildlife off.
Plus, low numbers and few births meant they could scrape by on little food. All logical reasons.
But these lunatics...
"Beasts avoid us! God's protection!"
"Ooooh! Must be one of the six hands—the hand of protection!"
You idiots! They fled 'cause you flipped out, charging endlessly at predators like zombies!
And "hand of protection" from six hands? Did you slap on six arms arbitrarily, each with powers? What the hell is a "protection hand"?
"Food in this cold!"
"Not starving—god's grace."
"Definitely the hand of abundance from the six!"
That's 'cause your tiny pop means scraps suffice. God's grace my ass. Abundance hand—whatever number that is.
"Thank you, god!"
"Great god, we pray."
Haa... Sigh city watching these zealots. Admirable devotion, but can they survive like this?
That's when—
"...Huh?!"
"Hm?!"
Oh, event in the southern hemisphere. Scouts from smart-elf Mu-wan's group bumped into foragers from another nearby settlement.
Ooooh! Finally! After ~3 standard years, different elf groups meet.
Villages focused inward on setup and beasts, limiting range. Summer abundance let southerners expand.
What now? War over turf? Or unity expands domains? Food's iffy, but summer hunting covers it.
"...Bagu. Abon-su. Warandu?"
"Segrinu, rata."
"...?"
"???"
Yeah, language barrier hit hard. They're so smart, languages diverged early per village.
But body language and drawings! Communicate somehow.
True to form, realizing same species but unintelligible, they gestured wildly.
Good—no instant attacks; tried talking. Progress.
Body language worked; some of Mu-wan's scouts headed to the foragers' village. Others returned to report other elves exist, some visiting theirs.
Heading to unknown elf village showed innate "no harm to kin" instinct. Nailed the bonding.
First contact led to visits. From here, interactions with outsiders... getting exciting.