Missionary Outreach and Expanding Zeal
"Elder James, have you seen this?"
James Cobalt, the Terra race's overall military commander and one of the two united Terra elders, was shown something on a tablet by his secretary.
It was none other than an article about a man—a Terra who had won the Meias tribe's tournament.
"Of course I have. He's the biggest celebrity right now."
A Terra had caused a massive upset by winning the magic tournament—a event so dominated by the Meias tribe that every race in the Galactic Union could participate, but it might as well have been theirs alone. It was the decisive moment that completely shattered the long-held notion that even the most talented Terra could only reach low-level magic.
Of course, Terras still couldn't learn magic or anything like it. They lacked the innate ability to handle energy, and unlike the Rubaran tribe, they didn't possess advanced science and technology to create superior weapons or machines. They weren't like the Kapteri tribe with their tough exoskeletons and natural breeding prowess either. They were just a race that mimicked whatever seeds others had sown. Seen as fragile and insignificant.
They'd clawed their way up to mid-to-upper ranks in the union through sheer dogged development of their technology, but prejudice and discrimination against Terras lingered.
"Even a Meias elder was jealous enough to try killing him? How did we miss someone like this?"
"Well... the union asked us to verify his identity a while back."
"And?"
"Nothing came up on our end. Like his records had been erased."
At his secretary's words, Elder James tilted his head in puzzlement.
"If it was expulsion, there'd be expulsion records. Does that mean he died ages ago or something?"
James cocked his head, finding it odd. Yujin's records had been wiped from Terra databases, likely classified as deceased. But someone with that kind of talent should've been impossible to overlook. No memory of him at all.
"Maybe he was born in secret somewhere, off the record entirely."
"Whatever. Make contact anyway. Test the waters—see if we can bring him over since he's Terra."
Background or records didn't matter. What Elder James wanted was Yujin himself. A phenomenal powerhouse whose innate genius had made even a Meias elder—the magic race's elite—jealous and covetous. If they could recruit him as a Terra warrior, it'd be a massive boost to their forces. And as the prized disciple of a Meias elder and tournament champion to boot, Yujin could even forge special ties between Terras and Meias.
With that in mind, he quickly instructed his secretary to reach out to Yujin.
Oh... even the Terra race is starting to move. Yujin's name got way too big from this incident. Though with his personality, he'll probably turn down any offer to join them. After learning magic from the Meias, he's gotta be dreaming of roaming the universe as a real space adventurer. Feels like he'll stir up quite the storm in the Galactic Union. Well, nothing compared to the chaos from the elves and Metalians showing up, but still.
Meanwhile, Lumo Rasl village had begun digging for copper, and wondering if they could find it elsewhere, they started excavating other areas too.
"We found some silvery rocks."
"This one's... kinda reddish, but the smell and texture are a bit unusual."
Tin ore followed by iron ore. They dug around the village, the outer forests, hills, caves—various spots—and uncovered multiple veins. Thanks to the elves' keen senses, they quickly noticed the ores' distinct smells and shapes compared to regular rocks. Iron ore was really just a faintly reddish stone you'd pass by without a second glance. But without a blast furnace yet, the iron would probably just sit piled in a corner unused.
Still, discovering it was good news. If they could crank up the heat enough to smelt it, they'd leap straight to the Iron Age.
Copper and bronze alloys were easy to melt, extract, and cast, but compared to iron, they were softer, heavier, and less versatile. For weapons or farming tools, iron was essential.
Wonder how Mu-wan's side is doing? They seemed more focused on territorial expansion than discoveries and inventions.
"Alright, let's plow the fields quick. This is where food for you and us will grow."
"Krrgh..."
Sure enough, subtle class distinctions were emerging. No formal castes, but their actions, speech, and tasks had carved out hierarchies.
Mu-wan, practically a king. Under him, executives overseeing the whole village. Original villagers turned warriors thanks to superior physiques. Farmers and laborers providing the muscle. And at the bottom, not quite slaves but taking orders from laborers—the outsiders from the highland village.
They handled nearly all the grunt work. Tsk tsk. Hierarchies form wherever people go, but village-scale already? Mu-wan really screams dictator overlord.
That said, his villagers lived richly. Fertile soil yielded abundant food. Warriors brought plenty of meat, so diets never lacked variety. Even laborers ate meat two or three times a week—pure abundance.
The highland elf outsiders shared in it. Tables laden beyond imagination back home; despite grunt status, they were content. Plus, Mu-wan and the warriors' aggressive expansion had ballooned the village. Ample labor meant sturdy, spacious homes. Outsiders too lived in solid houses with full bellies—no complaints, even if Mu-wan was a tyrant.
They expanded rapidly, their territory now brushing the highland village. Push further from there, and the villages would merge into one domain.
Their land had outgrown a mere village—now a small city. Highland folk integrated, kids born; population neared 2,000 in a flash.
Grand scale, huge numbers, radical leader, elite fighters. Everything set. No southern elf could stop Mu-wan now.
...Whoa! Hold up. Trouble brewing with the cult weirdos too.
Switching views quick.
"Wh-what? Other elves?"
A scouting party from the coastal elf village had spotted the cult group.
"Ooh! Strangers! The god has sent us visitors!"
"Welcome them! Welcome the strangers!"
They joyfully greeted their kin from afar.
...But fuck, screaming like lunatics and dancing? Any welcome turns to flight.
"Th-they seem weird."
"Yeah... and that creepy statue... cult crazies?"
See? Knew it'd happen. Total nutjob label.
...Or so I thought.
"Ooooh! Great six-handed elf god!"
"Bless our scouts and village too!"
"Strangers join us! All pray together!"
"Ooooh! God..."
......
Fuck, they converted. The coastal scouts got brainwashed, learned their lingo, rites, prayers—then danced as fellow fanatics.
Hahaha, insane. Did I bake fanaticism into the elf settings? Or did they evolve it solo...? Anyway, this could get serious. Cults are sticky once hooked, but this fast? What if they spread planet-wide, turning all elves into zealots?
Maybe descend as god, fake an oracle to tone it down...? Nah, they'd frenzy harder: "God spoke to us directly!" Twist restraint into "Our faith's weak—spread it more!" Total bullshit artists.
"Come to our village! You've lived ignorant of god's blessings—such blasphemy!"
"Yes, to ours! Villagers will rejoice and pray with you!"
Oh no! The maniacs are off proselytizing for real...!
What to do?
"Ooh! Six-handed elf god!"
"Great creator!!"
"Guide our path!!"
...Sigh. Fuck it. If they wanna believe, let 'em. Our elf planet supports religious freedom...