He selected the template and read the summary:

Race Template: Dwarves

Base Traits:

>Exceptional earth affinity

>High durability and physical resistance

>Excellent night vision

>Natural talent for metallurgy, mining, and structural integrity

>Slow magic development (non-combat focused)

Temperament:

>Pragmatic, hardworking, communal

>Resistant to manipulation, loyal to leadership if respected

>Culturally inclined toward craftsmanship and clan-based honor

Estimated Production Volume Available based on current Source Energy:

~12 dwarves

Perfect. Reliable and cheap labour. Based on the cost, one elf was equal to around three dwarves—and elves weren’t even among the most expensive species.

Kain decided to create all twelve—6 females and 6 males. Given enough time, their population will grow naturally. Especially since each birth would pull from the Soul Pool for all humanoid species until it runs out—meaning that the ease with which the Dwarves and other humanoids could reproduce will be a lot higher than usual. But Kain didn’t have time to wait for a baby boom. He needed miners now—hence why he exchanged for the maximum number that he could afford rather than introducing 1 or 2 other intelligent species to the planet.

Kain selected the maximum number to synthesize.

The massive room of the Cradle pulsed with a faint light. Twelve soft pods of glowing soft light materialized before him—still unformed, but infused with stored souls and awaiting physical template finalization.

Kain stood before the twelve glowing cocoons, arms crossed, watching intently as the Cradle’s synthesis mechanisms went to work. It was like watching time itself accelerate—like someone had hit the fast-forward button on life.

Inside each pod, indistinct shapes gradually took form. Limbs lengthened. Muscles filled in. Faces grew from featureless masks into recognizable expressions. Hair sprouted in tangled tufts. By the two-minute mark, they no longer looked like glowing blobs of light.

They looked like people.

Young adult dwarves, to be specific.

Stout bodies. Thick limbs. Square shoulders. Their chests rose and fell in slow rhythm as if breathing came instinctively to them even before full awareness. Their skin tones varied slightly—but two among them stood out instantly.

Unlike the others who bore a range of sun-kissed to bronze skin tones, these two had skin as dark as obsidian. Their hair was pale silver, long and heavy, contrasting sharply against their skin. The others had more typical dwarven hair—dense, coarse, varying between red, blonde, brown, and even jet black.

Kain arched a brow.

“Dark Dwarves, huh…”

He hadn’t selected subtypes. He’d simply chosen the “Dwarf” template. But evidently, the Cradle had incorporated internal racial variation based on historic templates—pulling proportions based on the original distribution and rarity of the subraces in history.

That meant future intelligent races would likely have their own race variants as well—often unpredictable. He’d have to keep that in mind and synthesize more than one male-female pairing for each species to see if multiple races will pop out.

The two Dark Dwarves—one male, one female—rested peacefully among their kin, indistinguishable in their posture and innocence. Their racial difference didn’t seem to be noticed by the others. Not yet. Right now, they were all just… children. In adult bodies.

Their minds were still young and innocent.

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Kain muttered.

With a wave of his hand, the environment around them blurred.

The Cradle vanished.

In the next moment, the soft lighting of the clearing around the World Tree returned.

Bai Lian’s figure, now clothed in a more conservative fresh robe of vine-thread and translucent silk, stood quietly by the tree, waiting. When she saw them appear, she stepped forward. Then paused.

The dwarves, now on solid moss-covered ground, instantly tensed.

Their wide eyes flicked left and right, clearly frightened by the sudden shift in scenery. A few instinctively stepped back. One tripped over his own feet and stumbled. All of them turned—subconsciously huddling closer to Kain. Some grabbed his coat sleeve. Others reached toward his arm like toddlers seeking security.

Their eyes were bright with fear and panic.

They looked to him.

Not Bai Lian. Not the Tree.

Him.

Kain blinked, suddenly aware of just how childlike their mental states really were. They were like infants in understanding.

And he… was the one who made them.

Their creator. Their father, in a sense.

“Uh…” he scratched the back of his neck, unprepared for the intensity of the situation. “Hi.”

The dwarves didn’t respond verbally, but their eyes softened slightly at his voice. A few shifted behind him, peeking out like shy children clinging to a parent’s leg.

Bai Lian knelt to one knee and lowered herself to their level. She smiled gently and spoke, voice soft.

“Hello,” she said. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

The dwarves looked at her blankly, unable to understand the language.

They didn’t speak. But they didn’t back away either.

Bai Lian glanced up. “They’ll learn fast.”

“I’m counting on it,” Kain said. “Otherwise, I may go extinct if I can’t pay back the ores I owe.”

Bai Lian’s smile became a little more strained at the reminder of the stakes..

A moment later, a low creaking noise echoed through the clearing.

The World Tree shifted. Several long, leafy vines descended slowly from the canopy—each bearing fruit. Round. Glowing. Slightly translucent with specks of gold.

The dwarves all looked up at once, their instincts flaring.

The vines extended lower—offering the fruit without force. One dwarf, the smallest of the group, took a hesitant step forward. His nose twitched. Then his hand moved.

He grabbed one of the fruits and took a bite.

Silence.

Then a happy cry.

His eyes lit up like stars, and he began chewing rapidly, making small delighted noises. The others quickly followed suit.

Within seconds, all twelve dwarves were happily gnawing on the fruit, laughing and giggling like overeager children at a candy buffet.

Kain watched, arms folded.

He gave Bai Lian a side glance. “So… the way to their hearts really is through their stomachs, huh?”

“The way to most creatures’ hearts,” she replied with a smile, “starts with trust. And trust often starts with food.”

Kain considered that. Then nodded slowly. ‘I should start bringing snacks when visiting that disobedient child Aurem, then.’

Bai Lian’s voice cut into his thought. “They’ll be able to mine by tomorrow. It’s instinctive for their kind. You’ll only need to show them the path once, and they’ll be able to follow it. Make sure to bring some mining equipment before then.”

Kain raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”

“They were born with an innate understanding mining and metallurgy,” she explained. “But they’ll need guidance in culture, history, technology—anything beyond simple work. That’s where we come in. Every night, they’ll return here to rest beneath the World Tree. And during that rest, the Tree will teach them.”

Suddenly, a low rumble echoed from deeper within the glade.

The earth trembled—just once. Then again. Rhythmic. Heavy.

Kain and the dwarves all tensed instinctively.

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