A whole year passed.
It felt like a blink—yet so much had changed.
I stood atop the eastern watchtower at dawn, my hands resting on the newly installed stone railing, my eyes tracing the horizon as the first light crept over the mountains. Below me, Robinson Territory stirred like a waking giant. Where once lay a forgotten, poor village, now stood the foundations of a future kingdom.
I stood, moving to the window. Outside, the almost-finished shop stood proud near the newly cleared stretch of land. Wooden frames were being filled in with stonework and plaster. Local residents still bustled around it, hammering, shouting, and laughing. A year ago, that very same land had been nothing but mud and weeds. The village was barely holding together—houses built from rotting wood, chimneys coughing black smoke, and children wandering barefoot with empty stomachs.
Now... everything was different. With a total of 2,900 residents, we worked together to achieve our goals.
The villagers were no longer just barely surviving—they were . Many of them worked on my farm, growing crops that had once only been whispered about in dusty old books. Others were now carpenters, blacksmiths, and labourers helping shape this place into a haven. The nearby villages heard of the work, of the silver coins and of hot meals. They came in droves—whole families, carrying what little they owned.
With twenty silver coins a day and full meals cooked from the very crops we grew, no one went hungry anymore. Even beastkin and dwarfin folk—once treated like outcasts—now mingled among the human workers. They helped construct temporary shelters, wooden market stalls, and cook fires. Some of the newer arrivals had built tents along the hills and slept under the stars, knowing that tomorrow, their hands would help raise homes.
What once was a forgotten patch of land was now a blooming heartbeat of opportunity. Our temporary marketplace was nothing fancy yet—makeshift tents flapping in the breeze, barrels of goods lined in rows, wooden stalls selling roasted yams, tools, or dyed cloth—but it pulsed with energy.
The giant walls—ten metres tall and carved from magically reinforced stone—stretched endlessly around the perimeter, infused with mana lines that shimmered faintly in the early light. Runes of protection pulsed like a heartbeat every few feet, their magic warding off beasts, bandits, and even minor magical interference. These walls weren't just barriers—they were a promise.
At the main entrance, the massive steel gate stood tall and proud, flanked by two fully operational concrete watchtowers manned day and night by my personal guards, each trained in both physical and magical combat thanks to the gear and scrolls I imported through my Guardian system.
The concrete main road, once dirt and gravel, was halfway finished. Smooth concrete now stretched from the gate, winding toward the very heart of the town—my almost finished manor.
My home.
A tall, reinforced stone structure shaped in a blend of mediaeval and modern architecture—strong lines, enchanted windows, and a sloped blue-tiled roof. Ivy clung to the lower levels, and at night, the light from mana crystals in the walls made the manor glow like a palace.
The scent of fresh timber and stone polish lingered in the air as I stepped through the grand archway of what was once a half-rotted wooden ruin. Now, it was a masterpiece—my manor—and it was finally nearing completion.
Enchanted stone bricks, polished and glistening with a faint mana sheen under the afternoon sun, reinforced the exterior. Decorative vines had been magically woven along the balconies and pillars, giving it an elegant and lived-in look, but it was the interior where my true vision had come to life.
It started with a wild idea I had one evening: "If I can order items through the Guardian System, why not go all out?" That night, I opened the upgraded shop screen and spent the equivalent of fifty large gold coins.
And I spared no expense.
Ella and Elvie stood just inside the grand hall when I returned from the tower.
Ella blinked twice as she stared at the crystal chandelier that now hung from the vaulted ceiling. "Dirk... is this... glass?"
"Reinforced tempered mana-glass," I grinned. "Imported from... Well, let's call it my homeland."
Elvie, clipboard in hand, tapped her quill against her chin. "You said you were planning an interior renovation, but I wasn't expecting—" She looked around, speechless.
The living room had a smooth, polished wooden floor covered in lush, thick carpets imported through the system. A modern sectional sofa—large enough for at least eight people—sat against the main wall, surrounding a low centre table made from dragonwood and reinforced with anti-scratch enchantments. A wall-mounted mana-crystal screen (that definitely didn't look like a TV... except it totally did) hummed softly, its arcane runes dormant for now.
The curtains were deep royal blue, edged in gold embroidery that shimmered when touched by light. I had ordered them with adjustable mana-weights so they could open and close without effort, enchanted for temperature control.
Down the main hallway, I led the girls through the doors one by one:
Five massive rooms, each decorated with a specific colour scheme. One had warm, earthy tones. Another had a more celestial blue-and-silver look. My master bedroom, however, was on another level.
A queen-sized bed layered with enchanted memory foam and thermal-regulating silk sheets, with a carved headboard bearing the emblem I'd chosen for my territory—a lion wrapped around a tree. The bedroom also had a wall-length bookshelf, a private fireplace, and a balcony overlooking the town.
Each room had its own bathroom—and this is where things got interesting.
"Elvie, turn the faucet."
She blinked. "Uh... alright?"
She twisted the modern, sleek faucet—and her jaw dropped as crystal-clear water flowed in a smooth arc into the porcelain sink.
"It runs through our mana filtration system," I explained casually. "No need to haul buckets anymore."
Ella was gawking at the toilet.
"Does this thing... really clean itself?"
"Yup. And it flushes," I chuckled. "Automatically."
She slowly turned to look at me, eyes wide. "Dirk... you're a wizard."
"I know," I said, half joking, but the pride in my chest was real. The kitchen was Ella's and the five maids' favourite place. Massive counter space, enchanted mana-stone countertops that kept meat fresh while you chopped it. A mana-infused two-door refrigerator, sleek and tall, with internal cooling powered by an ice rune array. The oven and stove ran not on gas or electricity but through heat glyphs I inscribed manually using a fire-elemental stone. Cabinets opened and closed with a whisper. Even the sink filtered and heated the water with a dial.
Behind the kitchen was a wine attic—not too big, but enough to hold the five crates of magical wine I'd picked up from the Elven Town during our stopover and wine from Earth.
Next to that was a small but elegant library, where I'd been cataloguing my translated ancient texts. Across the hall sat my personal office, complete with an Earth-style wooden desk, imported swivel chair, and even a wall safe.
That night, we hosted a private dinner in the new dining room.
Elvie poured red wine into enchanted goblets while Ella set down dishes of roasted mana-beast, freshly baked elven bread, and a wild herb salad from our garden. Agnes and Igor joined us at the long polished table. Felix and Kael remained on guard but stood inside for once, their posture more relaxed.
"I still don't understand how all of this... works," Miss Agnes said, running her fingers across the fine silverware.
I shrugged with a smile. "Think of it as a blend of alchemy and ancient tech. My homeland developed some unique methods over centuries."
Igor chuckled, tearing into his roast. "If this is your homeland's 'method', I want to move there."
We shared a laugh.
But inside, I knew this was more than just comfort. This was strategy. Presentation. Influence. The manor wasn't just a home—it was a symbol. And tomorrow, the rest of the village would be invited for another feast at the town square, which had been going every Sunday. To see the changes. To believe in them.
Because Robinson Territory was no longer a forgotten corner of the world.
It was becoming the envy of kingdoms. Behind it, an eco-friendly vegetable garden flourished, maintained by enchanted irrigation from the lake. I had personally installed a compost system and a greenhouse dome using materials from the Guardian screen. We grew potatoes, cucumbers, apples, grapes, tomatoes, carrots, and even strawberries—luxuries in many parts of this realm.
In front of the manor, the flower garden was still incomplete, but it had form now: a winding path that would soon be lined with enchanted petals, and at its centre, two Divine Tree stone statues stood, tall and proud, carved in memory of the first sacred tree I'd found in the north. At night, the statues emitted a soft white-blue glow that bathed the garden in peace. It was a quest from the Guardian system, and the fruit of eternity was planted under the massive statues. However, the magical eggs were still inside my backpack, and I haven't received any quest yet.
The concrete roads now stretched across most of the settlement, flanked by magic stone-infused street lamps in every corner of the town that flickered to life at sunset. They made nighttime feel safe—warm—and gave the people a comfort most towns in this world couldn't even dream of.
Several buildings were near completion—merchant shops, an adventure guild, a merchant guild, supply depots, and blacksmith workshops. A playground for the children had its foundation laid, with a slide and climbing tree structure built from magically treated wood. A concrete market plaza, capable of holding over a hundred stalls, and an unfinished basketball court—a personal addition I designed out of nostalgia—were still under construction. The workers joked about how strange it looked, but the kids were already excited, asking when they could play.
And the people... gods, the people.
They were no longer weary and tired. They smiled now. They worked with purpose. Many had learnt to read after I assigned Igor's wife as teacher and taught her the English alphabet, and slowly she was teaching the children how to read the supposed ancient language. Elvie also taught them to use basic enchantments, and Igor's elder daughter taught how to grow crops using eco-magic tools I brought in.
*****
Later that morning, I gathered with my core team at the half-finished market square. A large canvas tent served as our meeting spot.
Igor leaned over the blueprint spread across the table. "The southern sector's almost ready. Once we finish those small buildings, we'll have housing for at least five hundred more people. I say we bring in more families by spring."
"I agree," said Miss Agnes, flipping through the ledgers. "Our gold reserves are strong. We've doubled our value thanks to the small trade routes we've opened and that elven merchant guild you dealt with, Dirk? They've sent word—they want to invest more."
"That's good news. We will introduce more wares, but we will be doing it slowly. We can't risk high supply and low demands."
"RIght." Elvie agreed. She sat with a steaming cup of herbal tea. "The villagers are requesting to hold a harvest festival. You know... to celebrate everything that's happened."
Ella smiled brightly. "And the children want to name the Divine Tree statues. Apparently, they think they grant wishes."
"Really?" I asked with furrowed brows.
"Maybe? I'm not really sure, but who cares? As long as the kids were happy."
"Agree," Felix stood nearby with a hand on his sword hilt, ever the silent sentinel, but he nodded. "Security reports no threats. Patrols at the border towers are reporting lower beast activity too. The mana infused walls are working."
I leaned back and looked at them all—my people.
"We're not done yet," I said with a small grin. "There's still so much to build. But we've already created something no one thought possible. This isn't just a territory anymore..."
"And it's only the beginning," Igor said with a grunt, already rolling up the next blueprint.
We all shared a laugh.