Saving The Monster Race Starts With Breeding The Elf Village

The moment Luca and Sigrid crossed into the centaur village, Luca felt as though he had stepped through an invisible doorway into an entirely different world.

He had visited many places throughout his impossibly long life—ancient cities, subterranean kingdoms, canibilistic tribes.

But this felt different. This felt like being a tourist in a country he had only ever heard about in stories.

His head swiveled left and right, trying to take in everything at once.

The houses. The pathways. The gardens. The centaurs going about their daily lives, casting glances in his direction before quickly looking away.

Every detail seemed to demand his attention simultaneously, and he found himself utterly captivated.

Sigrid watched his reaction from the corner of her eye, a small smile tugging at her lips.

There was something rather endearing about the way he stared at everything so earnestly, as though he were witnessing magic for the very first time.

She had spent her entire life among these buildings, these pathways, these familiar sights—but seeing them through his eyes made them feel new again.

”What do you think, Sir Luca?” She asked, unable to keep the note of pride from her voice. ”Is it quite different from the elf village?”

Luca responded absentmindedly.

”Different...different. Very different.”

He thenturned to her with genuine fascination lighting up his eyes.

”It’s almost like I entered a completely different world!”

His attention drifted to the houses, each one crafted from stone and timber in a sturdy, medieval style that felt both ancient and comforting.

”The elves usually live in tree houses perched on top of those enormous trees, with rope bridges strung between them so you can cross from one home to another at any time. It’s beautiful, but it’s...vertical. Airy. This, though—”

He gestured broadly.

”—this is much more similar to the houses I’ve seen in the past. Even on the human continent, you’d find structures built along these lines.”

He raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

”But at the same time, they’re quite different as well.”

He pointed toward one of the nearby homes.

”The most distinguishing feature is that they’re extremely wide.”

It was true. The houses didn’t merely occupy a small plot of land—they sprawled outward, taking up considerably more horizontal space than any human dwelling would.

Where a human home might rise multiple stories, these buildings spread across the ground like great slumbering beasts, their rooflines low and their foundations expansive.

”There aren’t many floors either.” Luca observed. ”Almost everything is at ground level.”

Everywhere he looked, he saw single-story structures.

Beautiful gardens surrounded the houses, filled with herbs and flowers and open space. Wide paths stretched between buildings, giving the entire settlement a spacious, uncrowded feel.

But only a handful of structures boasted second floors, and most of those appeared to be storage buildings or communal halls rather than homes.

Sigrid nodded enthusiastically, eager to explain.

”Centaurs are not particularly fond of stairs, you see.”

She gave him a slightly awkward smile.

”With our equine lower bodies, it is technically possible for us to climb stairs. But it is far from optimal. We can trip quite easily, and falling down a flight of stairs is...unpleasant.”

She shuddered at the memory. ”That is why we prefer to avoid them entirely.”

”Instead...”

She gestured around at the houses, her voice warming with pride.

”We ensure that all rooms are located on a single floor. With that, there is no need to ascend to an upper level for anything. Everything is accessible from the ground.”

She pointed toward a house that did possess a second story.

”Even when upper floors exist, we do not use stairs. We use ramps instead.”

Luca looked closer and saw that she was right. Along the side of the house, a gently sloping ramp curved upward to the second floor.

Its surface was textured with small stones, providing grip for centaur hooves.

”I see.” He murmured, rubbing his chin. ”That makes sense.”

Then he pointed at the entrances.

”And the doorways look quite different too. Much wider and taller than anything I’m used to. Back in my world, you’d only see entrances like that on grand manors or warehouses—yet here, every single home has them.”

It was true. Every doorway stood massively tall and broad, like the mouth of some generous cavern, welcoming in any who approached.

Sigrid nodded, smiling at the comparison.

”That is also quite simple to explain. Centaurs are big creatures, after all. Even though we are not as bug as the ogres, we are still quite tall and wide. We need a lot of space to enter our homes comfortably.”

”And since multiple people often go in and out at once, we need the entrances wide enough for everyone to pass through easily.”

Luca could easily imagine the alternative—an entrance built too small, two centaurs getting wedged in the doorway at the same time. The thought was funny, but also rather tragic.

”I’m guessing the inside is completely open-concept?” Luca guessed. ”No sharp ninety-degree turns or narrow hallways?”

”None at all.” Sigrid confirmed, a sheepish look touching her eyes. ”When carrying a lower body of this scale, maneuvering through tight corridors or dodging delicate furniture is a recipe for disaster.”

”Without wide passages, we would constantly be bumping into walls, knocking over sideboards, and breaking delicate heirlooms with our flanks.”

”That’s why our living rooms are essentially grand halls, with individual quarters branching off seamlessly.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder with an inviting tilt of her head.

”In fact, if you are curious, I can take you inside an empty residence right now to show you.”

But Luca immediately hesitated. ”Is that really alright?”

”Why would it not be?” Sigrid replied. ”As a guest of the village, it is only natural for me to show you around a proper home.”

Luca scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

”I mean...with the way everyone is looking at me right now, is it really wise to just wander into someone’s house?”

Sigrid slowly turned her head—and then she understood precisely what he meant.

Every centaur in the village was staring directly at Luca.

Every single one.

The younger centaurs glared with unconcealed hostility, their eyes still burning with the fury of yesterday’s defeat.

The middle aged ones looked at Sigrid with naked pity, their gazes lingering on the human perched upon her back as if witnessing a tragedy unfold in real time.

The elders, having wrinkles but still looking just as beautiful, wore expressions of quiet helplessness, as if they had already resigned themselves to some inevitable sorrow.

But they strangest part was that they were all hiding.

They lurked in nooks and crannies, peered around corners, clustered behind gardens and walls.

They avoided Sigrid and Luca’s path at all costs, treating the pair like a traveling plague, retreating to safe distances and forming whispering huddles to observe from afar.

Yet despite their hiding, their voices carried.

”Is that the Hero? The one from all the stories?” Came one whisper.

”Yep, that’s him, all right.” Answered another. ”Look—he doesn’t have any hooves, so of course he’s the Hero!”

”I thought it was a joke when I heard Sigrid had actually been ridden upon.” Said a third, her voice thick with betrayal. ”But to actually see it with my own eyes...it hurts me. I cannot believe we allowed Sigrid to suffer such dishonor.”

Nearby, a cluster of younger centaurs who had not attended yesterday’s duel huddled together, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.

”Is that really the Hero? He doesn’t seem scary at all.”

”Right?!” An older mare agreed, flexing her own thick, muscular arm. ”They built him up yesterday like he was some god among men, claiming he beat everyone in a mortal form! I expected a towering titan covered in scars and muscle!”

”But he just looks like a average human male! There’s nothing special about him!”

”He looks so delicate.” A third chimed in, scoffing. ”I feel like I could snap him in half with one kick. He must have cast a spell on the Commander!”

Further back, a particularly furious young centaur was being held back by her friend, tears of pure indignity welling in her eyes.

”Hand me my broadsword! Hand it to me right now! I’m going to reclaim our Commander’s honor!”

”Loka, stop! Don’t do it!” Her friend pleaded frantically. ”You saw what happened yesterday! You won’t win!”

”I DON’T CARE!” She wept dramatically. ”I’ll gladly die trying!”

Anger, morbid curiosity, grief, indignity—the village was a bubbling cauldron of intense emotion.

Yet, despite their varying reactions, one common thread united every single centaur: no one dared to approach.

They maintained a wide, terrified perimeter, treating Luca like a dangerous, unpredictable anomaly.

Sigrid simply shook her head.

”There is no need to worry about anything, Sir Luca. With me by your side, no one will dare do a thing. And this house over here—” She gestured to the home beside them. ”—is empty at the moment, so it is perfectly fine to go inside.”

Without waiting for further protest, she made her way through the front garden and toward the wide entrance, and Luca finally got a proper look at a centaur interior.

Just as she had promised, the space was extraordinarily open.

There was a dining table and scattered furniture, but the space remained open and airy.

No narrow corridors, no sharp corners.

The living room dominated the layout, vast as a great hall, with side rooms branching off—a kitchen here, bedrooms there, a storage room beyond.

It was decorated with old-fashioned armor mounted on walls, ancient swords, leather goods, the kind of trappings one would expect in a knight’s home. Rustic, dignified, and unmistakably centaur.

Luca’s eye fell upon several thick mattresses scattered across the floor.

”Are those meant to be chairs?” He asked, pointing.

Sigrid moved over and settled herself down upon one, demonstrating with practiced ease.

”We can’t use ordinary chairs like other races do because of our bodies. So we use these mattresses, filled with wheat hay.”

”We simply lie upon them, and they are every bit as comfortable as a proper bed.” She shifted her weight, showing how naturally she fit, before rising again. ”Our actual beds are quite similar as well.”

This piqued Luca’s curiosity. ”How exactly do you sleep—by simply lying down and closing your eyes, or do you lie completely on your side?”

Sigrid tapped her chin, considering the question.

”Traditionally, most centaurs sleep upright—folding our legs neatly beneath us and resting our flank against a supportive wall. It allows us to rise instantly if danger threatens. However...”

She offered a rueful, slightly tired smile.

”...on days after brutal, exhausting military training, when every muscle in my legs is screaming with fatigue...there is nothing more divine than sprawling completely flat on my side across a massive hay mattress.”

”I can only imagine.” Luca chuckled, absorbing every detail as Sigrid led him further into the home.

When they entered the kitchen area, however, another unique quirk caught his eye.

Every single clay pot, copper kettle, platter, and spice rack sat at an elevated height.

Normally, kitchen shelving extended down toward the floor for easy access, but here, the lower three feet of the walls were completely bare.

Sigrid noticed his puzzled expression and chuckled softly.

”It would be far too troublesome for centaurs to bend down or drop to their knees every time they needed something. That is why all storage spaces and door handles are placed at a higher level—easier for us to reach without straining.”

Luca burst out laughing, shaking his head. ”Man, if a visiting dwarf or goblin ever tried to cook a meal in a centaur house, they’d be completely helpless!”

Sigrid smiled warmly.

”A goblin would certainly require a tall stepladder merely to reach a soup ladle.”

Her expression then shifted into a thoughtful, slightly confused frown.

”As for the dwarves...well...I doubt a dwarf could even cross the front threshold to begin with.”

Luca blinked in surprise. ”Wait, why not? Are centaurs at war with the dwarves? Is it a racial rivalry?”

”Oh, no! Not at all!” Sigrid corrected quickly, waving her hand. ”It is not a matter of hostility...it is purely a matter of...them being too big to enter.”

”Too big?” Luca pressed, genuinely baffled. ”What are you saying Sigrid! They’re short! If anything, a dwarf should easily fit through your massive doors!”

Sigrid gave him a strange look, the look of someone who knew something he did not.

”You don’t know, Sir Luca?” She asked.

Luca shook his head innocently. ”No. What?”

Sigrid sighed, a mysterious little smile playing at her lips. ”I suppose you will find out on your own one day. It is better if I do not ruin the surprise.”

Luca wanted to press further, but Sigrid was already moving on, and the moment passed.

Still, the question lingered in his mind.

This was the first time the topic had become so awkward—the dwarves. He remembered that Leona and Nyx had also seemed on the verge of saying something about dwarves before holding back.

And most strangely, they had spoken as though dwarves had attended the conference.

But the last time he had checked, he hadn’t seen a single dwarf anywhere.

It was strange but he decided to leave it future Luca when he visited the mysterious dwarves.