LOTR: Bringing an MC System to Middle-Earth

After teaching the village chief how to perform basic labor within the territory, Eric led him to conduct a few experimental trials on the land's unique characteristics.

Take diving into water, for example. The special properties of water applied even to the villagers. Within the territory, they were considered "living entities," which meant they followed, to a certain extent, the rules of Minecraft.

Or rather, it wasn't that they followed the rules, it was that Minecraft's properties affected them.

With the brief experiments and labor instruction concluded, Eric turned to the old village chief and said,

"If you want to stay here, you'll need to reach the [Resident] tier within a year. Once you achieve that status, you'll be able to craft tools on your own."

The village chief's expression instantly grew solemn.

"You mean, once we become residents, we'll be able to make magical tools like these?" he asked, already translating Eric's words into his own, more rustic worldview.

"…More or less," Eric replied, not bothering to correct him. As long as they got the point, he didn't care how they phrased it.

"Also, as my people, you'll never lack food or shelter. But that doesn't mean you can laze around. You'll be expected to contribute with regular labor."

"Excluding the children, everyone at the resident level and below will need to work at least six hours a day. That's probably a foreign concept to you… think of it as about half a day."

"Only half a day?" the old chief murmured, his brow furrowing—not in resistance, but disbelief.

"You're… too generous."

This lord had not only taken in their ragged group and offered them food and homes, but now he was even willing to share his magic?

And in return… just work?

And not even the brutal sort, they were being asked to do easy labor, relatively speaking!

The sheer fortune of it all was enough to make a man dizzy.

Six hours. According to Eric, that was just half the daylight time. In their old lives, forget half a day—they'd work from sunrise to sunset, often with meals eaten in the fields and breaks tied to the rhythm of labor. The very concept of a "workday" didn't exist.

This kind of territory management? The old chief had never seen anything like it.

"I know it might seem dull and repetitive, but if you wish to stay, this is the rule."

"If you reach a tier higher than [Resident], you'll be allowed to work less," Eric added. "And if anyone isn't willing to accept this arrangement, they're free to leave. But keep in mind—once you leave, you'll no longer be counted as a [Resident], and you won't be able to use anything from this place again."

"I would sooner die than leave," the old chief declared on the spot. "I swear to join the Free City and devote myself to its growth until my final breath!"

"…You could let me finish first," Eric muttered, raising a hand to cut him off.

"I won't force you into any specific job," he continued. "You're free to choose something you enjoy, something that suits you."

"As your reputation level increases, more professions and tasks will become available to you. You'll also unlock the ability to craft more items—just like I do."

To demonstrate, Eric crafted a wooden hoe right in front of him.

"I think I get it," the old chief said, his eyes gleaming with sudden clarity.

"You mean… if we work a little each day, we'll gradually learn more magic, and gain more abilities?"

"And… we can even use this magic to do things we're interested in?"

"You—yes. That's about right," Eric admitted, mildly impressed. The old man had a talent for cutting through to the point… and for translating everything into the sort of homespun wisdom villagers could actually grasp.

Eric considered explaining the technical bits, the mechanics, the classifications—but decided against it. Let them interpret it however they liked. As long as they understood the results, the methods could wait.

Once he'd explained the key points of the territory again and confirmed the chief understood them, Eric gave his final instruction:

"I've taught you the basics. Now it's your job to pass it on to the rest of the villagers."

"That, too, will earn you reputation," he added with a grin.

"Yes, my lord," the old man replied earnestly. He rushed off at once, gathering the villagers—or rather, citizens now, to explain how labor functioned in the territory.

He demonstrated how to toss items into hoppers, how to plant and harvest apples, how to raise animals, how to grow trees, and all the rest of it. Like a proud student turned teacher, he explained the rules of advancement.

"Our lord possesses powerful magic," he said. "Magic that can track how much each of us has contributed to this land."

"And when our contributions reach a certain level, we can access this magic as well."

A collective gasp of awe erupted.

It took a while for the villagers to process the news, but once they did, some were already rolling up their sleeves, eager to start.

The promise was clear: every bit of effort they made would be recorded and recognized. No one could steal credit, and no good deed would go unnoticed.

The lord's gaze was all-seeing. His magic didn't miss a thing.

And as long as they contributed, they'd earn their place, rise in status, and eventually learn magic, not the empty promises of bards or dreamers, but real, practical, usable magic.

Some of the more ambitious villagers already looked restless with excitement. Most, however, simply let out a breath of relief.

For those who had wandered hungry and homeless for too long, having a safe, stable place to live was already a gift beyond price. As long as they had food and shelter for their families, they were content. Everything else could wait.

At least… for now.

But that kind of contentment doesn't last forever.

Once people have more than enough to eat, they begin to want more than just food. When life is no longer a struggle for survival, they start to crave meaning. Purpose. Beauty. Power.

Needs rise in layers.

The villagers might be content for now, simply living in peace. But as time passed, and their lives grew more secure, new desires would bloom.

And when that time came, even without any rule or requirement, they would want to work. They'd rush to it, driven not by obligation, but by ambition.

To create something that mattered. To shape their own future.