Darkstone Code

Nagariel is a coastal country located between the subtropical and tropical zones, a very backward nation, covered with primitive jungles.

People have always believed that there are rich mineral resources underground in Nagariel, coupled with abundant forestry resources and various precious spices, this should be a prosperous country.

Yet it is not prosperous, and it is very poor; what creates this poverty is the social structure of Nagariel.

The people living here have been faithful for generations to their indigenous religion, believing that the workings of heaven and earth are immutable, and that every so often the world will face destruction followed by rebirth.

What they need to do is to follow the occurrence of everything rather than changing anything.

Under the imprisonment of such ignorant and backward thoughts, the upper echelons of society become ossified and start to decay. They don't need to worry that the lower classes will oust them due to various dissatisfactions or even kill them, because all of this is destiny!

So do people hate these individuals? Of course, when these people are flaunting their power and authority on the bones of the populace, it surely incites strong aversion in some people.

But religion has already provided them with a very satisfactory answer, which is to curse these individuals. Everything they are doing now will become the reason for their eternal landing in the infinite pain of hell, suffering eternal torment.

The more fierce and frequent the curses, the worse off they will be when the great destruction arrives.

There are even some unique buildings called "Places of Admonishment" spread across the entire Nagariel, which are magical places and have astonishing functions.

Whenever someone finds it difficult to endure social injustices, they come here, and the priests stationed here take them to walk along the long walls on each side of the Place of Admonishment.

On these walls are carvings and paintings with many human scenes of suffering under terrible monsters, where humans are tormented beyond endurance. The priests tell the seekers of solace that those hated persons will also endure all the pain shown here, and it will never end, constantly cycling in a sea of suffering.

Most people, after coming here, become peaceful at heart because those whom they dislike and hate are destined to fall into hell, while they, being good people, will have the chance for ascension, to become the upper echelons.

This is a perfected religious system that controls the people of Nagariel excellently, equipping the priests with authority and power no less than that of the ruling class.

The friction and struggle between divine authority and political power run through Nagariel's long history, with all their energy focused on these conflicts, leading them to be greatly surpassed by civilizations that appeared later.

There are people who once tried to change something, introducing foreign culture to impact the ignorant and backward religious culture of Nagariel, but they failed.

These people who are extremely adept at internal struggles unite closely when facing challenges from outside, jointly resisting outsiders, doing everything just to preserve their power, never considering others.

In such a country, many people are unwilling to come to this desolate place to avoid trouble, yet to Lynch, it is full of enticing allure.

"Hiss..."

Just after disembarking the ship, Asir stands at the port and glances back at the resupplying passenger liner, with an expression in his eyes that is complex and hard for others to discern... some reluctance, some discontent, some helplessness, some pain, a very complex look.

He has returned to his homeland, knowing from the air entering his lungs as he breathes, that he is home.

The air carries Nagariel's unique strange smell, a mix of stale sweat and the stench of long-unwashed, densely-haired regions mingling with the salty tang of the sea, forming a nauseating yet non-vomiting, annoying yet displeasing smell.

Asir is not sure if this smell exists elsewhere; in his memory, the only place where this smell exists is his homeland.

The streets are walked by locals, and rarely do foreigners come here to do business; there used to be some.

Those foreigners not only included merchants but also brought along some scientific expeditions, believing that abundant natural mineral resources must be hidden underground here. But after they came for a period, they mysteriously disappeared.

No one would make a big fuss over a few irrelevant people; even the countries of these missing people are reluctant to communicate with such backward and ignorant people, making foreigners gradually rarer here, though not absent.

The local upper class also needs enjoyment and pleasure. They yearn immensely for everything from developed countries but also fear them. They need some people to bring things from the developed world here to let them enjoy everything from afar.

The foreigners who manage to stay locally play such roles. They act like merchants who specifically procure imported goods for the local upper society, each swimming in wealth.

In a daze, Asir came to his senses and walked towards the center of the city. There were no sidewalks or driveways here; the so-called road was just a dirt path, where people and vehicles mingled together, often causing traffic jams.

Previously, when he walked in such places, people around him would constantly make physical contact and collisions with him. At that time, he thought it was nothing, but now, thinking about it, it was really disgusting.

But this time, no one had "intimate" contact with him. People looked at his clothes and would proactively choose to keep some distance. Their actions seemed to respect him, but some eyes carried a hint of disheartening hatred.

People treated him as a big figure, avoiding him was instinctive, and so was the hatred.

Leaving the dock, he immediately saw several locals standing outside, talking loudly. The crowd always kept some distance from them because these people wore clothes that were only available abroad.

In Nagariel, those who can afford imported goods are often the social elite. These people possess very frightening privileges. They can even execute some people they dislike without trial, though they must pay a price for arbitrarily depriving others of life, roughly ten thousand Galil.

Galil is the currency of Nagariel. According to the current fluctuations in the international exchange market, one Federation Sol can be exchanged for about forty Galil, ten thousand Galil being about a Federation worker's monthly salary.

Incidentally, this exchange rate is the official rate. In the black market, one Federation Sol can often be exchanged for ninety to one hundred Galil; this is the circulating rate!

As long as the fine is paid, these people can be released without guilt because the money they pay eventually appears before the divine presence. The priest receives enlightenment from divine omens, and most of the time the divine is forgiving; they will forgive these people for inadvertently committing wrongs.

If someone hates them?

Then curse them, for during the next great calamity, the souls of these people will eternally wail in Hell.

In the crowd, a small group of people different from other local people saw Asir, and their expressions suddenly became vivid. The man walking at the front looked about fifty years old, with black hair mixed with white, yet his body was very solid and strong.

This was Asir's father. His father had his first child at seventeen; Asir was his third child, but not his youngest.

"Welcome back. Where's the boss you mentioned?" Asir's father looked over Asir's shoulder and didn't spot any big figures.

In Nagariel, spotting a big figure is actually quite simple. Just observe if there are people around him and the distance people keep from him, then you can determine whether these people are big figures.

The father and son were talking, and Asir's brothers gathered around, joining in the conversation enthusiastically.

In recent years, Asir inexplicably obtained permanent residency of Bail Federal, elevating their originally lower-class family all at once. The money transferred into Asir's father's account yearly was enough for all of them to live comfortably without working.

Thanks to Asir, the family now counted as upper-middle class in the locality.

Several people were talking when suddenly, sharp whistles sounded from afar. Subsequently, although chaotic, there was a kind of inexplicable order as the crowd began to panic, squeezing towards both sides of the street.

From afar appeared some individuals wearing wide-brimmed hats, dressed like in developed countries' police uniforms. They wielded two-foot-long wooden sticks wrapped in cloth strips, constantly beating ordinary people who were too slow to dodge, driving them further to the sides.

When these individuals reached Asir's family, they did not use their sticks to hit them but instead removed their hats and saluted, which is a local characteristic. The polarization of power is severe, and the class hierarchy is strict.

At that moment, cars in the distance began slowly driving down the cleared road. The people sitting in the middle cars seemed curious about Asir's family, glancing several times, among them a girl left a deep impression on Asir.

A very beautiful girl, even though he had lived in Bail Neighboring Country for many years, and despite his fondness for those girls with pale skin like milk.

But those were merely physiological impulses, not of the soul. This girl was very special, truly aligned with the culture Asir had been exposed to from childhood. Her face was adorned with patterns, wearing traditional yet very luxurious Nagariel accessories. Everything was so perfect.

When the girl's gaze met his, she paused and then smiled. Perhaps Asir's aura, different from Nagariel's lower classes, seemed somewhat interesting to her, but that's all.

The convoy quickly passed, and watching the distant convoy shrouded in dust and the crowd returning to the road, Asir seemed somewhat dazed.

"Whose convoy is that?" he asked his father.

His father sighed a bit, "It's the Provincial Governor's!"