Blackstone Code

The power of example is limitless.

At first, some people were angry. They saw their revered sage Akumari being assaulted and wanted revenge.

But as Akumari calmly reassured them, as they watched him face the attacker with serenity, their emotions gradually settled. They simply watched.

The park square had been noisy at first, but eventually, it fell completely silent.

The anger in their hearts was dissolved by a force none of them could quite name. In that moment, they understood what Akumari had meant by tolerance. They understood what true tolerance really was.

Tolerance is not spoken—it is lived.

Smack!

Another slap. One side of Akumari’s face was swollen. His skin looked nearly transparent, blood vessels spreading beneath the surface. It seemed another hit could split his face open.

Yet he remained calm, his expression unchanged by the pain, quietly watching the attacker.

He did not tremble. But the attacker did.

As everyone’s calm gaze fell upon him, he began to feel fear.

If they had attacked or cursed him, he wouldn’t be so afraid. He would have mocked their beliefs as trash.

But they did nothing—no revenge, no interference, not even insults. They just looked at him. The pressure mounted until he could no longer raise his hand to strike again.

This was a battle of the soul—a confrontation of beliefs. Without unwavering conviction or a burning desire to destroy everything, he could not defeat someone who had already redeemed himself.

Under Akumari’s calm gaze, the man lowered his head. His mind was in turmoil. He didn’t understand why he had acted the way he did, or what force now made him feel fear.

He only knew one thing: he had to ask for forgiveness.

He knelt. In front of thousands of people in the square, he knelt.

He pressed his forehead to the ground and begged Akumari for forgiveness. He realized his own shallowness and the true power of peace.

Everyone present felt as if they had undergone a spiritual cleansing. They felt joy, excitement—they had witnessed a miracle.

Violence brings only destruction. Peace can truly resolve.

Akumari had used no violence—neither physical nor verbal. Just a calm gaze was enough to make the attacker recognize his wrongdoing and repent sincerely.

It was a miracle.

This was the self-redemption Akumari had always spoken of—an awakening.

A wave of fervor spread through the crowd. People spontaneously knelt and bowed in respect.

The entire square was filled with kneeling figures. Only Akumari remained seated.

He looked at the faithful kneeling around him, his expression neither sorrowful nor joyful—only the same enduring calm.

The sun hung high above, warming the people’s bodies. And Akumari, like the sun in their hearts, warmed their souls.

From a distance, the former High Priest watched silently, his lips moving. If anyone had stood close, they would have heard what he was muttering: “They’re all insane.”

From that day on, an unstoppable force began to spread rapidly.

This phenomenon was understandable. In rapidly developing societies, cultural change outpaces time. Ideas that once took generations to form now fade in just a few years.

Modern people, faced with such rapid shifts, are often left disoriented.

Every society experiences this. It’s not unique to Nagaryll.

Even during the early rise of industrialization in the Federation, people were uncertain about the future. Capitalism’s rapid growth then gave people direction—self-realization became the Federation’s core value.

Nagaryll’s situation was more complicated, leaving its people even more confused. Just then, a powerful idea emerged—like a lighthouse in a fog—guiding the lost ships of the soul.

People began to suppress riots voluntarily. Akumari’s followers followed his teachings. They didn’t use violence to confront others. They simply stood hand-in-hand, calmly blocking the rioters’ path.

At first, rioters beat them, insulted them, humiliated them.

But when the crowd remained unmoved—when their eyes showed only deeper compassion—the rioters began to falter.

Their violence had always depended on fear. When people stopped fearing them, their fragile violence became meaningless.

The power of silence and peace was immense. Riots across Nagaryll quickly subsided. It was nothing short of a miracle.

The Federation—and even the world—turned their eyes to Nagaryll. People were stunned. How had a nation in chaos, whose government lacked control both domestically and abroad, managed to restore order by itself?

They learned about Akumari’s teachings, heard his words, and many philosophers were moved.

Akumari was indeed a sage rarely seen in centuries. His ideas had global significance.

The world, still recovering from war, had seen its anti-war sentiments fade slightly—but not disappear. There was still a great hunger for peace.

The trend was visible in cinema. During the war, war films dominated, urging people to pick up arms. But just days after the war ended, those films vanished. People turned to exploration and adventure—stories filled with the spirit of discovery.

Now, with global stability returning, inspirational films quietly became the new mainstream. No matter the setting or story—if it inspired, it resonated.

Had the world forgotten war?

No. People simply didn’t want to remember the pain it brought. And Akumari’s spirit fit perfectly with the new global tide.

After all the hardship, people hoped war would never come again.

Some began calling Akumari a “giant of thought.” His philosophy was already spreading across the world—something even he had never imagined.

What was expected to be a major riot was ultimately quelled by the teachings of Sage Akumari. Fortunately, the demands of the Federation government were also met.

The police force of the new Nagaryll Federation would be split into two parts. One part would be composed mainly of Nagaryll natives, responsible for maintaining everyday public order—catching thieves and handling minor issues.

The other part would be a federal-led armed police unit, composed mainly of Federation personnel. They would handle serious criminal cases, violent incidents, and suppress local riots when necessary.

Federal police would be equipped with live ammunition and were authorized to shoot first and explain later, if needed.

However, most of the time, they wouldn’t respond actively to incidents and would remain stationed at the precinct.

As for their salaries—they would be paid by the new Nagaryll federal government.

Amid all this confusion, the former High Priest arrived by boat in the Federation.

To his surprise, though he had only informed Lynch of his visit, another person came to greet him—Drag, the former governor of Magulana.

This brought a strange smile to the old priest’s face, one that made his already frightening appearance even more unsettling.

As a former High Priest, he wielded divine authority and maintained regular communion with the gods.

His method was simple: using hallucinogenic incense and the tattoos on his body.

Now older, the tattoos on his face had blurred and spread, combined with deep wrinkles, giving him a terrifying look that made young people keep their distance.

As he stepped off the boat, the old priest let out a heavy sigh. He didn’t sense any sweetness in the air—only a deep, unfamiliar relief.

It felt as though the burden on his soul had lifted and vanished completely. He had never experienced such peace.

“Welcome to the Federation…” Mr. Drag greeted him warmly, grasped his hand, and gave him a brief hug.

The two had been rivals in Nagaryll for many years. Secular power and religious authority had always been at odds—but now, they seemed to stand on the same side.

“You’ve gotten fatter,” the old priest said, patting Drag’s arm with a hint of nostalgia.

Drag didn’t mind. He laughed heartily. “I live a peaceful life now. I go fishing, play chess on the roadside with old friends, and occasionally travel.”

“I no longer lie awake at night, worrying about everything. I don’t fear someone breaking into my bedroom while I’m asleep, pointing a gun at my head, waking me up only to make me close my eyes forever…”

As he said this, he glanced at Lynch—clearly implying that if such a thing had ever happened, it would have involved Lynch.

Both of them had lost everything because of Lynch—or so it seemed.

Though they lost power, they gained peace. It’s hard to say whether they truly lost… or actually gained something greater.