Blackstone Code

“Following a joint resolution by the New Nagaryll of Federation’s Parliament and our own federal government, it has been decided that the Federation’s military will temporarily take over all military and police responsibilities in Nagaryll until the unrest is resolved…”

The news anchor delivered the update with a stern expression.

Some time had passed since the king of the New Nagaryll of Federation was kidnapped. Although there had been no public developments, Lynch had learned from the Security Council that the king had already been located—and rescued. He was currently in the hands of federal agents.

The reason they hadn’t brought the king back into public view was that they were waiting for Nagaryll’s political structure to collapse further.

The king had been kidnapped by a group that called for the people to rise up against the Federation and their rulers. Riots had broken out across Nagaryll.

The impact of the kidnappers’ actions had been devastating. As always, societal shifts caused people to suffer, and those with grievances were eager to lash out or try to change their fate by force.

Though the unrest hadn’t escalated further, it remained a persistent problem.

Ever since the federal military had taken over Nagaryll’s defense institutions, the local military and police forces had become completely separated. Police were locals, while the military consisted solely of federal personnel.

Previously, the ruling class could deploy the military to suppress unrest when necessary. Now they had no such control and had to rely on local police.

But the police were still just police—and in Nagaryll’s case, more like the enforcers of the elite than protectors of the people.

They were effective when dealing with helpless civilians—swinging batons to disperse innocent bystanders. But when it came to confronting real rioters, they weren’t enough.

Unable to suppress the riots, the unrest continued—and more people joined in.

Though things were still within a manageable scope, the lack of resolution was part of the Federation’s plan.

After brief emergency discussions, the Nagaryll Parliament and the Federation reached an agreement: to rebuild Nagaryll’s military and police system with the Federation at its core and adopt parts of the Federation’s public safety framework.

“This move is intended to ensure the safety of Nagaryll’s citizens to the greatest extent possible. We strongly condemn any individuals or organizations attempting to disrupt world peace. Your schemes will never succeed…”

“And now for the second piece of news regarding Nagaryll. Amid the ongoing unrest, a man named Akumari has been resolving conflicts with remarkable wisdom…”

At that moment, in a public park in Nagaryll, Akumari stood surrounded by a crowd. People were lifting him up using makeshift platforms—wood, cloth, anything—to elevate him so all could see.

Closest to him was a group of fervent followers, their eyes burning with devotion.

The square was packed. Akumari’s voice carried over the crowd, and those farther away repeated his words, spreading them like gospel.

He was promoting an ideology—a spirit. Some were calling him the greatest sage in Nagaryll’s history.

His teachings differed from traditional local religion, which emphasized submission, constancy, and divine order. That fatalism made people unwilling to work or change their fate. They believed hunger was destiny—and thus not something to fight against.

But Akumari’s philosophy was different: love life, love family, love the world. Change yourself physically and spiritually—awaken.

With support from the Federation, recordings of his speeches aired repeatedly on television and radio.

People began calling him a sage, a man of true wisdom.

More importantly, some of his ideas—like improving one’s life through work—were already being proven. Those who joined the workforce were living better lives. Not like the ruling class, but far better than before—confirming the truth of his words.

At that moment, Akumari was speaking about how violence does not bring peace. With riots still happening, the people were confused, looking for answers—and they listened closely.

Every few sentences, the outer crowd would repeat his words, turning it into a kind of sacred ceremony. Faces lit up with reverence.

The former High Priest was also watching. He was no longer a priest, just an old man.

He had sold his position for a handsome price—tons of gold melted into bars and entrusted to Lynch for transport to the Federation.

Now he was preparing to leave. The land had become unfamiliar. He would reunite with his children in the Federation and spend his final years there.

In truth, no matter how society changes, the lives of the elite rarely change much.

He watched Akumari, the federal agents, the cameras—so foreign to him. But he understood clearly: this young man was the Federation’s chosen figurehead to change Nagaryll’s soul and weaken religious control.

He was grateful to have let go at the right time. Perhaps he would no longer bask in divine favor, but he would still live comfortably.

Akumari was still speaking. The old priest was too far away to hear clearly, but others nearby repeated the words:

“Violence does not bring lasting peace. It only leads to destruction.”

“Hatred born from violence is like poisoned wine—growing stronger and more terrifying as it ages. Once it becomes too potent, destruction will follow.”

“We might destroy our enemies—but we will destroy ourselves as well.”

“What we’re seeing now is exactly that. Some are walking a path to hell, believing violence will earn them respect. But all they’ll get is mutual hatred.”

“I do not encourage resolving conflict through violence, nor do I encourage nurturing hatred. These are the greatest obstacles to self-awakening and redemption.”

“Embrace peace. Let go of hatred. Only then can we welcome a true future—a future filled with the light of hope…”

Just then, someone suddenly shouted, “A dog of the Federation dares call himself a sage?!”

The voice came from nearby, and people immediately turned to find the source—locking eyes on a defiant young man.

Someone wanted to hit the young man, but Akumari stopped them.

The crowd surrounded him, glaring, but he showed no fear.

“Let him come,” Akumari said calmly. He wasn’t angry at the provocation. He had always expected challenges when spreading his beliefs—this was nothing unexpected.

The man walked up to Akumari. Though Akumari was seated and the man was standing, the bag Akumari was sitting on raised him enough to be nearly eye level.

“You disagree with what I said?” Akumari asked.

The man nodded. “You say violence solves nothing, but what you really mean is we should just lie down and serve the Federation like dogs. That’s not redemption. That’s not awakening.”

Akumari didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “You believe violence can solve problems?”

The man nodded again. “Yes. Eliminate the problem-makers, and the problem is gone.”

“But have you considered this—if you kill me, my family and students will seek revenge. They’ll try to kill you, or die trying. Then more will come to avenge them.”

“And if someone among us kills you, your loved ones and friends will carry that hate. They’ll come for vengeance too. We’ll keep killing each other until the last person is dead. Only then will hate and violence end.”

“Is that really how you think problems should be solved?”

The man didn’t respond. He was clearly thinking it over.

Akumari continued, “You see, violence and hatred only bring us closer to destruction.”

“But peace and tolerance—those can change things. If we let go of hate, if we learn to temper our anger, then destruction won’t come.”

The young man snapped back, mocking, “That’s just theory. You can’t actually do it.”

Akumari looked him straight in the eyes. “I can.”

Suddenly, the young man slapped him across the face. The crowd rose to their feet. Some even shoved the man, ready to strike.

But Akumari stopped them all. “Calm yourselves. Remember what I said—violence and hatred won’t solve our problems. We must seek peaceful ways.”

He looked at the man. “See? I did it.”

The man slapped him again. Akumari’s face reddened and swelled, but he still smiled. “I won’t hate you. And I will tell everyone else not to hate you, and not to seek revenge on my behalf. If the issue remains only between us, then destruction will never come.”

The young man struck him a third time. Akumari still smiled—unshaken, unangered, unresisting.

The entire square fell silent. Everyone watched the center, watching the man who grew only more peaceful the more he was hit.