Blackstone Code-Chapter 686: Transformation

Fighting paused, then resumed again.

Sitting on the truck, smoking, Akumari watched smoke rise in the distance. A moment later, the explosion’s sound finally reached his ears.

When he had just arrived in the Amellian Province, he was tense. The situation here was far more volatile than in Nagaryll. Gunfire could be heard nearly every day. A guy in their convoy was even shot in the leg by a stray bullet while fetching water—no one knew where it came from.

People were fearful, uneasy, terrified—but soon, they adapted.

As long as they stayed away from the city outskirts, and kept clear of Gephran patrols, they were relatively safe.

Those who fired at random always targeted the Gephrans. Keep your distance from their patrols, and you wouldn’t get involved.

During this time, the convoy hadn’t been assigned any work. Everyone was idle. Still, the team leader had assured them that even without tasks, skilled workers like Akumari would get their full pay—two sols a day.

Ordinary laborers received 1.2 sols daily.

It wasn’t a bad deal—getting paid to do nothing. Some even wished the situation would worsen so they could keep enjoying their free ride.

More explosions and gunfire echoed from afar, but Akumari wasn’t focused on that. He dragged on his cheap cigarette—something he would have never touched before, now a small comfort for his restless mind.

Was it meaningful to resist power with armed struggle?

He exhaled a thick puff of smoke, watching it twist, scatter, and vanish in the air—just like his thoughts, chaotic and disordered.

At first, the things happening here had started to change his mind. Maybe, when resistance forces were strong enough, they really could strike back against the powers that be—maybe even reclaim what was once theirs.

Nationhood, ethnic identity, dignity, and freedom.

But as the crackdown intensified, and the resistance dragged on, he began to feel lost.

The resistance had been fighting for days. Yet aside from stirring things up on the city’s outskirts, they couldn’t even get close to the Imperial Zone, let alone drive out the Gephrans. It looked like they had the advantage—after all, they held the entire outer city.

But Akumari sensed something deeply wrong: the resistance was weak.

They had no political presence, no way to make themselves heard. Their ideas, their intentions—no one knew or cared about them. They couldn’t rally support, let alone win understanding.

He was confused. Was armed resistance truly worthwhile? Would it even work in Nagaryll?

As he wrestled with these doubts, the team leader suddenly ran over and slapped the truck’s door, snapping the driver out of a daze.

According to company rules, even if drivers had no assignments, they had to stay in or near the truck during work hours—otherwise, they’d be docked pay.

This rule ensured the convoy could mobilize at any moment. In this case, it worked perfectly.

“Move out! Everyone, let’s go! To the docks!” the team leader shouted. The trucks roared to life and rolled out.

Someone leaned out and asked, “Boss, what are we doing?”

The team leader, a Federal citizen, wasn’t one of those harsh or arrogant types. He didn’t mind talking to Nagaryllians, and often seemed friendly.

He didn’t like being called Boss, but the locals insisted. In their culture, Boss was a title of respect and status.

With a smile, he replied, “Supplies have arrived. They’ll explain everything at the docks. We’re about to get started!”

Excited chatter spread through the workers. If they were about to start work, something had clearly changed.

Akumari, being relatively educated, immediately sensed a shift in the political winds. Perhaps Lynch had reached a deal with the Gephrans—or something else was happening.

Amellia had many rivers, some of which opened directly to the sea, allowing small cargo ships to come in.

Half an hour later, the convoy arrived at the docks. Besides the mountains of supplies, numerous Federal soldiers were gearing up nearby.

While unloading, Akumari handed a porter a cigarette and struck up a conversation. “What’s going on?”

The man took the cigarette, puffed, and replied between breaths, “Not sure. This is the third batch already. Looks like it’s not over yet—at least one or two thousand have come so far.”

Akumari’s expression turned grim. Something big was definitely happening.

Over the next few days, gunfire echoed nonstop around the inner and outer districts of Zhuris City. Countless anti-government militants were hunted down by the Federal mercenaries and publicly executed.

Akumari had witnessed it himself. Sometimes there were so many bodies, the trucks were needed to transport them to the power plant for incineration.

The first time he saw it, a blister formed on his lip from how hard he bit it.

Countless locals were tied to wooden boards—ten boards to a rack mounted on a mobile base. They stood facing the watching citizens while someone read out their charges.

Most were accused of sabotaging public infrastructure, collaborating with the enemy, or ambushing patrols. Then came the public executions.

For once, the Gephrans could hold their heads high. They raised their rifles and, unmoved by the screams and sobs, opened fire without hesitation.

Reportedly, these weren’t the only ones caught. Many were also sent to labor camps, accused of countless crimes—but most commonly, failure to report and guilt by association. If a relative joined the resistance, the whole family was labeled criminals.

Still, the merciful Governor Sedel allowed them to live—so long as they labored to atone.

This brutal period lasted about two weeks. Then, gunfire ceased. No more patrols were ambushed.

The Gephrans once again roamed the city, even at night, no longer retreating to the Imperial Zone.

It was all thanks to a military organization called Blackstone Security.

Whenever Akumari thought of them, his eyes would drop to the emblem on his chest.

A black triangle, three cracks inside it, and beneath it the words Blackstone Construction.

He knew his company and Blackstone Security shared the same boss—Mr. Lynch.

Lately, nightmares had been waking him in the middle of the night. He had come to understand something very clearly: force alone changed nothing.

Look at the Amellia resistance. They had advanced weapons, large numbers, and even military training. At one point, they nearly took a small city.

And yet—so what?

Once a more professional military force showed up, they had no choice but to scatter. Key bases were destroyed, leaders fled the country, and no one dared return.

The men wearing the Blackstone Security emblem were efficient and ruthless. Armed resistance had no future.

Akumari couldn’t help thinking of Nagaryll. His homeland was being carved up, its rulers turned into puppets. Even the newly crowned king seemed to have lost the will to resist.

In this situation, is it meaningful to resist the Federation’s invasion with armed force?

Would it lead to anything good?

No.

Absolutely not.

Akumari understood clearly: even if his people were given the best weapons and the finest military training, they still wouldn’t be much better than the current anti-government forces here—maybe even worse.

Resistance at that level would only provoke the Federation’s brutality. Armed struggle had no future.

Lately, Akumari had been thinking constantly about how to find a future for Nagaryll. He had once been lost, but now he had found the answer.

Ideas—through ideas, peace could be born. Change how the world viewed Nagaryll, and how Nagaryllians viewed themselves. Only by growing stronger from within could Nagaryll have a future.

While working, he often read Federation books. He had a vague feeling he was undergoing a transformation. And he firmly believed he could one day change Nagaryll—and change the world.

Through the blinds, Lynch looked out at the empty street. Aside from a couple of heavily made-up girls in barely any clothing begging under a streetlamp, there were few pedestrians or vehicles.

“The situation is much better now, Mr. Lynch,” said a local who had pledged loyalty to the Federation. He was explaining the quiet scene outside. “At the very least, we feel safer now than we ever did before.”

“From what I’ve gathered through some of my contacts, people don’t think… that recent events have deepened any hatred.”

“Most of those who were executed were just ordinary criminals—robbers, rapists, thieves, violent offenders… despicable people. Punishing them doesn’t scare people—it reassures them.”

Akumari had only seen death. But in truth, many of those executed recently were gang members.

Not just in Zhuris, but gangs across all of Amellia had been dealt a fatal blow. Whether they had committed crimes or not, they were arrested and exposed by public reports.

At first, people were hesitant. But after planting a few actors, the public started reporting gang crimes.

Those found guilty—regardless of how serious—were executed.

Those with no proven crimes, but confirmed to be gang members, were sent to labor camps.

In an instant, public security across society drastically improved. And with Governor Sedel reining in the behavior of the Gephrans, Amellia felt like it had just weathered a violent storm.

All the rot and decay had been washed away, leaving everything renewed.