Uprising

The Carter Duchy, on the Dena City.

"Smack—"

"Get to work!"

"You lowly people with no status! You beasts!"

The loud crack of whips, angry shouts, and the crisp sound of workers striking ore mingled together.

In the dimly lit mine, miners covered in filth toiled away, while the overseer brandished a whip, supervising the work of these poor souls.

One of the miners, however, had the nickname "Spark" on his head.

Clearly, he was a player, or what the natives called Starfallers.

"These damned bastards"

"We'll have to kill them sooner or later, and we need to find a way to get out of here."

He swung the hoe with all his might, but the way he looked at the overseer was particularly dangerous.

Spark is also a somewhat well-known player, but he prefers experiencing the story and discovering the game's secrets to speedrunning.

Therefore, instead of choosing the most common starting point of North Wind Fortress Keep, he opted for the relatively unknown capital of the Carter Duchy, Dena City, wanting to experience the unique charm of the the North.

However, Spark's luck was not so good.

Upon arriving in Dena City, he was immediately captured by the city's garrison because he lacked identity. He was then sold to slave traders by a military leader connected to the underworld, enduring numerous hardships. Finally, he became a slave laborer with no freedom, working in the underground mines for a Northern Nobles.

Such things are quite common in the the North kingdoms.

Serfdom was deeply rooted in the the North countries and had been practiced for hundreds of years.

In the eyes of the Northern Nobles, slaves were not the same species as them at all; they were merely cheap commodities, lowly "Gray Livestock." This collusion and slave trading had long been tacitly approved by all parties, and even local magistrates turned a blind eye to it.

After all, they were just vagrants with no status. If they were captured, it might improve the city's security. How could they compare to the Gold Coin bribed by slave traders?

Next to Spark was an unfamiliar slave laborer. He was thin and dark-skinned, and seemed to have just been captured. He was not very skilled at mining and was often whipped and scolded by the overseer.

Spark patted the slave laborer on the shoulder and asked in a low voice, "What's your name?"

The slave laborer stopped what he was doing, wiped the sweat off his face with his coal-dust-covered hands, and smiled sheepishly.

"I don't have a name. The old master used to call me Chai Gun ')."

"Smack!"

"You lazy bum, get back to work!"

After only a short rest, the overseer's whip came again.

The Chai Gun struggled to support himself, trembling all over from the beating. A deep bloodstain was added to his already battered back.

Faced with such pain and humiliation, he remained silent as if he had long been accustomed to it, and once again swung his hoe.

However, Spark was not attacked.

His master had specifically instructed him to make good use of this rare and strong slave, to extend his service time as much as possible, and to maximize his value.

Spark lowered his voice and said to the Chai Gun:

"Don't you hate them for treating you like this?"

Chai Gun didn't dare stop wielding his hoe for a moment. Hearing such "treasonous" words, he was so frightened that he couldn't speak. He could only stammer and reply, "No, of course I don't hate them. They were sent by Noble Lord."

Spark sighed helplessly, "Just tell me what's on your mind, I won't tell the foreman."

But in his heart, Chai Gun thought of his companions who had been skinned alive for disobeying their master, of the noble appearance of those Noble Lord, and of the admonitions of his elder.

He instinctively trembled all over and shook his head repeatedly:

I don't hate them at all.

"Those are Noble Lord. They have more food than they can eat and more gold than they can spend. Who would dare to hate them?"

With his Chai Gun knowledge, that's all he could think of.

Spark glanced around and, seeing that no one was paying attention, continued guiding:

"We dug out all this gold and silver, and we grew all this grain. So why did these things end up in the hands of those nobles? Are they inherently more noble than us?"

"Of course."

"I'll answer carefully, "the Chai Gun replied.

In his view, this was a really strange question. Isn't it only natural that nobles are superior to slaves?

Even the priests in the manor said that slaves were lowly creatures made of mud, while nobles were creations of God made of gold and spring water.

Spark asked again, "What about the overseers? Are they also more noble than us, so they can step on our heads?"

"That should be right, the overseer was sent by the Noble Lord. If the Noble Lord are made of gold, then perhaps the overseer is made of silver?"

After thinking for a moment, Chai Gun answered somewhat uncertainly.

He felt that the person in front of him was really strange, that he would ask such a rebellious question and even dare to question the Northern Nobles. However, Spark's words also planted a seed in Chai Gun's heart.

What were you talking about over there?

"Who gave you permission to speak? Get back to work!"

The foreman's roar echoed again from not far away; his anger seemed never to be extinguished.

Chai Gun hurriedly swung the hoe with all his might, not daring to stop even when his hands went numb from hitting it.

But Spark did not obey the order this time. Instead, he took a few steps forward and looked around at the slaves.

Those slave laborers who had been working in the mines for a long time seemed to be suppressing some long-accumulated emotions in their eyes, and they all stopped working at the same time.

In this eerie silence, even the Chai Gun seemed to stop moving instinctively.

"You damned beasts, you pigs, are you trying to rebel?!"

With his absolute authority broken, the overseer's expression immediately turned extremely ugly.

In his extreme anger, he even disregarded his master's orders and lashed out with his whip at Xinghuo, the most prominent Spark in the crowd, attempting to use this tried-and-true method to subdue the slaves.

"Smack."

The whip was firmly held in his hand, which caused Spark's hand to bleed profusely.

However, Spark disregarded her injured hand and actually wrapped the whip around her hand several times before pulling it away.

The overseer collapsed to the ground, looking up at Spark's fierce eyes. He retreated in fear, muttering to himself, "I was sent by the Earl, I was..."

However, dozens of slaves blocked his way from behind, and the slaves even pressed the overseer firmly to the ground, making him unable to move.

"What are you doing!"

"Damn beasts, do you want to die?! I am a disciple of the Earl— "

The overseer struggled and screamed on the ground, but there were simply too many slaves for him to break free from.

"Damn it—"

It's you, you son of a bitch!

Spark exerted all his strength, and the veins on his arms bulged.

He swung his hoe with all his might, smashing it hard against the overseer on the ground, just as he had smashed it against the ore countless times before.

The force was so great that the sharp hoe pierced through the fat and flesh, smashed through the hard bones, and directly churned his brain into a mess.

"Bang!"

Instantly, blood splattered and brain matter flew everywhere.

The fat, bloated overseer remained dumbfounded until his death.

He never imagined that he would be killed by the slave laborer he despised the most.

"Good!"

"Well done!"

"Kill this beast!!"

The surrounding slave laborers were immediately excited. They rushed over to trample and tear at the corpse, venting their pent-up frustrations of the past few days.

But a sliver of fear lingered in their hearts. One of the overseers had died, and just as he had said before his death, if the Noble Lord found out, he would surely hunt them down at all costs.

However, when they remembered Spark's promise, a glimmer of hope rekindled in their hearts.

This "strong slave laborer" held a rather special position in the mine. During these few dozen days, he would often tell the slave laborers some novel stories that they had never heard before, including stories of eliminating the old forces and changing the world.

Although it sounds like a fairy tale, they had no other choice.

Spark, carrying the foreman's bleeding head, turned to look at the Chai Gun, a smug smile on his face.

He said, word by word:

"I have said that they are never more noble than us."

Chai Gun stood frozen in place, his legs trembling, yet a faint flame of passion ignited within him.