Kindling

What should we do next?

"You decide, we all trust you."

Behind him, the previously silent slave laborer spoke up.

He had sunken cheeks, a tall and thin build, and wore tattered, dirty clothes. His skin was pale from not seeing the sun for a long time, and you could even see the veins.

Due to years of living in a dark environment, he developed trachoma, and his eyes became exceptionally cloudy. However, at this moment, his eyes revealed an inexplicable determination, even faintly shining in the dark mine.

This slave laborer Nick, and he was also born a serf, though he had worked as a page for a time. His parents were trampled to death by the Earl's youngest son's horse, and he himself was sold into the mines. He harbored a deep hatred for the Northern Nobles.

He was also one of the earliest slave laborers to accept new ideas and advocate resistance. Now he has become Spark's right-hand man and a capable assistant in this long-planned rebellion.

Spark looked around, sweeping over the eyes of the slave laborers, which were filled with confusion, anger, or fear.

"Continue."

"Continue with what?"

Someone in the crowd asked in confusion.

Spark replied firmly, "Continue to liberate the workers here and make them our strength. Also—kill all the noble lackeys in the Valier Mine!"

He lifted the overseer's head high,

"We need to show them who truly owns this place!"

"Good!"

"Kill them all!"

Several slave workers followed suit, raising their arms and shouting, and soon more slave workers were infected and joined in the revelry.

However, Spark knew that only a few people he knew were trustworthy. Others harbored deep-seated fears and, under the pressure of power, were likely to become opportunists.

It's important to know that this mine is far larger than this; they were only in one of its branch pits. As the Earl's most prized asset, the Valier Mine employs thousands of slave laborers and nearly a hundred overseers, continuously supplying gold and silver ore to the greedy Earl, producing thousands of Gold Coin annually.

And now, this is his best source of recruits.

Following behind Spark, Chai Gun mustered his courage and asked timidly, "But... we have no weapons and no food, how is that possible?"

Spark lifted the foreman's head again and shook it in mid-air. He smiled, revealing a set of white teeth. "But they have it. We just need to take it, no, we should take back what rightfully belongs to us."

The timid Chai Gun went weak at the sight of the bloody head, and he nervously swallowed.

Spark said loudly in the mine, "Everyone, please feel free to speak up if you have any other ideas! After all, many hands make light work."

He paused, his eyes becoming somewhat sharp.

"But let me make this clear: now that we've killed the overseer, there's no turning back. Any thought of surrendering is just wishful thinking!"

"We can steal the Noble Lord's golden hoe! That way they won't be able to till the land!"

"Take their piglets away!"

"."

Spark gave a helpless wry smile, "Um, that's a very creative idea. Anything else?"

Nick suggested again, "We should have a name."

"Those damned nobles all call themselves righteous and just knights. We should also give ourselves a resounding name and let it spread throughout Anzeta."

"Yes."

Nick is right.

"But what should we call them? We've never been to school."

Everyone waited, and dozens of expectant eyes were focused on Spark.

As Spark gazed into the eyes of the slave laborers, he seemed to see within those eyes, which had endured so much suffering, a spark of Kindling was buried.

These Kindling will burn brightly and may change the world.

He pondered for a moment, then finally spoke, "The Kindling."

"No matter what they call us, no matter if they smear us as devils, bastards, or beasts, we call ourselves the Kindling. Within the organization, there are only ranks, not distinctions of status. Anyone who calls another 'comrade' represents our shared aspirations."

Although they couldn't understand many of the words, the slave laborers could still feel the passionate spirit of the speech, and they immediately nodded in agreement.

Spark threw the head to the ground, picked up his blood-stained hoe, and was the first to walk out of the mine, calling out to the others:

"Gun in hand, come with me."

"Liberate the entire mine!"

He hastily wiped the blood splattered on his face, his eyes filled with excitement.

As a story-driven player, Spark had never experienced this kind of immersive and exhilarating feeling in any game before; he was more like an observer.

Now, however, he feels like a creator of history, as if he were living in this world himself, and every slave laborer around him is so real and vivid.

What's a gun?

"All we have are hoes."

"Don't worry about it, you'll find out when the time comes."

Surrounded by the crowd, Spark wiped the blood from his hoe, looked at the light streaming into the cave, and said in a whisper that only he could hear:

"I'm just an ordinary story-driven player."

"How did he suddenly become a rebel leader?"

A few days later, the event that the Northern Nobles called the "Valier Riot" occurred.

A slave laborer killed their overseer, and then incited thousands of slave laborers in the Valier Mine to stage an unprecedented riot. They called themselves the "Kindling" and killed nearly a hundred overseers sent by the Earl, including even an honorary Baron.

Then, pursued by the knights, the rioting serfs fled into the deep mountains and became brutal bandits.

According to the Earl of the Carter Duchy, the leading serf was possessed by a demon and could gain power by drinking human blood and eating human flesh. He was an evil force that had to be eliminated, and the nobles of the the North countries were actively helping him, determined to eradicate this group of slaves bewitched by the demon.

"The Devil's Cult".

"A cannibalistic horde."

"A roaming hyena."

These are all "honorary titles" bestowed upon them by the Carter Duchy.

It is important to know that serfdom in the the North was deeply entrenched, having lasted for hundreds of years, and was practically ingrained in the very bones of everyone.

Despite sporadic resistance, there had been no serf uprising of this scale for decades. The emergence of this trend terrified the Northern Nobles, who wanted to nip it in the bud at all costs.

However, the Northern Nobles underestimated the severity of the situation. The 20,000 players were born in various countries in the the North. Apart from those who were recruited, there were also many troublemakers among them. Moreover, the nobles of the the North did not have the military power to suppress them like the Embers of the Burned Kingdom. As a result, large and small resistance organizations sprang up like mushrooms after rain.