Ti flies, and in the blink of an eye, it is already late autumn.
The weather has turned chilly, and a massive autumn rainstorm suddenly struck Thomas Town, the first colony established by the Phaletis Kingdom in the Northern New Continent.
Fortunately.
In response to the extrely frequent storms on this continent, the newly built colonial city far from ho has completed comprehensive urban construction. Well-functioning drainage facilities ensure residents do not have to wade through water.
Under the downpour.
Rustle... rustle... rustle...
The sugar maple trees, whose leaves have turned red, rustle softly, shading rows of buildings that are rich in Phaletis style along the roadside.
However, unlike more stone buildings in Phaletis, most houses here are made of locally sourced wood.
The forests of the New Continent are extrely abundant, and the Aboriginals’ ability to modify nature is very limited. They also believe that all things have souls, trusting that every river, mountain, tree, and stone on this land is inhabited by a soul and natural spirit.
Thus, most places maintain their original natural appearance, with sturdy trees available for house construction everywhere.
Most houses are made from spruce, fir, and pine, materials that are lightweight and easy for pioneers, who lack both manpower and craftsn, to process. They also provide warmth in winter and coolness in sumr, creating comfortable living conditions.
Evidently, after nearly a hundred years of developnt, the colonists on this land have learned to adapt to the living environnt and seem to be doing quite well!
In the dock area of this colonial city.
The only tavern, "Fox, Badger, and Honey Tavern," is already packed with people.
The sudden rainy weather has left dock workers, sailors, and plantation managers idle, all gathering here.
The "Fox, Badger, and Honey Tavern" is naturally popular, offering aromatic rum, sweet beer, the freshest fruits and beef, and... alluring and sexy won.
Thud thud... thud... thud thud thud...
On the stage in the middle of the tavern.
A beautiful girl, whose skin is darker than the white-skinned Nimansite People from civilized countries, yet lighter than the locally brown-skinned Aboriginals, is twisting her waist gleefully to the beat of a Native musician’s drum, performing an exotic dance.
Her head is adorned with red parrot feathers, her waist wrapped in brightly colored fabric, and her wrists and ankles are decorated with jewelry made from animal teeth.
She exudes rich exotic allure and wild beauty, with bronzed skin that perfectly fits the aesthetic of the n present, like a hunting goddess erging from the forest!
Clap! Clap!...
The girl spins and gently claps, her scant clothing always on the verge of challenging the delicate nerves of the n in the tavern due to the vigorous movents of the dance.
Drip... drip...
As beads of sweat roll down her body.
The patrons cannot help but feel heated as well, raising their glasses and taking a hearty gulp before calling the waiter to bring more drinks.
Obviously, without anything else, just today’s extra sale of alcohol has already garnered a substantial inco.
But even the most beautiful things have an end, the drumbeat hastens and abruptly stops at its peak.
Amid the audience’s lingering gazes.
The beautiful girl sent several blown kisses to these "sources of wealth," twisting her slender and soft waist as she gracefully descends from the stage.
"How was she? Beautiful?"
"Beautiful!"
"It’s a pity you can see but can’t touch. If you dare to take a stizo girl ho, your dad might beat you to death."
"Tch—! Does it have to be taken ho?"
In a corner of the tavern, Aiven and Milan, dressed in casual attire, are savoring the local specialty, maple sugar beer, having just enjoyed the enticing exotic dance by the beautiful girl.
The fatigue from their long sea voyage seems to evaporate, while Milan expresses deep disdain for Aiven’s extrely conservative "views on love!"
"Is a romantic relationship not possible if it’s not for the purpose of marriage?
Old-fashioned..."
However, Milan is just talking bravely and doesn’t consider taking action.
The term stizo originated in the Hilus language, generally referring to mixed descendants between the white-skinned Nimansite people from the Old Continent and the brown-skinned Aboriginal Atrean people or the black-skinned Anuma people of the New Continent.
In the Old Continent, such stizos are rare, but in the New Continent, which has been colonized for a hundred years, and the Southern Continent, colonized for two hundred years, they are everywhere.
For now, if born into a noble family of the Old Continent, these children practically have no inheritance rights and are unlikely to gain recognition from the upper society.
However, due to a special living environnt, those who reside in the New Continent have slowly beco an important part of the colonial governance order. So of the Lucky Ones have even beco mbers of colonial administration.
Of course, it should be noted that these mixed-race children are mostly descendants of male Nimansite people and female Aboriginals.
In the Phaletis colonies.
White-skinned Nimansite people from the Old Continent, Creoles born in the New Continent with both parents white-skinned, mixed-race stizos, and pure brown-skinned Aboriginal Atrean people together form the social hierarchy, much like the caste system of Aiven’s previous life.
However, it’s sowhat better in the Phaletis and Tulip colonies.
But in the Hilus Kingdom’s territories, which occupy the central and southern vast regions of the New Continent, pure Aboriginal Atrean people are almost non-existent.
Because they implent an extrely cruel genocide policy!
A large number of indigenous n were driven into plantations and mines to perform various heavy physical labor, becoming consumables that would die of illness and exhaustion within a few years.
On the land where they lived, a large number of resilient Anuma people were continuously brought in through the triangle trade, gradually replacing the indigenous Atrean people.
Of course, this difference does not an that the Tulip colonizers were kinder than the Hilus.
From Aiven’s perspective, this was just a temporary compromise by the weak, and there was no essential difference between the two!
"You said there would be a surprising delight at this tavern, but you didn’t an this, right? Although not bad, it can hardly be called a surprise, right?"
"Gulp! Don’t worry, I still have confidence in this kind of simple prophecy."
After taking another big gulp of cool beer, Milan patted his chest and promised.
As soon as the words fell, they heard a group of lumberjacks nearby chatting, appearing especially chatty after so drinks:
"Hey! It was really a bit hot just now.
Why don’t we take turns sharing so scary stories that happened around us to cool everyone down a bit?"
"Alright! I’ll start, I’ll start!
I’ll tell a horror legend I heard from my grandfather, it’s a story about the ’Deer Bone God’ and ’Vengeful Evil Spirit’!"
As soon as another lumberjack in suspenders finished speaking, Aiven felt a sudden cold breeze beside him.
"Hiss—, a continent that believes in animism, seems a bit eerie!"
The two exchanged a glance.
From that lumberjack’s mouth, they heard the first creepy oddity after arriving on the New Continent!
Combining their own extraordinary knowledge, they also pieced together a relatively realistic image of the "oddity".
Its origin was related to the colonizers.
Nearly a hundred years ago, a native tribe that worshiped the New Continent’s primitive Death God Wuhao, before being conquered by "civilized people" from afar, sacrificed the souls of the entire tribe to this Death God.
Then.
A terrifying avenger was spawned from the strong resentnt within the tribe’s thousands of bones!
It wore a dirty deer hide battle robe, with the skull of a large antlered moose on its head, wielding an obsidian saw sword and obsidian spear.
Riding the skull warhorse covered in frayed ropes and stone thorns, spitting sparks from its mouth and nose. It wandered the vast wilderness of the continent all day, killing any "civilized person" that appeared before it.
Unafraid of swords, spears, knives, or firearms, it is a true evil spirit, unstoppable and immortal!
Even if killed by a high-level holy professional with infinite divine power, it would return in a few years, a decade later, and slaughter any "civilized person" settlent it encountered.
Besides, another "story" told by a worker also caught their attention.
The haunted Resentful Spirit Church.
Located just a few kiloters north of Thomas Town.
You should know that although Thomas Town was the first settlent successfully established by Phaletis, it had failed at least a dozen tis before.
Whether due to a lack of supplies, disease, native attacks, or... newly established settlents quickly scattered like stars.
Originally, the place was a Goddess Church built by the first batch of colonizers to arrive, but as the colony was reconquered by natives, the church beca desolate.
However, it is said that the initial holy professional who built the church actually intended to seal a horrific Resentful Spirit, but as the church fell into disrepair, the seal has already failed, and it has now beco a Resentful Spirit Church filled with ghost nuns.
No living person has entered there and left alive...
Perhaps intrigued by their topic, a middle-aged man who looked like a manager of a tobacco plantation at a nearby table leaned over with interest and asked, "Haven’t you heard about the Roanoke Island legend?"
"Roanoke Island?"
Aiven and Milan perked up their ears simultaneously.
That was another failed attempt by Phaletis prior to the successful establishnt of Thomas Town.
The first batch of colonizers to land on Roanoke Island were unprepared and lacked the ability to survive independently, not even possessing farming skills.
Forced by circumstances, they sent the immigrant leader back to the country for help.
But a bit over six months later.
As the immigrant leader returned with reinforcents, approaching the village at full speed that evening.
The distress smoke from the village suddenly ignited!
As they rushed into the village without stopping...
The plantation manager glanced around at everyone listening closely, his green eyes sweeping across their faces as he continued in a low voice:
"The oil lamps were lit on the dining tables, the als on the stoves were still hot, but all 116 villagers, 11 children, 88 n, 17 won, along with all dosticated animals and fowl had vanished without a trace!
They only saw a word carved on a tree outside the village with an unknown aning... Croatoan!"
When he uttered the last word, inexplicably, everyone present felt a cold breeze sweep over the back of their neck.
Woo—
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