Conquest and plunder, like twins, are deeply engraved in the genes of the Darents.

Every Darrant is born with an ambition for the outside world, as they hear from their elders and school teachers.

In their culture, whoever brings resources and wealth to their home planet is an out-and-out hero, who not only gains great profit and prestige, but also takes the opportunity to enter the upper echelons of society and become a member of the ruling class.

Of course, as a typical high-level magical civilization, it is always the powerful spellcasters who really hold the decisive power.

On the one hand, they have unrivaled power for ordinary people, and on the other hand, they are the only ones who can manipulate those complex magical devices and inflict devastating blows on their enemies.

On top of that, spellcasters have an extremely long lifespan after countless self-transformations, and time has endowed them with wisdom countless times beyond ordinary people, and some of them have even become some kind of special life beyond the gods.

Right now, the old monsters are gathering in a dark, ancient, musty house.

The table was not filled with expensive magic lamps, but instead lit candles made of unknown animal fat.

Thanks to technological innovations, even the poorest Darrants can now ensure that their magic lamps are kept in their homes all day long, but they still use some of the old lighting fixtures that are only mentioned in history books.

After a full minute, one of the old fellows, who was dry and thin, like a dried corpse, coughed vigorously and took the initiative to speak, "That kid is leaving! Let's talk about it, what should we do next?"

"Is this a plan that has been twelve years in the making finally begin?" said another guy who was shrouded in darkness and darkness, and his tone revealed a strong anticipation.

The old guy who was the first to speak nodded earnestly: "Yes! His presence means too much to us. In particular, the brilliant light released by that soul is simply like the most beautiful treasure in the universe. If there is a large group standing behind him, we must start to consider whether to take the initiative to kneel down and become a vassal of the other party, or to flee with all the knowledge and technology. ”

"But what if not, what if there are only the last two of such precious lives left?" asked another old man with a smirk.

"Then let them fit in! With the blood and genes that flow through them, we can maximize the potential of our Darrants. If I'm not mistaken, some of you are already preparing to try to breed half-breeds, right?"

As he said this, the man who was shrouded in dark shadows raised his head, and his eyes burst out without a trace of emotion.

Obviously, as a Darrant who has developed to where he is today by constantly reinventing himself, he doesn't care about bullshit purebloods, at least in the eyes of these high-level people who have the power to decide, the purer the bloodline, the smarter and the greater the potential, which is pure nonsense.

To be precise, the Darrants who live on the planet Mocha now can't find a so-called pure-blood, and each of them has at least more than twenty other genes mixed in their bodies.

As early as the Barbarian Age, the ancient Darrants realized the benefits of racial integration, and constantly combined themselves with those magical creatures to give birth to half-blood offspring, and then let these half-blood offspring combine with other kinds, through blood dilution, little by little to improve the talent of the entire race in magic.

Today, the more prosperous the family, the more influential and talented the family, the smaller the proportion of the original bloodline.

But the Darrants aren't all garbage, at least they won't allow races with low IQs, lazy appetites, and no contribution to improving their potential.

On the contrary, in the face of such garbage, they often resort to genocide once and for all.

"Hehe, isn't that a matter of course? But I'm a little skeptical that the boy will really accept the future we have laid out for him. From his upbringing, it can be seen that the appearance of women in our group does not conform to his aesthetics. The old fellow, who looked like a dried corpse, reminded with a worried face.

It is not difficult to judge from the information that keeps flashing on the black stone slab that this little guy who suddenly appeared in the Ring of Space, and is even likely to be the culprit who caused the energy storm, is rarely affected by the surrounding environment, as if he was born with a strong sense of self.

"Isn't that easy! Pick out a group of talented women and make them make a permanent change in appearance. In addition, it would be of interest to the adjutant of the expeditionary force to observe the women of those races in the conquered worlds. Without thinking, Dark Shadow offered a solution.

For an extraordinarily advanced magical civilization, a permanent change in appearance is nothing.

What's more, any Darenta who becomes a spellcaster doesn't care what his appearance looks like.

Look at the people in power who control the direction of the entire civilization of these people present, some are already in a necromantic state, and some have transformed themselves into a ghost form, and the guy with a furry and cute appearance in the corner will devour the soul of an innocent person every once in a while, turning the other party's body into a temporary container for himself.

Unfortunately, the boy apparently didn't know that he was being targeted by the higher-ups, and was leading the expeditionary army across the portal and appearing on an empty beach.

Before he could observe his surroundings, several Darrants hiding behind the rocks rushed out and shouted with ecstatic expressions, "It's coming!

"Hooray!

"Be sure to let the damned natives know what it means to rebel against us this time!"

"War, destruction, death! I will redouble the suffering I have suffered over the years!"

......

Accompanied by crying and swearing, these embarrassed-looking creatures lay on the beach without an image of them, their faces full of the expression of the aftermath of the catastrophe.

You know, in the world conquered by the Darents, the power of the native natives can be described as uneven.

Some of them are so bad that only a small number of forces are needed to maintain a brutal rule, while some powerful ones need to adopt a policy of softness, co-opting local forces, and preferably allowing them to kill each other, even if they destroy the original order, and dare not adopt a high-handed policy against the fierce indigenous population.

You don't have to ask to know that this world belongs to the latter.

Therefore, after losing contact with the home planet, the Darrants who stayed in the magic fortress were immediately subjected to revenge and hunting by Forever Peace, and it was already a strong will to be able to hold on for twelve years without collapse.