Founded in the year 2,626 by a circle of defiant thinkers, the Realm of Viora began not as a kingdom, but a rebuttal—a philosophical protest against the meteoric rise of the Zoji faith. In their eyes, belief was a form of surrender, and surrender was not an option. What began as a dialogue hardened into doctrine, then law, then war.
The war never ended.
Though the stars have burned through millennia of peace, no truce has ever been signed. The Realm of Viora remains in a state of ideological war with the Zoji Kingdom. Not of blood—but of breath, rhetoric, and restraint. Violence is their greatest shame. They would sooner paralyze than pierce, a philosophy that led to the development of the Paralysis Rune, crafted in tandem with Practum to stop war without killing.
Their government is a chorus of controlled chaos—455 representatives, debating endlessly across the chambers of a seven-year term. Every year, 65 new voices join the fray. No law can pass without 282 votes. And no debate is ever truly done.
To speak in the Realm of Viora is to wield a blade. Debate is the kingdom's most cherished ritual—public, passionate, sometimes savage. Religion is tolerated as a curiosity, except for Zojism, which is met with disdain, as if its very faith were a threat to reason.
Viora thrives not through force, but through film and food. Its cinema is galaxy-renowned—cerebral, emotional, often unsettling. Its agriculture feeds entire sectors. Minimalist cities spread like orderly crops across the land, their buildings nearly indistinguishable, each one a testament to functionality over form. Art here is spoken, not sculpted.
The people live with discipline. Their meals reflect their culture—simple but satisfying, most famously their rich noodles in cheese sauce, endlessly varied but never overdone. Vanilla ice cream, clean and cold, is a quiet joy they rarely speak of but always finish.
And somewhere beneath this calm, ordered life lies the Fortress of Silence—the most feared prison in all of Obellustle. There, the worst of the galaxy's monsters are entombed, and even the other Galaxy Powers pay tribute for the service. In a realm that despises violence, this prison is both paradox and necessity. No one escapes. Most are forgotten.
Where Zojism asks for belief, the Realm of Viora demands understanding. And if understanding cannot be reached… it must, at the very least, be argued.