Based on current sociological findings, all primitive intelligent life forms share one universal trait: the development of religion.

Is religion an inevitable byproduct of societal evolution? The sample size is too small for absolute certainty. However, humanity, the Indigenous Reptilians, the Nixians, and the Planet Dige natives all walked this exact path.

"The evolution of civilization is a highly complex process where a minuscule change can trigger profound consequences; it is inherently a chaotic system. Over the vast expanse of time, even the slightest variable can spark a massive butterfly effect."

"Consequently, the psychological frameworks of different civilizations will vary wildly."

The deeply entrenched religious fanaticism of the Planet Dige natives was primarily caused by one massive, unpredictable variable: Gaia.

"Imagine a modern human encountering an entity as powerful as Gaia. They would be curious, fascinated, and eager to study it scientifically. But what if a primitive caveman encountered it?"

"When a primitive mind witnesses a phenomenon it cannot comprehend, it naturally assumes it is the work of a deity. And when that deity transitions from an ethereal myth to a tangible, interactive reality, their religious dogma becomes irrevocably set in stone."

The main holographic screen began playing footage of the alien natives performing various bizarre religious rituals. "From a modern perspective, their mindset is completely alien to us. Almost every single one of them is a zealot, becoming violently fanatical whenever their Sea God is mentioned."

"Countless ancient conflicts, and even their modern wars, were ignited by religion simply because they worshipped different interpretations of the Sea God. Some factions called it ’Umorlu,’ while others called it ’Umoro.’ These minor theological differences plunged entire nations into bloodshed."

Jason nodded. "That is not hard to understand. Humanity shares a very similar dark history."

Throughout human history, every culture depicted its deities in its own image. When one group rejected the physical depiction of another group’s deity, fierce holy wars inevitably erupted to protect their "true god," their "faith," and their "community." Of course, these holy wars were rarely just about faith; they were often thin veils for plundering wealth, land, and resources. The latter was usually the true driving force.

The female presenter smiled and continued, "The religious texts we analyzed date back to their primitive era. We have no way of knowing how much is historical fact and how much is pure myth. We must examine them with a critical eye."

The first religious myth began to play out on the screen:

During the earliest tribal era of their civilization, a skilled fisherman named Turadin lived along the coast. In primitive coastal tribes, being a fisherman was a noble and highly respected profession.

Turadin was exceptional. His keen intuition and agility allowed him to haul in far more seafood than the average gatherer. Furthermore, as the son of the tribal chieftain, he enjoyed a privileged, high-ranking status.

However, the natural environment was brutal, and securing food was always the absolute priority for survival. Because marine life migrated with the seasons, the tribes were forced into a nomadic lifestyle just to survive.

Migration bred conflict. Two apex predators cannot share the same territory. When migrating tribes crossed paths, wars inevitably erupted over fertile fishing grounds, coastal territory, and slaves.

"Resources were scarce and highly unreliable. As a result, the average life expectancy of a Planet Dige native during that era was only twenty years."

"Bloodshed and slaughter were everyday occurrences. This is a universal truth for primitive civilizations: until basic survival needs like food and shelter are met, complex morality cannot take root."

Unfortunately, Turadin’s tribe lost a territorial war, and the chieftain’s son was reduced to a slave.

Falling from royalty to slavery was a crushing blow. Slaves worked from dawn until dusk but were only allowed to keep a meager fraction of the food they gathered. Their survival depended entirely on their master’s fleeting mercy.

"Has the Sea God abandoned us?" many slaves wept in despair.

Turadin thought differently. As a devout zealot, he sneered at their weakness. He firmly believed that this suffering was merely a divine test. To prove his unwavering devotion, whenever Turadin received his tiny ration of food, he would sneak away and bury one-third of it in the sand at a specific spot on the beach as a sacrifice to the Sea God.

Every few days, he would dig a small pit, place the food inside, and wait. When the tide rolled in, the food vanished, and the pit filled with wet sand. Turadin firmly believed that the Sea God had personally accepted his meager gift.

One day, he returned to the beach and found that his small offering pit had expanded into a massive crater. Inside the crater lay several large, thrashing fish!

[The Gods never abandon their people; it is only the people who abandon the Gods!]

The story concluded with this dramatic moral, urging all natives to remain devout believers.

It was a classic, nonsensical religious parable that left the modern human audience completely baffled. Jason frowned. If this story had originated on Earth, he would assume it was pure fiction or the work of a prankster.

But on Planet Dige, during its primitive era... it was entirely plausible. This planet was home to a massive, ancient algal consciousness.

Did Gaia actually do this? And if so, why? Was it out of pity? Compassion?

"I have a question," Jason said, standing up. "Historically, how much interaction has Gaia actually had with the natives?"

The presenter replied, "Incredibly rarely. In fact, it has almost always remained completely silent! The story of Turadin is the first recorded instance of contact, universally referred to as a ’miracle.’ It was at this exact moment in their history that their concept of a deity shifted from an imaginary comfort to a tangible, physical entity."

"Could the entity possess true self-awareness and a desire to be worshipped?" a senior biologist mused aloud. "Does it feel empathy? Or is this entire epic just a fabricated fairy tale?"

Since the debate yielded no definitive answers, the second story was displayed on the screen:

After Turadin’s miracle, more natives desperately tried to mimic his primitive priesthood. Turadin himself was elevated to the title of "Son of the Sea God" and permanently escaped his life of slavery.

But the Sea God, Umorlu, was erratic. It rarely responded to these new sacrifices, and no one ever saw its true form. All they knew was that occasionally, the Sea God bestowed gifts.

Its personality was totally unpredictable, yet undeniably generous. A tiny scrap of offered food might yield a massive bounty of fish in return. Sometimes it was just a few fish; other times, it was an entire tidal pool overflowing with marine life. For a starving primitive tribe, that was an unimaginable blessing.

Although these "miracles" only occurred once every few years, or even decades, the natives never stopped praying and sacrificing. They blamed their countless failures on their own lack of faith. A single, exceptionally rare success could instantly elevate a commoner to the ruling class. Nobody dared challenge a recognized "Son of the Sea God."

That specific stretch of beach became recognized as holy ground. Word of the miracles spread, and neighboring tribes migrated there, all desperate to perform the ritual.

Predictably, brutal holy wars broke out. Every tribe wanted exclusive control of the holy beach to prove they were the true chosen people of the Sea God. This violent centralization of power laid the earliest foundations for a nation-state. After years of relentless bloodshed, a primitive kingdom was formed.

"It is fascinating that their concept of a nation was entirely forged by religious fervor. You have to admit, Gaia indirectly forced these primitive people to organize and develop."

With a unified state, labor was divided efficiently, allowing them to miraculously sustain a large, dense population. However, thirty-eight years after Turadin’s death, a catastrophic tsunami struck the coast. It obliterated the surrounding settlements and caused devastating casualties among the coastal population.

The religious text read:

[The people’s sacrifices were not born of true piety, but of a greedy desire to extract gifts and mortal status from the Heavens. Because of this endless greed, the Gods were enraged, and for ten thousand years afterward, not a single miracle was granted.]

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