"Asmodeus, what is happening?"
There was a slight tremor in Expulsus's voice because he couldn't make sense of what was happening after jumping up from his seat suddenly; faced with the increasingly weird behaviors of the woman he was flirting with, his balance was also disturbed.
The other two envoys apart from the three-hundred-year-old youth hadn't been able to take their eyes off the images either; they were enchanted by the maneuvers of the female orc blowing like wind among the crowd with her two daggers.
"I didn't say anything the first time, but these are clearly fighting methods of the Hell Realm; moreover, no matter how much it weakened, these are techniques an organization worthy of the Sect title teaches its warriors!"
The high architect wouldn't be able to endure the magnificence of the daggers formed of blood; although he didn't say it explicitly, he was implying that the Sacred Blood Sect was behind this business.
"These are not techniques taught by a sect in my civilization!"
The young woman's denial would be futile; even Dragan, who had been silent for a long time, gathered his courage and entered the conversation.
"Even a child can understand that these blood-based techniques belong to the Sacred Blood Sect."
"These techniques belong not to the sect but only to a single person, and that person was killed a hundred years ago on the Orc Steppes!"
The way the development causing the Hell Realm to weaken suddenly occurred and its consequences were known by everyone, but all other truths were kept like a secret.
This was why the techniques used by Nafız, who received Mora's legacy, were thought to be the general teachings of the Sacred Blood Sect.
"Monks managed to lure the duo into a trap!"
Time progressing among the envoys' discussions would stop the moment the two orcs were trapped inside the inverted five-pointed star shape; Expulsus was watching what would happen with full attention.
Lights of attacks raining on the two orcs whose movements were restricted were enough to increase the excitement of the man with coal-black hair; a sweet excitement had gripped his heart as if he didn't know the result.
"Who the hell is this druid!"
With Ainle's shield appearing suddenly, the high architect would give a reaction proving he was really alive perhaps for the first time since he came to the ship.
Entering inside a magic circle was already a job requiring courage; on top of this, when the young druid applied his own technique, the old man's self-control had scattered instantly.
Hank was a little ashamed; fortunately, Ainle would come to his rescue too. The sound coming from the magic circle shattered by the blow he struck would overshadow the reactions of the four envoys and others.
"Sir!"
One of the crowd standing silently behind Expulsus rushed forward and called out to his master gently; faced with what they watched, they also needed to make an action plan.
The Envoy of the Lands of Light, watching what happened in an enchanted manner, wasn't aware, but Hank and Dragan had conveyed the orders they gave to their own units to the necessary places a few seconds ago.
The three-hundred-year-old youth had closed himself to all external effects; his eyes were seeing neither the envoys opposite him nor his subordinates trying to reach him.
In the impasse he fell into, the Envoy of the Lands of Light was trapped until Ainle activated the magic circle dominated by the soul covering the entire city.
"Deliver the images to the sect in the fastest way; we are retreating together with all our forces!"
Expulsus, seeing Ainle integrate the soul power belonging to the disciples of his civilization into a giant ball, finally returned to the moment and shouted; the team consisting of two orcs and a druid had ensured the end of the occupation lasting for centuries with a single battle.
Forces belonging to four civilizations retreated moving away from the trio's route; since forces remained only around the Main Orc Settlement, this job wouldn't be very difficult either.
"Father, what is happening; humans are fleeing!"
Druids living their daily lives were watching what was happening around them with astonishment; meanwhile, the Roots would also gather to make a situation assessment.
"Siege forces are retreating rapidly; first Hell Realm forces took action alone, then Machine Empire and Mercenaries joined them too!"
While the Fifth Root summarized the situation, he couldn't contain his excitement; enemies he had to see opposite him every day as long as he knew himself were no longer there.
"Lastly, units belonging to the Lands of Light left their locations; as of now, no enemy activity appears around our Settlement!"
Although what they heard was good from beginning to end, and their faces shone with a brighter smile than ever, a question in the hearts of council members prevented them from being comfortable.
"Why?"
The single question that could have thousands of answers was standing like an insurmountable barrier in front of their joy, preventing the burning lights of hope from warming them.
The entire afternoon would pass getting used to the weird feeling given by the silence trying to settle newly in places once ruled by unceasing sounds, until the shadows of three people fell onto the settlement like silhouettes of giant monsters coming from ancient ages due to the lights of the evening sun.
"Orcs came back!"
"Ainle is with them too!"
"Orcs are coming!"
The noise shaking the Main Druid Settlement would of course interrupt the Council's meeting too; the five roots coming to the place where the expectant crowd gathered were witnessing a scene they had never seen before.
There had been many of their kinsmen going out of the shield protecting them; in these times, the sorrow of diminishing a little more every time seeped into the deepest corners of their hearts.
Today, for the first time, they would feel what returning, reuniting meant; almost the soul of a child, tugging at his mother's skirts with excitement to share his joy due to his latest discovery despite learning something new every moment, lived inside them.
"My friends, my comrades, my warriors, your duty has ended!"
While Ainle, wearing simple druid clothes, raised the wooden staff in his hand into the air, reflections of clouds traveling incessantly along vast skies in his eyes came together to form a vortex.
At the same time, the ground started shaking; sounds of strong winds coming from nowhere were battering the ears reminding of thousands of whips cracking in the air.
Druids, whose emotions changed moment by moment like flowing river waters, were incapable of understanding what was happening; they had entered inside each other with the hope that disaster would bypass them if they stood close.
"Great Soul Shield Disperse!"
While time proceeded crawling, Ainle's voice would pierce through the chaos taking large lands under its influence; gathering dark clouds dispersed, shaking lands found peace, and the shield protecting the Main Druid Settlement for centuries disappeared never to exist again.
"Sacred shield!"
"Our protector left us!"
Other wails were breaking out from every mouth; while the last knot of the thin rope connecting them to life disappeared, many druids unable to endure emotional tides were falling to the ground losing their consciousness.
"Ainle, what are you doing!"
Although the Fourth Root was scorched with all the warmth of longing, she shouted toward her son without minding the cracking of her voice where timbres of anger hidden in shadows were dominant.
The old woman wanted to demand an account suppressing her motherly feelings faced with the destruction of the greatest treasure protecting their handful of remaining kinsmen by her son's hand; she was so carried away that she didn't even think to question when her naughty and useless son reached the might to tear apart the shield created by his ancestors.
"Soul Sacrifice Gather!"
Although the scrawny druid of old times heard everything, he wouldn't stop without finishing the job he started; he had taken action to absorb the pieces of the shield he separated into thousands of parts scattered in the air into his staff.
Lights sent onto the world by the setting sun with its last effort reflected as they touched soul particles charging madly to the place where the wooden staff was, and thousands of repetitions of the same movement were announcing to the whole world with a unique visual feast that an era closed on the Wild Swamp continent.