While the conversations of the humans and the unidentified beings on the Death Pass continued, the news of the latest developments was falling into the hands of the high-level officials of the two continents that managed to protect their independence on the World of the Six Civilizations. The news spreading from the same source reached each of them at the same time.
The person walking on the wooden bridge over an expanse with lava on one side and a sea of flame on the other was neither too fast nor too slow. Even though small sparks scattered from the hems of his robe, he didn't stop advancing; calmness reigned on his face covered by his hood.
Four more people like him, advancing over the bridges upon light, wind, earth, and water, reached next to the people gathered around the round tables. There were three people at each table, and all of them were men. When the messengers told the fate of the units sent to defend the Mercenaries' Home, they couldn't react at first, but a few seconds later, the wooden bridges vanished one by one.
"What did you say? Did our students die?"
The places, people, and tones of voice were different, but the spoken words were exactly the same. The people holding the administration of the five societies ruling over the Lands of Light weren't expecting this. Even though the reactions were violent, none of them could measure up to the wrath of the Third Elder of the Companions of Light Society.
"My son, did my son die too?"
For him, this relief expedition wasn't just a situation where he lost his student; his son Godfrey was there as a commander. If the Death Pass fell, it was uncertain what would happen to him, but a few seconds later, the situation would gain clarity.
"Sir, your son has been captured alive. Right now, he is a prisoner of the Hell Realm King, Joshua!"
The man possessing long golden blond hair, looking to be in his fifties, sat back in the place he rose from in fury. The long breath coming out from between his lips said he was relieved; unlike him, it couldn't be said that the other two people at the table were in the same emotional state.
"What do you plan to do?"
The face of the person with a halo radiating golden lights above his head was looking sour; it was obvious he wasn't pleased with the news he received. Upon his question, the head of the Bouillon family took one red grape from the bunch of grapes on the table and tossed it into his mouth.
When his pale lips got wet with the liquid overflowing from the fruit, his skin attained the pinkness of a young girl. He was in no hurry to respond; he was enjoying the aroma lingering on his tongue, but he was also aware that these pleasant moments would be short-lived.
"I will do what is necessary; I will go to the Golden City!"
"You are aware that you won't be able to sit at this table again, aren't you?"
The third person, who hadn't spoken before, finally broke the seal on his mouth. His eyebrows looking at the sky were trembling; his gazes were mysterious with the effect of his gray eyes too.
"I guess you mixed blood with the wine in your glass?"
Father Bouillon finished the drink in the glass belonging to him in one gulp, threw the glass onto the marble floor with ice-blue veins, and began to walk. Glass shards scattered; meanwhile, the white-haired man had already reached the other end of the collapsed bridge.
The Companions of Light wouldn't be the last society to send support to the Golden City; the sovereigns of the Lands of Light, understanding the enemy wasn't a few marauders and rebels as they thought, looked as if they would take the matter seriously this time.
Around almost the same times, in the northeast of the World of the Six Civilizations, no one could stand in front of the mechanical vehicle advancing on the streets of the city invaded by dark clouds in a corner of the world.
Whatever was between it and the place the sharp nose of the coal-black vehicle turning the corner pointed at, was fleeing to the side at the highest possible speed. The situation continuing for ten minutes came to an end when it arrived in front of the obelisk extending to the sky; the three people shooting out from inside the vehicle began to run up the stairs.
They were advancing like an arrowhead, and the tall person at the front had a silver box sealed with a red seal in his right hand. The guards seeing this box stepped aside; the journey of the trio starting from the black eagle statue standing with its wings open continued non-stop until they passed under the door rising on pillars possessing a darkness that would make the night jealous.
"The report of the latest developments on the Mercenaries' Home has reached our hands. If the High Council wishes, we can share it immediately!"
Of the trio falling to one knee, the person carrying the silver chest spoke. The gazes of the people in the rows rising on both sides of the hall with a ceiling at least twenty steps high were on them.
"Speak, the Supreme Council is listening to you!"
Right opposite them, the man sitting higher than everyone else and clad in black clothes responded. The rest were nodding their heads, approving him, but the gazes of this person, the sides of whose black hair had turned white, were on the silver chest.
When the messenger broke the red seal, this interest reached its peak; all hundred people were watching the opening of the paper on the velvet floor. There was no trace of emotion on the faces of the messengers; it would be revealed seconds later that this situation manifested itself not only in their mimics but also in their voices.
"Our forces consisting of scientists, engineers, and technicians have been annihilated, leaving not a single person alive. The secret facility on the Mercenaries' Home has been uncovered; the research results along with the test subjects have fallen into the hands of the enemy!"
There was silence, absolute silence. The messengers bowed their heads and waited, while the other hundred people turned to the person who stood up. The man above everyone else raised his right hand; the palm of his hand at the end of his arm extending forward was facing the others.
"Let a new army be established. We will participate in the defense of the Golden City, the capital of the Mercenaries' Home!"
A hundred people responded with the same hand gesture. Everyone stood up; while the messengers ran away, the lightning arcs wandering among the black clouds accompanied them. The Machine Empire wouldn't accept the defeat; to protect the last fortress of their allies, it was decided to prepare an army better equipped than the previous one.
The two civilizations underestimating the Hell Realm forces refused to retreat upon the loss they experienced. They knew that the Mercenaries, who had already lost the first line, also lost their second defense lines, and for this reason, they directed the new armies they would send directly to the capital.
The decision, not the product of a tremendous tactical genius, was spot on because the real owners of the continent also thought like them. The four surviving great merchant guild leaders were on the terrace of the only ruined structure in the capital.
The largest and most pro-war person among them was absent; they knew Izumrud and his army were destroyed by his own son Batu. The victory of the Golden Army leader, allying with the residents of the Sand City, had shattered not only the Middle Region but also the balance of power among the five great merchant guilds.
"Idiot Izumrud. He wasn't just defeated by his son, whom he made an enemy of unnecessarily, he also went and got himself killed!"
Tirkizna couldn't even be bothered to tie her turquoise hair up. When she finished her words, her gazes were on the old man with gold specks where his eyebrows should be.
"Are you still blaming me for something that happened years ago? As two guilds, am I the one who couldn't protect the Death Pass, uncrossed for centuries?"
The face of the Turquoise Leaf Merchant Guild Leader fell, and she wasn't alone either. Dijamant, the youngest person among them, was at least as guilty as the old woman concerning the loss of the Death Pass.
"Is it true that the Machine Empire forces were wiped from the world by just three people? When the scouts examined the battlefield, they couldn't believe what they saw!"
On the day unity and solidarity were needed the most, the heads of the merchant guilds had fallen out with each other. They were blaming each other, avoiding taking the responsibility of the defeat upon themselves. Then footsteps began to be heard; the rhythmic sounds starting to come from the bottom of the tower were getting closer and closer.
The terrace went quiet; the people trying to strangle each other just a moment ago stepped aside. Their eyes were on the rusted iron door; they were waiting for the owner of the approaching footsteps.