A sudden hush fell over the ocean.
The gale that tore through the fog abated its fury like a singer going off the stage while the troubled, heaving waves slowly calmed down. The ocean was finally clean of the yellow shadows, returning to its usual splendid deep blue color.
Maxin felt a heavy burden being lifted off his shoulders as a wash of relief coursed through him. It was great that the game ended at this point in time because he could not imagine how he would fare against the troop of Zeus while keeping his balance on top of the oscillating carpet at the same time.
The feeling of relief was shared amongst his other comrades, especially Hegel. His eyes shone brightly and a smile appeared on his face. However, not everybody was delighted with the sudden turn of events. Puppeteer's face turned grim, and he asked, gritting his teeth, "Has the game ended? Did the white camp lose?"
