The uproar spread like wildfire, unstoppable and alive.
Every race within the Divine Sky Realm , those who lived in forests, under the seas, or upon the floating isles suspended in the void , felt the same tremor stirring within them: hope.
For many, this was more than a miracle.
It was a gateway to evolution, a chance that might never come again.
Not far from the goblin territories, a silver island of metal floated calmly amid the blue mist. There lived the race of half-ants , humanoids with sturdy builds, some with hardened mandibles, others with thin, trembling wings that buzzed when they grew nervous.
At the center of their capital city , right atop a crimson stone square , stood a metallic structure glowing in bluish-white light. Its form was identical to the one that appeared in the goblin lands: the Mission Station. Two steel sentinels guarded the gate, motionless, staring straight ahead.
Crowds filled the streets.
Cheers and applause thundered from every direction.
