The Hunters were dead. One had succumbed to injuries sustained weeks earlier. The others had committed suicide upon recognizing the extensive tragedy they’d generated in the lives of so many. The Assassins were dead. One had died after refusing to commit yet another murder against a defenseless innocent. The other had died while attempting to commit a similar murder, confronted by a greater, more deadly fighter, who’d fought to defend a loved one. The man who’d controlled it all, the man who’d recoded the minds of those who served him with absolute loyalty lay dead as well. His death, ironically, was the most noble, engaging in the activity of teleportation that so terrified him to save the life of a daughter he’d ordered killed on more than one occasion. On this floor, one could do little but declare a decisive Alliance victory. They’d wanted to keep the casualty count low. But none of them felt significant grief over the Aliomenti deaths in this room.
