Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory
Chapter 388: I really am a hell of an actor

Chapter 388: I really am a hell of an actor

So, this plan seems a little too simple, doesn’t it?

Well, the point of a plan is to get results. Doesn’t matter if it’s simple or complicated—as long as it works.

And right now, they were seriously out of time.

First off, Sea King Maelthorak’s injuries were getting worse by the day. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

Second—and this was the real kicker—he was worried those three Crimson Ultimate heroes from Emerald Castle might use the chaos of this faction war to trigger a second awakening... and actually ascend to godhood. If that happened, their chances of pulling this off would nosedive.

Because once someone becomes a true god, all bets are off.

Even the most powerful orange-tier Legendary heroes couldn’t hold a candle to a god.

That was the brutal truth.

Even a maxed-out Legendary hero couldn’t beat the weakest god.

That was the hard rule of this world.

So yeah, they had to move. Fast. Every second counted.

They had to finish this before those three awakened again.

"I’m in," one of them said.

"Same here," another nodded.

Zurei and Regnar XI both gave their approval without hesitation.

Then Astharel spoke up, cutting straight to the point. "So, who’s going to Emerald Castle to lure them out? Me, or Regnar?"

"You go," Regnar XI said quickly, eager to pass the job off. "You Gemspire folks have some history with Emerald Castle’s lord, right? Paxton from your kingdom was on good terms with them, wasn’t he? You’re the best fit for this. Too bad The Tidebreaker Paxton got drafted by the Greenwave Empire and sent to the front lines. If we had him with us, this would’ve gone even smoother."

"Fine, I’ll go," Astharel agreed with a nod, but then added with a sly grin, "But I’ve got one condition."

He didn’t wait for a response before laying it out.

"I want some troops. "

"Why?" Grand Duke Zurei snapped the moment he heard the demand. "You’re just going there to trick someone—what the hell do you need troops for?!"

It wasn’t just that he was hot-headed and impulsive—he was also notoriously stingy. Compared to the Storm Kingdom, Gemspire, or even Umagral, the Thunder Realm was dirt poor. They were the kind of kingdom that’d split a single coin in half just to make it last longer.

So asking him for anything—especially something as precious as military units?

That was like asking him to hand over a piece of his soul.

It hurt worse than getting stabbed.

"Then why don’t you go?" Astharel shot back with a cold smirk. His tone was calm, but the sarcasm cut deep.

"You all know Paxton’s been drafted by the Greenwave Empire. The only one I’ve got left is Orshar, and he’s barely half as strong. What if we run into an Inferno Devil army on the way?"

"Even if we don’t, what if the Emerald Castle lord sees through the ruse? The guy’s got three Crimson Ultimate heroes backing him. You think he’s some clueless idiot? You expect me to take all the risk for free?"

Zurei opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He just let out a frustrated grunt and fell silent.

Because deep down, he knew Astharel was right.

The seas were a mess right now—Inferno Devil forces were everywhere. Just staying home was dangerous enough; stepping out into open waters was practically asking to die.

And the Emerald Castle’s lord? Anyone who could command three Crimson Ultimate heroes wasn’t someone you could fool easily.

If the plan worked, great—everyone wins.

But if it failed? If they got exposed?

That’d be a death sentence.

That’s exactly why Regnar XI had shut it down the moment it was suggested. Everyone knew what was at stake.

And for Astharel—a king, no less—to be willing to take that risk himself? Asking for some compensation wasn’t just reasonable—it was expected. If the roles were reversed, any of them would’ve done the same.

"Alright, Astharel, no need to test us," Grand Duke Opriston finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. "Here’s the deal: for this mission, each of us will give you ten units of Tier-13 Legendary Kirin. Full soul-binding rights included."

"Ten units?" Astharel scoffed, laughing like he’d just heard a bad joke. "What, you think I’m a beggar? Make it twenty each, or forget it."

He wasn’t even trying to hide the mockery in his voice.

Twenty units from each of them meant sixty total. Not that he wouldn’t have loved to squeeze out more—this was a one-time deal, after all. Might as well milk it for everything it was worth.

But he also knew that was probably the ceiling.

They were all part of the Five Sea Kingdoms. Everyone knew what the others had—and didn’t have.

Take Astharel himself, for example.

He technically had access to around eighty Tier-14 Mythic Sacred Kirin.

But none of them were really his.

Some belonged to the Tidesworn faction, others to the Greenwave Empire.

Bottom line? Tier-14 Mythic Units were off-limits. They were just glorified babysitters for someone else’s army.

As for Tier-13 Legendary Kirin? He had close to five hundred.

But again, more than half of those came from the Tidesworn faction. The rest—just under half—were from the Greenwave Empire.

Which meant, after all the slicing and dicing...

Only about a quarter of them were truly his.

Maybe a little over a hundred, tops.

Neither Grand Duke Zurei’s Thundervale Kingdom nor Regnar XI’s Storm Kingdom were in any better shape than Astharel’s. In fact, they were probably worse off.

Umagral Kingdom might’ve had a slight edge, but even then, they were barely pushing 150—maybe 200 Tier-13 Kirin at most.

So in that context, asking for more wasn’t just bold—it was like slicing flesh off their bones.

And there was no way in hell they’d agree to that.

Which is why Astharel knew better than to push too far. Better to aim for something "reasonable."

That’s the art of being a good traitor—knowing exactly how much to ask for without blowing your cover.

"Twenty units? Are you out of your damn mind, Astharel? That’s not happening," Regnar XI growled, his face darkening.

"Then you go," Astharel shot back, voice dripping with mockery. "I’ll hand you twenty Kirin right now—go ahead, be my guest."

He leaned forward, eyes sharp. "You’re all playing these petty games at a time like this, and honestly? It’s making me question whether this alliance was a mistake. Sixty Kirin—what, that’s too much? If this plan works, I’ll be the one who made it happen. I’m the one taking the biggest risk. And you’re telling me I don’t deserve to be compensated?"

"You want the rewards without paying the price? What kind of fantasy world are you living in?"

"Same deal—twenty Kirin each. Take it or leave it."

Astharel thought to himself with a smirk: Damn, I really am a hell of an actor.

The more stubborn and greedy he appeared, the more it sold the image of a power-hungry opportunist.

Someone willing to risk everything—his life, his kingdom—for sixty units of Kirin.

A madman with ambition burning in his veins.

...

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