Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory
Chapter 434: To war, brave warriors!

Chapter 434: To war, brave warriors!

As soon as the thought hit him, Ethan quickly pulled up his message panel.

He needed to check the enemy’s full profile—right now.

[Maelthorak]

Faction: Tidesworn

One of the Ten Sea Kings of the Prime World!

Level: 88

Race: Kirin

Tier: Crimson Ultimate Hero

Hero Class: Sea King

Attack: ?

Defense: ?

...

Physical Damage: 1032~?

Magic Damage: 1121~?

...

Overall Assessment: D-Rank Crimson Ultimate Hero?

Status: Crimson Ultimate Hero’s Primordial Force is on the verge of collapse.

Damage Level: 85%

Condition: Critically Wounded

Overall Power Reduction: Approximately 91%–95%

Note:

When a Crimson Ultimate Hero’s Primordial Force has 0% damage, they are in perfect condition.

1%–30%: Minor damage, power reduced by 5%–15%.

30%–50%: Moderate damage, power reduced by 15%–40%.

50%–80%: Severe damage, power reduced by 40%–90%.

Above 80%: Near collapse—power reduced by 90% or more, risk of death.

Minor damage can self-heal and won’t worsen over time.

Moderate damage and above will gradually deteriorate over time, worsening the Primordial Force’s condition.

Especially once the damage reaches the "Severe" threshold—even if recovery is possible, it leaves permanent side effects. The hero’s Tier will permanently drop to D-Rank.

If the damage reaches "Near Collapse" and isn’t treated in time, the Primordial Force will shatter completely. The hero will lose their Crimson Ultimate status and divine rank—possibly even die.

"Level 88?!"

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, slamming hard against his ribs.

But then, his eyes lit up, narrowing slightly as a sharp glint flashed through them.

Maelthorak’s Primordial Force was on the brink of collapse.

Damage level: 85%.

Critically wounded.

Power reduced by roughly 91% to 95%.

Which meant... Maelthorak’s current strength was probably less than a tenth of what it used to be. If that’s the case... this fight might actually be winnable!

"Master, let me handle him!"

Seraphina’s voice rang in Ethan’s ear. He blinked in surprise and looked up—only to see Seraphina already diving straight toward Maelthorak from the sky!

"Perfect... let’s see what he’s really made of," Ethan muttered under his breath. Then his gaze shifted to Grand Duke Opriston and Regnar XI. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

He tossed out a casual command over his shoulder:

"Astharel, Zurei—those two and their forces are yours."

"Yes, my lord!"

"No problem, Lord Ethan! Leave it to us!"

Astharel and Zurei both nodded without hesitation.

The moment they did, both Grand Duke Opriston and Regnar XI’s faces twisted in shock. Their eyes locked onto the two with disbelief and fury.

"Astharel? Zurei?! You two... you dare betray Sea King Maelthorak?!"

"Are you insane?!" Regnar XI exploded, his voice cracking with rage. But deep in his eyes, there was something else—fear.

Grand Duke Opriston’s face had gone pale too, panic creeping into his expression.

Clearly, neither of them had seen this coming. Traitors in their midst—and not just one, but two of them?

That changed everything.

With Astharel and Zurei turning against them, they’d be completely tied up. There’d be no way to assist Maelthorak in the coming battle.

And if that happened... they were screwed.

"Looking to die? Opriston, don’t think I don’t see right through your little scheme." Zurei’s voice rang out, sharp and scornful. "You really think if Sea King Maelthorak wins, you’ll just sweep in, take us all down, and crown yourself King of the Five Sea Kingdoms? Keep dreaming!"

He sneered, eyes full of contempt as he stared them down.

"Let’s cut the crap and go to war. I brought my entire Thunderbird Cavalier army with me! Let’s see which one of you can actually take me on!"

As he spoke, Zurei raised his hand, signaling his forces. The skies behind him darkened as the thunderous cries of his elite cavalry echoed across the battlefield.

To him, as long as he wasn’t the one directly fighting Maelthorak, he had nothing to fear.

Neither Grand Duke Opriston’s Umagral Kingdom nor Regnar XI’s Storm Kingdom had any real edge over his Thundervale Kingdom. They were all on equal footing.

All he had to do was keep the two of them locked down.

And when the dust settled? Victory would be his.

"Opriston," Astharel said coldly, his voice calm but laced with steel, "the balance of the Five Sea Kingdoms has been frozen for far too long. It’s time we ended this once and for all. The winner takes everything."

He glanced up at Maelthorak, still hovering in the sky, and let out a low, mocking laugh. "And the loser? Loses it all."

"Unfortunately for you... this time, the losers are going to be you."

"Paxton!" Astharel suddenly roared.

From the distance came a deafening response—an earth-shaking war cry that rolled across the land like a tidal wave.

A massive army surged into view—dark as a storm cloud on the horizon.

It was the full might of the Gemspire Kingdom.

Dozens of 13-Tier Kirin units, hundreds of 12-Tier Naga Swordmasters, and thousands of 11-Tier Naga Swordsmen marched in perfect formation, their weapons gleaming, their eyes burning with resolve.

Even The Tidebreaker Paxton, who had been deep in the middle of a campaign in the Greenwave Empire, had been summoned back for this.

Astharel had pulled every string, burned every bridge. He knew this move would piss off the Greenwave Empire in a big way—but he didn’t care anymore.

Because this battle wasn’t just a skirmish.

It was everything.

Win, and he’d rise above them all—maybe even above the Greenwave Empire itself.

Lose, and he’d lose it all.

He was all in.

And he wasn’t afraid anymore.

"For the Gemspire Kingdom!" Astharel bellowed. "To war, brave warriors!"

From the front lines, The Tidebreaker Paxton let out a thunderous roar and charged, leading the Gemspire army straight toward Dobanion.

Zurei wasn’t about to be left behind.

He raised his sword high and shouted, "Doralt! Crush them!"

"For our future! For Thundervale Kingdom! For Emerald Castle!"

"RAH! RAH! RAH!"

"RAH! RAH! RAH!"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The sky exploded with the screeches of Thunderbirds and the war cries of their riders. Five thousand units of 11-Tier elite hidden-class troops—Thunderbird Cavaliers—launched into the air like a living storm.

They swept in from the opposite direction, diving toward Dobanion like a thunderclap from the heavens.

And when Grand Duke Opriston and Regnar XI saw what was coming, their faces went pale.

Their eyes widened in panic.

The war had begun.

There was no turning back now.

And all they could do... was fight with everything they had.