Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory

Maelor weighed the broken horn in his hand.

Next, he snapped his arm forward and threw it at Seraphine like a spear.

The horn ripped through the air so fast it left only a thin afterimage. It shot straight out of Maelor’s grip, shattering several golden blade-lights along the way, the tip locked precisely on Seraphine’s chest.

Seraphine didn’t move.

The deep-gold rings around her contracted at the same time, stacking layer upon layer in front of her. When the broken horn struck the first ring, a burst of blinding sparks exploded from the tip. By the second ring, its speed had noticeably dropped. By the time it reached the last, the blades orbiting Seraphine snapped into motion, crossing in front of her and blocking its path.

A metallic clang rang through the sky.

The horn stopped less than half an arm’s length from Seraphine’s body, then was forced aside by the shield’s pressure.

Her wings didn’t even spread.

Under a sky flooded with deep-gold light, she didn’t need them. She stood at the heart of radiance, and the blades around her froze in place, every edge aimed at Maelor.

"Judgment!"

Seraphine lifted both hands. A deep-gold array unfurled under Maelor’s feet.

"Holy Light!"

The top of the space lit up.

A thick pillar of holy light slammed straight down from above, bombarding Maelor at the point the array had locked onto. Before the beam even landed, the golden lines on the ground had already sealed shut. From different directions, bands of light stretched out, binding his ankles and calves.

The immobilization crept upward.

Holy light pressed down from overhead, determined to crush him inside the array and make him take his punishment.

Maelor glanced down at his trapped legs.

He didn’t try to break free.

The wind blade in his hand came down in a single clean chop—

—and he severed his own legs.

Blood and airflow burst from the cut. The part of his body pinned by the array remained behind, while his upper half rode a high-speed spinning gust, shooting straight toward Ethan’s position.

Holy light struck the array.

The deep-gold column swallowed the severed legs. The platform surface caved downward, and a wide swath of stone fragments were ground into powder inside the glare.

Seraphine twisted her wrist.

The golden rings she’d spread earlier suddenly expanded, catching up to Maelor as he fled the array and pulling him back into their coverage from behind.

Maelor glanced over his shoulder.

He didn’t believe Seraphine would truly ignore her companions’ lives.

So he didn’t keep running.

Instead, he tossed a compressed mass of wind behind him. The instant it left his hand, it unfurled and began spinning at high speed along the boundary of the space itself. Under the constant cutting of wind blades, the previously stable barrier cracked—

—then shattered outward from the center.

A tear opened in the space.

Maelor dove into it headfirst.

When he emerged again, he was already above Ethan and the others.

Ataneya had been ready.

The pale-blue sphere at her chest had finished condensing. Her twenty-four tails were braced hard against the surrounding platforms, forcibly stabilizing the shaking footholds. Pale-blue rings continued to expand outward; each wave made the nearby air sink, like gravity was briefly getting heavier.

Behind her, Feylora had spent most of her strength.

She’d collapsed to her knees, arms hanging limp at her sides, forced to lean against one of Ataneya’s tails. Her face was bloodless, her breathing ragged—yet her eyes stayed fixed on that pale-blue sphere.

The charge was more than enough.

Ataneya lifted a hand and sent the fully primed orb toward Ethan.

Ethan caught it.

The moment the pale-blue sphere settled into his palm, the white lightning threaded inside it accelerated sharply. Arcs surged outward from the core, and every time they hit the boundary, the pale-blue layer slammed them back inside.

Maelor had barely burst through the spatial tear when Ethan whipped his arm up and threw the orb.

The blue-white sphere rose from the platform’s center, flying on a slanted path straight for Maelor’s chest. Where it passed, the air was shoved aside, leaving behind a brief vacuum corridor.

The instant the attack left his hand, Ethan began to dissolve.

Black particles spilled out from his arm and shoulder, swallowing his whole body in seconds. They didn’t chase the sphere from behind. Instead, they split into the still-unclosed wind currents around them, silently sliding toward Maelor’s flank.

Maelor noticed, of course.

The blue-white sphere was coming head-on, and the black particles were closing from the side. He’d been diving toward Ataneya’s platform, but now he jerked his direction mid-flight, forcing the wind to drop him sharply downward.

He wanted to slip through the gap between attacks.

But the black particles below had already gathered.

Ethan reappeared, solid again—directly in Maelor’s path.

Above: the pursuing blue-white orb.

To the side: the black particles that hadn’t fully dispersed yet.

Below: Ethan, waiting.

Maelor’s descent route was sealed.

In the air, Seraphine swept a hand. A golden shield rose instantly around Ataneya, enclosing both her and the exhausted Feylora.

Then Seraphine’s gaze turned icy as she looked at Maelor.

While the fight inside this space tightened toward a kill, something changed outside the ruin as well.

At the very top of the ruins, the sword that had been embedded at the highest point suddenly tore itself free.

Metal shrieked against stone as the blade slid out. Then it plunged down the ruin’s outer wall at extreme speed. No one was controlling it—yet it stabbed straight toward the ground with perfect accuracy, aimed at the teleportation array.

The moment the sword tip touched the array, every carved line on the ground lit up.

In the next instant, the entire sword vanished into the light and entered the teleportation formation.

The people guarding the perimeter didn’t manage to stop it in time.

By the time they reacted, only trembling light remained at the center of the array. Everyone gripped their weapons and reset their formation.

Their companions were clearly still fighting in the inner space.

Which meant the cores outside—those responsible for maintaining power here—needed to be destroyed.

Seraphina and Andona had already climbed up to the ruins.

After learning Ethan and the others had entered the internal space, they’d stayed near the teleportation array, waiting for a chance to support them. The sword had shot through too fast for anyone to respond.

Now, every pair of eyes was locked on the array.

Their intention to enter was obvious.

But before anyone could take a single step, a ring of wind cores appeared in front of them.

The cores arranged themselves around the group at equal spacing, enclosing everyone at the center. Rotating patterns lit up across each core’s surface, and small wind blasts began condensing in front of them.

The wind blasts didn’t fire.

They just hovered there, aimed at the trapped group.

At the same time, the "butlers" that had seemed powerless suddenly exploded.

Empty shells split from within, fragments blasting outward. Moments later, stones scattered around the ruin began sliding toward the teleportation array. More and more gathered, stacking in layers around the formation’s center.

Clusters of butler wreckage were pulled in as well.

Wind threaded through the hollow shells, binding stone and debris together. A massive wind giant gradually stood up, feet planted on either side of the teleportation array, its body towering directly above it.

Only now did everyone truly understand what those butlers were for.

They’d only ever been shells.

The real power had been scattered around the ruin the entire time. The butlers were just containers—and once the sword at the top triggered everything, that dispersed power finally began to converge.

On one side: the wind cores encircling the group.

On the other: the wind giant standing over the array.

A battle was about to erupt.

Meanwhile, the sword that had entered the teleportation formation kept traveling.

Inside the array’s light, it flew forward, passing through layer after layer of warped space—until it pierced into a strange inner domain.

Ethan was the first to notice it.

Maelor, mid-descent, also paused for a split second.

He felt his sword.

Maelor abandoned Ataneya and the others instantly, twisting his body hard in midair. He no longer cared about the holy light chasing from behind, and he no longer cared about Ethan’s close-range ambush. He turned into a high-speed stream of wind and shot straight toward the sword that had just entered the space.

The blade radiated violent power.

Every time it moved forward, the surrounding space visibly warped. Nearby platforms were tugged; loose gravel at their edges lifted into the air, rushing toward the sword—only to be shredded by the overflowing force before it could reach.

Everyone felt that pressure, and their expressions changed at the same time.

They looked to Ethan—worry tightening their faces.