Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory

Ethan was still in particle form, and he sensed it too—something was off.

Maelor had changed direction so abruptly, with such a clear target, that it could only mean one thing: that sword mattered to him. Ethan didn’t keep the particle state. The black grains snapped back together, rebuilding his body in an instant.

He lifted his arm and hurled the blue-white energy sphere forward.

It chased after Maelor from behind. Inside it, white lightning kept slamming into the pale-blue outer wall, driving the whole sphere to accelerate continuously as it flew.

Ethan shot after it, close behind.

In the center of the sky, Seraphine raised both hands with reverent focus.

First, she turned her palms toward Ethan.

A gentle holy light fell from her hands, crossing the distance and landing precisely on him. It didn’t strike like an attack. It sank into his limbs and torso, flowing inward, replenishing the power he was burning through.

Then Seraphine rotated her other hand.

Death power gathered in her palm. Darkness was wrapped in a layer of deep-gold radiance and compressed into a stable orb of death.

She pushed it toward Maelor’s back.

Ethan immediately felt the surge inside him.

Holy light raced along his energy channels. Gold shone through beneath his skin, spreading across his entire body. He clenched his right fist. Death power and sacred strength poured into his arm together, interlacing along his knuckles.

Two forces that should’ve rejected each other didn’t explode—

—not yet.

Under Ethan’s control, they held a razor-thin distance, restrained and ready.

His speed jumped again.

Up ahead was only the sword.

Maelor was rushing to claim it.

And behind him, four energy bodies—each strong enough to warp the surrounding space—closed in from different angles. Blue-white lightning lit one side. Holy light cut through the gray wind layers. Death energy dragged the nearby light down into shadow. And Ethan came from above, a fully loaded punch already crowding toward Maelor’s head.

Just as the net was about to close—

The sword stopped.

It hung there, perfectly still.

Maelor was only a short stretch away. The attacks behind him sealed his retreat. Watching it, everyone felt the outcome was decided.

Maelor was about to lose the contest.

Then the frozen sword shifted.

Its hilt turned toward Maelor, and the blade accelerated—

—charging toward his outstretched hand on its own.

"Crap!"

Shouts erupted from multiple platforms at once.

Everyone saw the problem immediately.

Maelor’s speed was already hard to track. What he lacked was the raw frontal power to crush everyone’s attacks. That was why shields, holy light, and repeated energy strikes could still pin his movement down.

But if that sword reached his hand, the balance would snap in half.

His speed wouldn’t just be for dodging anymore.

He’d finally have an attack method worthy of that speed.

The sword surged straight toward him.

Its power was unstoppable. Space ahead of the blade was squeezed and bent to both sides. The hilt drew closer and closer to Maelor’s fingertips. Both his arms were fully extended now—one last fraction, and he’d have it.

Right before contact, a blinding light burst behind him.

The blue-white lightning sphere struck Maelor’s back first.

The instant it hit, the pale-blue outer energy expanded, pressing down the wind around Maelor. Then the stored white lightning detonated, spreading from his spine into his limbs like a violent network.

Almost simultaneously, a holy beam lanced in from behind.

It pierced through the wind layer and landed exactly where the blue-white sphere had hit. The two forces stacked directly. The impact exploded outward from Maelor’s back, shoving the nearby air into a clear circular ripple.

Ethan appeared above Maelor.

He drew his right fist back. Death power and holy strength spun around his arm at high speed. To make the strike even faster, he also pulled wind energy, forming a forward-driving airflow behind him.

Wind erupted under his feet.

Ethan plunged straight down on a vertical line.

His speed hit its limit in that tiny distance. The drifting pebbles around them seemed to hang in place. Even the gap between Maelor’s fingertips and the sword’s hilt looked like it had been nailed to the world.

Riiip—!

Death power swept through Maelor’s back.

Holy judgment and death energy rejected each other inside the wound. The two forces collided over and over, tearing the contact zone wider. The violent energy shock finally punched through his back, blasting a hollow cavity through the middle of his body.

The blue-white energy sphere didn’t pass through.

It lodged inside the pierced body. White lightning kept hammering the wound’s edges, while pale-blue energy sealed off the surrounding wind flow, preventing Maelor from instantly repairing himself.

Agony made his body lock up hard.

But he didn’t turn around.

Maelor kept both arms stretched forward, ten fingers spread, clawing desperately ahead.

Ethan’s fist finally fell.

BOOM!

It hit the top of Maelor’s head dead-on. The death power and holy strength stored in Ethan’s arm exploded together. Maelor’s newly regrown horn couldn’t withstand the frontal удар—its base snapped first, shards flying with blood and torn flesh. Then the force drove his skull down. Bone and skin split, and his face was quickly washed in blood.

But his arms were still reaching.

Even with his head a mangled mess, his hands didn’t pull back. Maelor’s fingers kept straining toward the sword, like there was only that one thought left in his body.

Ethan didn’t throw a second punch.

The moment the hit landed, he broke apart into black particles. The fine grains scattered off Maelor’s head and retreated fast along the chaotic wind currents.

Ataneya’s long-charged sphere was about to fire.

If Ethan stayed near Maelor, he’d be swallowed up by that blast too.

Ethan re-formed at a distance. The first thing he did was look at the wound in Maelor’s back.

The hollow cavity made by the blue-white sphere and holy light was already closing. Flesh crawled inward from the edges. Shattered bone was tugged by wind power, reconnecting. In only moments, most of the damage across his chest and abdomen had recovered.

That healing was absurd.

Ethan finally understood why Maelor craved Feylora’s life energy so badly. Recovery like this had to come with monstrous consumption—maybe even burning lifespan as the price for near-endless regeneration.

But when Ethan’s gaze moved to Maelor’s head, it wasn’t the same story.

Maelor’s chest had regrown. The remaining裂口 in his abdomen was sealing in the wind. Yet the skull Ethan had crushed was recovering painfully slowly. Wind kept gathering around his head, then spilling out again through the shattered wound, unable to rebuild the way it could with his body.

Chest and abdomen recovered fast.

His head didn’t.

A weakness.

And a lethal one.

Ethan hovered in midair, eyes flicking between Maelor’s head and his torso. He didn’t rush in again. He watched the wind power behave differently at each spot.

The contrast was too obvious.

"This might be his flaw," Ethan called out, raising his voice so everyone scattered around could hear. "Watch his head. Once he gets that—"

He didn’t get to finish.

A shockwave erupted outward with Maelor at its center.

It started as a tight ring of wind hugging his body. Then every current around them was sucked toward Maelor. Wind power skyrocketed in only a few breaths—first overpowering the nearby tornadoes, then rolling outward through the entire space.

Dozens of times stronger.

Hundreds.

The pressure slammed into everyone. Clothes and long hair snapped backward. Many had to raise an arm to shield their eyes, squinting through their fingers to see ahead. Nearby platforms were pushed into a constant tilt, and the floating rubble was blown straight toward the edge of the domain.

When the wind finally steadied enough for them to see—

They caught Maelor’s movement.

He’d gotten the sword after all.