Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory
Chapter 492: You’re worthy of being my opponent!

Chapter 492: You’re worthy of being my opponent!

Squelch!

Thud!

BOOOOMMMMMMM...

The massive scythe came down like a cursed blade from a blood-red moon—fast, brutal, and beyond comprehension. In a flash, it slammed into Auremax’s body with devastating force. The impact sent him flying like a missile, his body exploding outward as if struck by a cannonball.

Blood sprayed in every direction, painting the sky crimson along his path.

He finally crashed into the earth with a thunderous impact, as if he’d just torn through an entire mountain range. Smoke and dust erupted into the air, shaking the ground for miles. The crater he left behind stretched hundreds of thousands of feet high.

"Damn shame," Ignarok sneered from above, grinning wide with a twisted, feral glee. "Still couldn’t take one hit from me."

His voice dripped with chaos and madness, his presence in the sky like a storm of pure destruction.

Down below, Auremax was a wreck—his golden scales soaked in blood, his wings torn and body battered. He looked like he’d been through hell.

That strike... it was no joke.

It had nearly crippled him.

"Infernal Demon King... Ignarok..." Auremax growled, lifting his head to glare at the demon in the sky. Blood trickled from his mouth, the pain only fueling his rage. With a powerful beat of his wings, he forced himself back into the air.

"Gold Dragon Legion—assemble!"

"ROAR!"

He may have lost the duel, but the battle wasn’t over. His duty was to protect Emerald Castle, no matter the cost. Retreat wasn’t an option.

"ROAR! ROAR! ROAR!"

At his command, the Gold Dragons surged into motion.

As 14th-Tier Mythic Units, they carried pride and honor in their hearts. No matter the enemy, they would never back down.

"Heh... looks like I’ll just have to kill every last one of you," Ignarok chuckled darkly, his grin widening into something monstrous. The air around him began to churn with raw, demonic energy.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Behind him, the 14th-Tier Inferno Arch Devils began to move, forming up into battle formations. There were only 200 of them—fewer than Auremax’s Gold Dragon army—but they had one massive advantage:

Their commander was an Infernal Demon King.

That alone amplified their power to terrifying levels.

BOOOOMMMM!

But just then, everything stopped.

Auremax. Ignarok. Even the Arch Devils and Gold Dragons froze for a split second, their expressions shifting instantly.

They all felt it.

A power—immense, overwhelming—was closing in fast.

"What the hell is that...?" Ignarok muttered, eyes narrowing.

BOOM!

The air around them rippled violently. The weaker, lower-tier units began to tremble uncontrollably. Some started bleeding from their eyes and ears. Others simply exploded on the spot, unable to withstand the pressure.

"What’s going on?!" Ignarok shouted, stunned. He stumbled back a few steps, but his eyes gleamed with excitement.

Born of Inferno, he lived for battle. And this... this was a challenge he could sink his teeth into.

He shoved a Horned Demon aside and stepped forward, pushing against the crushing force. His eyes glowed blood-red, and his veins pulsed with boiling power. Energy surged through him, ready to clash with whatever was coming.

"It’s our Lord of the City!" Auremax’s voice rang out, filled with hope. He ordered his dragons to clear a path.

Moments later, Ethan stepped into view.

He looked... ordinary. No armor, no glowing aura—just a man in simple clothes. He didn’t even seem to have awakened any magic.

But the space around him buzzed with tension, vibrating with barely contained power.

Ignarok narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

Ethan didn’t answer.

Instead, he raised his hand—and unleashed a wave of pure force.

A spinning Slicing Halo tore through the air, glowing with deadly energy.

It was too strong. Anyone without serious power who so much as brushed against it was instantly sliced in half.

But Ignarok’s demons were born of Inferno. They didn’t care what it was. One after another, they threw themselves at the Halo, trying to shield their commander.

Their sacrifice barely slowed it down.

The Halo carved through them like paper, and though Ignarok dodged, it still grazed his shoulder—leaving a deep, bloody gash.

"RAAAAGH!" Ignarok roared in fury, his power exploding outward. The blast vaporized several nearby Imps in an instant.

But Ethan didn’t give him a second to recover.

He charged again.

Just as they were about to clash, Ignarok’s body flared with a surge of power unlike anything before. The shockwave hit Ethan head-on, forcing him back two steps.

"You’re strong—really strong! It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone like you!" Ignarok’s eyes lit up with manic excitement. "You’re worthy of being my opponent!"

With a sudden, sickening thud, he grabbed two nearby Imps and slammed them into his own chest.

In an instant, the Imps burst into clouds of blood mist, their bodies disintegrating as their essence was absorbed straight into Ignarok. His aura flared, growing even more intense.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t expected that—this guy could actually devour other demons to boost his own power?

He took a slow breath, steadying himself, then raised both hands and glanced back at Auremax.

"Stay back. All of you. Don’t come any closer unless I say so."

Auremax didn’t dare hesitate. He immediately barked orders to the Gold Dragon legion, pulling them far back.

This was a confined space—tight, enclosed. If Ethan unleashed his full power here against Ignarok, the resulting shockwaves could wipe out the entire Gold Dragon army.

Even Auremax himself might not survive.

Once they were clear, Ethan inhaled deeply. A wave of raw, overwhelming energy rippled out from his body.

Ignarok’s scythe pulsed with a wicked red glow, its blade gleaming with a sickening, blood-soaked light. The air around him reeked of death and rot.

Ethan didn’t wait.

With a blur of motion, he vanished—then reappeared right in front of Ignarok, slamming into him with a blast of force.

CRACK—BOOM!

The impact was deafening. The ground beneath them split open with a thunderous crack, massive fissures tearing through the stone.

Sparks flew. Energy screamed through the air.

Ethan’s power was overwhelming.

Ignarok’s massive body was shoved back, sliding dozens of feet across the ground, his claws digging trenches as he tried to stop himself.

"What... what the hell?!" Ignarok’s eyes went wide, disbelief etched across his face. He’d thought Ethan was on his level—but now, it was clear Ethan was a whole tier above.

But instead of fear, it only lit a fire in him.

"Hahahaha! Yes! This is it! This is what I’ve been craving!" Ignarok’s grin twisted into something unhinged. "It’s been ages since I’ve felt this alive! Now, let me show you my strongest move!"

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!

Dark energy surged from his body, condensing into several small, glowing orbs. They hovered around him, pulsing with strange, unstable power.

The air around them began to warp and tear, space itself distorting under the pressure.

Ethan’s brow furrowed. "What the hell is that...?"

He could feel it—those orbs were dangerous. Not just flashy magic, but something truly lethal.

But just as he braced for an attack, the orbs didn’t come at him.

Instead, they scattered—shooting into the bodies of nearby demons.

One by one, the demons collapsed, their bodies convulsing before going still.

Ethan blinked, stunned. "Is he... killing his own troops?"

What the hell was he doing?

But before he could make sense of it, the fallen demons began to dissolve—turning into vapor, their essence flowing straight into Ignarok’s body.

"No way..."

Ethan’s pupils dilated. He finally understood.

Ignarok was sacrificing his own army—using their bodies and souls to supercharge himself in real time.

There was no time to hesitate.

Ethan surged forward again, gathering power as he moved.

Whoosh!

But Ignarok had already changed.

The energy he’d absorbed had nearly doubled his strength. His scythe now radiated a terrifying, oppressive force, like a weapon forged in the heart of a dying star.

"Hahahaha! Yes! YES!" Ignarok’s laughter echoed like thunder. "You’re the first one to ever push me this far! You should be honored to die by this move!"

He raised the scythe high above his head, its blade humming with death.

"Now—DIE!"

With a roar, he brought it crashing down.

...