Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory-Chapter 188: Aren’t you forgetting something?

Emerald Castle – Top Floor, Council Chamber.

"Master, you’re not seriously planning to demand nine Tier-11 Creature Dwellings from the Kingdom of the Night Elves as compensation, are you?" Cicero stepped out from the shadows, his voice low as he addressed Ethan.

Honestly, it wasn’t surprising that Thalor had lost his composure earlier. Even Cicero, hearing the demand now, thought it was absurd—completely unrealistic.

It was a classic case of asking for the moon. There wasn’t a shred of sincerity in that offer—no real intention to negotiate.

"Of course not," Ethan replied with a smirk. "But that kind of outrageous demand? That’s exactly what we need. Something so over-the-top that he has no choice but to refuse. That way, we’ve got a reason to blow things up."

"Blow things up?" Cicero blinked, caught off guard.

Then, narrowing his eyes, he looked at Ethan with a mix of suspicion and realization. "Master... you’re not thinking of..."

Ethan just smiled, offering no explanation.

Instead, he continued, "Cicero, I want you to make a few more rounds through the Kingdom of the Night Elves. Find out where they’re keeping their Tier-13 Legendary Units—the Green Dragons and Emerald Dragons. Then scout out how many Tier-11 and Tier-12 Royal Unit Dwellings they’ve got across their territory. Get me a full count and report back."

"Understood."

Cicero gave a nod and disappeared into the shadows once more.

Time passed quickly. Before long, it was the evening of the day after next.

...

That night, under a sky scattered with faint stars, one of the palace halls in the Kingdom of the Elementals was ablaze with light and buzzing with tension.

Ethan, Thalor, Eldrin, and Vaelion sat around a table, each occupying a side, seated close enough to feel the heat of the moment.

The second Vaelion laid eyes on Ethan, his expression twisted with fury. The sight of him was like a dagger to the gut.

BANG!

He slammed his palm down on the table, eyes burning with rage as he glared at Ethan.

Then he turned to Thalor and Eldrin, practically spitting his words. "Thalor, Eldrin—what the hell is he doing here? What gives him the right to sit at this table with us?!"

Thalor and Eldrin exchanged a glance but said nothing.

Instead, both turned their eyes toward Ethan.

Ethan, for his part, looked completely relaxed. He casually dug a finger in his ear, then said coolly, "Let’s see... I stole 500 units of Dragonblood Crystal from you, wiped out fifteen of your Emerald Dragons, ten Green Dragons, fifty Unicorns and War Unicorns... oh, and I captured two of your unit heroes. That enough to earn me a seat?"

"You... what did you just say?!" Vaelion shot to his feet, trembling with rage, eyes locked on Ethan like he was ready to tear him apart right then and there.

The hatred in his gaze was palpable—he looked like he could kill.

"Enough," Thalor finally spoke, his voice calm but firm as he turned to Vaelion. "I didn’t bring you here to start a fight. Sit down."

Vaelion froze, his face twisted with fury as he stared daggers at Ethan.

But after a long, tense moment, he clenched his jaw and sat back down, his expression dark as a storm.

At the same time, Archmage Eldrin shot a long, penetrating look at Vaelion before speaking slowly and deliberately. "Gentlemen, I’ll get straight to the point—no need for pleasantries. We’re facing a massive threat. The Dungeon army is watching us like a hawk, and they could break through Thalor’s eastern front at any moment. And in a situation like this, you two are still fighting each other? Still stirring up internal chaos? That’s not just reckless—it’s suicidal. Do you understand that?!"

"But Eldrin, he stole five hundred units of my Dragonblood Crystal! And he killed twenty-five of my Legendary Units! Do you have any idea how much that cost me? You expect me to just let that go? You think that’s even remotely possible?!" Vaelion snapped, his face twisted with rage, his voice rising with every word.

His tone was downright hostile.

Ethan raised an eyebrow at that, and without missing a beat, stood up and looked down at Vaelion with a cold, detached expression. "So what—you’re saying you don’t want to negotiate?"

Vaelion froze for a second, clearly not expecting Ethan to come back even harder. His face darkened as he growled, "And what if I don’t? Who the hell do you think you are? What gives you the right to speak to me like that?!"

"Fine by me," Ethan said with a nod, then turned to Thalor and Eldrin. "You two are my witnesses. Don’t say I didn’t try. If someone’s got a death wish, I’m happy to oblige."

Then he turned his gaze back to Vaelion, whose expression had shifted ever so slightly. Ethan’s voice was calm, but every word hit like a blade. "You’d better guard what’s left of your Emerald Dragons and Green Dragons. Because from now on, every time I see one, I’m killing it. Let’s see how long you can keep them hidden."

With that, Ethan turned on his heel and started walking out.

"You—!" Vaelion was still seething, but deep down, panic was starting to creep in. The truth was, all that bluster and rage? It was an act.

A trick taught to him by the old elven mage Galen—a tactic for survival.

He was terrified that Thalor and Eldrin might decide to go scorched earth and drag him down with them. But the same logic applied in reverse. He was betting that Thalor and Eldrin were just as afraid of him going off the rails, losing it completely, and taking everyone down with him.

It was like haggling at a market—whoever held out the longest, won.

But what he hadn’t expected was that this so-called "negotiation" with Ethan didn’t feel like a negotiation at all. Ethan hadn’t shown even a shred of willingness to talk things out. If anything, he seemed more eager to fight.

One wrong word, and the guy was ready to throw down.

"He’s insane... completely insane," Vaelion thought, heart pounding. But now he was stuck—he’d gone too far to back down.

"Hold on a second, Lord of Emerald Castle," Archmage Eldrin said calmly as he slowly rose to his feet.

Ethan stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Eldrin, who didn’t seem in any rush to speak.

Instead, Eldrin gave a faint smile and glanced over at Vaelion, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Vaelion, I’m done wasting words with you," he said, his tone suddenly sharp.

"If this peace summit ends in failure today, then tomorrow, I swear I’ll send every last soldier from Snowy Castle to march on your Kingdom of the Night Elves. You think I’m bluffing?"

The moment those words landed, Vaelion visibly flinched. His face went stiff, and his eyes flickered with unease. He didn’t respond right away.

At the same time, Thalor’s expression darkened as he stared coldly at Vaelion. "Vaelion, we’re all lords here. We all know what it means when someone forcefully seizes gold mines, resource points—even creature dwellings."

"That’s an act of war."

"Don’t even start whining about how the Lord of Emerald Castle just took some of your Dragonblood Crystals and killed a few of your Legendary Units. Even if he wiped your entire Kingdom of the Night Elves off the map, it wouldn’t be out of line!"

"You bastards..."

Vaelion trembled with rage, but deep down, a chill settled in his chest.

He wasn’t stupid. It was clear now—Ethan, Thalor, and Eldrin were all speaking with one voice.

In other words, the three of them had already formed an alliance.

Realizing this, Vaelion’s expression shifted between anger and dread. He stayed silent for a long moment before finally speaking in a low voice.

"Fine. Just say it—what do you want?"

As soon as he said that, Thalor and Eldrin exchanged a quick glance, a flicker of satisfaction passing between them.

Then Thalor spoke slowly. "Our demands aren’t unreasonable. On the Eastern Front, your Kingdom of the Night Elves must send troops."

"Fine," Vaelion replied flatly, nodding. "But only 11th and 12th Tier Royal Units. That’s all I’m offering."

"No way," Thalor shot back without hesitation, his tone icy. "At this level of conflict, 11th and 12th Tier Royals are useless. They won’t make a dent. You’ll need to send Legendary Units too."

"..."

Vaelion fell silent again, clearly weighing his options. After a long pause, he finally said, "I’ll have Barak lead the Elder Chimera Legion—13th Tier Legendary Units—from the Kingdom of the Night Elves. Along with 200 Royal Units, 11th and 12th Tier. That’s my limit. If that’s not enough for you, then forget it. Do whatever the hell you want."

Thalor and Eldrin exchanged another look.

They could tell—this was as far as Vaelion was willing to go.

"Alright," Thalor nodded. "Deal."

With that, Vaelion slowly stood up. "Then we’re done here."

He turned to leave.

But just then, a calm voice cut through the air.

"Aren’t you forgetting something?"

Vaelion’s eyes narrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching. His gaze turned icy as he looked back at Ethan.

"Forgot something?" Vaelion asked, his voice low and guarded.

Ethan stepped toward him, closing the distance until they were barely half a meter apart. He stopped, his tone calm but laced with steel. "To be honest, the only reason I came to this meeting was to hear your explanation. You think you can just attack my territory, say nothing, not even a damn excuse, and I’ll just let it slide?"

"So what if I did?" Vaelion narrowed his eyes, his voice cold and dismissive. "Don’t think this is over. Once the Dungeon army pulls back, I’ll settle this with you—properly."

The moment those words left his mouth, Archmage Eldrin’s heart skipped a beat. Shit, he thought. He just screwed up.

Sure enough, Ethan gave a casual shrug and let out a short laugh. "Oh? In that case, why wait? You want to settle the score? Let’s do it now."

Vaelion’s eyes sharpened, his brow furrowing. "What the hell are you saying?"

"What am I saying?" Ethan chuckled again, but this time, his smile didn’t reach his eyes. A sudden pressure filled the room, his presence turning sharp and oppressive. His voice dropped, cold and deliberate. "Thalor, Eldrin—let’s pick up where we left off. I need you both to witness something for me."

He turned his gaze back to Vaelion, who was already starting to pale.

"Here and now, in the name of Emerald Castle..." Ethan’s voice was like ice, each word cutting through the air. "I declare war on the Kingdom of the Night Elves."

"What? Declare war?!"

"You’re serious?!"

The moment Ethan said it, both Vaelion and Thalor’s faces changed dramatically.

This was supposed to be theater—a performance. A bit of posturing, some strategic bluffing, all to push negotiations forward.

But now?

Ethan was actually going to war?

What the hell is happening?!

Both Vaelion and Thalor looked like they’d been slapped across the face. Their expressions were dark as pitch, and for a moment, they just stood there, stunned, unsure of what to do.

Fight?

Is he really going to fight?!

"Ahh..."

Only Eldrin, who had sensed Ethan’s intentions a moment earlier, seemed less shocked—though not by much. He let out a long sigh, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

His feelings were complicated.

Now it was clear—he and Thalor had been played.

Used.

From the very beginning, Ethan, the Lord of Emerald Castle, had never intended to negotiate with Vaelion.

He’d come here with one goal: to start a war with the Kingdom of the Night Elves—on his own terms, with the upper hand.