Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory-Chapter 203: Fortress

"Sevrin, you’d better remember who the hell you are!"

"First of all, you don’t get to talk to me like that. You got questions? Fine—have Darek come ask me himself. Second, my people? Not your damn concern."

Clack. Clack. Clack...

Footsteps echoed across the deck.

A cold, cutting voice sliced through the tense air—Draven’s.

He strode toward Sevrin, the Tideborn Spirit hero, his presence radiating raw power and an overbearing dominance. With every step, the distance between them shrank until they were practically face to face.

The tension snapped taut in an instant—like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

Seeing this, Draven’s pirate crew surged forward in unison, stepping up behind him, ready for a standoff.

It was clear—Draven wasn’t the kind of man to take shit lying down. He was infamous along the coastal waters of the Unicorn Duchy, a plague on the sea. Sure, he knew when to bow his head—he wasn’t stupid. He understood the game, knew when to play it smart.

Someone like Ethan? A terrifying powerhouse, the kind of guy you don’t mess with. Draven couldn’t beat him, wouldn’t even try. So he played it cool, kept his head down.

But Sevrin? Sure, he was a Legendary-ranked hero—orange-tier, no less—but he hadn’t undergone a second awakening. His level was low, his power not all that impressive. If things went south, Draven wasn’t worried.

He had the strength to take on someone like Sevrin without breaking a sweat.

And let’s not forget—Draven was a Pirate King. Sevrin? Just a hero under another Pirate King’s command.

That said it all.

Their ranks weren’t equal.

Draven stood above.

Sevrin stood below.

So what right did Sevrin have to question him? None. Not now, not ever.

"I..." Sevrin’s face stiffened. His expression shifted, flickering with barely contained rage. A flash of fire lit his eyes—but he swallowed it down.

"Hmph."

He let out a cold snort, turned sharply, and said icily, "Follow me."

Under Sevrin’s lead, Draven, Ethan, and the others zigzagged across the sea for hours, sailing like headless chickens until they finally landed on a small, unremarkable island.

Waiting for them on the beach were two men—one a hulking brute draped in bear pelts, the other a middle-aged man with a pale, almost feminine face, clad in black armor.

These weren’t just any men.

They were the other two Pirate Kings who ruled the coastal waters of the Unicorn Duchy.

Pirate King Seyric.

Pirate King Darek.

"Draven, you’re late," Darek said, his voice smooth and cold, like a snake coiling in the grass. "Five hours past the time we agreed."

"Spare me the lecture. When are we moving out?" Draven replied flatly.

"We’re ready. We can go now—" Darek began, but Sevrin suddenly stepped up beside him and whispered something in his ear.

Darek’s expression shifted.

His eyes snapped toward Ethan, scanning him from head to toe. After a long, calculating look, his gaze slid back to Draven.

His voice dropped, icy and sharp.

"Draven. Explain. Who the hell is he?"

Pirates don’t survive by being careless. Especially not now, when everything’s hanging by a thread.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, some unknown guy shows up?

Yeah—of course they were suspicious.

Draven’s face darkened, and a cold sweat broke out on his back. Shit... he cursed silently. He had no idea how to explain Ethan’s identity—hell, he didn’t even know what Ethan really was.

But before the silence could stretch too long, Ethan suddenly chuckled.

"Let me introduce myself," he said casually, his voice calm and unhurried. "Name’s Valkarion. As for who I am..."

He paused, then glanced at Draven with a faint smirk.

"Draven," he said, "is under my command."

The words dropped like a bomb.

Silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

"U-Under your command?" Seyric stammered, his whole body jolting as if struck by lightning. His pupils shrank, and he stared at Ethan like he’d just seen a ghost—his gaze flicking between Ethan and Draven, filled with disbelief and raw fear.

The others were no better—completely stunned, jaws slack, eyes wide.

Under his command?

Draven? The Pirate King Draven?!

No way. No fucking way.

"This some kind of joke?" Darek growled, his face darkening as he turned to Draven. "You better start talking. Now."

Shff. Shff. Shff...

Every eye turned to Draven, sharp and demanding.

Draven froze. His expression twitched, his eyes darted, his face shifting through a storm of emotions. But in the end, he just lowered his head slightly, lips pressed into a thin line.

He said nothing.

Not a word.

And that silence? It said everything.

Darek’s face twisted with fury, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Seyric, meanwhile, was staring at Ethan like he was trying to see through him—his eyes flickering with confusion, suspicion... and something else. Something darker.

"...Hah."

Darek finally exhaled, a long, slow breath that did nothing to cool the fire in his chest. He turned his gaze back to Ethan, locking eyes with him.

"Then tell me," he said coldly, "who the hell are you really?"

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. His voice was flat, almost bored.

"Did you not hear me the first time?"

He stepped forward slightly, his presence suddenly heavier, more suffocating.

"Draven is a piece I placed in this region. A pawn on the board. You really think he survived this long on his own? That he rose to power without someone pulling the strings?"

Darek’s face stiffened, his eyes flickering with hesitation. He looked like he was starting to waver.

Sure, the three of them—Pirate Kings—had known each other for years. But to say they truly knew everything about one another? That was a stretch.

After all, pirates were the kind of people who always had a few tricks up their sleeves—always kept a few escape routes open.

Every one of them had secrets they’d never share.

Darek was no exception.

Neither was Seyric.

Take the most obvious example: with Seyric’s level of strength, by all logic, Darek or Draven should’ve taken him out and absorbed his forces long ago. But after all these years, neither of them had made a move.

Why?

Because Seyric had something backing him.

The Crimsonstar Kingdom.

To put it bluntly, the so-called Pirate King Seyric was actually a pawn planted in these waters by the Crimsonstar Kingdom.

And if Seyric had that kind of backing... then Draven? It wasn’t out of the question that he might have something similar going on.

That thought made Darek take a deep breath. He glanced at Seyric, who looked both shocked and suspicious, then at Draven, who kept his head down, silent. Finally, his gaze landed back on Ethan.

He spoke slowly, deliberately.

"All right, let’s cut the crap. What do you really want?"

Ethan didn’t hesitate for a second. "The Kirin’s Creature Dwellings," he said, firm and direct. "I’ll help you take the pocket dimension, but in return, I want half the recruitment slots for the Kirin."

"Absolutely not."

Darek shut him down instantly, shaking his head without a second thought. "We can talk about other terms, but the Kirin’s recruitment slots? No way."

He rejected the offer so quickly and decisively that he didn’t even realize something important—because Ethan had been so upfront, so "honest" about his goal being the Legendary Unit, the Kirin, Darek had subconsciously stopped questioning Ethan’s identity.

It was a classic psychological trick.

Use one piece of information to distract from another, throwing off the other person’s ability to judge clearly.

So while most of what Ethan had said earlier was true, that last part? Total lie.

His real goal wasn’t just the Kirin’s recruitment slots.

He wanted the entire Kirin Creature Dwelling.

Hell, he wanted the whole damn pocket dimension.

He was planning to use it as the foundation for his second base of operations.

Ethan gave a casual shrug. "Let’s not get hung up on the Kirin for now. First things first—we take the pocket dimension. We can sort out the details later. Worst case, we settle it with a fight. Sound fair?"

Darek’s face twitched again, his jaw tightening. After a moment, he ground out, "Fine. We’ll deal with it later."

He was pissed, no doubt about it—but because of Ethan’s mysterious identity, he didn’t outright reject him. That was just how pirates worked. Whoever had the bigger fists got the final say. And as far as Darek was concerned, he wasn’t convinced he’d lose.

"When do we move out?" Ethan asked again.

"Right now," Darek replied without hesitation. "We’re already prepped and ready."

"What about the enemy forces in the pocket dimension? Got a full read on them?"

"Yeah," Darek nodded. "There are six Epic-tier heroes—purple grade. Over a dozen Rare-tier—blue grade. Then there’s a Kirin at Tier 13, eleven Naga Swordmasters at Tier 12, and about three hundred Naga Swordsmen at Tier 11..."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, frowning slightly. "That many?"

It wasn’t enough to rattle him, not really—but he had to admit, that was a solid force. Definitely not something to take lightly.

Probably equivalent to more than half the naval strength of the Unicorn Duchy.

"And that’s not even the worst part," Darek added, his expression turning grim. "The entrance to the pocket dimension is fortified. There’s a defensive Fortress built right on top of it."

"A Fortress?" Ethan’s eyes narrowed, clearly surprised.

In the world of Glory Lords X, a Fortress wasn’t just some glorified castle—it was a full-blown war machine.

Every Fortress could be outfitted with a massive array of magical and physical weapons. On top of that, it could amplify the strength of both unit heroes and regular troops.

And the kicker? That amplification stacked with the buffs from the heroes themselves.

In other words, any regular unit stationed inside a Fortress could benefit from double boosts—one from the hero, one from the Fortress.

Which meant, no matter how you sliced it, the defending side always had the upper hand.

Attacking a Fortress? You were walking into a meat grinder.

And that wasn’t all. Fortresses were typically built in three layers. First, the outermost magical shield. Second, the inner defensive walls. And finally, the central core—the heart of the Fortress.

The magical shield was a whole different beast from the walls. With walls, you just needed to punch a hole through and you were in.

But the shield? Unless you completely shattered it, it would keep regenerating as long as it had energy to draw from.

And those magical weapons Darek mentioned?

They were almost always mounted on the central Fortress core.

Because they were long-range.

So as long as the shield and the walls held, those weapons could keep firing without interruption—raining down hell and racking up casualties on the attacking side.

As for the physical weapons and defensive units? They were usually stationed on the second layer—the Fortress walls.

They were the last line of defense, making sure those magical weapons could keep doing their job without interference.

...