Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory-Chapter 472: Are you questioning my decision?

This was a castle of staggering size—massive, imposing, and utterly otherworldly. Its towering walls were covered in vivid murals of terrifyingly powerful demons and enchantingly seductive witches, each image pulsing with dark energy.

Lining both sides of the grand hall were intricately carved statues—beautiful in form, yet laced with an eerie allure, some even grotesque in their expressions. The atmosphere was thick with menace, the sheer presence of the place pressing down like a weight on the chest.

Deeper within the castle stood a towering palace, regal and ominous. At its heart, a throne loomed—dark crimson in color, radiating a heavy, malevolent aura that seemed to twist the very air around it.

Seated on that throne was a woman with long, flowing hair and blood-red eyes. Her beauty was breathtaking—striking, sensual, and dangerously magnetic. Her body was a vision of temptation, barely concealed by the revealing scraps of fabric she wore. This was Malenthia Sylvara.

She was the ruler of Dreadwitch Castle.

And more than that—she was a 12-Tier Shadow Matriarch, a Crimson Ultimate-class hero.

"Great Mother, we’ve found that bitch Lilith’s trail!"

A voice rang out from below. Kneeling before Malenthia was another woman—just as provocatively dressed, her figure just as lethal. Her long black hair framed a face both fierce and reverent as she bowed low in submission.

She was one of Malenthia’s many daughters—one of the few who had clawed her way to prominence.

Her name was Belladrex Sylvara, an 11-Tier Shadow Witch hero. On paper, she was one of Malenthia’s chosen heirs. In practice, she was a formidable orange-ranked Legendary hero in her own right.

"Lilith?"

Malenthia’s crimson eyes lifted lazily, her voice dripping with venomous disdain. "That little whore’s still alive? After all these years, I figured she’d be rotting in some ditch by now..."

She paused, then turned her gaze fully on Belladrex, a slow, mocking smile curling her lips.

"Belladrex, Lilith is your sister. We’re family, aren’t we? How could you find her and not bring her home?"

The moment the words left her mouth, Belladrex flinched. Her whole body tensed as she quickly bowed lower, her voice trembling with urgency.

"Please, Mother, don’t be angry! It’s not that I didn’t want to capture her—it’s just... she wasn’t alone. She had Behemoths with her. Powerful ones."

"Behemoths?" Malenthia’s tone sharpened.

"Yes..." Belladrex nodded quickly, her voice tight. "When our scouts found her, they also spotted several Behemoths. 13-Tier ones, even a 14-Tier Ancient Behemoth. And more than that—there was one that looked like a 14-Tier Mythic Ace Unit. An Ancient Behemoth with that kind of power..."

"A 14-Tier Mythic Ace Unit Ancient Behemoth?!" Malenthia’s eyes narrowed, her expression darkening. "Are you serious, Belladrex? Are you telling me that little traitor ran off and found herself a new patron?"

"It’s true, Great Mother. Lady Morwenna can confirm it—she saw it too!" Belladrex said quickly, her voice pleading. She glanced toward the shadows at the edge of the throne room, her eyes silently begging for support.

And there, cloaked in darkness, stood another figure.

An old woman, wrapped head to toe in a voluminous black robe. Only her eyes were visible—ancient, piercing, and filled with secrets. A crone. A witch.

"Morwenna..." Malenthia’s voice dropped as she turned to the elder.

"My Lord," Morwenna said, her voice slow and gravelly, "that Ancient Behemoth is no ordinary beast. It may be classified as an Ace Unit, but its strength is already on par with a Hero Unit."

"Is that so?" Malenthia’s brow furrowed.

She fell silent.

Truth be told, if it were just a regular Ace Unit—even a 14-Tier Ancient Behemoth—she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. She was a Dungeon King, after all. Unless it was another Crimson Ultimate hero, she didn’t care how strong a unit was. She could crush it.

But this... this was different.

A 14-Tier Mythic Ace Unit Ancient Behemoth?

That meant something.

Something deeper.

Something dangerous.

And that... that was what gave her pause.

After all, if it were just some weak little faction, how the hell could they possibly field an Ancient Behemoth at the Ace Unit level?

Especially in the kind of high-tier power blocs they were part of...

A unit like that—14-Tier, Mythic, Ace-ranked—wasn’t just powerful. In some cases, its value and combat strength could rival even Malenthia herself. Which only made one thing clear: whoever was backing Lilith now... they weren’t small-time. Not even close.

"Hmph."

At that thought, Malenthia let out a cold snort, her eyes darkening with a creeping shadow.

"Well, well... that little bitch’s wings have finally grown strong enough to bite, huh?"

She paused, then turned her gaze back to Belladrex, her voice flat and icy.

"Belladrex, don’t forget—she’s your sister. Family should stick together, shouldn’t they? Go. Take one hundred Black Dragons and two hundred Red Dragons. Find her. Tell her her mother misses her dearly. She’s been away from home far too long—it’s time she came back. Understood?"

"Yes, Great Mother!" Belladrex responded instantly, nodding with sharp obedience.

But just as she was about to rise, a voice drifted out from the shadows.

"My Lord... forgive me for speaking out of turn," said Morwenna, the old witch, her voice slow and deliberate. "But now may not be the best time to stir up new trouble..."

The words hung in the air like a chill.

Malenthia froze.

Then slowly, she turned her head toward Morwenna, her gaze narrowing, cold and razor-sharp.

"Morwenna," she said, her tone low and dangerous, "are you questioning my decision?"

"I wouldn’t dare," Morwenna said calmly, shaking her head. She lifted her gaze to meet Malenthia’s, her voice slow but steady. "My Lord, Lord Ashendar’s orders have already been issued. Soon, we’ll all be heading to the Prime World for the final war between the great factions. And truth be told... we’re already falling behind. Lord Vhydrakk from the Eighth Layer, Lord Draxen from the Fifth, and even Lord Saryx from the Ninth—they’ve all already departed for the major continents of the Prime World."

She paused briefly, then gave a slow shake of her head before continuing.

"My Lord, Lilith is just a minor player. She’s not worth the distraction. If you truly wished it, ten of her—hell, a hundred—could be crushed like insects. So why risk complicating things now, of all times?"

"The Behemoths... they’re the only force in the Dungeon that can rival the might of the Black Dragons."

"Over a hundred 13-Tier Behemoths, and even 14-Tier Ancient Behemoths... it’s not an overwhelming number, but it’s not insignificant either. If it comes to a fight, unless you personally intervene, it won’t be easy. And if this delays the final war—if it causes us to fall out of step with Ashendar’s command..."

She trailed off for a moment, then bowed her head low before finishing, her voice quiet but firm.

"You know Lord Ashendar’s temper. For someone like Lilith... she’s simply not worth it."

The words hit like a slap.

Malenthia froze, her expression hardening. Then, slowly, she sank back into her throne, her face clouded with a storm of frustration and fury.

She hated it—but she knew Morwenna was right.

She and Ashendar might both be Dungeon Lords, but she wasn’t blind to the truth.

Or to her own limits.

In terms of status, power, and raw Tier level, she was a step below him. A 12-Tier hero against a 13-Tier? That gap wasn’t something she could just will away. It was a hard ceiling—and she knew it.

So if something went wrong...

If Ashendar decided to make her the scapegoat...

She might not be able to stop him.

And the worst part? Ashendar had always had it out for her. He never missed a chance to undermine her, to humiliate her in front of the other Lords. If he caught wind of her going rogue over something as petty as a runaway daughter, he’d use it. He’d twist the knife.

The thought made her blood boil.

But in the end... she swallowed it.

...

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