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Mystic Calling:Stone of Glory-Chapter 934: Wipe It Out. No Survivors
The army of Emerald Castle erupted the instant the order was given.
Since arriving in this world, they'd been trapped in the mountain ranges, day after day mining energy ore, expanding the armory, building up their forces.
But fighting—the one thing they were made for, the one thing they lived for—never came.
Now, at last, the long-suppressed hunger for war ignited.
With Ethan at the front, the massive army surged forward, plunging into the deepest reaches of the Nether Sea.
Despite its name, the Nether Sea wasn't just water. Beyond its vast tides, scattered yet stable landmasses floated like shattered continents. Countless alien species lived on them, their bodies pulsing with something called Nethora Power. Strange, ancient runes were etched into their skin—visible signs of this world's unique power.
Yet none of that was what made Ethan stop.
What froze him mid-stride was—
The Core Region of the Nether Sea.
Over a dozen massive black fortresses loomed at the boundary between sky and sea, rising like jagged obsidian reefs.
Each wall was laced with living runes, sliding and reshaping in looping patterns, as if breathing.
Layer upon layer of defense barriers rippled with unsettling energy waves, pressing outward like a warning.
This wasn't just a fortress.
It was an entire fortified region, steeped in a deep, searing Hellfire aura for god only knew how long.
As Ethan stood still, eyes locked on those towers—
A figure slowly rose into the sky.
He was enormous—built like a war golem carved from bedrock, muscles bulging like stonework under strain.
He hovered above the battlefield, his power radiating unchecked in every direction.
It was wild.
Heavy.
Carrying a suffocating weight, a pressure soaked in just enough infernal taint to make Ethan's instincts scream.
Ethan's brow furrowed instantly.
The system interface blinked into view—but offered nothing.
No Tier ranking.
No attributes.
Not even a basic threat assessment.
Just blank across the board.
That meant only one thing:
Whoever this guy was... he'd already surpassed everything the system could analyze.
The man hovered above them, his voice deep and gravel-rough as he glared down at the army.
"Who are you people?"
Ethan didn't answer.
He just raised his hand.
Power surged inside him like a rising tide—lightning exploded into the sky with a sharp, deafening CRACK.
BOOM—
The shockwave ripped across the battlefield, tearing craters into the earth.
But that wasn't what made the man's expression twist.
What really unsettled him was—
A thin, pale-white shimmer arching inside the thunderclap.
Faint.
Barely there.
Just a trace of it, buried deep in the flesh like the last flicker of a dying ember.
But the moment it appeared—
The man's pupils snapped tight.
"No... no way…"
His voice cracked for the first time, trembling with something raw.
This wasn't fear of raw power.
This was recognition.
"T-That's… Infernal Primordial Power…"
His throat tightened, making his words come out warped, almost broken.
"How could you… How could you possibly be marked by that?"
Even Ethan didn't reply right away.
Because he knew exactly what that pale light was.
It wasn't his.
Just a bit of residual presence—something Lily had left inside him.
A fading afterimage from a higher existence that had once touched him.
But here, in this world, even that much was more than enough.
Because what the man saw wasn't how strong Ethan was.
It was who—or what—stood behind him.
And in the next heartbeat, fear swallowed the man whole.
He bolted.
Didn't say another word. He spun around and flew off like his soul was on fire.
But he'd barely made it any distance—
When thunder surged from the sky like a hammer from the heavens.
CRACK–KRAK–BOOM!!!
A bolt of lightning, streaked in pale-white residue, slammed down from above—and swallowed him whole.
"Impossible—!"
His final scream shattered mid-air.
"You're weak! You're too weak! How the hell do you have that kind of power?!"
Ethan still didn't say a word.
He just raised his hand.
That ghostly white power surged in his palm, condensing fast—like frost and lightning crushed into something sharp and silent. Then it took shape.
A massive, soundless blade.
The next moment—
He struck.
No thunderous roar. No flashy explosion.
Just a pale-white arc bisecting the air itself, silent as moonlight—yet everywhere it passed, space seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second.
The enemies in front of him never even had time to scream.
They were—simply—gone.
Ethan slowly drew the power back and lifted his hand again, pointing straight ahead at the sprawling cluster of black fortresses.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it cut through the silence like icewater down the spine.
"From this moment on—"
"This city belongs to Emerald Castle."
He paused for a beat.
Then followed it up with a sentence that made every heart on the battlefield skip:
"Everything inside…"
"Wiped out. No survivors."
For a second, the battlefield went completely still.
Dead silent.
Because this—wasn't like him.
In past battles, Ethan rarely gave this kind of order. He preferred to keep enemies alive—recruit, convert, reforge them into weapons of the Castle.
But this time—
There wasn't a flicker of hesitation.
Still, no one questioned him.
They could all feel it.
This wasn't rage.
This was extermination. The clean sweep of something too far gone to coexist.
Then everything snapped forward.
Emerald Castle's army detonated with power.
Their energy shields crashed through the first defenses; black stone crumbled as the fortress walls shattered under the assault.
The soldiers surged in.
No holding back. No second chances.
But it didn't take long before they realized—
The "residents" of this city weren't normal.
Not even a little.
Each one of them could wield some variant of Infernal energy.
Not borrowed. Fused. As if it had been cooked into their bones long ago.
This place…
It wasn't just steeped in Purgatory.
It was Purgatory.
Ethan's gaze skimmed the battlefield. His system interface unfolded and began scanning.
It didn't take long. He pinpointed it almost immediately.
—The source. The true anchor of this place's energy field.
Without hesitating, he broke from the main force and charged straight toward the surge spot.
And the moment he hit the ground—
His breath stuttered.
There it was.
A towering stone pillar, shooting into the sky like a blade.
Covered in runes—layer upon layer packed tight, writhing like living veins.
A putrid infernal aura bled from its core, spreading outward like a heartbeat—
Feeding the entire city.







