Mystic Calling：Stone of Glory-Chapter 293: The Deep Naga Temple

In the world of Glory Lords X, anything that had even the slightest connection to a "god" was never simple.

Especially when it came to something like a temple. A place could only be called a temple if it was either tied to a true divine spirit, or if it belonged to the most revered, highest-ranking figure of an entire race. That title wasn’t handed out lightly.

And with the obvious dynamic between these two individuals—one clearly subordinate to the other—it was hard not to read into it.

"You must be the esteemed Lord of Emerald Castle, Valkarion,"

"Please forgive this old man for the abrupt introduction. My name is Thaloren, elder of the Abyssan Naga Temple. It’s truly an honor to meet you, Lord Valkarion."

While Ethan was still lost in thought, the elderly Abyssan Naga mage, Thaloren, had already stood up with a slight tremble and bowed politely.

"Elder Thaloren, you’re too kind. Please, have a seat,"

Ethan snapped out of his thoughts, eyes locking onto the old man, a flicker of curiosity in his gaze.

After a brief pause, he cut straight to the point. "So, Elder Thaloren, what brings you here today?"

"Why, to offer an apology, of course..." Thaloren smiled, his eyes deep and unreadable as he looked at Ethan. "That fool Kairos crossed a line with you. Any punishment he received was well-deserved. I’m here on his behalf, to offer compensation..."

He paused again, his gaze lingering on Ethan for a moment before continuing.

"I’ve brought three hundred million gold coins, eight thousand units of the six core resources, and one thousand units of Abyssal Mithril."

"Abyssal Mithril?" Ethan blinked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, Abyssal Mithril," Thaloren nodded, his smile warm. "It’s a rare and powerful resource from the deep sea, infused with potent Water Magic. It can be forged into powerful magical weapons, or used to enhance magic circles, towers, even fortresses. It’s incredibly versatile."

"On top of that, I’ve also brought the 200 Tier-12 Naga Swordmasters and 500 Tier-11 Naga Swordsmen you requested. Everything has already been handed over to Queen Thalassa. If you’d like, Lord Valkarion, you can confirm it with her."

"No need..." Ethan shook his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the old man.

He already knew all this—Queen Thalassa had informed him the moment he arrived.

What he didn’t understand was the motive behind it.

If he remembered correctly, the compensation he’d asked for was 150 million gold and 6,000 units of the core resources. But now, not only had they delivered far more than that, they’d even thrown in a thousand units of Abyssal Mithril—a rare and valuable bonus.

It didn’t add up.

Ethan’s eyes flickered with thought, then he decided to just ask outright.

"Elder Thaloren, if you don’t mind me asking—why are you doing all this?"

Thaloren paused, then chuckled softly as he looked at Ethan. "I didn’t expect you to ask that, Lord Valkarion... If I’m not mistaken, you’re a newly risen lord, aren’t you?"

"Yeah," Ethan nodded, not bothering to hide it.

"Young and impressive," Thaloren sighed, then leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. "I came here to clear up a misunderstanding. Kairos is young and reckless—he didn’t understand what it meant to cross paths with three Crimson Ultimate heroes..."

As he said that, his gaze drifted past Ethan, landing on Cicero, who had been silent the entire time.

There was something complicated in his eyes—respect, maybe even fear.

After a moment, Thaloren shook his head and continued.

"Young people make mistakes. But we old ones? We don’t have that excuse. That’s why I came personally—to ask for your forgiveness, and hopefully, your friendship. Kairos and Thalric... they’ve come a long way to get where they are."

Ethan froze for a long moment, trying to process what he’d just heard.

Then, after a beat of hesitation, he looked at Thaloren and asked, "Wait... are you saying that Thalric, the Naga Swordmaster from Crimsonstar Kingdom, and Kairos, under Maelthorak’s command—they’re both connected to you?"

"Not just them," Thaloren said with a gentle smile. "Actually, over ninety percent of the Abyssan Naga Hero Units in this entire sea region are connected to me."

His words dropped like a bomb into still water.

Ethan’s mind reeled.

This sea region?

Which one?

Maelthorak’s territory?

The Five Sea Kingdoms?

Or the Greenwave Sea in the Second Ocean?

This...

"Lord Valkarion, are you familiar with the Deep Naga Temple of the Abyssan Naga?" Thaloren asked suddenly, his tone light, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked at Ethan.

Ethan shook his head. "No, I’m not."

"Beneath the sea, the Abyssan Naga are one of the most powerful races. And our highest racial temple—the spiritual and political heart of our people—is the Deep Naga Temple. Across the oceans, hundreds of Naga clans, large and small, all follow the Deep Naga Temple." Thaloren’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet weight behind every word.

Ethan fell silent.

Beneath the sea?

Hundreds of clans?

The highest racial temple of the Abyssan Naga?

That was... a lot to take in.

Especially the part about "hundreds of clans." What did that even mean in practical terms? Was it fair to assume that under the Deep Naga Temple’s banner, there were at least hundreds of orange-tier Legendary heroes?

His mind reeled at the thought.

After a long pause, Ethan looked up at the old, kind-eyed Thaloren and said slowly, "Elder Thaloren, I have to admit—I don’t quite understand. Aren’t all of them sworn to the Tidesworn faction? If that’s the case, then what’s the point of the Deep Naga Temple? Why does it exist?"

He was genuinely confused now. In his understanding, once a Hero Unit pledged allegiance, that was it—they served a lord, a kingdom, a dominant power, or a faction. That was the chain of command.

So what was the role of a so-called "Racial Temple" in all this?

"You’re not wrong," Thaloren said gently. "The Abyssan Naga do indeed serve the Tidesworn faction. But we do so under the banner of our Racial Temple. We pledge our loyalty directly to the highest echelons of the Tidesworn—through the Deep Naga Temple."

"Wait... you mean, the Deep Naga Temple pledges loyalty directly to the top of the Tidesworn faction?" Ethan’s eyes narrowed, something clicking into place—but not quite fully.

Thaloren nodded. "Exactly."

"Then... who exactly represents the top of a faction like Tidesworn?" Thaloren asked, his voice suddenly sharp with intent.

Ethan didn’t hesitate. "The Overlords?"

"Correct. The Overlords," Thaloren said with a smile. "Our temple—the Deep Naga Temple—pledges loyalty directly to the Overlords of the Tidesworn. And under them, the Racial Temple holds a status above all else."

Ethan’s eyes gleamed with understanding. "So even the King-tier powerhouses under the Overlords can only hire you—they can’t command you."

"Exactly," Thaloren said, nodding approvingly.

"I get it now. You’re using the Racial Temple as a unified front—to show strength to the Overlords, to earn their recognition, and in doing so, secure more autonomy for yourselves."

"Yes!" Thaloren’s smile deepened, but there was a trace of weariness in his voice. "It’s a survival strategy, really. Banding together is always better than standing alone. Aligning ourselves with a faction like Tidesworn gives us the right to exist—but..."

He paused, his expression darkening slightly.

"Even within a faction, the competition is brutal. Take Sea King Maelthorak, for example..."

He trailed off, shaking his head slowly, as if the name alone brought back a flood of bitter memories.

Hearing that, Ethan’s eyes flickered with thought. He couldn’t help but speak up. "Elder Thaloren, to be honest, there’s something I’ve never quite understood. Would you mind clearing it up for me?"

"Please, Lord Valkarion, ask whatever you wish," Thaloren replied with a warm smile.

"Maelthorak’s injuries... they’ve been around for a long time, haven’t they?" Ethan asked.

"That’s right. It’s been nearly ten thousand years," Thaloren answered without hesitation.

"Then why is it that even now, the Tidesworn faction seems to completely ignore him? They even sent him to the frontlines of a faction war. Isn’t that basically sending him to die?" Ethan frowned deeply.

Sure, he had his own grudge against Maelthorak—but this whole situation just didn’t make sense. The guy was seriously wounded, and yet they still pushed him onto a battlefield, and not just any battlefield, but one of the most brutal and dangerous in the entire faction war. To Ethan, that was no different than a death sentence.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

And there was something else that had been bothering him even more...

Kairos, the Naga Swordmaster, had defected way too easily. Sure, he had a flimsy excuse, but still—wasn’t it all a bit too casual? They were all part of the same Tidesworn faction. Even if Maelthorak really was on his way out, who in their right mind would want a subordinate who could switch sides at the drop of a hat?

"You’re absolutely right," Thaloren said quietly. "In fact, there are a lot of people right now who want Sea King Maelthorak dead."

"And many of them... are from within the Tidesworn faction itself."

Ethan froze, stunned. "Why?"

Thaloren looked at him, his expression calm but serious. "Lord Valkarion, let me ask you—do you know what matters most to the major factions?"

He didn’t wait for Ethan to answer.

"It’s the Overlords," he said flatly. "The number of Overlords a faction has directly determines its standing. And the King-tier powerhouses? They’re the ones closest to becoming Overlords. They’re the ones with the potential. But tell me—do you really think that even if Maelthorak’s injuries were fully healed, he could become an Overlord?"

Ethan paused, then slowly shook his head.

"...Not likely."