CHAPTER 742: THE SEA KING’S TOKEN

Ethan let out a cold laugh, eyes flashing with ruthless clarity. No hesitation—he shot forward like a blade through silk. The system had already scanned the enemy’s data panel. Name: Kreloth.

And the power radiating off him? Wild. Far beyond what Ethan had expected.

But if he could absorb that power—if he could draw it into himself and share it with the Emerald Castle army—it could change everything.

He chased Kreloth across countless planes, tearing through dimensional seams, until finally, he caught up with him at the edge of a vast, sapphire-blue ocean.

Waves crashed against jagged rocks. The air was crisp, almost peaceful. But Ethan had no time for scenery. His mission was urgent, and the man before him was the key.

"Kreloth," he called out, voice laced with mockery. "Running off somewhere?"

Power surged from Ethan’s body, a tidal wave of force that swept out and locked onto his target.

Kreloth spun midair, eyes wide. "You followed me? And you know my name?!"

Panic flickered across his face. He hadn’t expected Ethan to track him through such a tangled web of space, let alone identify him.

Desperate, Kreloth threw his arms wide. The energy around him stirred violently, answering his call like a loyal beast. It gathered fast, forming a massive sphere above him, crackling with raw, deafening power.

But before it could fully stabilize, Ethan blinked behind him and drove a fist straight into his back.

BOOM!

The impact landed like a thunderclap. Kreloth’s body shot forward, flung like a ragdoll, crashing into the ground dozens of feet away with a bone-jarring thud.

Ethan hovered above, eyes narrowed, lips curled in a cold smirk.

Just like the octopus before—Kreloth had power, yes. But his body? Fragile.

Ethan didn’t waste the opening. He gathered his strength, every ounce of it, and unleashed a relentless barrage.

Each strike landed with brutal precision, tearing into Kreloth’s body. Flesh split. Bones cracked. Blood sprayed in arcs across the rocks. The air thickened with the coppery tang of it.

And still, Kreloth clung to life.

Even as his body was reduced to little more than a mangled husk, one thing remained—his heart. Beating. Pulsing. Alive.

Ethan froze for a split second, staring at the thing thudding inside Kreloth’s ruined chest.

That wasn’t just a heart. It was a core—dense with power, radiating life like a miniature sun.

Without a second thought, Ethan lunged forward and seized it.

The moment his fingers closed around it, a surge of energy exploded through him. The heart vibrated violently in his grip, emitting a strange, high-pitched hum, like it was resisting, like it knew it was about to die.

It trembled, spasmed, threatened to burst.

Then the power inside it erupted.

The force slammed into Ethan like a tidal wave, nearly knocking him off his feet. It was raw, primal—an unfiltered torrent of life energy. Kreloth’s essence was pouring out, trying to rebuild, to regenerate.

"Shit," Ethan hissed, staggering back. He could feel it now—this heart wasn’t just keeping Kreloth alive. It was the source of his immortality. As long as it beat, Kreloth would rise again. Over and over.

No more.

Ethan gritted his teeth, summoned every last drop of strength, and began hammering the heart with blow after blow.

Each strike was a death sentence, a direct assault on the core of Kreloth’s being. The sound of it—like thunder cracking through steel—rattled the very air.

The world around them trembled. Space itself rippled under the force of the clash.

And then—crack.

A sharp, crystalline sound split the chaos.

The heart shattered.

It burst apart in Ethan’s hand, fragments scattering like glass across the blood-soaked ground. The pulsing light within it flickered once—and died.

Kreloth’s immortality, his endless rebirth, was gone. Obliterated.

Ethan stood over the remains, chest heaving, blood spattered across his arms. The wind off the ocean howled around him, but he didn’t hear it.

He’d won.

But more than that—he’d just taken a god’s heart and crushed it in his hand.

Ethan exhaled slowly, his body trembling just slightly as the last echoes of Kreloth’s power faded into the air. The tension in his muscles began to ease, but the weight of what he’d just done still lingered.

If that bastard had been allowed to keep resurrecting... it would’ve been a nightmare. A never-ending war of attrition.

He turned, ready to leave this plane behind—when the ocean below suddenly roared to life.

Waves surged skyward in a violent crescendo, and from the depths, a massive whale burst forth, its body glistening with seawater, suspended in midair like a leviathan caught between worlds.

Atop its head stood a broad-shouldered man, middle-aged, with a weathered face and eyes like storm clouds. In his hand, he held a trident—one that shimmered with the raw, ancient power of the sea.

Ethan’s gaze sharpened.

That trident... it looked familiar. Namyanna carried one just like it, though hers was clearly weaker, its energy a pale echo of the one before him now.

If he could get his hands on that weapon...

It might be enough to push Namyanna’s strength to the next level.

He steadied his breath, power flaring around him in a sudden surge. Above him, energy coalesced into the shape of a massive bow, drawn taut in the sky. He was just about to fire when the man shouted across the waves.

"I didn’t come to fight!" the man called, voice deep and resonant. "I sensed a powerful oceanic aura on you. I only want to ask—have you encountered any of our kind? The Sea Folk?"

Ethan blinked, caught off guard. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the man more carefully. No killing intent. No aggressive energy. Just... curiosity.

"I have," Ethan replied cautiously. "Who are you?"

The man’s face lit up with relief. He floated forward, the whale beneath him gliding silently through the air.

"I’m the Sea King of this world," he said. "The ocean here is dying. Its power is fading fast. I need others like me—Sea Folk who still carry the ocean’s strength—to help restore it. Can you help me find them?"

Ethan frowned, glancing down at the sea below. Now that he looked closer, he saw it—beneath the surface shimmer, the water was dull, lifeless. The energy it gave off was thin and gray, like a dying breath.

Once, this place must’ve been rich with power. Now, it felt hollow. Drained.

He hovered in the air, silent for a moment, then extended his hand. A thread of pure, radiant energy flowed from his palm and drifted down into the sea.

It vanished instantly, swallowed whole like a stone into a swamp.

The Sea King floated closer, his expression grim. He reached into his robes and pulled out a crystalline sigil—perfectly cut, glowing faintly with oceanic light.

"This is my token," he said, offering it to Ethan. "Give it to the one who carries the sea’s power. They’ll feel my call through it. They’ll know I need their help."

...