Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1282 Shadows of the Sixth Layer

First came the Conquest Legion. These were the prodigies Orion had handpicked from the lower Abyss, and in the mana-saturated environment of the Sixth Layer, they began to evolve at a breakneck pace.

The Scourge Wardens and Wraith Knights saw massive power spikes. The influx of refugees was so overwhelming that Orion authorized the creation of the Second Army, a million-strong force commanded by the Dracolich Phorzak.

Then there was the Foundry Citadel itself. Fueled by the labor of millions of new residents, construction accelerated beyond imagination.

Gone were the days of empty, echoing halls. The Citadel was now a thriving metropolis, a labyrinth of palaces, bustling markets, and crowded streets. Its population had swelled past ten million.

And it was precisely because the Citadel and Legion had become so massive that the Deathly Soul-Reaper was shackled. It was the keystone holding the entire operation together.

"Our neighbor is a Demigod," the Reaper rumbled. "We don't start a war lightly."

It wasn't cowardice; it was calculation. Orion was puzzled. Surviving the Gray World should have been proof enough of the Citadel's strength. Yet, someone was still poking the bear. Despite Orion publicly displaying Demigod-level power, the provocations continued.

"Master, Xalathar is ready to crush these insects for you!"

Behind Orion stood a towering figure of corded muscle and bronze skin. The bald man grinned, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

"You're just itching for a fight," Orion said dryly, glancing back.

This brute was Xalathar, the Abyssal Dragon, finally capable of assuming human form after his ascension to Arch Lord.

"Heh... anyone who dares invade the Master's territory deserves extinction!"

Orion didn't disagree. He didn't fear war, but delay was strategically advantageous. If he could stall until his true body ascended, every invader would simply become practice fodder for his new powers.

"Hold the line. Investigate first," Orion ordered. "They haven't launched a full-scale invasion yet. No need to show our hand."

Demonforge Ridge.

While Orion preached caution, his enemies were already mobilizing.

"Honored Lord of Demonforge," a smooth voice intoned. "As you can see, the enemy remains passive. The Foundry Citadel either hasn't noticed our probes, or they are terrified of us."

The speaker smiled, a polite, predatory expression. "After all, their Lord is not a true Demigod. Without the proper rank, occupying such a vast territory is simply... inappropriate. Don't you agree?"

The speaker was Eudan, a Chaos Demon and an Arch Lord of deceptive refinement.

"Eudan," the Lord of Demonforge rumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "Over-tier warriors command respect equal to Demigods. Watch your tongue."

Reklos, the Demigod ruling Demonforge Ridge, was not a fool. An Over-tier fighter—someone with Demigod combat power but without the rank—was a terrifying anomaly. If such a being ascended, they would be unstoppable.

"With respect, my Lord," Eudan countered smoothly. "He is strong, yes. But he touched what belongs to my Ancestor. That is his original sin."

Reklos fell silent.

The "Ancestor" Eudan referred to was Yulitus, the newly crowned Abyssal Ruler of the Sixth Layer.

Yulitus himself probably didn't care about a gnat like the Deathly Soul-Reaper. But his clan—the Chaos Demon faction backing him—would not tolerate a slight against their Patriarch's authority. Not even a little one.

That was why Eudan was here, whispering poison in Reklos's ear. He wanted the Demigod to do his dirty work.

Reklos knew the game. Eudan's clan was powerful, a top-tier family among the Chaos Demons. Their main base wasn't even on this layer, which was why Eudan needed a local proxy.

"Eudan," Reklos said slowly. "I will not march personally. I have just returned from the Gray Battlefield and require slumber. However... I must show respect to Lord Yulitus."

Demigods didn't typically fear Abyssal Rulers—they could just leave if things got too hot. But Reklos's territory and foundation were here. He couldn't afford to offend the new administration.

He needed a compromise. No all-out war, no personal risk, but enough action to satisfy the political pressure.

"I appoint you as Commander of the Demon Armies," Reklos declared. "I grant you the fiefdom bordering the Foundry Citadel. Do with it what you will."

It was a shrewd move. Reklos paid his political dues without risking his own skin. If Eudan succeeded, great. If he failed and needed saving, Reklos could step in then and claim even more favor from Yulitus's clan.

As for Orion and the Citadel? Compared to the Abyssal Ruler, they were expendable.

"Thank you, Demon Lord," Eudan bowed deeply.

This was exactly what he wanted. He knew he couldn't force a Demigod to obey him, but borrowing the flag of the Abyssal Ruler had worked perfectly. Without that connection, he wouldn't even have made it past the front door.

Yulitus's clan wanted a foothold on the Sixth Layer now that their Patriarch was in charge. Orion, the upstart who had dared to snatch food from the tiger's mouth, was the perfect target. He wasn't a "real" God, making him vulnerable—or so Eudan believed.

Across the Sixth Layer, similar scenes were playing out. Lesser nobles and opportunists, clinging to the coattails of the new Abyssal Ruler, were using the excuse of "defending the Ruler's honor" to launch raids and land grabs everywhere.

It wasn't exactly a rare occurrence.

Every time the Abyssal Ruler changed, the hierarchy shifted, and the underbelly of the Abyss churned with new schemes. Only the Lords with true, undeniable power could afford to ignore the dirty politics playing out in the shadows.

Having secured the support he needed, Eudan strode out of the Demigod Reklos's private sanctum.

"Just a few more grease payments, a slice of the profits, and I can convince the Patriarch to step in," Eudan muttered to himself, his mind racing with calculations. "With a Demigod Ancestor backing me, the Foundry Citadel is as good as mine."

He clenched his fist, savoring the thought. "Once I have that stronghold, I can leverage the Patriarch's influence to stockpile resources. That will be my foundation—my stepping stone to ascending to Demigod status myself."