Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1288 The side the Stoneheart Horde stands on will always be the victor

"Our march south is not an invasion! It is a quest for fertile soil, a crusade to feed our people!"

The warlords of the outcast races were savage, yes, but they were rarely stupid. They saw the momentum shifting, and they leaped to ride the wave.

"Correct!" a voice boomed from the crowd. "Why should they feast in the sun while we freeze and starve in this wasteland?"

"Form the coalition! March South!"

One by one, the voices rose in the insectoid territory, becoming a chorus of guttural agreements and screeching affirmations. It wasn't just compliance; it was a release of pent-up desperation.

"To the South!"

And so, orchestrated by the Clown, Lokiviria, and a planted agent in the crowd, the new northern power bloc was born.

They named themselves the Alliance of the Hundred Races.

The South. The Human Kingdom.

Deep in the velvet night, within the opulent silence of the Royal Palace, King Harold was roused from his slumber by a sealed letter from the North.

The King, known widely as "Harold the Gentle" for his tolerant demeanor, did not rage at the intrusion. He took the letter calmly, gesturing for his maidservants to escort the exhausted spy away to wash and rest.

Only after the room was empty did Harold dress himself. Under the warm glow of a mana-glass lamp, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

"Peace," he murmured, his eyes scanning the coded text, "is about to be broken again."

The Human Kingdom was not to be underestimated. They had ruled portions of the Utessar Continent for millennia. Their intelligence network was a root system that burrowed deep into even the most hostile territories.

The rise of the Stoneheart Horde during the previous conflict had been a wake-up call. Since then, their surveillance budget had tripled. The ink on the Alliance of the Hundred Races' charter was barely dry, and already, the King knew.

"A North-South War... this is not a burden for humanity to bear alone."

Harold stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Given the reach of the other three factions, they undoubtedly know by now."

He had learned not to underestimate the Stoneheart Horde, the Dragons, or the Blood Elves. Humanity had learned humility through painful losses against each of them. If his spies were this fast, theirs were likely faster.

"Guards," Harold called out, his voice firm but quiet. "Summon Grand Duke Richard and Prince Theodore immediately."

Before he sat at the table with the other races, he needed his own house in order. The Royal Family and the high nobility had to speak with one voice. Only a united Human Kingdom could weather the storm to come.

Stoneheart Horde. Stoneheart City.

The surveillance network of the Horde had been laid down years ago by the Elder of Stewardship, Delilah. It was vast, efficient, and ruthless.

Now, with Orion in deep slumber within the Void and Delilah operating in the Abyss, the intelligence reports landed on the desk of Lilith.

It was a strange dynamic.

As Orion's first wife and the most noble woman in the Horde, Lilith lacked the continent-spanning fame of Delilah or the fearsome martial reputation of the Blood Elf Lycanor. She was a creature of the inner sanctum, rarely seen, quietly managing the colossal machinery of the Horde's daily governance.

But whoever said the Mother of the Nation needed to be famous?

"The Alliance of the Hundred Races has formed. A new North-South War is imminent."

Lilith sat in a side hall of the Inner Keep, reading the report aloud, word by word.

"Sylvana," she asked, looking up from the parchment. "If you were a betting woman, who would you favor?"

Across from her sat Sylvana. She was one of Orion's women, and currently, Lilith's right hand.

Over a decade had passed, yet Sylvana remained breathtaking. If anything, she looked younger. The endless resources of the Horde had pushed her cultivation all the way to Alpha-level, preserving her youth and enhancing her natural Kitsune allure.

By tradition, Sylvana was a concubine, subservient to the wife. Lilith had no obligation to mentor her or read sensitive intelligence to her.

But Lilith did it anyway.

In public, Lilith was the matriarch, the supreme authority among Orion's women. In private, they were sisters. Allies. Family.

"My Lady," Sylvana replied, her voice soft but steady. "I have no choice to make. The Horde's choice is my choice. It is our choice."

It wasn't flattery. It was the truth.

Sylvana came from the old Beastfolk tribes. They had lived like nomads, scraping a living from the dirt. Compared to the Golden Age they lived in now, that past was a nightmare. Orion, Lilith, and the Horde had given her people a life they couldn't have dreamed of. The Beastfolk population was booming, their bellies full, their children safe.

"Let me rephrase," Lilith said, a small smile playing on her lips. "In your assessment, between this new Alliance of the Hundred Races and our Alliance of Four, who wins?"

Lilith ignored the previous diplomatic answer.

"The Alliance of Four," Sylvana answered instantly. "The side the Stoneheart Horde stands on will always be the victor."

"Oh?" Lilith leaned forward, studying Sylvana's eyes. They were milky and unfocused—blind—yet beautiful. "Is that a vision, Sylvana?"

Sylvana's blindness hadn't diminished her standing. If anything, it made Orion and the other sisters more protective of her.

"No," Sylvana shook her head gently. "The future of the Stoneheart Horde is hidden from my sight. Besides... facts and experience have taught me that visions are not truth. 'Seeing is believing' is a trap. A vision is just a possibility. Just one ending among many."

Her words drifted in the air, mystical and vague.

Lilith nodded. She understood. She knew that prophecies were just hopes wrapped in riddles. The only thing one could trust was one's own strength, one's own people, and the actions taken in the present.

"Then let's try a tactical question," Lilith said, shifting gears. "Where do you think the Hundred Races will strike first? We have significant territory in the North. Do you think they will prioritize an invasion of the Stoneheart lands?"

It was three questions wrapped in one anxiety.

Lilith wasn't worried about the war's outcome. The Alliance of Four had too much depth, too much power. They wouldn't lose.

What worried her was the cost. Would the Hundred Races be desperate enough to try and decapitate the Horde's northern holdings first?

The North was barren, yes. But the Polar Ice Sheets, the Abyssal Chasm, the Black Forest, the Desert Region, and the Thunderwood Forest formed a massive, continuous belt of territory. It was a strategic buffer and a resource hub.

"If I were them," Lilith mused, tapping a finger on the desk, "and my only goal was survival... where would I bite first?"