Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1302 The Ogre Lord and the Gathering Storm

The Ogre Province, situated within the Stoneheart Horde.

To Orion, the designation "Ogre Province" felt absurdly uninspired—a low-effort name he had tossed out simply to silence Aldous’s persistent pestering.

When Aldous originally brought his tribe under the banner of the Stoneheart Horde, Orion had granted them significant independence. However, Aldous was never a man to settle for less; he had insisted on a formal, official title for his lands to demonstrate his status as a core pillar of the Horde.

Consequently, Orion dubbed it "The Ogre Province." The name stuck permanently.

Deep within this self-governed territory, in a valley bathed in sunlight and blanketed by wild blossoms, Aldous sat propped up against a small mound.

To be more precise, they sat.

One of the heads was currently napping, with saliva trickling from the edge of its tusked jaw. The other head remained fully alert, observing the picturesque landscape with the contemplative eyes of a scholar.

"That familiar scent," the conscious head muttered softly. "The drums of war are approaching."

Having served as a veteran Lord for many years, Aldous possessed a keen sixth sense regarding the shifting political winds of the world.

"Aldous has remained idle for too long," the head whispered to itself. "Aldous has reached his limit. Aldous must achieve a breakthrough. Aldous desires more power."

"Aldous requires assistance. Aldous needs his companion."

Years prior, when the White Dragon sparked the initial Civil War, Aldous had formed an alliance with Orion. At that time, his rank was merely that of a mid-tier Lord. After merging his domain into the Stoneheart Horde, he had feasted greedily upon their vast wealth.

A decade of consuming Legendary-grade resources had propelled him to the very Peak of the Legendary Rank.

Yet, he had hit a wall there. It was a divide he simply could not bridge on his own.

Aldous understood that without the direct help of Orion, he would never reach the status of an Arch Lord within the Titanion Realm. The continent’s riches had already been partitioned; the spoils were gone. No untapped resources remained to be seized, and no new territories were left to conquer.

This stagnation was the exact reason Orion had initiated his long-term strategy to invade external worlds.

"That blithering fool," the intelligent head grumbled, its contemplative mood vanishing as it glanced at its slumbering twin. "He cares for nothing but food and sleep. Zero ambition. No thought for what comes next."

The more he dwelled on it, the more his irritation boiled over.

Smack.

Aldous commanded their shared arm to strike the sleeping head with a sharp blow.

"Grah! What was that for?!"

The larger head jolted awake, its eyes burning with fury. It snarled at the smart head, showing its teeth as if ready to fight its own body.

"What are you staring at? Your shift has started!" the intelligent head barked back. "You worthless pile of flesh. You have no sense of danger. What if we were ambushed by an enemy right now?"

Smack.

He delivered another backhand to the face.

"Understand this: this body is mine. You are nothing but a squatter. You only stay here because I permit it, which means you owe me rent."

"You are two months behind on your payments," the smart head growled. "Do you intend to work off what you owe? Or should I ask my friend, the Great Giant King Orion, to burst your head like a ripe boil?"

It was a boast, certainly, but it functioned as a terrifyingly credible threat.

While Aldous loathed the brute-force head, he could not ignore the necessity of its physical strength.

"I... I’ll get to work," the brute muttered, his anger evaporating instantly. "Just... don't let Him pop my head."

The intimidation proved effective.

The larger head possessed primal combat instincts that were second to none. It could sense the overwhelming, bottomless terror of Orion’s strength more clearly than anyone, and it lived in absolute fear of him.

"That is better," the smart head huffed. "Perform your duties. We must prepare a magnificent tribute for my friend. We need to petition him to guide us toward the next path."

Aldous felt aimless. He was missing a clear direction.

In reality, his growth—and the growth of every Lord across the continent—was being suppressed by the Alliance of Four in the South. Without massive new territories to sustain huge populations, no Lord could accumulate the resources required to surpass the Legendary threshold.

Even Orion, despite his immense power, had been forced to look toward the stars to continue his expansion.

"Those arrogant Lords in the North... what is going through their minds?" Aldous wondered aloud, staring toward the horizon. "Do they not understand that losing this war means more than just losing land? They will lose their very existence."

Aldous gazed toward the North, a place he once called home.

He was well aware that the Northern Lords were a disorganized, greedy group. They would never unite for a suicidal conflict unless a powerful patron was backing them—someone offering promises of strength and safety.

Though he could smell the coming war, the specific details eluded him. Word of the "Alliance of the Hundred Races" had not yet reached this area. However, Aldous was sharp; he knew the situation didn't make sense on its own.

He shook both his heads as a dual headache began to set in.

"Let us move," both heads spoke in unison. "To Stoneheart City."

The Sixth Layer of the Abyss. The Foundry Citadel.

Ever since the destruction of the invading Demon legions, the Foundry Citadel had experienced an era of rapid progress and stability.

But while the Citadel’s interior thrived, the political climate beyond its borders was crumbling fast.

"My Lord, new intelligence has arrived," Bidalun reported, his face shadowed with concern. "Our neighbors to the South and West are mobilizing their battalions."

"I cannot yet confirm if the Conquest Legion is their primary target, but the omens are dark."

As the Commander of the First Army, Bidalun had spent a decade building a sophisticated spy network across the layer. If he felt uneasy, the danger was legitimate.

"Trust your gut," Orion spoke calmly from within the Four-Sided Tower. "They are coming for us. Organize the defenses. We shall cleanse the land of these trespassers."

Orion remained seated, his presence as the Deathly Soul-Reaper feeling more profound and unreadable than ever. Unless he intentionally revealed his power, most Demigods would perceive him as nothing more than a silent void.

"But why, My Lord?" Bidalun inquired, looking confused. "First it was the Reklos Demigod from the Iron-Forged Ridge. Now two other Abyssal Lords? Why are they suddenly working together?"

"It is the influence of House Julius," Orion answered, his tone carrying a hint of icy mockery.

"Our neighbors aren't striking out of desire. They are attacking out of pure fear. If they do not cause trouble for me, they are showing defiance toward Lord Julius."

Julius held dominion over the Sixth Layer. The kin of Arch Lord Eudan—whom Orion had previously slain—were using the Ruler's authority to intimidate the local Lords. They were forcing Orion’s neighbors to act as their proxies.

It was basic political maneuvering, and Orion had decoded it immediately.

"My Lord," Bidalun said with a trace of hesitation, "The magnitude of the enemy's forces... it might be several times greater than the previous invasion. And..."

He stopped mid-sentence, but the meaning was clear to everyone.

This wasn't just about the sheer number of soldiers. It was about top-tier strength. More armies meant more Demigod leaders on the field.

Bidalun was silently questioning: Can we survive a war on multiple fronts against several Demigods at once?

Hmph.

Orion let out a short, mocking laugh, his lips curling into a look of pure arrogance.

"Do they truly believe," Orion said, his gaze sharpening, "that they are the only ones with a family? That they are the only ones who have allies?"