Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1312 The Warlord's Ransom

"That is a secret for another day."

Shaking his head, Blizzarion gave a flat refusal to Pallas's inquiry. After a fortnight of fighting side-by-side, the White Dragon and the Giant had forged a connection that resembled friendship—or, at the very least, a spirited and healthy rivalry.

"Oh, come on, drop the mysterious act," Pallas scoffed. "It's obvious you're utilizing some kind of artifact."

With arms crossed, he leveled an accusatory stare at his comrade. "My old man mentioned that pure-blooded Dragons usually can't assume human form until they reach the Legendary Tier. You’re hiding something. You’ve got some high-level gear tucked away, don't you?"

Pallas was certain of it. Throughout their recent kill-count duel, Blizzarion hadn't merely kept pace; he had matched the savage intensity of Akdir, Pallas's Black Dragon mount, kill for kill. That fact alone confirmed his bloodline was elite, but the premature shapeshifting was a blatant sign of external assistance.

"Your Highnesses," Prince Theodore called out, approaching them upon the ramparts. "Where might Lady Elara be?"

Theodore had noted her absence the moment Pallas landed. The diminutive powerhouse of the Stoneheart Horde was nowhere in sight.

BOOM!

Before a reply could be given, a heavy mass crashed into the stone battlements beside Theodore, fracturing the masonry and kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Did someone call for me?"

Elara’s voice pierced the haze. She appeared via teleportation, standing nonchalantly beside a mangled, unconscious creature.

It was a Goblin. A massive specimen, nearly five feet in height and bulging with muscle.

"The Goblin King," Delphine murmured, recognizing the tribal markings.

"A Goblin Warlord," Theodore corrected, gauging the level of the threat.

"That cave-dwelling runt," Blizzarion sneered, looking down his nose.

Three titles, offered from three distinct points of view.

"This little creep was tailing us from the ridge. He thought his stealth stat was high enough to ghost us," Elara remarked with a bored sniff. "I’ve already extracted his Core Stone. He’s down to about one HP, so if you want information, you’d better start the interrogation quickly."

Pay no mind to the stunned silence of the Human and Elven nobles, Elara leaped onto Pallas’s shoulder to make herself comfortable. She patted the Giant’s massive head as if he were a well-trained golden retriever.

"Not bad work today, big guy. You maintained your lines and didn't overextend. You're much better than those brain-dead noobs back at the Tribe who only know how to zerg rush."

Pallas felt a surge of pride at the praise—Elara was stingy with compliments—but since the foreign dignitaries were watching, he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged, attempting to maintain his cool. "I'm always this good."

Theodore moved forward, his gaze fixed on the broken body on the stones. "A Goblin Warlord... captured alive..."

He checked the creature's vitals. They were faint, but present, exactly as Elara had claimed. He immediately signaled his elite guards to secure the high-value prisoner.

"Lady Elara, truly incredible work," Theodore said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Capturing a mid-tier Warlord of the Hundred Races Alliance alive? This is a monumental contribution to the war effort. I will ensure this is formally recorded in the official logs."

Elara, flipping the glowing Core Stone like a common coin, didn't even glance at him. "Keep your medals. Unless they can be cashed in at the Stoneheart Horde’s vault, I don't care for them."

Theodore and Delphine traded looks. Her nonchalance was chilling. This child-like being had soloed a boss-level foe, surgically removed its power source without killing it, and treated the entire event like a trivial side quest. Was this truly just the power of the Legendary Tier? Or was she something else entirely?

From that point on, the way they viewed Elara changed. Their respect was no longer a matter of diplomacy; it was born of fear.

"Your Highness," Blizzarion cut in, his face grim as he peered toward the north. "The scouting report wasn't just a suggestion. The main army and the beast waves are starting to mobilize."

He turned his attention to Theodore. "You have seven days. After that, the first wave will strike the walls."

Theodore’s hand moved to his sword hilt. He unsheathed the blade, the steel ringing clearly in the mountain air.

"Gentlemen," Theodore declared, his tone hardening into that of a wartime leader. "Prepare for battle."

The civil war between the North and South was nearing its boiling point.

The Sixth Abyssal Layer. The Throne of Brodin.

The Throne of Brodin was a massive fortress-city situated south of the Foundry Citadel. Originally a modest gathering spot for lesser demons, it had been renamed once its ruler, Brodin, achieved the status of a Demigod.

At the heart of the city stood a "God Mountain," a soaring peak crowned by a gargantuan statue of Brodin himself.

Today, however, the denizens of Garm were about to witness an unforgettable sight.

A beam of sword-light, radiant enough to blind the damned, sliced through the firmament. It struck the God Mountain, reducing the statue of Brodin to nothing but dust.

"Brodin!"

Orion’s voice swept over the city like a roll of thunder, cold and commanding.

Simultaneously, a colossal phantom scythe formed in the void, swinging toward the mountain with enough force to end worlds.

"Orion! Don’t push your luck!"

Just as the scythe was set to strike, a massive spectral form erupted from the mountain. Brodin’s Demigod Phantom caught the blade with his bare hands, the collision sending shockwaves through the city below.

"If you want something, just ask! There is no need for this!" Brodin bellowed, straining against the weight of the weapon.

Hummmm.

The air thrummed as four more figures descended, surrounding Orion in a perfect pentagonal array. The Deputy Commander, Arthas, Leonidas, and Alexander.

One Over-tier powerhouse and four Demigod Phantoms released their auras at once. They didn't just suppress Brodin; they shattered the will of every Demon in the city.

The [Formation: Divine Fire Extinction] was triggered, instantly trapping the God Mountain within a cage of incinerating light.

Only then did Orion speak, his voice sounding like he was conducting a business transaction.

"One Relic. Half your territory. Half your population."

It was blatant robbery.

Orion wasn't here to play the hero; he was here to plunder. He left Brodin with half his assets not out of mercy, but out of cold calculation. Seizing everything would trigger a fight to the death. Losing half was painful, but it was a loss Brodin could survive.

"You lack the leverage to negotiate," Orion added, his voice stripped of all emotion. "Accept, or perish."

"Heh... hehe..."

Brodin, a True-Demon who had survived the cutthroat politics of the Abyss for eons, suddenly dropped his guard. "Honestly? That's a cheaper price than I anticipated."

He grasped the situation immediately. With the Abyssal Ruler occupied by a greater power, Orion was capitalizing on the chaos. He was using the threat of the 'Unknown Entity'—Kaidric—to bully his neighbors.

"I accept!" Brodin shouted, his surrender so swift it nearly gave the surrounding warlords whiplash.

"I'm just curious, though," Brodin chuckled, a raspy, grinding sound. "If that entity fails his challenge against the Ruler... what becomes of you?"

"That is none of your concern," Orion answered, deactivating the formation.

"Fair enough," Brodin laughed. "But we are neighbors. If you fall, I'll be the first to attend your funeral."

Orion didn't bother to reply. Brodin had paid the toll. With their own position being so precarious, sparing Brodin in exchange for a quick payout was the only logical path forward.

They collected their loot and departed.