Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1313 Spoils of Chaos

To the West. Moonprison.

Following Brodin’s surrender, where he traded half his lands and subjects to preserve his own life, Orion wasted no time. Leading his brothers and the Conquest Legion, he marched westward, setting his sights directly on the territory of the Demigod Grefiel.

Moonprison was situated due west of the Foundry Citadel. Since Grefiel had been among the invaders attempting to pillage Orion’s city, Orion felt no impulse toward clemency. He had arrived specifically to seize everything.

However, upon their arrival, Orion pulled up short. He gazed at the horizon in disbelief.

"Talk about a clean getaway," Leonidas muttered, scanning the barren wasteland. "They’ve picked this place clean right down to the bedrock."

Where a sprawling fortress city should have stood, there remained only a massive, leveled crater. It appeared as though a gargantuan spoon had scooped the entire city right out of the soil.

"The spatial fluctuations are still turbulent," the Deputy Commander observed, closing his eyes to sense the residual mana lingering in the atmosphere. "They haven’t been gone for long. He managed to take the entire city with him."

"So, what’s the move? Do we just let the prize slip away?" Leonidas asked, glancing at Orion. They had marched here expecting a shake-down, not a vacant lot.

"It’s not a total loss," Arthas cut in, his tone remaining composed and practical. "Grefiel may have retreated to the Seventh Layer, but the land itself remains. This is still Demigod-tier territory."

Arthas surveyed the desolate terrain. "The soil and the leylines are still saturated with power. It won’t be long before the Abyssal Energy begins to reshape the surroundings. Wild demonic monsters and wandering tribes will naturally migrate toward this spot. This actually resolves Orion’s greatest obstacle: the lack of a foundation."

Edward signaled his agreement with a nod. "Arthas is correct. Rather than a one-time haul of loot, seizing this land represents a far superior long-term investment."

The eyes of the Deputy Commander, Arthas, Leonidas, and Alexander all turned toward Orion.

If this territory was annexed into the borders of the Conquest Legion, the problem of generating a steady flow of Faith Energy—a concern that had bothered Orion for months—would finally be addressed.

"You’re not wrong," Orion remarked, his brow knitting together. "But isn’t it a bit early to start planting flags?"

He wasn't trying to dampen their spirits, but the environment was unstable. He gestured with a finger toward the sky.

The meaning was clear to everyone. High above, within the veiled dimensions, Kaidric was locked in combat with the Abyssal Ruler, Julius.

The result of that confrontation would decide the fate of everything.

Orion’s initial strategy had been straightforward: strike fast and retreat. He wanted to extort resources and then vanish into the shadows before the situation escalated. But claiming vast swaths of territory? That would put a massive target on his back. Should Julius emerge victorious, Orion would be left holding stolen land with nowhere to run.

"Bro, don’t overthink it," Leonidas said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Screw it. If things go south, just go cry to Commander. Knowing him, he'd probably conquer the entire Sixth Layer just to stop your whining."

Though it was a joke, it held a kernel of truth. The Commander was fully aware of the stakes. He had their backs.

"Leonidas is right," Edward added, his voice firm. "Claim the land. Even if the Abyssal Ruler wins, he will be severely injured. By the time he is recovered enough to seek vengeance, who is to say he won’t be the one being hunted?"

The Deputy’s assurance was contagious.

"Alright," Orion said, his doubts fading as he nodded. "We take it."

Flanked by his brothers, their collective auras erupted, broadcasting a blatant warning to any nearby Lords: Keep your distance.

"Heh, now that’s what I like to hear," Leonidas smirked. "Look at our little bro, turning into a genuine Big Boss of the Abyss."

Orion gave a small shrug, looking down into the hollow crater. Now the difficult work began: logistics. Despite securing the land, reconstruction demanded resources. Farming, mining, water, labor... he was starting from zero.

Over the following twenty-four hours, Orion utilized the Demigod Phantoms of his brothers to drive a lightning-fast expansion. The Conquest Legion, energized by their recent triumph, pushed forward to occupy the empty stretches of Moonprison and the territories ceded from Brodin’s Throne.

It was a chaotic, unopposed land grab.

The area was immense. Orion intended to construct two new satellite cities, creating a defensive triangle with the Foundry Citadel serving as the anchor point.

As for the Divine War occurring above the sky? Orion could do nothing but wait.

He was unaware at the time, but the moment Julius was challenged, the entirety of the Sixth Layer had dissolved into total anarchy.

Orion wasn't the only one stirring up trouble. The House of Julius had accumulated countless enemies over the thousands of years of their rule. The only thing that had restrained the other Lords was their terror of Julius himself.

But now? With the King seemingly on his deathbed, the predators were out to feast.

Across the entire layer, Lords and Demons who had long been suppressed by Julius’s kin rose up in rebellion. It was a massacre. Within hours, nearly ninety percent of the Arch Lords loyal to House Julius were wiped out. Those who survived were either powerful enough to defend their positions or clever enough to hand over their lands before the mobs arrived.

Amidst the carnage, the whole layer held its breath, waiting for a corpse to plummet from the heavens.

Titanion Realm. The Northern Bastion of Menethis.

The dawn broke in shades of red.

During the previous night, the Northern Bastion had survived the most massive Beast Tide since its founding.

The ground outside the fortress walls had been trampled into a thick mire of mud and gore. In the low trenches, the blood remained liquid, flowing like dark, sluggish streams that glinted under the morning's pale light.

Even the grand bastion appeared weary. The supposedly indestructible stone walls were marred by thousands of deep claw marks. Scraps of hide and fur were wedged into the cracks of the stone—a grim reminder of the siege's intensity.

Up on the ramparts, Pallas leaned heavily against his trident. For the first time, the brutal reality of war felt heavy in his soul.

Back in his tribe, he had been raised on the stories of the elders regarding the rise of the Stoneheart Horde. They had described rivers of blood and mountains of the dead. Pallas had always assumed they were merely exaggerating for the sake of the story.

Standing here now, with the metallic scent of iron filling his lungs, he understood they hadn't been lying.

Victory wasn't a glorious thing. It was disgusting. If one wished to win, they had to be prepared to drown the foe in their own blood.

"This was just the appetizer."

Prince Theodore stood nearby, his heavy single-handed greatsword propped against his shoulder. His posture remained perfect, betraying no hint of exhaustion.

Throughout the long night, Theodore had fought side-by-side with the VIPs—Elara, Pallas, Delphine, and Blizzarion. He had served as their guardian, ensuring they could rack up kills while remaining out of harm's way.

He wasn't merely participating in a war; he was forging alliances. Connections tempered in blood were far more resilient than those signed on parchment.

He stole a glance at Delphine. The Blood Elf Princess appeared drained, yet her resolve remained. The collective trauma of the night had dissolved the formal distance between them. Her look toward Theodore had softened, now carrying a sense of reliance and trust that only the heat of battle could foster.

It was the sort of bond that a woman—or a future queen—would find nearly impossible to turn away from.