Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1423 Slicing the Pie

Orion aimed to allocate a hefty portion of the land territories to Aina.

After all, she supplied the world's coordinates. Assisting her in wiping out her foes was merely an extra perk; the territory served as her deserved reward.

In addition, Tangere, Scarecrow, Caesar, and Aerin—those underlings Orion figured he'd haul along like reliable beasts of burden—required their share to stay driven. He couldn't overlook Isabella, the disciple of Alexander, either. And should the Demon Makareth awaken soon enough, Orion had no intention of sidelining him. Taking over a fresh world demanded enormous effort in workforce and oversight. By sharing out more of the spoils, he gained extra devoted allies. It proved a minor cost to reduce casualties for the Stoneheart Horde and preserve his troops' strength against the upcoming cross-dimensional assaults waiting in the wings.

"Heh. You lucky bastard," Leonidas chuckled, swirling his drink. "A Survivor handing you a world on a silver platter? That's rare. The locals of that world must be truly cursed. Of all the people to offend, they chose a woman with a grudge and the means to act on it."

Leonidas had reviewed the details inside the crystal orb. Being a Survivor too, he respected the savvy move.

"I've got Aina setting up a teleportation altar," Orion said, his tone turning serious. "The throughput will be low at first. We'll have to be surgical. Eldoria is protected by a Realm Barrier, and the local Holy Order won't roll over easily. I'll need you to do some heavy lifting, Brother."

Orion felt no concern over the fighting itself. He could take on two or three First-Stage Demigods with ease. What he required Leonidas for was managing the masses—to stop the foes from overwhelming his officers with sheer numbers while he stayed busy.

"Don't worry about it," Leonidas said, raising his glass in a toast. "I'll be your battering ram. Consider me your hired muscle for this one."

"Boss," Kraken interjected, leaning forward. "Do we need to loop in the Platinum Authority? Ask for support?"

Politics troubled him. Should the Champions Alliance's fresh governing council join in, they'd claim a huge chunk of the gains. "No," Orion replied instantly. "We don't need their help."

This venture stayed private. As the planner of the Eldoria assault, Orion could keep it hidden from records. With him and Leonidas, supported by their Archlord followers, they packed sufficient might. The Platinum Authority amounted to useless baggage.

"Besides," Orion added, "the Authority is tied up. They're prepping an invasion of a different world to build up their own resource reserves. They don't have the bandwidth for us."

"In that case, we need to be thorough," Kraken noted. "Our planning needs to be airtight."

Orion and Leonidas shrugged together. That was obvious.

"Boss, one more thing," Kraken said, hesitating slightly. "I'm thinking of bringing someone new into the fold. For the Eldoria invasion. Can I tag him along?"

This request was personal. Beyond the Champions Alliance, Kraken maintained his own connections, and he'd noticed a promising addition.

"Well, look at that," Leonidas grinned, sitting up from his lounger. "I'm becoming a patriarch now. Grandfather Leonidas."

He felt cheerful. Kraken's allies counted as his own.

"You want us to vet him?" Orion asked.

He understood Kraken enough to grasp the unspoken parts.

"After that mess with Tangere, I realized something," Kraken admitted, his voice serious. "To really know someone, you need multiple angles. I'm too close to this guy. My judgment might be clouded by friendship. I need fresh eyes." "Bring him out," Leonidas nodded approvingly. "Let your big brothers take a look. If he can catch Squiddy's eye, he must have some tricks up his sleeve." Orion shrugged indifferently. At best, the guy would be Legendary level. He'd get the scraps, nothing more.

"It's a deal then."

Titanion Realm, The Northern Bastion of Menethis.

Next to the Imperial Capital of the Human Kingdom, the Northern Bastion sat nearly at the brink of the explored realms. It formed a tough, wild outpost, adjacent to the untamed areas where beast hordes and demi-humans wandered unchecked.

Sieges formed everyday reality here.

Lately, the beast tides had faded, supplanted by something much grimmer: a

relentless, suffocating insect plague.

Prince Theodore stood on the battlements, clad in battered plate armor. The air

stank of sulfur and burnt chitin. For three days and three nights, he had

commanded the defense, ordering the guards to ignite the trenches with alchemical oil.

The fires had burned without pause, a wall of flame and black smoke used to push back the endless carpet of mandibles and claws. Only now, after sustaining massive casualties, had the swarm finally receded.

"Finally...

Theodore slumped against the cold stone of the parapet, exhaustion etched into his face.

As a Legendary-level warrior, the physical exertion was manageable. The mental toll, however, was crushing. He looked out at the smoldering battlefield, his heart heavy with worry for the city and the soldiers he had lost.

He stared into the dying flames, his mind drifting.

"Have you decided?"

The voice was quiet, almost lost in the wind.

King Harold appeared beside him. Like his son, the King stared out at the

burning horizon and the gloomy forest beyond.

Have you decided?

It was a demand for a choice. A choice of destiny.

"I'm not going," Theodore said. He turned to look at his father, his eyes reflecting a complex storm of emotions. "I will stay and guard the Northern Bastion. I won't abandon my people."

In a normal world, Theodore would have inherited the throne in a few years.

He would have been a King.

But now?

The Human Kingdom was preparing to migrate to a different continent entirely.

But Theodore wasn't naive. Would a displaced kingdom really remain independent? Would the native powers of the new continent accept them?

The Kingdom would face internal strife and external rejection. War would

simply follow them across the ocean.

Looking at his father's aged face, Theodore felt a sudden pang of pity. The old man had to navigate this political nightmare in his twilight years. "Good," Harold said softly. "To be honest, I didn't want you to come."

It was a rare admission. A King did not usually reveal his heart, but in this

moment, Harold was just a father.

The migration was a lie of omission.

The "Human Kingdom" that was moving consisted of the nobility, the wealthy merchants, and their personal armies. The commoners-the millions of people who tilled the fields and worked the mines-were being left behind. No one had the capacity to transport them.

As long as the "seed" of the nobility survived, the logic went, the population could be regrown on the new continent given enough resources and time. The people here were acceptable losses.

Harold had come to the Northern Bastion not just to hear Theodore's choice, but to give his final orders.