Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1479 Night of Butchery

"My Lord, do we return immediately?"

Oswin Calder uttered those opening words the moment they emerged from the castle, where the enormous gates boomed shut in their rear. Theodore had wrapped up his session with King Orion, along with a confidential chat with Ava.

Theodore gave a shake of his head. Northguard now possessed a fresh anchor. The Stoneheart Horde was taking complete charge of its administration. Though Theodore held the title of Lord, his real power was curtailed.

Naturally, the advantages from the Horde were amplified to make up for it.

The burden he'd borne for ages at last eased away, draining him completely. For years, he'd slogged through sludge; freed at last, he required a pause to regain his wind before dashing onward.

Stay prepared constantly. The Stoneheart Horde always harnesses potential without delay.

Ava had imprinted that directive deep in him. As Lilith's trusted aide, she drowned in heaps of bureaucratic documents pouring in from across the empire. No one grasped more keenly than she the Horde's urgent thirst for skilled rulers.

The Titanion Realm, the Emerald Dream Realm, the Silverwood Realm, plus the fiery campaign raging in the World of Eldoria—the Horde surged ahead quicker than it could train overseers. They craved overseers and trailblazers alike.

Theodore surpassed qualifications for each role.

Prospects stretched out before him like a banquet; seizing a seat there hinged solely on his drive. The Stoneheart Horde had evolved beyond a mere tribe into a colossal force that could forge its own Archlords. Should Theodore remain, serve loyally, and amass sufficient merit, he'd gain dominion over expansive lands and rise to peaks beyond his wildest dreams.

Yet recovery came first. With the Human Kingdom's downfall, Theodore's might—tied to the ancient royal lineage and the Mandate of Kings—had splintered. Time was essential to sever his power from the perished realm and craft a solid new base.

"General, have you ever visited the Silent Goblet?" Theodore inquired, fiddling with his cloak. "There's a bard living there, a wanderer from distant worlds. He's witnessed marvels beyond our grasp, holds mysteries faded into history. His tales offer lessons like no other."

He patted the elder on the back. "I've got a flask of aged liquor stashed at the bar. Come on. Share a drink with me."

Theodore craved the respite, yet Oswin yearned for it even deeper. This silver-maned warrior had trailed him into the depths without a murmur, shielding innocents amid utter hopelessness. Theodore was in his debt for a brighter tomorrow. He longed to witness the veteran shatter his human bounds, climb to Lordship, and reignite his passion.

"My Lord, but... Northguard..." Oswin faltered, glancing northward.

Theodore dismissed it with a gesture, silencing him.

"Relax. Northguard is under the Stoneheart Horde's wing now. His Majesty and his bloodline won't allow it to crumble against the bug hordes. We must allow time for blending in, and truthfully, Northguard's folk require moments to face the truth."

"If we stay away," Theodore murmured, his tone dropping, "their acceptance will quicken."

It formed a harsh assessment of common folk's mindset. A prompt return from Theodore would keep him as their support, an emblem of bygone eras. They'd cluster to him and defy the fresh regime. Yet if the "Giant King" and his Horde stood as the sole barrier from doom, survivors would cling to the Horde for life.

Theodore embodied history. For the union to succeed, he needed to vanish temporarily.

And if vanishing involved submerging in the revelry and exquisite vintages of Stoneheart City, Theodore embraced that offering gladly.

"My Lord," Oswin whispered, "is there any chance for... restoration?"

Restoration. Reviving the Human Kingdom to its past splendor.

Theodore grinned, then denied with a head shake. Words weren't needed; the response shone evident.

The land stood unified beneath the Horde. Even its title had shifted. Any revival of the old kingdom would serve merely as a subordinate. While the mythic Giant King drew breath, this continent would hold no other overlords.

"General, quit gazing at the ruins we've left. Peer ahead." Theodore motioned to the vast metropolis encircling them. "Doesn't the thought of rising to Lord under the Horde's flag excite you? Word is, they've just promoted a fresh group of outsider leaders to the Legendary tier."

It served as both a nudge and a temptation.

Hearing of the Legendary tier made Oswin's eyes narrow. The pulse that had dragged in sorrow's tempo suddenly raced. A buried spark of drive, presumed extinguished, started to bud.

"Against the Human Kingdom, the Stoneheart Horde provides an boundless arena," Theodore pressed on, his words gaining a prophetic edge. "Moreover... wouldn't you aspire to forge your own kingdom someday?"

Unable to claim an inheritance, Theodore planned to erect one.

His princely training let him read the grand design plainly. Orion had reached Demigod rank. His ambitions wouldn't fixate on one continent, nor would he content himself as the eternal Stoneheart Horde Emperor. That throne awaited his heirs.

Orion was a subjugator. Conquest drove him.

What Orion sought was endless Faith Energy. Lands, societies, devotion... these powered the road to godhood.

Soon, the Horde's elite would deploy as Viceroys and Kings to oversee the realms Orion seized—sentinels over his domains. Varied worlds, diverse peoples, unique cultures. The smartest governance meant vassal states, with Orion as the ultimate god and his faith as the ruling creed.

This marked the Stoneheart Horde's destined course.

Theodore understood that diligence and loyalty to the Horde would crown him once more.

"General, the rules of the game have shifted," Theodore declared, striding onto the avenue. "Let's recharge. An empire awaits our construction."

World of Eldoria, Andor Diocese.

Darkness cloaked the night like a pall.

In Dolame Square, the radiant shield had crumbled. Sacred glows faded out, yielding to a choking murk alive with carnage's clamor.

The Undead Legion pressed on through the shadows. Skeletons advanced in ghostly quiet, their bony swords flashing with icy, murderous sheen. Over the plaza, Draconic Beasts and ghostly fiends wheeled like scavengers, shrieking directions to the troops below, exposing every nook where survivors huddled.

The Draconic Beasts diving near proved the direst horror. They crushed holy structures with wild fury, their hides mirroring bursts of flame and flowing gore.

Yet the real terrors were the Demons.

At home in gloom and killing, they glided like specters. To them, the quarry concealed in cellars and lofts blazed like signals in the dark.

Harsh bellows and wild, frenzied cackles bounced from the stones. Dolame Square had morphed from divine haven into a abattoir.

Amid the gloom, lone bands of Holy Order knights mounted desperate stands. But facing the onslaught of the allied forces, their glow was but a sputtering flame against a gale.

They toppled. They perished.

"Goddess..." a fallen knight wheezed, crimson froth on his mouth. "Awaken... behold your devotees..."

"Evil has come... Hell stands barren... the Demons walk among us..."