Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 993: Sword King

Orion seized on the key point. He knew Arthas had no shortage of ores for forging weapons and armor. If he was mounting a full-scale invasion of this Godforsaken Land, it had to be for that unique absorption property.

Arthas’s explanation raised a question in Orion’s mind.

It was hard to imagine a material that could be absorbed by both a living being and a skeleton.

Arthas elaborated.

If it can channel divine power, that puts it on the same level as a relic. Orion’s brow furrowed. If this black gold was so precious, the land that produced it should have been a hot commodity. How did it end up a "Godforsaken Land"?

As if sensing his thoughts, another message from Arthas arrived.

At the mention of World Fragments, Orion’s eyes narrowed. The Saintess of the Garland Tribe, Violet, and the child she was carrying for him, Caelus—they were a constant weight in the back of his mind, and Arthas had just stirred those thoughts to the surface.

Arthas advised.

It was a suggestion, but Orion understood it as a requirement. If his brother was asking for it, he would deliver.

In the citadel, Orion slowly opened his eyes, the conversation with Arthas concluded.

Ever since he had become an archlord, the fighting had never stopped. He had once thought he was moving too fast, being too aggressive. But after spending time with men like Leonidas, Alexander, and Arthas, he had come to a realization: war wasn’t an event; it was the natural state of things.

For a faction that wanted to grow, you were either invading or being invaded. Stagnation was decay. It was a trait shared by nearly every major faction founded by a Survivor. They were all looking forward, all aiming for the next level: demigod, then god.

In realms he didn’t know, on battlefields he couldn’t see, the factions of Arthas, Leonidas, Alexander, and even the commander were constantly at war. That was the truth of it, a lesson he had only recently come to understand.

The Stoneheart Horde could never afford to stop.

In the North, a cave at the base of a mountain.

Lorelia, shaking off a deep slumber, suddenly opened her eyes and whispered, "The master is calling. It’s time to go back."

She and her abyssal dragon had followed the Allied Forces, sweeping through the northern barbarian lands. Along the way, she had collected countless resources and captured innumerable slaves. She’d been resting in this cave to digest her gains and spawn more cave spiders, turning the cavern into one of her pre-planned Nests. The territory she now occupied had already been allocated to the Stoneheart Horde in the initial talks of the Four Factions Summit.

"Xalathar, wake up! We’re going back to Stoneheart City!" Lorelia called out as she exited the cave. At the entrance, the massive abyssal dragon was sprawled on the ground, fast asleep.

Xalathar opened his eyes, shaking his great head as he rose to his feet with a thunderous roar. "It’s been so long! I miss the master and the Mistress. And little Elara and Pallas! I have so many gifts for them!"

Lorelia leaped onto the dragon’s back, her face lighting up as she ticked off the gifts on her fingers, beaming. At her command, a thick carpet of cave spiders poured out of the mountain, clearing a path for their departure.

Silverwood Realm, The Stillness.

"The Stillness" was the name Orion had given his temporary camp. To name it was to claim it as his territory.

In the center of the camp, under Clymene’s command, teams of skeleton warriors had erected a simple stone fortress. Though crude, Orion had invested a Lord’s Stone in its construction. The stone’s power wasn’t visible in the fortress above ground, but deep in the earth below, where it was transforming the simple catacombs into a true necropolis, a special building worthy of Clymene’s power.

"I can see the disgust and fear in her eyes," Orion remarked, glancing at Aerin and Freyla in the camp’s main plaza. After being treated with one of his sacred potions, the two Wood Elves had recovered most of their strength in a single day.

"Please don’t mind her, Godfather," Aerin explained with an awkward smile. "It’s just... your troops... they look an awful lot like the demonic monsters we were fighting." The moment she and Freyla had stepped out of the tent and seen the entire camp filled with skeletons and lurking undead, they’d nearly had heart attacks.

Wood Elves and the undead were polar opposites, and they were still struggling to adjust. Aerin could handle it—she knew Orion was a Survivor, and the undead army was a sign of his faction’s immense power. Freyla, on the other hand, was convinced they had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"You’d better get her used to it quickly. The signal for the counterattack is about to be given." Orion’s gaze shifted to the empty plaza. He could already feel the tell-tale ripples of spatial energy.

Caesar and Tangere were about to arrive.

A magical formation blazed to life in the center of the plaza, warping the air and causing the elements in the area to thrum with power. When the light faded, a warrior astride a massive Dire Bear stood in its place. Behind him were five thousand human Shield Warriors in uniform armor. They carried themselves with an extraordinary air of discipline and power.

The newcomer was Julius Caesar, the Alpha-level Sword King.