Titan King: Ascension of the Giant-Chapter 318: It’s me

Orion kept silent, listening intently. Rendall and the others also listened with rapt attention.

News from the south mattered a great deal to everyone gathered here. That was because, as Orion had revealed, next year they intended to push south and launch the Myriad Races Invasion—targeting territory occupied by insectfolk.

"Our scouts have sent word that the forces from Thunderwood Forest attempting a southern invasion have been completely routed. We don’t know the exact scale of their losses—just that they were huge.

In other words, Gareth lost. Rumor has it Gareth was badly injured. No idea if that’s true."

That was undoubtedly bad news: if Gareth had truly been defeated, it meant the insectfolk were more formidable than anyone expected. The council hall fell silent; nobody dared speak. Even Orion narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

"So, maybe Lokiviria’s a mid-tier Legendary-level fighter?" Orion mused. That was the most plausible explanation for how he’d so easily manage to seriously injure Gareth.

The fact that the Thunderwood forces were not just beaten but wiped out showed there was a big gulf between their strength and the insectfolk’s—otherwise, the conflict would’ve ended in mutual destruction.

"Oh, right, Lord—about a month ago, Gareth sent a messenger. But since you weren’t here, the messenger said nothing and promptly left."

Orion just nodded, making no comment. If he wanted the real story, he’d need to head south and talk with Gareth directly.

Before long, the meeting wrapped up. This time, Orion didn’t leave with the others but leaned back against his throne, gazing through the council hall doors at the city beyond, mind sinking into the Survivor’s Platform.

"Elven girl, time to trade."

First, he messaged Aerin. They hadn’t traded in quite a while, so Aerin was probably sitting on a stockpile of goods.

"Hulk, can’t you keep your word and come online for trades on schedule?"

Aerin grumbled a bit and then quickly sent Orion a trade request. Orion didn’t bother replying, merely offered up some crystal cores.

But Aerin didn’t confirm the deal right away, and Orion chuckled to himself—he guessed she was angling for a higher price.

"Quit stalling. We’ve known each other for ages. Don’t tell me you’re turning into an unscrupulous merchant who rips off old friends? Besides, where would you be if not for me? Elven girl, you oughta show some gratitude. Even a tiny favor deserves a big return—let alone—"

Before Orion could continue typing and guilt-trip her further, Aerin confirmed the trade.

"Gratitude, my eye—YOU’RE the unscrupulous merchant. Scram!"

That was Aerin’s fuming reply, full of anger and annoyance.

Orion just smirked. He was sure he’d paid a fair price; Aerin still turned a decent profit, just not the overnight fortune she might have fancied.

Forest of Nature, in a Treehouse.

Aerin clenched her small fist and crushed a freshly made Pet Pill.

"Damn it, Hulk! I’m a dignified elf, how can you treat me this way? I’m gonna find new buyers—I’m done with you after this. Ugh… my poor Pet Pills. It’s all Hulk’s fault!"

Truth be told, Aerin’s natural environment and awakened race were both pretty good.

Wood elves stayed far from the world’s endless strife, avoiding bloodshed and violence; most of them had calm, gentle temperaments.

Even though Aerin was a survivor from Earth who understood plenty of trickery and had gotten scammed on the Survivor’s Platform in the past, she still kept a relatively innocent mindset.

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Black Forest, Horde Hall.

Orion fired off another message to Scarecrow, asking to stockpile more grain. With cross-realm invasions on his horizon, Orion was hoarding key resources—food, gear, weapons, and manpower.

Luckily, Scarecrow remained fairly loyal, always willing to "hold" some grain for Orion while he was away.

After that, Orion opened the Champions Alliance ally channel:

Hulk: "Hey bros, you two make it back safely?"

No answer from Leonidas or Arthas.

Kraken: "Hulk, there’s no guarantee they returned at the same time we did. Give ’em some time."

Hulk: "Got it. Kraken, how’d things go on your end?"

Kraken: "Lost about half my people. Considering how big our haul was, though, it’s totally worth it."

Orion nodded to himself. He’d taken a lot of losses, too—he’d left with four hundred thousand little spiders and came back with only one hundred twenty thousand. But given the massive gains, those casualties felt acceptable.

He waited around in the council hall for most of the day, but still no response from Leonidas or Arthas.

Feeling a twinge of disappointment, Orion exited the Survivor’s Platform entirely and drifted back to the inner keep.

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Blackstone City, in the outer slums.

"Big Bro, according to the deputy commander’s directions, it should be here!"

"Looks about right."

The voices belonged to two hulking Thunderstorm Bearmen, Brontes and Steropes, who were cousins by blood.

"Steropes, go ahead and knock. Our sister-in-law and nephew should be in there!"

Steropes prodded Brontes, but Brontes froze, breath quickening, looking nervous.

He hadn’t seen his wife or child since he was captured—he’d once believed he’d never see them again. Deep down, he was terrified that if he knocked on the door, the ones who came out wouldn’t be them.

Steropes seemed to understand. Placing a reassuring hand on his cousin’s shoulder, he said, "It’s all over now. We’re free. We live in a city with a real lord, and it’s safe here. Your wife and kid are right inside. So knock already!"

Taking a steadying breath, Steropes worked up the nerve. He and Brontes had recently been promoted. The first thing they did after that was track down Deputy Commander Dirtclaw to find out where their wives and children had ended up.

Steropes raised his fist and started pounding on the rickety door—bam, bam, bam. The knocking got louder and louder, probably just like Steropes’s own racing heartbeat.

"Who’s there?"

"This is the outer slum area—someone’s already livin’ here. If you want to stake out land, go someplace else."

It was a woman’s voice, sounding husky and not entirely feminine. But to Steropes, it might as well have been heavenly music. While stuck as a cannon fodder soldier, he’d dreamed of the day he’d hear that voice again.

"Open… up, it’s me!"

Steropes’s voice trembled; he struggled to get out even those simple words. Yet he seemed dead certain about the "it’s me."

Inside, there was a loud clang as something crashed to the ground.

"Mom… you dropped it…"

A small bear cub peered up from where he lay on the bed, wide-eyed. His tone was innocent and babyish.

No one answered him. A brief silence followed. At last, the door gave a creak, and the muzzle of a shaggy head emerged from the crack, eyeing Steropes with a look that was equal parts fearful and anxious.

"By the spirits… sweetheart, it is you!"

The female bearman’s voice first registered as pure joy, then abruptly dissolved into sobs.

She wept louder and louder, tears as big as pearls rolling down her cheeks. It was obvious she’d endured a lot. The sound of her grief—burly and resonant—seemed to cut right to the heart.

"It’s all right now, everything’s fine."

Steropes pulled his wife into his arms, hugging her, gently patting her back and speaking soothing words. "Where’s our son, Vulkan?"

Hearing that name, the weeping bearman woman woke from her sorrow. She dashed back inside, grabbed a small bear cub by the back of his clothing, and lifted him up.

"Here he is!"

Steropes saw his son—quite a bit bigger than the last time he’d laid eyes on him—and a beaming smile finally broke across his face.

Scenes like this were happening all over the outer slums that day. Sometimes, nothing beats a good long cry in a loved one’s arms to make all the yearning and worry fade away.

As the lord and absolute ruler of Blackstone City, Orion could sense every bit of it, if he chose to.

"My own power, and that of the Horde, is all so our families don’t have to suffer like this," he murmured.

"And our Stoneheart Horde will never see that day—unless I’m dead!"

Everyone in Blackstone City was chattering about Orion’s plan to select thirty thousand slaves out of the cannon fodder troops. Especially in the outer city, the growing presence of Thunderstorm Bearmen was impossible to miss.

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At that moment, Orion was standing just outside the entrance to an abyss in the rear mountains, there at Rendall’s request to kick off the giants’ rite of passage.

Plus, he’d left a spider pet—Shadow Spinner—in the first level of the abyss specifically to measure the challengers’ strength. That spider wasn’t going to kill anyone; more like it served as a guard and a filter system to sort out which giants truly had potential.

Orion watched the entrance to the deep pit for a while. Then, once all the giants who intended to test themselves had gone in, he turned away and left Moonshadow Valley altogether.

Horde Hall, inner keep.

Around this time, the Horde was welcoming a batch of newborn broadskull ravens. Lilith was swamped taming them, running back and forth so much that she barely had a moment to rest. Lysinthia had become her helper, tagging along to the magical plant nursery and the raven nests in the rear mountains, busy as could be.

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In all of Blackstone City, it seemed Orion was the only one with any free time left. After soaking in the hot spring, he decided to open all of the survivor’s chests he’d accumulated in Godforsaken Land.

Thanks to killing so many enemies—two Legendary-level targets and five Alpha-level, plus countless others—he’d ended up with almost five hundred chests in total, more than he’d ever scored before.

He started with the five hundred or so normal survivor’s chests. Ninety-nine percent of the items inside were weapons or equipment of elite and standard tiers.

Orion simply added them to his personal stash, planning to distribute them as rewards during important celebrations or gatherings. Beyond that, the biggest prize from these five hundred chests was three arrow towers.

"Out of five hundred boxes, only three arrow towers. That’s some pretty low odds," Orion remarked, quietly pleased, and carefully tucked them away.

Next came the five boxes dropped by Alpha-level fighters. Opening them, he discovered a warhammer, two battleaxes, a two-handed sword, and a bow, all of which turned out to be Hero-level weapons.

Orion felt a bit disappointed—Hero-level gear wasn’t particularly meaningful to him anymore. Still, they’d be solid gifts for his Alpha subordinates.

For Onyx, Rendall, Thundar, Earthshaker, Slagor, and the others, Hero-level weapons were a real luxury that would definitely boost their fighting power.

Finally, Orion’s attention fell on the last two boxes, dropped by Legendary-level opponents. Wasting no time, he pried them open.

The first chest yielded a special building. What’s more, it was a military-base-type structure that allowed class specialization, precisely the kind of thing Stoneheart Horde badly needed.

[Shield Warrior Training Camp]

Type: Special Building

Quality: Alpha

Description: Activate this structure to convert eligible territory residents into shield warriors. Shield warriors focus on defense rather than raw offense, and when facing danger, they’ll stand at the front without fear.

A slight smile tugged at Orion’s lips as he set the building aside with great care. Compared to the previously constructed Military Fortress, the shield warrior camp had a narrower function. The Military Fortress was more of a rest, recovery, and general training site for all troop types, whereas this new building specialized in creating shield warriors.

Opening the second Legendary-level chest, Orion found himself holding a gold belt etched with intricate patterns—an Alpha-level piece of gear called "Curse of Sorrow." It was incredibly rare equipment that resisted most curses.

Orion squinted thoughtfully. Moments later, he stripped off his shirt and strapped the gold belt around his waist. At the same time, his gaze slid to his chest, where the Curse of a Hundred Blossoms mark lay.

The instant he buckled the belt, the Curse of a Hundred Blossoms flared with a faint white glow, as if struggling to surface. But a surge of dark light flickered across the belt, smothering that glow. Gradually, the curse’s mark faded away until it completely vanished.

Orion ran a hand over his chest; the Curse of a Hundred Blossoms was nowhere to be found. Thinking it over, he slipped off the belt. Right away, the curse mark reappeared on his skin.

"So, the Curse of a Hundred Blossoms hasn’t been removed—it’s just being suppressed."

"The belt’s suppression might help, but there’s no way to tell for sure how effective it really is."

Muttering to himself, Orion buckled the belt again. Just like that, the mark vanished once more.