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

Orion planned to allocate a generous portion of the land territories to Aina.

After all, she supplied the coordinates for that world. Assisting her in crushing her foes was merely an added perk; the territory stood as her well-earned reward.

In addition, Tangere, Scarecrow, Caesar, and Aerin—those underlings Orion meant to haul along as his reliable laborers—deserved their share to stay driven. He couldn't overlook Isabella, the disciple of Alexander. And should the Demon Makareth awaken soon enough, Orion had no intention of sidelining him. Taking over a fresh world demanded huge efforts in workforce and oversight. By sharing more of the spoils, he gained fiercer allies at his side. Such a minor cost helped reduce casualties for the Stoneheart Horde and preserved his troops' strength against the looming threats of cross-dimensional assaults on the way.

"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 examined the details within the crystal orb. Being a Survivor too, he respected the clever move.

"I've got Aina setting up a teleportation altar," Orion said, his tone shifting to business. "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 key allies with their greater forces 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?"

He fretted over the politics. Should the Champions Alliance's fresh ruling council get wind of it, they'd claim a huge chunk of the gains. "No," Orion replied instantly. "We don't need their help."

This operation stayed off the official radar. As the key planner for the Eldoria assault, Orion could keep it under wraps. With him and Leonidas, supported by their Archlord followers, they packed plenty of punch. The Platinum Authority would only drag them down needlessly.

"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 in unison. That went without saying.

"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 came as a personal favor. Beyond the Champions Alliance, Kraken maintained his private connections, and he'd found a promising addition.

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

He felt upbeat. Kraken's crew 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.

Unlike the Imperial Capital of the Human Kingdom, the Northern Bastion sat right at the brink of the explored realms. It formed a tough, unforgiving outpost, adjacent to the untamed wilds where beast packs and demi-humans wandered unchecked.

Sieges formed the daily grind here.

Lately, the beast tides had eased off, giving way to a much grimmer threat: 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.