Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1537 Trial of the Third Stratum

"Your Excellency, has the Stoneheart Horde released a fresh decree? The Centaur Race stands ready to cooperate completely!"

Rommath experienced a swirl of mixed feelings as he observed the deeply deferential Centaur Khan standing before him.

Ironhoof ranked among the chief provocateurs of the North-South War. His name had cropped up repeatedly in the Blood Elves' intelligence dispatches. During that time, he had battled fiercely for his lands and kin, undaunted by the powerful coalition of humans, dwarves, and blood elves.

Yet today? Just hearing about the Stoneheart Horde, just laying eyes on Rommath—once a prisoner, now serving as envoy—Ironhoof groveled subserviently.

Unstoppable.

In that instant, Rommath's outlook expanded vastly. He envisioned a raging deluge, an irresistible surge crashing over the continent. The Stoneheart Horde formed this deluge, born from the Giant King and bolstered by the strength of innumerable mighty figures.

This deluge would swell ever larger, both now and in the distant future. Rommath himself would join its ranks—and he aimed to shine as its brilliant forefront.

From emotion to contemplation, culminating in realization. Rommath's eyes grew remote yet sharp. Unable to halt the deluge, he would surf its crest. He would harness the gales to climb loftier and farther than before.

"The Horde hasn't released any new decrees," Rommath stated evenly. "I've never traveled so deep into the north before, and I'm intrigued by the surroundings and the peoples living here. I'm just traveling through, nothing more. No need for you to worry about me."

Rommath astonished himself; his usual icy, arrogant tone had warmed notably, washing over the khan like a gentle spring gust.

"A journey! Excellent, truly excellent!" Ironhoof let out a deep breath of relief. Whether eased by Rommath's transient visit or the absence of fresh Horde commands remained unclear.

"Your Excellency, my tent holds exquisite wine and succulent roasted meats. Would you grace me by sharing a banquet?"

Rommath refused with a shake of his head. Beneath Ironhoof's intent stare, he ascended into the sky, soaring toward a towering snow-covered mountain at the territory's northern frontier.

The north remains harsh, frozen, and desolate, Ironhoof mused while seeing him depart. Beyond fierce storms and gaunt snow creatures, what attractions exist?

Rumors claim the whole Blood Elf Race yielded to the Stoneheart Horde. Why act so superior?

Nevertheless... after this bug infestation passes, I must seek a path to formally pledge allegiance to the Horde as well.

For ages, Ironhoof had contemplated complete submission. Yet Orion filled him with terror. Orion had seen him abandon the fight shamefully, and Ironhoof dreaded the giant's contempt for his dishonor.

This fear had kept the Centaur Khan wavering, stalling endlessly while enduring daily torment of suspicion and unease.Elsewhere amid the icy heavens, Rommath pressed on. As he neared the frosted summits, exhilaration increasingly lit his features.

"Hope, are you sure the mystic aura lingers nearby?"

With those words from Rommath, a chubby broodmother emerged from his sleeve. Laito it was. Having stretched to almost ten feet long, the beast now commanded the power to alter its size freely.

"Master, that captivating aroma intensifies. It's surely near," Laito answered. His tone rang soft and clear, flawlessly copying a little girl's pure innocence.

Laito the broodmother had evolved once more, bestowing upon him the gift of fluent speech.

Right then, Laito brimmed with elation. He had pinpointed an anchor base's aura, his gaze ablaze with manic thrill.

To Rommath, it appeared as mere eager zeal from a devoted companion about to uncover a vast fortune.

"Master, once we claim the treasure, might thieves attempt to snatch it?" the broodmother inquired, its girlish voice laced with pretended, charming naivety.

"No one will dare," Rommath assured boldly. "We serve the Stoneheart Horde. Across this land, save for certain top-tier beings in the Horde, all who encounter me will accord due deference."

No empty claim this. Rommath ruled as Blood Elf sovereign, his might perched at Legendary's utmost pinnacle. No idiot existed too dim to provoke him deliberately.

Moreover, since whispers of a possible alliance marriage between Pallas and Ariselle spread, Rommath's position had gained exceptional prestige.

"Master is truly exceptional! If we discover the treasure, Master might rise even further," the broodmother flattered. "With Master's aid, Hope can evolve once more and serve you even better!"

Laito's words rang with complete sincerity. Deep down, the insect king felt profoundly pleased by Rommath's singular position and meticulous methods. Staying hidden, dodging attention, refraining from picking fights yet refusing to yield—this offered flawless concealment for skulking in the darkness and weaving vast, doomsday plots.

"Master, the treasure's aura emanates from over there!" Laito extended a meaty limb toward the towering mountain, a sly spark flickering in his otherworldly gaze.

At those words, Rommath sped up, his pulse quickening with excitement. Following an extended journey through the skies, he landed atop a sharp, ice-covered summit and gently placed the broodmother on the ground.

The Swarm's versatility proved downright horrifying; Laito displayed zero discomfort in the freezing chill. After circling the summit briefly to orient himself, he started guiding Rommath toward the mountain's frosty base.

The Dreamlands, the Third Stratum.

A total wasteland—built solely from water.

Once the small bubble around Orion fused with a much grander one, he fully entered this wondrous domain. The wonder stemmed from the immense bubble's barrier, beyond which an infinite, oppressive sea pressed from all sides.

Orion sensed a vivid, dreamlike sensation of being at the center of an underwater, dome-enclosed metropolis.

While he scanned this level of The Dreamlands with curiosity, wondering about the upcoming challenge, a huge surge of seawater brutally pierced the bubble's membrane, forcing its way in.

As soon as the seawater broke through the barrier, the bubble instantly mended, once more resisting the unyielding force of the encircling abyss.

Next, a stranger spectacle emerged. Beneath Orion's stunned stare, the invading seawater mass twisted and shrank, swiftly hardening into a body exactly like his.

Golden build, gripping a war scythe, Doomscourge longsword sheathed at its side. The armaments matched perfectly too.

Sizzle!

Orion hadn't even voiced a query when the liquid clone disappeared, materializing right behind him in an instant. It slashed fiercely with the war scythe, perfectly mimicking Orion's trademark initial assault.

This isn't a copy. It's an exact duplicate! The realization struck Orion's thoughts, verified immediately by the resounding clang of steel.

Its looks, muscle power, weapon strength, fighting technique—even the abilities mirrored Orion's precisely.

In that fleeting moment, Orion understood the Third Stratum's real test: vanquishing his own reflection.