Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1586 Ashes and Omens

As Kaelen and Steeltower's entourage neared the city gates, a gargantuan hand descended from the sky, halting just three hundred feet above their heads.

"Clown, you worthless cur! Take your pitiful schemes and vanish from the Stoneheart Horde!"

Orion's booming voice echoed like thunder overhead. An invisible force seized Steeltower, yanking him away from Kaelen and lifting him effortlessly into the air.

Suspended and vulnerable, Clown remained unfazed. This was merely a low-level avatar, its destruction inconsequential to him. Instead, the puppet tilted its head back, its gaze fixed on the heavens with a mixture of wonder and pity.

"Worthy of the Survivors," Clown murmured. He hadn't anticipated that a junior from the Champions Alliance would possess such formidable power.

"Orion, this son of yours shows promise. He has potential," Clown remarked, his eyes on Kaelen filled with genuine admiration. In Clown's assessment, several of Orion's offspring possessed the talent to be nurtured. "When you fall, I will spare him. I shall offer him a path forward."

"Heartless fiend. My bloodline needs no such mercy from you!" Orion amplified the gravitational pull, attempting to capture Clown's avatar intact.

"You cannot capture me, Orion! The true spectacle... has merely commenced. Hahaha..."

Fwoosh. Flames erupted from the puppet's core. Before Orion could tighten his grip, Clown initiated his avatar's self-destruction.

High above, Orion found only a scattering of ash falling through his fingers. A trace of disappointment flickered across his features. Decisive. Clown had directly sacrificed a fragment of his own soul. Extracting memories from a captured soul was trivial for a titan, which was precisely why Clown chose immediate self-immolation to safeguard his secrets.

"Not bad. Serve the Horde with loyalty," Orion's voice resonated one final time. He cast a fleeting glance at Kaelen before his presence completely dissipated.

Silence descended upon the area outside the Gossamer Reach.

Kaelen and his guards gazed at the empty sky. It took a considerable moment before anyone dared to break the quiet.

"Your Highness... was that Steeltower? One of our own?" a guard inquired, his voice tinged with bewilderment. Steeltower's recent words and actions were entirely alien to the comrade they knew.

"Did he betray the Horde?" another guard questioned, anger creeping into his tone. "The Chieftain himself executed him. He must have been a traitor."

"Steeltower did not betray us," Kaelen stated firmly, interrupting them. "He was likely already deceased, his body controlled by the enemy. It is our failing that we did not detect a hostile presence amongst us."

They had fought and bled together on the battlefield. Kaelen refused to allow Steeltower's name to be tarnished. Moreover, after overhearing the cryptic exchange between his father and the imposter, Kaelen recognized layers to this conflict that remained beyond his current understanding.

"Brothers, upon our return, we will conduct a thorough internal review. I will not permit what happened to Steeltower to occur again."

After reassuring his men, Kaelen touched his forehead, a lingering chill coursing down his spine. The protective ward Orion had placed there pulsed faintly. That entity must have sensed my father's magic. That is why it did not attack me and instead chose to conceal itself within my ranks to gather intelligence.

Far away, under the imposing shadow of the Planetary Hive.

While Orion dealt with Vaelian and Clown, the Insect Queen Moriphara initiated her own purge against unseen infiltrators. Her methods, however, were far more extensive.

Eight demigods emerged from the Planetary Hive, fanning out in pairs to eradicate any phantoms lurking in obscurity.

When confronted with resistance, Moriphara intervened directly.

Currently, a four-winged avian demigod found itself cornered. Pulled from the shadows, the phantom instantly transformed into a beam of light, attempting to reintegrate with the void. The eight swarm demigods were powerless to prevent its escape.

Drawing upon the World Essence, Moriphara forced the avian back into the physical realm. Yet, even she could not deliver a fatal blow. She watched as the avian folded into a peculiar, luminous tetrahedron and vanished seamlessly into the Titanion Realm.

Moriphara frowned, her gaze fixed on the empty space. A profound sense of unease settled within her. Too many unknown factors were emerging. I must prepare for the direst of outcomes. Orion's demonstration of power at The Astral Tide had already eroded her absolute confidence in conquering this world. Now, this enigmatic tetrahedron introduced an entirely new dimension of lethal unpredictability.

"Dorolon," she commanded after a moment of silence. "Prepare a sacrificial rite. We shall present an offering to the Progenitors." It was the most secure course of action available to her.

To the north, within Blackstone City.

The instant the Divine Idols of the Stoneheart titan blazed across the heavens, Blackstone City transformed into a churning vortex of jubilation. Roars from the military encampments ascended like eagles towards the sky, while within the taverns, the cacophonous clinking of ale mugs served as a boisterous salute to their sovereign. By the central plaza's fountain, the populace's fervent prayers merged into a thunderous chorus. The entire city thrummed with exhilaration and unwavering conviction.

Blackstone City stood as a unique entity, having endured the severe trials of conflict without succumbing to the typical scourges of starvation, malady, or pervasive lawlessness. The Stoneheart Horde's economic structure, its methods of resource allocation, and its societal order—even the city's internal ecological balance—remained remarkably intact. Had this been the realm of humans or blood elves, such steadfastness would have been hailed as a celestial miracle.

"War is war, I suppose. The city just isn't as fun anymore," Lorelia mused with a sigh.

While the average inhabitant remained oblivious to the subtle transformations within Blackstone City, to Lorelia, who knew every nook and cranny intimately, the alterations were starkly apparent. Perched upon a colossal boulder that commanded a view of Moonshadow Valley, the spider broodmother reclined within a modest pavilion tent. Lilith had originally established this shelter for her, but Lorelia had since relocated it to this vantage point to capture the refreshing breeze and the sweeping panorama of the city.

She popped another ruby-red grape into her mouth, her cheeks puffing out momentarily. "No bards serenading with their lyres... no bonfires illuminating the darkness of night... no resonant caravan bells... not even the snores of inebriated giants echoing from the alleyways." She shifted within her silken nest, an air of profound boredom surrounding her. "Everything feels so monotonous. It all ceased when the war commenced."

It was peculiar. The fighting had seemingly subsided ever since Orion's demigod aura had swept across the Titanion Realm, repelling the swarm forces that had been advancing on the northern frontiers. Blackstone City had been granted a period of tranquility, yet the expected return of revelry did not materialize.

"Lady Lorelia, Dirtclaw and Rendall Archelder request an audience!" Dirtclaw's obsequious voice carried from beyond the tent's confines. Lorelia's eyes immediately brightened.

"Dirtclaw! Did the Mistress send word regarding the Master?" She swiftly exited the tent, appearing instantaneously before the two commanders. Her crimson eyes were wide, practically gleaming with eager expectation.

"Ahem... Lady Lorelia, there has been no communication from the south," Dirtclaw stated, clearing his throat and exchanging a hesitant glance with Rendall Archelder. A shadow of disappointment was visible on both their countenances.

They had journeyed here with the hope that she possessed some news. Given the extraordinary celestial events and the reverberating roars of Orion, the commanders were understandably on edge. Since Lorelia was bound to Orion by a profound soul contract, it was presumed she would be the first to receive any intelligence if a mishap had occurred.

"Ugh... I had a feeling. Good news never seems to find its way to me," Lorelia grumbled, disregarding their crestfallen expressions. She ambled towards the precipice, gazing down at the vast expanse of the city below.

"Do not let your guard down. Fortify the defensive perimeter," she commanded, her tone abruptly shifting. The languid demeanor evaporated, replaced by a sharp, strategic focus. She cast a glance back at them. "This conflict will not conclude so readily. The most arduous confrontations undoubtedly lie ahead."

Observing their bewilderment, she clarified her reasoning. "Consider this: if the Master had achieved an absolute triumph, he would have returned to Blackstone City or the capital without delay. His absence indicates the war persists."

As she articulated her thoughts, her eyes subtly narrowed. The inherent astuteness and superior intellect characteristic of a broodmother permeated her presence, compelling an immediate and instinctual deference from the two seasoned veterans.

"Proceed. This is hardly the moment for idle chatter," she instructed, redirecting her gaze back towards the cityscape. "By your command!" Dirtclaw and Rendall Archelder exchanged a solemn look, executed a deep bow, and withdrew.

Moonshadow Valley, Military Quarters.

The two commanders maintained a complete silence throughout their walk until they had safely entered Dirtclaw's command tent.

"She has certainly matured," Rendall Archelder remarked, sinking heavily into a sturdy chair. He suddenly appeared significantly older, the immense burden of the war seemingly weighing upon his shoulders. Naturally, he was referring to the young spider. Unbeknowns to many, Lorelia had ascended to become the very cornerstone of Blackstone City. She was their unquestioned leader, and Rendall could not identify a single faltering aspect in her strategic acumen.

"Why the somber mood, Archelder? Lady Lorelia's growth is a boon for the Stoneheart Horde. It warrants a celebratory drink," Dirtclaw stated, bowing respectfully in the direction of the mountain peak. He was acutely aware that the broodmother could perceive every syllable they uttered. "Humble laborers such as ourselves should deem it an honor to carry out her directives." Dirtclaw retrieved a flagon of ale and poured a cup for the elder commander.

"The grand designs of the divine are beyond our comprehension. Our sole duty is to meticulously fulfill the responsibilities entrusted to us by My Lord," he concluded.

Rendall Archelder cast aside his gloom and emptied his ale mug swiftly. "You speak the truth, Dirtclaw. You speak nothing but the truth."

Following the consumption of several more tankards of robust ale, the two commanders bent over the war map, resuming their intensive efforts to strengthen the defenses along the northern frontier.