Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1621 Siege of Ironbone

Ironbone City, Titan Continent.

The siege was in its twelfth night. Whenever darkness fell, elite insectoid soldiers—abominations part-dragon, part-bat—swooped from the black skies to snatch bloodline warriors right off the ramparts. Even the covering fire of the defensive arrow towers couldn't stem the overwhelming tide of Crimson Wyverns. That was Tarn's name for them, the swarm's high-tier aerial cavalry.

"Brother, are the Horde reinforcements here yet?"

Tarn hefted his heavy mace, casually caving in the skull of a Crimson Wyvern shot down by the towers. Still unconvinced it was dead, he hammered its chest a few more times before resting the weapon on his shoulder and returning to his older brother, Fergus.

"The level of these Crimson Wyverns keeps rising!" Tarn grunted.

"It means the hive hidden around Ironbone City just received a massive influx of resources. Otherwise, they couldn't hatch this many high-tier aerial units." Fergus sat astride an abyssal dragon. He held a trident loosely in his right hand, a bandolier of exquisitely crafted throwing tridents within easy reach. Armored and mounted, Fergus was the spitting image of a young Orion.

"The Horde already dispatched relief forces, but they have to carve their way through every obstacle on the road," Fergus continued. "They're facing just as much trouble as we are, if not more. Our job is to pinpoint the exact location of that hive. It's the only way to break this stalemate."

Fergus took the lead, Tarn stepping up right behind him. The brothers threw open the city gates. Framed against a dark crimson sky, wielding trident and mace, they led a squad of elite giants to swiftly purge the insectoid swarm choking the city's perimeter.

Thirty miles away lay the temporary encampment of the Stoneheart Horde relief force.

It was merely a brief resting spot for Pallas and Steelblade after a grueling march. Yet, even while resting, they stood huddled around a map, their expressions grim.

"Steelblade, are you sure this map is accurate?" Pallas asked. "We've been force-marching for half a month based on these routes. We should have reached Ironbone City three days ago. If we don't get there soon, I'm afraid my cousins won't hold out."

Steelblade was Rendall's eldest grandson and Ursa's son. A bit older than Pallas, he had grown up alongside Rolan and remained his close childhood friend. Unlike the older generation of veterans like Ursa and Rendall, Steelblade's generation had the luxury of abundant resources. Following the world's reboot, many of them had experienced explosive, cross-tier growth. Steelblade himself had recently broken through to the Legendary level.

Because of this, he now served as Pallas's lieutenant. They had been tasked with reinforcing Ironbone City mid-way through their territorial purge. Having grown up in the Horde, Pallas was fiercely loyal to his cousins, Fergus and Tarn. The delay was gnawing at him.

"It's an old map," Steelblade replied flatly. "The geography shifted after the cataclysm. It's only a rough reference now. But I've been here before. I can feel it. Ironbone City isn't far."

This preternatural sense of direction was an innate ability Steelblade unlocked upon reaching the lord tier.

"But—"

Before Pallas could finish, the gnoll, Wepwawet, called out from beyond the tent flap.

"Master, the scouts just reported in. They spotted a bizarre flock of Wyverns patrolling a fixed perimeter about thirty miles out. We sent seven men to slip past them. None came back. The vanguard wants to know—"

Hearing the word "Wyvern," Pallas and Steelblade traded ecstatic looks. They burst out of the tent, barking orders.

"Pass the word! Break camp immediately. Target: Ironbone City, thirty miles ahead!"

"And relay our exact coordinates to the rearguard. Tell them to send backup!"

The intelligence reports had specifically mentioned Wyverns as the primary enemy force. Spotting them meant Ironbone City was finally within reach.

Meanwhile, in Stoneheart City.

Inside the main chamber of the Horde Hall, only those at the demigod level had the right to meet with Orion. Lilith rarely visited this place unless the Horde was facing a crisis or something was weighing heavily on her mind.

The moment she stepped into the vast hall, Orion's phantom will manifested upon the throne.

"The children have all been deployed, and I'm worried," she confessed. "The Titan Continent is in total chaos. The wilds are filled with volatile, unknown variables, and I can't guarantee their safety."

Even though Orion had assured her he had the macro-level situation under control, Lilith couldn't shake her anxiety. She worried for Pallas, for Kaelen, and for Elara, who was currently negotiating with an otherworldly magical faction. Who could promise they wouldn't run into an unexpected disaster? As a mother, her concern was absolute. It didn't matter that they were grown; she still fretted over everything from their meals to their lives.

Orion understood completely. It was human nature to worry about family fighting on distant frontlines.

"The Titanion Realm has faced too many unforeseen variables," Orion's voice was low and gentle. "The Horde's original expansion plans have been derailed time and time again. To survive the coming storm, we have no choice. The clan must adapt to this new environment, and quickly."

Currently, Orion was bound by the foundational laws of the Titanion Realm. Outside of this demigod projection and his avatar, he had neither the means nor the time to physically accompany his wife and children. It was his greatest regret as a man and a father, but it was a reality he couldn't change for now.

Because he couldn't personally anchor the Stoneheart Horde, the faction itself had to grow. The next generation had to step up. The Stoneheart Horde needed pillars who could hold the line in his absence.

"The Stoneheart Horde has expanded too rapidly," Orion said, speaking freely since they were alone. "If we don't solidify our foundations and invest in the next generation, we're building a castle on sand. The Horde's future will be nothing but an illusion."

He looked at Lilith, his phantom eyes serious. "I may control the Titan Continent now, but in the future, it won't just belong to us. As you've seen, the Champions Alliance, the Saint Gran Council, the Order of the Dandelion, the Mycelial creatures, the dragons... they've all staked their claims here. And they are only the first wave. Countless powerful entities and factions will eventually descend upon this land."

"To those demigod powerhouses, the Ascendant Plane is a prized slab of meat."

It was already happening, and it would only escalate. If the Stoneheart Horde wanted to hold its ground and avoid being marginalized on its own turf, it had to stand strong independently. They needed formidable figures at every tier of power—individuals who could dominate the battlefield without relying on Orion.

"The children have inherited my bloodline. On this continent, they hold a massive innate advantage," Orion said. "If they can't forge their own legends with a head start like that, then all our efforts have been in vain."