Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Silverwood Realm, Staghelm City.

The roar of demonic monsters tore through the dawn quiet of Staghelm City. They swarmed from the shadows, a tide of claws and fangs, their only purpose to unmake the world.

A sharp, metallic clamor echoed through the city's stone corridors. Within moments, figures launched themselves into the sky. They shifted in mid-air, their forms melting away to be replaced by massive Great-Clawed Owls. Their shrieks were a piercing counterpoint to the demonic horde's bellowing as they conjured crackling orbs of lightning in their beaks, blasting the monsters nearest the city walls. Soon, the sky was choked with a roiling canopy of black and blood-red clouds.

The war had begun.

On the battlements, druids in the form of giant stags stomped their colossal hooves, the ground trembling with each impact. A verdant aura of raw nature flowed around them.

After a deafening chorus of stomps, a thick armor of woven roots and living stone encased their bodies, their antlers sharpening into deadly blades. With a final, unified cry, they leaped from the walls, their majestic forms crashing down into the enemy ranks and charging forward, kicking up plumes of dust and gore.

Behind them, the remaining Moon-Bear warriors stood in disciplined ranks, loosing a relentless volley of crossbow bolts and spears into the fray. A moment later, arcing spheres of magical fire soared over the walls, detonating within the demonic monsters' lines. The brutal, close-quarters fight had begun, and its intensity only grew with every passing second.

High above the chaos, two figures clashed and recoiled in a flash of power.

"That white tiger you're riding," one of them snarled, her voice a venomous purr. "I want it. Surrender it to me, and I might just grant Staghelm City a three-month stay of execution."

It wasn't two figures, but three: a woman, a man, and the tiger. Riding the beast was Isilra, the lord of Staghelm City and a rare Moon Elf. But she wasn't a typical elf; she was one of the elemental sprites, a being utterly unique, with no true kin. The white tiger beneath her was her bonded mount, elevated to the rank of arch lord by her blessing.

"A devil's promise isn't just untrustworthy," Isilra stated, her voice as cold and clear as a winter night. "It's a fool's bargain."

A moonstone mark rested on her brow, and it now pulsed with a soft, internal luminescence, feeding her a seemingly infinite well of power.

"Heh heh heh, true enough," the other woman laughed, a throaty, mocking sound. "A devil's word is wind. But a contract signed with a devil? That is always honored. What do you say? Let's call it professional courtesy. I'll make you a deal."

The speaker was Yil-leia. If Isilra's beauty was like pure, cold moonlight, Yil-leia's was a dark, seductive venom. And there was something fundamentally wrong about her. She hailed from the Abyss, a serpent-demon of the Nali race, and she possessed six arms. Two hands gripped a long, wicked lance, two held short, curved daggers, and the final pair wielded heavy, spiked hammers. She was a living weapon, built for nothing but slaughter. Her six arms moved in a fluid, unpredictable dance, making her seem impossibly dangerous.

Of course, she had another title: avatar of the Witch and one of the thirty-six High Priestesses of the Cult of Four.

"Demons are always plotting, always looking for an angle," Isilra said, her own hair beginning to catch the light from her mark, shimmering with a holy, ethereal glow. The light formed a subtle aura around her, deflecting the psionic assault Yil-leia had just unleashed.

"Such a perfect specimen!" Yil-leia's eyes widened with greedy appreciation. "You know, I'm not so interested in the tiger anymore. I'm interested in you. Imagine all the powerful men I could wrap around my little finger with a body like that!"

The Witch stared at the Moon Elf, her beauty and power making her a prize worth converting.

"Moonlight is everywhere," Isilra declared, ignoring the predatory gaze. "And it will be your cage!" She flicked the shimmering ribbon in her hand, and strands of pure moonlight descended from the dark clouds, weaving themselves into a lattice of light that shot towards the Witch.

"Hee hee, if you insist on playing, then let's play!" The Witch spun her lance and daggers, creating a blur of afterimages. She unleashed a torrent of pure Abyssal energy, raw and black, that erupted upwards like a colossal serpent, shattering the moonlight cage before it could even form.

"Give up," the Witch hissed, the playful tone gone from her voice. "You killed one of our High Priestesses. The gaze of a Pontiff has already fallen upon this place. Do as I say, become my tool, and I might be able to spare your life."

If she waited for a demigod to arrive, she knew this rare Moon Elf arch lord would be nothing more than a sacrifice.

"You have ruined this world! You are Demons!" Isilra shot back. "And any Demon that walks this land must be driven out—or destroyed!"

Swish!

Isilra drew and loosed her longbow in a single, fluid motion. An arrow of solid moonlight screamed through the air, locking onto the Witch.

BOOM!

The arrow exploded in a blinding flash. Yil-leia shrieked, a sliver of pain cutting through her arrogance and igniting her notoriously short fuse.

"You ungrateful bitch! You dare to strike me? Unforgivable!"

A storm of black mist instantly enveloped the Witch as she shed her humanoid guise. Her true form ripped through the veil of reality—a titanic serpent blotted out the sky, six massive, clawed limbs sprouting from its sides. With a deafening hiss that shook the very air, the serpent-demon charged the distant white tiger and its rider.

The mark on Isilra's brow flared, its light consuming her. She became a brilliant, falling moon, rocketing towards the colossal serpent.

.....

In the Forest of Nature, near the territory of The Stillness.

While the Witch assaulted Staghelm City, the demonic monsters sent to sweep the forest were being systematically dismantled by Tangere and Caesar.

The clash between the demonic monsters and the Plague-thralls was a meat grinder. The monsters Tangere's forces faced weren't the main army, allowing the sheer numbers of the Plague-thralls to overwhelm them, pulling down one beast after another to be sacrificed for the undead armies.

But the raw power and speed of the larger Cyclopes were on another level. They smashed through the lines of Plague-thralls, their crude clubs and sharp claws tearing the undead apart. Thralls were dismembered, blasted into pieces, their bodies reduced to nothing more than a foul paste on the forest floor.

But whenever a stronger, Alpha-level Cyclops appeared, Caesar and Xylia were there to meet it. Both were Alpha-level themselves, though Xylia, being in the early stages, was slightly weaker. Her intimate knowledge of the Forest of Nature and the monsters' fighting styles more than made up for the difference.

"Hah!" Caesar roared.

He launched himself into the air, a whirlwind of motion. His body twisted impossibly as his greatsword sang, coming down in a shearing arc of razor-sharp sword light. The attack cleaved an Alpha-level Cyclops clean in two, right down from the crown of its skull.

Xylia watched in awe from a distance. That sword energy… it's immense. Her estimation of The Stillness's power rose yet again.

Caesar landed lightly and walked to the bisected corpse. He prodded the two halves with his sword for a moment, but found none of the crystal cores he had expected.