Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

At the same time Rize was pleading for reinforcements, Orion was summoning one of his own key agents to The Stillness.

A figure materialized in the center of the great hall. Dressed in white robes, Gustalon moved with an ethereal grace, as if the wind itself had taken human form.

"My lord," he said, his voice a low whisper.

"Welcome to Silverwood Realm," Orion said with a nod. He gestured vaguely towards the world outside the fortress. "We are in a region known as the Forest of Nature. I've named this outpost 'The Stillness.'"

With a flick of his wrist, a blank map, save for the small area Orion had already charted, materialized in the air before Gustalon.

"This territory will become a vital breadbasket for the horde. It's a new frontier," Orion explained. "An unknown world, filled with mysterious elves, strange flora, and… the freedom you so desire."

He met Gustalon's gaze. "Go. Enjoy that freedom. And while you're at it, bring me back a detailed map of this land."

A genuine smile bloomed on Gustalon's face. To explore the unknown, to be as free as the wind—it was all he had ever wanted. An open-ended assignment like this wasn't work; it was a gift.

"I will chart the unknown in your name, my lord."

Orion inclined his head. Gustalon wasn't one for flattery; his words were sincere.

A moment later, Gustalon dissolved into a gust of wind that swirled out of the hall and into the vast expanse of the Forest of Nature.

Emerald Dream Realm, the city of Lorelia.

A flash of teleportation magic lit up the plaza outside the Dragon Crucible. The hulking form of Dirtclaw, the Hell-Drake Hound, slammed into existence. His four massive paws, wreathed in hellfire, instantly began to scorch the flagstones, sending up plumes of acrid smoke.

With a grunt, Dirtclaw focused his will, wrestling the raw, supernatural power now coursing through him back under control.

"Haha, Dirtclaw! Look at you! That's a serious glow-up!"

He looked up as the familiar, teasing voice reached him. The flames enveloping him receded, vanishing back under his cooling magma hide. Lilith and Lorelia, who had clearly been waiting for him, were approaching.

"Mistress Lilith. Lady Lorelia," Dirtclaw rumbled in greeting.

"Dirtclaw, what happened to you? You're gorgeous!" Lorelia squealed, scrambling onto his broad back and settling in as if he were a prized steed.

It was only then, feeling the light weight on his spine, that Dirtclaw realized he was still in his beast form. The upright, bipedal gnoll was gone.

"What… what am I?" he growled, lifting a massive claw. It wasn't the paw of a gnoll. It was the scaled, obsidian talon of a drake.

"You've ascended to the rank of Legend," Lilith explained, stepping forward. Her smile was one of pure satisfaction. The stoneheart horde had gained a powerful new champion. "Your bloodline's full potential was unlocked. It seems you're locked into this form for now."

"Oh, I get it! Just like Xalathar, who's always stuck as a dragon," Lorelia chirped from her perch.

Lilith nodded, confirming Lorelia's guess. The abyssal dragon Xalathar had spent a long time developing under Orion's direct tutelage, and his true power had become a thing of legend within the stoneheart horde.

"So… my potential was unlocked," Dirtclaw mused, twisting his powerful neck to examine himself. Most of his body was now draconic. The sensation was profoundly strange. Standing still, the body felt alien. But the moment he moved, it felt perfectly, instinctually, his own.

"Come on, run!" Lorelia urged, patting his neck excitedly. "Let's see what this new ride can do!"

The novelty of his Hell-Drake Hound form was an irresistible new toy.

"Hold on tight, Lady Lorelia!" A thrill shot through Dirtclaw. He was just as curious as she was. He threw his head back, and a sound that was half-roar, half-howl tore from his throat before he launched himself forward.

The sensation was electric. The power of a Legendary-tier body, enhanced by supernatural energies, translated into pure, exhilarating speed. Lorelia's laughter peeled behind him on the wind, and Dirtclaw himself became lost in the intoxicating rush of his newfound strength.

Half an hour later, they returned to Lilith, both still buzzing with excitement. Under Dirtclaw's careful efforts, his relationship with the playful dragon had always been warm and close.

"Alright, Dirtclaw," Lilith said, her smile turning sly. "Your vacation is officially over." She produced a teleportation scroll from her inventory and held it out. "My lord has a mission for you. You are to return to the territory, get the gnoll race's affairs in order, and use this scroll within three days."

Sensing the shift to serious business, Lorelia immediately hopped off Dirtclaw's back, her eyes fixed on the scroll. She knew her master. Orders like this usually meant one thing: war. And having gotten a taste for it, Lorelia was always eager for more.

Dirtclaw was practically built for it. He had clawed his way up from nothing, climbing a mountain of bones from one battlefield to the next. Fresh off his promotion to lord, he was itching to test his new power and see how his combat style had evolved.

"I accept the command," he growled. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by the grim focus of a soldier. He opened his great jaws and gently took the scroll from Lilith's hand.

"Go," she said. "I'm sure the gnolls will be bursting with pride to see their new lord."

.....

Titanion Realm, Stoneheart City.

Atop his throne, Orion's eyes were closed, his consciousness fully immersed in the Survivor's Platform. He was in a direct channel with an ally.

"I'm just about set on my end," came the gruff, digitized voice of Arthas. After a period of recovery, he was finally ready to move on the Godforsaken Land. "We go in three days. Any issues on your side?"

"No issues," Orion typed back instantly. "We're ready." This time, he was deploying Soraya, the broodmother. To ensure her safety, he had just recalled the newly ascended Dirtclaw to serve as her dedicated protector. In any real war, the broodmother was always the highest priority target.

"I'm timing this invasion for a three-month campaign," Arthas continued, his tone dead serious. "Three months. Win or lose, we pull out. This enemy is no joke. We have to go all-in from the moment our boots hit the ground."

Orion didn't ask why. He simply absorbed the intel.

Arthas must be fighting on other fronts. In other realms.