Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Silverwood Realm, The Stillness.

A crowd had formed in the main plaza, an uneasy mix of Shield Warriors and Wood Elves. The elves, in particular, watched the center of the square with a familiar terror creeping back into their eyes. The source of their fear was a swirling mass of gray-black mist about ten feet across, hovering motionlessly. It was a Mist Wraith.

To the Wood Elves, this demonic monster was an inescapable death sentence. In the entire brutal history of their flight, not a single one of them had ever escaped an encounter with a Mist Wraith.

The commotion was significant enough that Orion himself emerged from the main keep.

"What's going on here?" he asked, striding over to Tangere. His eyes swept over the nervous onlookers, and his brow furrowed in disapproval. The Stillness was on a war footing. Everyone should have been at their posts, contributing. A crowd of gawkers with long faces was the last thing he wanted to see.

"That," Tangere said, nodding toward the roiling cloud, "is a Mist Wraith. The same kind Aerin and Xylia warned us about. Your elemental agent brought it back."

As he spoke, a flicker of awe and shock passed through Tangere's eyes. The fact that Orion had a Legendary-level elemental like Gustalon as an enslaved subordinate had completely shattered his understanding of what the top-tier Survivors were capable of. Tangere had seen arch lords and elementals before, but never one that had been bound to service.

"A Mist Wraith?" Orion repeated.

"Yes. It was in a state of confused shock when it was brought in. I've since asserted control over it with my plague magic." Tangere felt a pang of humiliation admitting it. He'd run into these things himself recently, and every single time, they had slipped through his grasp. Then Gustalon shows up, casually whips up a few gales, and plucks the wraiths from their hiding places like picking fruit. It was a humbling, deeply irritating display of power that threatened his carefully crafted image as a powerful protector among the elves.

"What are its capabilities?" Orion asked, cutting straight to the point.

"They can generate a toxic mist that causes hallucinations if inhaled. Inside the mist, your movement and senses are severely impaired, and you lose all sense of direction. The wraiths themselves, however, move through it freely. They're deadly assassins in their element."

As if on cue, Tangere made the captive Mist Wraith draw a strange, curved scimitar from its belt. It began to execute a series of fluid, lethal strikes within its now-thinning cloud of mist.

Orion was already considering the possibilities. A unit like that would be a deadly asset.

He raised a hand, beckoning a nearby Shield Warrior. "Let me borrow your sword."

"It is my honor!" The warrior, his face shining with reverence, presented his longsword with both hands.

Orion gave a curt nod, drew the blade, and walked directly toward the Mist Wraith.

There was a single, clean sound of tearing steel.

With one diagonal slash from shoulder to hip, Orion cleaved the Mist Wraith in two. It was utterly and completely dead. He bent down, grabbed the creature's horned, skull-like head, and turned to face the crowd.

"This is the demon you fear?" he asked, his voice ringing across the silent plaza. He held the sword in one hand and the severed head in the other, his sharp gaze raking across the faces of the Wood Elves. "It's nothing."

For too long, the demonic monsters had carved an impression of invincibility into the psyche of the elves. Now, Orion would use the simple truth—and a simple steel sword—to shatter that impression. He would kill their fear itself.

"Listen to me! The demonic monsters are not the problem," he declared, his voice rising. "The problem is a lack of will to defend our homes! A lack of courage to fight back! Your old home, the peaceful Forest of Nature, is gone. It was burned to the ground!"

Orion would show them that they were helpless refugees, a race on the brink of extinction, saved only by his intervention.

"Do you want to see this new home, The Stillness—a home built from the ashes of war and flight—destroyed as well?" he roared. "Do you want to see your families, your people, cast out to wander and die in this forest once more?"

Home. Safety. The endless, terrifying flight. He was striking at the very core of their trauma, the most vulnerable strings of their hearts. The raw, painful memories washed over them, Aerin included.

"These demonic monsters are nothing!" Orion proclaimed, lifting the head high. "In time, we will purge every last one of them from the Forest of Nature. We will restore the peace you lost. But to do that, we must stand together! We must fight together! We must believe in ourselves, and in the strength we have when we are united!"

With his speech concluded, he casually tossed the longsword. It spun through the air and landed perfectly in the waiting hands of its owner. Then, still holding the Mist Wraith's remains, Orion turned and walked back toward the keep. The creature was dead, but his sister, Clymene, could surely work her magic on it. Adding a unit like this to the stoneheart horde's undead armies would be a massive boon. He made a mental note. When Gustalon returns, his new primary mission will be to hunt and capture more Mist Wraiths.

"The Godfather is so cool," Aerin whispered, her eyes wide with admiration. "Even the way he walks is powerful."

Unlike the other elves, her mind was already clearing. As a Survivor, she saw the world through a different lens. The image of Orion walking away, resolute and powerful, perfectly matched her idea of a true Big boss.

As Orion disappeared, Aerin stepped forward to address her people. "Alright, everyone, back to work!" she called out, taking a page from Orion's book. "Those wooden walls won't reinforce themselves! There are treehouses to be built and seeds to be planted! My lord and his warriors will clear the forest, but it is our job to make sure we aren't a burden!"

She raised her voice. "This is My lord's Stillness, but it is our new home, too!"

Tangere glanced at her, shaking his head in weary resignation. He couldn't even be surprised anymore.

.....

Godforsaken Land, the Death Spiral Zone.

A colossal phantom of a scythe materialized in the air. Having teleported, Orion's avatar appeared directly behind one of the incoming arch lords and executed a perfect Sever.

The two enemies that had been racing to the front lines were Gnasher Reavers. Orion didn't know their official title, but he knew a tactical opportunity when he saw one.

He watched the Reaver's head and body tumble through the air, a flicker of satisfaction on his face. The target was a middle arch lord. Weaker than he'd expected.