Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Orion hammered out the final details of the war council with the others.

Soon after, the horde elders began filing out of the castle, a palpable buzz of excitement radiating from the group.

"Orion," Marina said, falling into step beside him. "The Stoneheart Horde is even more badass than I imagined."

Orion just gave her a small, knowing smile. He reached into his tunic and produced an urn, holding it out to her.

She looked at it, then at him, a question in her eyes.

"There's an undead sealed inside," he said, his voice even. "An ancient, archlord-level giant-horned whale." He pressed it into her hand. "I'll feel better knowing you have this out at sea."

Marina didn't hesitate. She took the urn with a grin, her fingers tracing its surface as she felt the power thrumming within. She recognized it as his silent way of looking out for her, and she wouldn't dream of turning it down. A warmth spread through her chest, a gesture that meant more than any grand declaration.

Controlling it should have been impossible for Marina, who was only at the Legendary level—a full tier below the whale's archlord power. But Orion knew her demigod avatar played by a different set of rules.

He could tell from the delighted way she handled the urn that she could command it. He was right.

"So that's where this went," she realized aloud. "I remember. This is the same one you rode when you raised hell in the Silvercurrent Sea."

The great hall was empty now. Marina moved close, settling into his lap on the throne and pulling him into a deep, possessive kiss.

A wind of change was sweeping through the fortress. Out at sea, the mermfolk legions stirred and the Elder Wyrms took to the deep. The tide of war was turning.

The next day, Marina departed the castle, leaving Stoneheart City behind. The former City of the Guardian had been renamed in her honor, and as its new lord, she had to get the lay of the land. There was the official handover of power, administrative duties to oversee, and—most importantly—her city would serve as the staging ground for the naval invasion.

Her absence left the throne room feeling quiet and vast. Orion fell into a familiar state of contemplation, pulling out the two Survivor's Chests he'd acquired in the Silverwood Realm. A flicker of anticipation sparked in his eyes.

He opened the first.

[Serpent-Demon's Grasp]

Quality: Legendary

Granted Skill: Serpent-Demon's Grasp

Description: Equipping this item allows the user to summon six draconic claws to aid in combat.

Flavor Text: A soulfused artifact, crystallized from the very essence of a six-armed serpent-demon.

Orion studied the object, which looked like a single vertebra, jet-black and unsettling to the eye. So it's a piece of gear that grants a skill.

He shrugged and decided to just go for it. Equip.

The vertebra vanished from his hand, and he felt a strange sensation as it fused seamlessly with one of his own spinal bones. The process was unnervingly natural.

With a mere flicker of his will, six shadowy-black draconic claws erupted from his back. They were vicious-looking, all sharp angles and armored plates. He mentally commanded them, and the six claws moved independently, executing six different actions at once—a forward lunge, a rearward stab, a fist clenching with power, and a raised block. The coordination was flawless.

Holy crap, this is insane. He immediately saw its potential. With this, no one was getting close to him ever again.

Damn, it's a hell of a mental drain, though.

Controlling all six claws effectively required serious multitasking. He practiced a few more complex maneuvers before retracting the claws, satisfied. He turned his attention to the second Survivor's Chest.

A shimmer of light, a scattering of ash, and a skill scroll appeared in his hand.

[Void Trap (Fragmented)]

Type: Banishment Skill

Quality: Legendary

Description: Creates a sphere of absolute darkness, sealing any enemies caught within into a pocket dimension.

Note: The seal must be broken from the inside to escape.

Flavor Text: A sealing art devised by a forgotten god for his divine attendants. The ultimate lockdown ability.

"Nice," Orion said, a grin spreading across his face. "Very nice."

He tore the scroll without a second thought, the knowledge flooding his mind. Even as a fragmented skill, Void Trap filled a major gap in his arsenal. He'd lacked a reliable crowd-control ability. His Ghost Dragon Summon could lock down an enemy, but it was a finisher—a trump card reserved for life-or-death stakes, burdened by restrictions and a lengthy setup.

Void Trap was different. It had zero offensive power; it was pure, unadulterated lockdown. For him, that was infinitely more versatile.

Still, good loot is getting harder and harder to come by.

These two chests had dropped from the Witch's avatar and four archlord Black Tower guardians in the Silverwood Realm. Compared to his usual hauls, the drop rate was actually quite good. These days, killing a standard archlord rarely yielded a Survivor's Chest. And then there were the demigod phantoms—not only were they a nightmare to fight, but half the time they dropped nothing at all. He'd even had to burn through some of his own trump cards just to win, often ending up with a net loss.

He was starting to understand why most powerful archlords just avoided demigod phantoms altogether. Win or lose, the risk-reward was completely skewed.

This haul, though, was solid. Both items were things he could use immediately. He spent the next hour opening the rest of his Survivor's Chests—loot his subordinates had collected from their own kills. The quality was lower, but it all went into his personal stash, adding to the growing reserve of power for the Stoneheart Horde.

.....

Meanwhile, in the Silverwood Realm, the Cult of Four was already making its move.

Just outside the southern Staghelm City, within the corrupted domain of a Black Tower, space warped and twisted. A figure stepped through the shimmering tear in reality. He was an archlord with serpentine marks crawling across his face, his slender build giving him an androgynous, almost delicate look.

This was the avatar of Yriel, the demigod Pontiff to whom the Witch answered. His true form was far away, but as an avatar, he was still powerful enough to manifest on the sixth floor of the Black Tower.

"Heh heh heh… You got here fast, Yriel," a grating voice echoed from the shadows. "Someone's anxious. Those strangers from the north really pissed you off, didn't they?"

The speaker was Konak, the current master of this Black Tower and one of the other demigods invading the Silverwood Realm. Of all the Cult of Four factions, his tower was the closest to the Forest of Nature.