Titan King: Ascension of the Giant
Chapter 815 - 815: The Last Laugh

In the South, at Stoneheart City.

While the fate of the Dusk Continent was being decided at a negotiating table and the world tunnels connecting two realms were being torn asunder, Orion stood upon the highest point of the Colosseum.

He carried Elara and Pallas, one on each of his broad shoulders, and accepted the focused adoration of his people and honored guests.

In that moment, Orion was the sun around which all other stars revolved, an object of reverence for thousands.

He wore a simple iron crown, a belt fashioned from the tusks of a great beast was cinched at his waist, and in his hand, he held a scepter that symbolized his power and station.

"I, Orion Stoneheart, King of the Giants, make this promise to all my people!" his voice boomed, powerful and resonant.

"From this day forward, the Stoneheart Horde will no longer know hunger! You will no longer suffer the cold! You will no longer be oppressed!"

"If any bring war to our gates, we will answer with the battle-axes and tridents in our hands, and we will destroy them in the cruelest fashion imaginable!"

"If any bring us peace, bring us trade, bring us technology and culture, I guarantee that their interests will have my protection!"

"My people! Let us strive together to build a mightier Stoneheart Horde! To build a glorious future that belongs to us!"

"May glory walk with me! May the Tribe's splendor be eternal! May my people know peace and health!"

The King's vow rolled across the city, reaching the ears of Prince Theodore and the young Kronos.

At just over two years old, Kronos did not understand the words. He only knew that this place was exciting, that it was filled with children who looked just like him. He loved the atmosphere here. He especially loved the way people looked at him—not with the sense of alienation he felt in the human kingdom, but with something more akin to awe and envy. As a youngling, he was sensitive to such a change.

Prince Theodore glanced at the boy, a flicker of envy crossing his own features before he carefully masked it. The journey from the human kingdom with his young cousin had been one of pure, unadulterated freedom.

The suffocating etiquette of the court was a world away, the bonds of his strict upbringing were loosened, and Kronos was blossoming, happier than Theodore had ever seen him.

"Cousin, I love it here!" Kronos said, his big eyes looking up at Theodore with a pleading expression. "Can we come back and play here every year? Please?"

"Do you like it here?"

"I love it!"

"You really want to come back?"

"Yes!"

"Then we will come back every year to play," Theodore promised, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair.

A fearsome constitution, Theodore thought with a marveling sigh. A two-year-old giant youngling is already the size of a six-year-old human child. Stronger, and with no less intelligence. It's incredible.

He looked at his special cousin, then up at the two children laughing on the Giant King's shoulders, pointing out over his new domain. A wave of pity washed over Theodore. The future Kronos faced, he realized, would be infinitely more complex and difficult than his own.

"By the way, cousin," Kronos said suddenly, "where is that giant youngling? I promised Mother I would defeat him!"

Theodore froze, the words catching in his throat.

Are you that bitter, Aunt Ava? he thought desperately. You really do still care.

He could not fathom why his aunt would command Kronos to challenge Pallas, the legitimate heir of the Stoneheart Horde. Was she trying to parade Kronos before the Horde's leadership? Was she trying to prove to Orion that the son she had raised was superior? Or was it something simpler, something crueler? Was this just her form of revenge?

Aunt, are you not afraid that Kronos will never leave Stoneheart? That he will never return to the human kingdom?

Theodore was terrified for his cousin. He knew there were many factions within the Horde who would not welcome Kronos's presence. The boy was a threat—a threat to their status, their interests, their power.

I can only pray that Orion is not a cold and ruthless man.

"Kronos," Theodore said, forcing a smile. "Tomorrow, we will go to the castle for an audience with the Giant King. After that, I will take you to see the outer city. How does that sound?"

"Okay, cousin!"

Theodore gently ruffled the boy's hair again and handed him a slice of savory beast meat, having learned over the course of their journey just how profound a giant's need for meat truly was.

In the stands reserved for the blood elf envoy, Lycanor watched the man on the dais. She watched his children on his shoulders. She watched the women who stood behind him—Lilith, Delilah, Sylvana, and Lysinthia. His women.

Is that what I am to become? One of them?

She asked herself the question over and over. As a warrior of immense power and beauty, Lycanor was proud. Her standards for a partner were exceptionally high. But when it came to the Archlord Orion, she possessed neither the justification nor the qualification to be so picky.

In a world without active demigods, Archlords were the apex predators, the absolute pinnacle of power, wealth, and status. Any number of races would eagerly offer their most beautiful daughters for the chance of an alliance with such a man.

"Your advantage is significant."

Seated beside her, the Grand Elder of the blood elves, Lireesa, spoke in a low, placid voice. She too was gazing at Orion, feeling the heart-stopping pressure of his Archlord aura. Her words were meant as counsel.

"Relationships are complex things, my dear. Feelings certainly play their part. But the Giant King is no god. He has his own desires. Power, beauty, the promise of children… these things can change a man's attitude. They can even make him feel things he did not expect."

Lireesa's gaze sharpened. "You are a warrior of the highest order. Your bloodline is purer. Compared to his other women, you will find it far easier to bear his children."

This fact had not changed just because Orion already had heirs. The union of two powerful beings would inevitably produce an heir of even greater talent and a stronger bloodline.

As the head of his race, the Giant King would surely demand such a thing. And even if he did not, the high-ranking members of his Tribe certainly would. In this, Lycanor held an undeniable advantage. None of the women behind the king could match her in sheer power.

"You are a blood elf, a Lord-level powerhouse in your own right. Your lifespan will be far longer than theirs," the Grand Elder concluded. "In the long, slow march of the years, you will be the only one left to walk beside him. And so, Lycanor, it is you who will have the last laugh."