In truth, though Orion had presented it as a choice, he already knew the answer. Tangere would pick the second option. He had to. He wanted more.

As an upper-tier legendary powerhouse, this recent expansion had pushed Tangere to the very peak of his rank. Soon, he would have to start preparing for his ascension to arch lord, a process that required immense amounts of faith and territory.

An opportunity to campaign alongside arch lords and demigods was not to be missed. Of course, the risks were enormous. That was why Orion had made him choose. When the fighting started, there was no guarantee he'd be able to protect Tangere. This is his test. Let's see his conviction.

"What would you recommend?" Tangere asked, his caution evident. He wasn't committing without getting a read from Orion first.

A playful smirk touched Orion's lips. He didn't give a straight answer. "High risk, high reward."

"I understand," Tangere said after a moment of silence. "I'll integrate my forces into your battle armies." He upped the ante. "I can mobilize another two hundred thousand Plague-thralls for the coming war." That was his limit; any more would leave his own territory vulnerable.

"Done," Orion confirmed. "In that case, we'll put your land grant on hold for now. Once the dust settles, I have a feeling you'll have earned much more."

Tangere said nothing, his expression unreadable. But Orion could see the gears turning in his deep-set eyes, already calculating the potential trajectories of the war.

Beside them, Aerin and Caesar could only manage wry smiles. They wanted in on the action, but they knew they didn't have the stats for this raid. For now, they were on the sidelines.

***

Titanion Realm, the city of Stoneheart.

The outer city was a chaotic symphony of life. Throngs of people from every race choked the avenues, weaving between stalls and the exotic beasts being led through the market.

But today, the usual bustle had a distinct direction. A current in the crowd flowed steadily toward the Stoneheart Horde's military encampment. The lines of applicants at the city gates stretched back for miles.

Near the back of one line stood two strangely dressed figures. They weren't wearing clothes so much as cloaks woven from reeds and grass, their faces hidden by wide-brimmed straw hats.

"Brother, are you sure we can really join the Lord's armies?" asked the younger of the two, his voice tight with anxiety. It was clearly his first time in a city like Stoneheart.

"Don't worry, little brother," the older one replied, his voice calm. "The Lord put out a recruitment order, and as Frogkin, we're aquatic. We meet the requirements." He gave his brother's shoulder a reassuring pat with a webbed hand. "Besides, we're both hero-level. They won't turn talent like us away."

The older brother passed the younger one a Blackstone coin for the entry fee—a pittance, really, not even enough to buy a loaf of bread.

"Heh, you two here for the recruitment drive?" a booming voice asked from in front of them.

They looked up to see a towering warrior of giant blood, tall and broad with long tusks jutting from his jaw. A Starveil giant, no doubt.

The older Frogkin answered politely, aware that he was speaking to one of the Lord's own kin. "Yes, sir. You as well?"

"You know it!" the giant bellowed, thumping his chest. "For the glory of my Lord!" He grinned, his expression open and friendly. "Name's Bluetusk. What do they call you?"

"I am Lokro, and this is my younger brother, Lokk," the older Frogkin replied, relieved that the giant's temperament wasn't as fearsome as the rumors suggested.

"Sir Bluetusk," Lokk mumbled, still a bit shy.

"Hah! I like the sound of that!" Bluetusk laughed, drawing stares from those nearby. "If you make it into the Stoneheart Horde, we'll be brothers in arms for real." The Frogkin brothers shrank a little under the attention.

Lokro lowered his voice. "Brother Bluetusk, do you know who the Horde is preparing to fight?"

"Beats me. Does it matter? We sign up, we follow orders."

"Ah… I see. Well, do you know what the trials will be?"

"Nope. We'll find out when we get there!"

"..."

As they shuffled forward, the unlikely trio—one Giant and two Frogkin—continued to talk, their shared journey already beginning. Bluetusk, for all his bravado, was cheerfully clueless. He was a classic example of his kind—strong, straightforward, and not burdened by complex thought. His tribe lived in the wilds and was not part of the Stoneheart Horde's inner circle.

This recruitment drive was a direct result of Marina's arrival. Orion needed new armies for his expansion across the sea, specifically an army that could unite the scattered aquatic races within his territory and draw in warriors hungry for glory.

And so, the call had gone out, drawing thousands like Lokro, Lokk, and Bluetusk to the gates of Stoneheart.

***

Godforsaken Land.

The invasion was in its final stages. From his undead tower, Arthas had overseen the rendering of the entire Gnasher Race, extracting the vast quantities of black gold he required. With the grim work finished, it was time for the final step: the world's annihilation.

"You may leave," his voice echoed in the minds of Soraya and Dirtclaw. "In one day, this place will be erased. It will fall into the void."

As he spoke, two wooden boxes flew from the tower. One landed before Dirtclaw, the other in front of the sand scorpion's Nest. They were gifts for seeing this through to the end. Though they were only following Orion's orders, they had shared in Arthas's risk. And Arthas, as a demigod, was generous to his loyal followers.

"Thank you!"

"Thank you for your generous gift!"

Hearing the telepathic message, Soraya emerged from her Nest and, alongside Dirtclaw, bowed deeply toward the undead tower. With a swift motion, she tore a teleportation scroll. In a flash of light, she, Dirtclaw, and the massive Nest vanished, returning to the Emerald Dream Realm.

Not long after, Arthas himself walked out of the undead tower and began the final activation of the Source Siphon Array.

***

Stoneheart City, inside the castle.

Orion sat motionless on his throne, his consciousness fully immersed in the Survivor's Platform. A message from Arthas had just come through.

"If anything comes up in the Silverwood Realm, talk to Alexander. I'm going into hibernation for a while."

Arthas's work in the Godforsaken Land was done.

"Understood, bro," Orion replied. "Was the black gold yield enough?"

"It's decent. But with black gold, there's no such thing as 'enough.' The more, the better."

Orion was speechless. Arthas's appetite was truly bottomless.

"Here's what you asked for."

A trade request popped up. A moment later, a fist-sized World Fragment materialized in Orion's hand. He examined the Mysterious Artifact as it pulsed with an inner light. It was an impossible object, shifting in his perception. One moment, it was a sphere of liquid light, rippling with internal currents. The next, it was a captured star, impossibly dense and brilliant.

Orion touched a finger to the space between his brows. A shimmering, mist-wreathed font of water floated up from his sea of faith, hovering over his other hand.

The Spring of Life and the World Fragments are ready, he thought. All that's left is the Abyssal Springhead.

His mind drifted. Violet… Caelus…

After what felt like an eternity, he shook himself from his reverie and focused on the Champions Alliance public channel. Coincidentally, just as Arthas was going into hibernation, the Deputy Commander, Edward, had awakened.

[Edward]: Has Arthas or Leonidas woken up yet?

It was Alexander who replied.

[Alexander]: Arthas just went into hibernation. He overextended himself during the Godforsaken Land invasion.

[Alexander]: Leonidas is still in his metamorphosis. Hasn't stirred. His neighbors are getting restless without his presence keeping them in line.

A long pause followed as Edward processed the information. Orion kept quiet. Since Alexander was aware of the situation with Leonidas's territory, he would undoubtedly intervene if things got out of hand.

[Kraken]: Day 361 of missing Leonidas!

[Makareth]: Hah! Waiting for the Big Boss to come back and carry us all, Barnacle?

[Kraken]: I don't care about being carried. I just want to get these damn dragons off my back so I can finally go get myself an avatar.

[Isabella]: Ugh, I want an avatar too. Managing a territory is SO annoying.

With both the Deputy Commander and Alexander active, Kraken was clearly fishing for help. Isabella, on the other hand, was just venting. Her domain in the northern Dusk Continent had expanded too quickly, leaving her short on talent to manage it all.

[Edward]: I'll keep an eye on the dragons, Kraken. Focus on what you need to do.

[Kraken]: Yes, sir, Deputy Commander!

[Kraken]: Hulk, you've got the watch over the Kasenna Sea!

Seeing his handle pop up, Orion, who had been lurking, decided it was time to chime in. But before he could type, Makareth beat him to it.

[Makareth]: Wait.

[Makareth]: He mentioned you, Hulk. And told you to keep watch.

[Makareth]: Sir Hulk, I smell a war coming!

The demon was sharp. Isabella caught on just as quickly.

[Isabella]: Hulk, you didn't start another new warfront, did you?

[Hulk]: This new front isn't for you guys. You should focus on consolidating your gains from the last war.

It sounded dismissive, but it was the truth. The Silverwood Realm might have the Witch and the clown. If the two of them, both lords in the Champions Alliance, were spotted there, they would draw an insane amount of aggro and be eliminated instantly. That was why neither Arthas nor Alexander had mentioned bringing them in. The rewards in the Silverwood Realm came with a lethal price tag.

[Makareth]: I get it. Weakness is a sin.

[Isabella]: Whatever. If you think we can't handle it, just say so.

Orion ignored their griping. They were smart; they knew there had to be a good reason. But he couldn't risk discussing the Witch and the clown in a public channel.

He opened a private message.

[Hulk]: Deputy Commander, we've found traces of the Witch and the clown.

The reply was instant.

[Edward]: Report.

Orion typed out everything that had happened in the Silverwood Realm, including his current focus on repairing the Black Tower.

[Edward]: Understood.

[Edward]: Take this scroll to the Silverwood Realm. When you tear it, I will descend.

A trade request appeared, and a magic scroll was transferred to Orion's inventory. He immediately relayed it to his avatar. A wave of relief washed over him. With the Cult of Four as an enemy, he was playing things extremely carefully. Having another demigod on the board was the best insurance he could ask for.

***

Silverwood Realm, inside the Cult of Four's Black Tower.

At the very moment Orion was pulling the Deputy Commander into the conflict, the teleportation array in another Black Tower flared to life. A four-winged Fallen Angel and a puppet-like Death-Soul wielding a massive scythe materialized on the platform.

"Hahaha! Pontiff Jack, welcome!"

Pontiffs Yriel and Konak walked forward together to greet the newcomer.

"May the glory of the Four be with us all," the new arrival said, bowing deeply. "Pontiff Yriel, Pontiff Konak, it is an honor." His voice was cheerful and his bearing charismatic. "My dear friend, Yilaya the Witch, felt great shame for losing this tower. She personally invited me to lend my strength to our holy cause."

But as he spoke, Yriel and Konak noted the flat, mechanical undertones in his voice. This was no living being. It was a construct.

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