Chapter 1106: An Alliance is Forged

The Clown sat in contemplation, replaying his conversation with the Witch over and over in his mind.

Mirrored Sanctum…

Orion…

Giant… King of the Giants…

King of the Giants… Could it be him?

As he kept turning the words over, the Clown finally grasped that flicker of an idea.

“Hahaha… Witch, you truly are my lucky star!”

That’s right. This wasn’t the first time he had heard the name Orion. During his time speaking with Torin, the Clown had heard him mention “Orion” and the “King of the Giants” on multiple occasions. The Witch’s report had provided the missing link his sharp mind needed.

“Good thing I never revealed the coordinates and intel for the Titanion Realm. That would have spoiled all the fun, heh heh heh…”

Orion, are you ready? From now on, I’ll be the one playing with you.

“Hahaha…”

As if imagining some wonderful future, the Clown laughed, a loud and triumphant sound that echoed through his palace.

***

In the north, on the front line of the war.

Orion gazed down at the earth, observing the performance of the Stoneheart Horde’s various armies. On the battlefield, his bloodline warriors fought without fear of death or their powerful enemies. They never lacked the courage to face a foe. That was especially true now, with the King of the Giants, the most revered figure in their hearts, floating high above, watching over them.

In that moment, it was as if every warrior of the Stoneheart Horde was bathed in a holy radiance. This light seemed to grant them strength and speed, allowing them to face down charging lances and snapping jaws without a hint of retreat.

Just then, a few rays of moonlight descended not far from the Deathly Soul-Reaper. The light was pure, shining with a silvery luminescence even in the bright of day.

A Moon Elf astride a white tiger materialized within the light and offered Orion a strange, formal salute.

Orion didn’t move. He felt no hostility from the sudden arrival. On the contrary, he was fascinated by the way she had appeared. It was as if this stunningly beautiful woman could leap between beams of moonlight, instantly teleporting to any place the light touched.

“Good day, Your Excellency,” she said, her voice clear and pleasant. “I am Isilra of Staghelm City, and I offer you my most sincere respects.”

She had introduced herself within her warm greeting. A smart move. This graceful, elegant Moon Elf had already earned a measure of Orion’s goodwill. More importantly, she was from Staghelm City—the very people Alexander had said might be potential allies.

“Good day to you, fair Moon Elf,” Orion replied politely. He tapped the scythe in his right hand against his chest, a gesture of reply in the giant tribe’s custom. He remained cautious, however, and did not immediately introduce himself. “What business brings you here?”

“A short while ago, as you engaged the Cult of Four, we from Staghelm City launched a surprise attack on their Black Tower, cutting off their northern reinforcements,” Isilra said, not mincing words. She got straight to the point, using their actions in the south as proof of their sincerity. “Your Excellency, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Staghelm City is willing to fight alongside you against the Cult of Four.”

“I, Isilra, have come bearing the friendship of my city, and I hope for an audience with your respected Eminences.”

“Eminence” was a title reserved for beings of divine power. She wanted to meet with the demigods: the Deputy Commander, Arthas, and Alexander.

“That can be arranged,” Orion said, just as directly. “But you will have to wait here for a few days.”

Isilra’s elegant brows furrowed slightly. Though she showed no outward sign of displeasure, Orion caught the flash of suspicion in her eyes. He couldn’t blame her. For an Archlord to make such a promise without needing to consult his superiors was unusual. From her perspective, it probably seemed like he was either bluffing or not taking her seriously.

“You have no need to doubt me,” Orion explained, seeing that her doubt hadn’t soured into annoyance. “What I say, I can back up. I’m due to rotate back in a few days. You can accompany me then.”

“My apologies, Your Excellency. I meant no disrespect,” she said quickly.

Orion just shook his head. The more polite and proper Isilra was, the higher his impression of her grew.

“Then I shall be in your care,” Isilra said with a slight bow from atop her white tiger.

Three days later, an Archlord mage and an Archlord lich teleported to the front line, relieving Orion of his duty. He turned to Isilra and held out his hand, gesturing for her to take it.

She gave him a confused look, her beautiful eyes wide with incomprehension.

“It’s a teleportation scroll. For us to go back,” he explained. The scroll he held was for a single person; it wouldn’t work unless they were in physical contact.

A faint blush colored Isilra’s cheeks. She shook her head and reached out, casting a beam of moonlight over Orion.

“Your Excellency, Isilra has no need for scrolls.”

Seeing this, Orion didn’t press the issue. He simply tore the scroll and vanished in a flash of light, reappearing on the sixth floor of the Black Tower. As he steadied himself, several beams of moonlight pierced the air just outside the tower, and Isilra materialized within one of them.

To the Black Tower’s defenses, however, she was an intruder. A shimmering warding barrier stopped her from entering. Instantly, four massive, draconic Archlords—the Deputy Commander’s newest guardians—materialized and surrounded her.

“Who is she?” Edward’s necromancer avatar teleported to Orion’s side, asking the question while studying the Moon Elf outside the barrier.

“Isilra of Staghelm City,” Orion reported. “She says she wants to meet with you three. About an alliance.” He glanced at Isilra, refusing to admit that the only reason he hadn’t used one of his expensive group teleportation scrolls was because he wasn’t just trying to save money, and it definitely wasn’t an excuse to hold her hand.

“A guest is a guest,” the Deputy Commander said, his gaze deep and penetrating as he looked at Isilra. “Please, come in and talk.”

The protective barrier vanished, and the draconic guardians returned to their slumber. Isilra, knowing the proper etiquette, didn’t fly directly into the tower. She landed gracefully, dismounted her white tiger, and the two of them walked through the entrance.

A few moments later, when she arrived on the sixth floor, a spread of fruit and wine was already waiting. On the three main thrones sat the demigod phantoms of the Deputy Commander, Arthas, and Alexander. A mighty demigod pressure washed over her—not oppressive, but a clear and undeniable statement of their power.

Isilra bowed deeply. “Isilra of Staghelm City greets the three Eminences.”