Chapter 1210: The Weight of the Crown

Who was Elara?

She was a World-Spirit.

How could a being with such a profound origin ever be content with the quiet life of a consort, raising children in the deep halls of a castle? Her very subconscious rebelled against such a fate.

Besides, Orion was no longer the greenhorn he once was. He understood that Elara’s world had been utterly destroyed. He didn’t know the specifics of its demise, but he knew that her very existence was an act of defiance, a desperate craving for something that had been lost. Her fascination with the World Dragon and her desire for the throne were clues.

Elara craved power. She needed to be the one looking down from on high.

"You don’t like it?"

Elara didn’t answer the question. Orion lifted her from the throne and settled her onto his lap, their eyes meeting.

"How about this," he said, his voice low and serious. "If my little Elara can reach the rank of peak archlord before her eighteenth birthday, I will give you a throne of your very own."

"A throne? A gift?"

Doubt warred with a spark of pure excitement in her eyes. Orion nodded. He was slow on the uptake sometimes, but it was clear Elara’s mind had long surpassed that of a normal child. Perhaps she had never been one. The World-Spirit was simply using a child’s form as a vehicle to learn and understand a world she’d been born into without context. The more she learned, the more her mind matured, her worldview crystallizing. You couldn’t judge her by her physical age.

"That’s right. A gift," he confirmed. "Outside the Stoneheart Horde, I’ll grant you a vast territory. You can build it into any world you can imagine."

It was a simple promise to fulfill. He could carve off a piece of the territory they’d claimed in the Silverwood Realm, or even a section of the Emerald Dream Realm.

"If you’re capable enough, you could even take an entire world for yourself. The Stoneheart Horde is small, but your daddy’s ambition is not. If my little Elara grows into her power, I hope that one day, you’ll have a great faction at your back, with countless souls loyal to your cause."

Orion took her small hand and placed it on his chest, letting her feel the sincerity of his heart. It was something he rarely did. For a being on the verge of becoming a demigod, opening up completely to anyone was a risk. But Elara was different. He knew that if he lowered his defenses, she would be able to sense the truth in his words.

"Remember the story I used to tell you?" he asked gently. "About not putting all your eggs in one basket?"

A warm, gentle expression settled on his face, a feeling he couldn’t quite name, something like the quiet pride of a father watching his child exceed all expectations.

"I never imagined my little Elara would be the one to start weaving a new basket for our Tribe," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It’s a good thing. You have my full support."

He was like any father, rambling on with a mix of pride and awe for the little girl in his arms who was already so much more.

"Daddy," Elara said, her voice firm and clear. "I won’t let you down."

With the weight lifted from her small shoulders, the child-like smile returned to her face, and her laughter echoed through the castle halls.

"Mom..."

In a secluded garden deep within the castle, Pallas stood with sweat beading on his forehead and cheeks. He was only holding a simple training stance, but he looked utterly exhausted. A heavy trident was held aloft in his hands, and a pair of enchanted, impossibly heavy greaves were strapped to his legs.

Hearing his sister’s joyous laughter drift from the main hall filled him with a sharp pang of envy. He looked up, his voice a pleading whine.

Lilith, however, remained seated in her meditative posture, her eyes closed, giving no sign that she had heard him at all.

Seeing that his act wasn’t working, Pallas sighed and refocused his mind on the crushing weight in his hands and on his legs.

Lilith, for her part, had already broken her meditative state, though her posture remained unchanged. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel for her son; it was that she knew if Pallas didn’t push himself now, he would soon be unable to even see Elara’s shadow in the distance.

Orion had told her in private that Elara was already a Legendary-level powerhouse. That knowledge filled Lilith with a gnawing anxiety for her son. If Elara continued to pull so far ahead, the idea of her becoming Pallas’s wife was a fantasy. Even their bond as siblings could fray and wither over long years of separation and vastly different lives.

More than that, Lilith understood the crushing weight of that power gap better than anyone.

She used to think that reaching the Legendary level would bring her closer to Orion. But when she finally became a lord and her perspective broadened, she truly understood the sheer, uncrossable chasm that separated her from her husband. That sense of inadequacy, of being fundamentally mismatched—it was a despair she knew intimately.

She would not let Pallas suffer the same fate. Thankfully, he was still young. There was still time to catch up.

Don’t blame me for this, Pallas,

she thought, her heart aching.

Every hardship you endure now will make your future brighter, your path easier.

She had faith. Pallas carried Orion’s blood. The potential was there. It was perhaps the only thing that gave her any peace.

***

The Godforsaken Land, Sea of Sand.

The oasis had been transformed. Where there was once only sand and water, a series of castles built in the unmistakable style of the Stoneheart Horde now stood. They were for the newcomers to this world. The true lair of the scorpion tribe, Soraya had built deep beneath the oasis, a hidden fortress shielded by the endless dunes.

In the central palace, Soraya carried herself with a new regality. Perhaps it was a benefit of wielding the authority of the sand sea, but her entire aura had shifted.

"Orion? What is it?"

Orion had abruptly stood up, his sudden movement startling Soraya, who had been reviewing plans for the oasis. It was rare to see a shadow of concern on his face these days.

"It’s nothing," he said, turning and walking toward the castle exit, his hands clasped behind his back. "The one we’ve been waiting for is here."

He acted nonchalant, but on the Survivor’s Platform, a distress signal was already flying to Arthas. He took small comfort in the fact that while the Curse Avatar had left the Foundry Citadel for the northern wastes, it had not yet entered the chaotic, shattered lands. There was still time for it to get back.

In the hall, Soraya hesitated for only a heartbeat before striding forward, falling into step behind him. She would face whatever was coming at his side.