Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1433: Iron Hand

Ava suddenly realized the root of the problem: the refugees from Soaring Bird City did not yet see themselves as part of the Stoneheart Horde.

In their eyes, they were little more than slaves—conscripts forced into hard labor. They believed they were building a city for a foreign conqueror, receiving nothing in return.

As the realization took hold, Ava’s expression darkened. The more she thought about it, the more her anger simmered.

"It is a game of management and balance," said Sylvana, the fox-girl administrator, without looking up from her paperwork. Her tone was mild, but the implication was sharp. "You had best be iron-handed."

Sylvana and Ava had served as Lilith’s right and left hands for some time now. Their relationship had deepened through long hours of shared governance; this was Sylvana offering a quiet strategy.

"Thank you for the reminder," Ava said with a bitter smile. "I will make sure they catch up on the schedule."

Lilith, seated at the main desk, did not comment.

Early the next morning, Ava donned her ceremonial knight’s armor and summoned the officers of the Rose Knight Regiment. Escorted by a squad of Giant guards, they departed Stoneheart City, heading south toward Rosethorn.

Inside the luxurious carriage, Ava sat in the center. To her left sat Garrett and Lambert; to her right, Drustan and Klythia.

The four knights sat with rigid posture. After listening to Ava’s briefing on the situation at Rosethorn, their expressions had turned grave.

"Before we arrive at Rosethorn, I need a preliminary plan of action," Ava stated. "And I need to establish our stance."

In truth, Ava had already made up her mind. She simply needed to hear their opinions to sharpen the blade of her own resolve.

"My Lady, the ones causing the trouble are certainly not the nobles, nor are they the common peasants," Lambert, the group’s strategist, said quickly.

Ava remained silent, watching him, waiting for the rest.

"For the wealthy nobles, moving into Stoneheart City is the optimal choice. Even if they cannot secure permanent residency immediately, they have the means to stay temporarily. They have the coin to make slaves work in their stead, or to hire mercenaries to fulfill their construction quotas at Rosethorn. While they may shirk manual labor, they possess long-term vision. They won’t refuse to contribute money or influence during the early stages."

The knights in the carriage nodded in agreement. They, too, were people who had invested their entire fortunes into the future of Rosethorn.

"The lowest peasants won’t riot either," Lambert continued, "because they have no choice. They rely on the Horde for food."

"The ones causing the unrest," Lambert’s eyes narrowed with disgust, "are the mercenaries, the slave traders, and the sewer rats who followed the migration."

Sewer rats.

In Soaring Bird City, the alleyways had been infested with thugs, thieves, racketeers, and street bosses. They were parasites who lived by sucking the blood of the common folk. Their defining traits were gluttony and sloth; they reaped without sowing, dragging honest people down into debt and slavery.

They operated illegal gambling dens and brothels in the shadows, using filthy tactics to entrap commoners—especially those with beautiful wives or daughters—into signing predatory contracts.

Such people would never be accepted into Stoneheart City. The capital had strict laws, and the local underworld was already controlled by the Horde’s own iron-fisted enforcers. These rats couldn’t survive in the capital, so they had been pushed out to build Rosethorn.

But scoundrels who were used to easy living would never willingly submit to hard labor.

After a brief period of pretending to comply, their true nature had surfaced. They were forming factions within the workforce, inciting strikes, and sabotaging progress.

"My Lady, we must use absolute force against these rats," Lambert said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "We must show the nobles and the honest commoners our resolve. We must let them see that we are the hope for Rosethorn’s future."

He looked Ava in the eye, his gaze heavy with significance. "If we are to establish ourselves within the Stoneheart Horde, a stable Rosethorn is our foundation. Whether in wealth or in the contribution of Faith, we cannot afford to lag behind the other cities."

As a noble, Lambert saw the board clearly. He trusted that Ava, with her royal background, saw even more.

"Why don’t you just say ’kill them to stop the chaos’ and be done with it?"

The interruption came from Klythia, the massive shield-maiden.

Lambert rolled his eyes. He often wondered how Klythia had ever been knighted. A knight was supposed to wrap their violence in the rhetoric of duty and honor, to perfectly bypass the moral constraints of their code.

"Rosethorn is Kronos’s fiefdom," Ava said, her voice cutting through the carriage like a cold wind. "It is your future residence. It is your future."

"I will not allow anyone, no matter who they are, to delay the construction of Rosethorn."

"Anyone standing in the way of that path," Ava declared, "is to be killed without mercy."

Humans were strange creatures. Against a foreign race, they might band together and die for a righteous cause. But when their own interests were at stake, they would slaughter gods and buddhas alike to get what they wanted.

North, Blackstone City.

After sending the first batch of his kinsmen into the Divine Kingdom, Orion sat cross-legged in the teleportation plaza. He closed his eyes, sinking his consciousness into the Survivor’s Platform.

"Is there a plague that acts like a zombie virus? Something that compels the infected to ceaselessly attack all living things?"

Orion’s query was directed at Tangere, the plague specialist.

As the one who had brought Tangere into the fold, Orion intended to take him along for the invasion of Eldoria.

"Big Boss, there are plenty of viruses like that," Tangere replied almost immediately. "But honestly? They’re practically useless."

"Magic, energy, psychic power, transcendent power, bloodline abilities... there are too many forces and secret arts that can completely repel such a virus."

Tangere was thrilled that Orion had come to him personally. It meant his ticket to the big leagues was secure. He tried to be as helpful as possible.

"Those viruses only work on normal people. And even if commoners get infected, they’re easily slaughtered by any decent warrior. A wide-range incineration spell or a mass purification ritual stops the infection dead in its tracks."

Tangere thought he understood what Orion was trying to do—create a biological weapon to wipe out enemy combatants.

"I’m not expecting your plague to kill the strong," Orion clarified, his mental voice cold. "I want to kill the commoners."

"Huh?"

Tangere was stunned.

Orion wanted to wipe out the normal population? That was... unexpected.

Tangere was at the peak of the Legendary rank now; he understood how Archlords and Demigods operated. Conventionally speaking, commoners were livestock. They were the sheep that provided the wool of Faith.

Usually, conquerors tried to protect the livestock to minimize losses. Why would the Boss want to slaughter the herd?