Chapter 1242: Pregnant
Compared to the grim struggle in the Abyss, Orion’s original self, holding the line in Stoneheart, was having a much better ti. He was, in fact, experiencing one of life’s great milestones: his wedding night.
Though this was hardly his first ti with the Moon Elf Isilra, the mont lost none of its intoxicating novelty. It was a fundantally different feeling, like the simple, undeniable pleasure of tasting sothing for the first ti.
On the massive bed, Isilra was slick with sweat, her skin flushed a deep crimson. After Orion’s final, shuddering push, they collapsed into each other’s arms.
"I feel... different," she murmured, her arms wrapped tightly around him. She seed softer now, more gentle than before. It was as if consummating their union had completed so missing piece of her, rounding out the edges of her soul.
"You do," he agreed, his voice a low rumble. "You’re even more beautiful." It wasn’t just a platitude; he ant it.
"No, that’s not what I an." She buried her face in his chest, burrowing into his embrace.
Orion slid his hand down the curve of her back, resting it on her hip. He didn’t understand.
"My body," she whispered. "It’s changed. I can feel a new life. It’s so faint, but I know it’s there."
She took his large hand, guiding it down to her flat stomach.
The aning hit him like a physical blow. If he didn’t get it now, he was denser than a block of granite.
"Are you... Are you serious? You’re pregnant? With our child?"
It was unbelievable. He’d been with Lilith, Delilah, Lumi, Soraya, Lysinthia, Sylvana, Lycanor, and Marina countless tis. They were all stunning, none of them shy in bed, but not a single one had ever conceived. The only truly natural pregnancy had been with Princess Ava, a reluctant stroke of luck for them both.
And now, Isilra.
Orion rolled over, pinning her beneath him. He lowered his face until they were nose to nose, their eyes locked. "Tell
you’re not ssing with ."
Her response was a fierce, passionate kiss.
That kiss led to another two hours of frenzied, joyous celebration.
"You’ve learned so new tricks," Orion said much later, holding her as if she were a priceless artifact he might accidentally crush.
The union of a giant’s bloodline with that of a Moon Elf was sothing he had never truly considered possible. Their child... there was a very real chance it would be born with demigod-level talent.
"In a few days, we’re going back to your ho," he declared. "We’ll have another ceremony in Staghelm City. I want every last resident to know that their city’s ruler, their Elven Queen, their goddess, is my wife."
He felt an overwhelming urge to stake his claim, to shout it from the rooftops. Isilra, for her part, was like a little girl trying ice cream for the first ti—surprised and utterly delighted by a sweetness she had stumbled into by accident. This marriage was nothing like she had imagined. It was, she realized, so much happier.
But the celebration wasn’t confined to their chambers. The wedding, an event that had shaken the entire continent, sparked a city-wide festival. Orion had cleared the main thoroughfare from the castle gates to the colosseum, setting up a feast that ran for three days and three nights.
Fueled by the occasion, Stoneheart descended into a joyous madness. Not only was the food free for all, but every person in the city was given a complintary voucher for gambling chips at the colosseum. In Nico’s public proclamations, it was a "blessing from the giant-king." Privately, it was his masterstroke to cent the colosseum’s reputation. Either way, the fat man gave every citizen a taste of the thrill, on the house. In reality, the free chips were paid for by the massive pots wagered by the true gamblers. The colosseum itself didn’t spend a single Blackstone coin.
anwhile, the great lords and masters of the various factions, having been treated to Orion’s hospitality and privately relieved by his peaceful declarations, were satisfied. They signed their pacts, took in the sights of the burgeoning city, and departed one by one. For archlord-level powerhouses, traveling between worlds was trivial. A city like Stoneheart was impressive, but not entirely unique in their experience.
For the rchants, travelers, rcenaries, and common folk, however, the party was just getting started. The sheer volu of traffic Orion’s wedding brought to the city was an economic explosion. Residents who were previously just getting by suddenly saw opportunity everywhere. The wedding was just the spark; the true fire was the dawn of Stoneheart’s prosperity.
***
The second layer of the Abyss, Vigil’s Point.
Staring at the monster that had appeared on the horizon, Orion felt a cold dread snake up his spine. It was beyond shocking; it was terrifying.
The creature’s aura registered only at the peak of the archlord rank, but its physical form blotted out half the sky. It was easily half a mile tall. To call it a monster felt laughably inadequate. This was a walking cataclysm. This was an Unhallowed.
"Mak, raise the shield! You’re on ward duty," Orion snapped. "Don’t lower it for any reason until I’m back."
He didn’t wait for a reply, ignoring the slack-jawed expressions on Makareth and Delilah’s faces. They had never seen anything so massive. The Abyss was known for spawning monstrosities, but this... this was in another category entirely.
"How... how do you even fight that?" Makareth managed to say, shaking himself from his stupor. A familiar sense of powerlessness washed over him. Without Orion here, he knew he would stand no chance against such a being. You couldn’t just throw forbidden-tier spells at sothing like this. The thing’s very movents were forbidden-tier spells.
As if to prove the point, Orion shot into the air, the trident Spite of the Wrathful Star materializing in his hand. He channeled its innate fire magic, unleashing a roaring dragon of pure, white-hot fla that streaked toward the Unhallowed.
The spell, which could incinerate armies in a normal battle, struck the creature and vanished with all the impact of a lit match flicked against a man’s chest. A minor annoyance, easily brushed aside.
Orion halted his charge, hovering in mid-air, staring up at the colossal being. He had no idea where to even begin.
Without another mont of hesitation, Orion began the chant for Blood Sacrifice.
After a brief prayer, a thick, roiling cloud of crimson mist—raw blood and life force—enveloped him. Within that cloud, the phantom image of a sky-spanning giant roared in defiance. Orion’s own body began to expand, growing at an explosive rate until he stood three thousand yards tall.
But three thousand yards, against half a mile, was still a ridiculous mismatch.
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