Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1380: Chrysalis and Coin

The fossilized cocoon, dormant for millennia, suddenly reacted to the hybrid blood. It began to shift. The stone softened into organic matter, and the ancient shell began to close, sealing the boy within.

The cocoon sealed itself with a wet, final squelch, entombing the boy completely.

Watching this transformation, Kar’Sheen’s compound eyes glittered with feverish intensity.

"Rest well, Eryndor," the Insectoid Lord hissed, his voice vibrating with anticipation. "When you wake, the history of our kind will be rewritten."

The South, Blood Elf Territory

Where the elves dwelled, the world seemed to breathe.

To Tristan Greymount, the landscape rolling past him was almost painfully beautiful. The phrase "lush and verdant" felt inadequate. Sunlight filtered through the high canopy, dappling the soft grass and illuminating the wildflowers in a way that made reality look like a painting.

But even the scenery paled when the light caught the hair of the maidservant riding beside him.

"Young Master, please," Adelina murmured, shifting uncomfortably in her saddle. "Your staring is making me anxious. And... and there are people all around us."

She shot him a look that was equal parts annoyance and vulnerability.

For this journey, Tristan had outfitted her in mercenary gear. The tight leather armor did wonders for her silhouette, highlighting curves that were usually hidden beneath modest servant’s garb. But it was stifling. Worse, it drew the eyes of every rough-looking man on the road. Adelina felt exposed, like a piece of meat on display.

"Adelina, you must learn to wear your beauty like armor," Tristan said, his voice light and unbothered. "Let them look. A gaze cannot take a pound of flesh. If anything, their envy is just a testament to your splendor."

Adelina sighed, but she didn’t argue. She trusted him implicitly.

The Greymount family was thriving today because Tristan possessed a terrifyingly sharp instinct for survival and profit.

Years ago, when Tristan was still a child, he had convinced his father to pivot the family business toward the Stoneheart Horde. They were among the first humans to trade with the monsters, and the first to buy property in Stoneheart City.

Back then, people called them mad.

But when the King of Giants ascended to Arch Lord, the Greymounts’ status skyrocketed. And when Orion ascended to Demigod? The family looked like prophets.

Owning property in a city protected by a Demigod during an inter-world war was the ultimate insurance policy. Now, with the situation deteriorating across the continent, the Greymounts had made the bold decision to liquidate their assets in the Human Kingdoms and move entirely to Stoneheart City.

Tristan and Adelina were the rearguard, the last of the line to make the migration.

By pure coincidence—or perhaps fate—the Greymounts had hired the Blood and Fire Mercenary Corps for protection. It was the very same corps led by Godfrey, the knight currently shadowing the massive convoy of Princess Ava and Prince Kronos.

"Young Master, we should be careful," Adelina whispered, leaning closer. "I can feel it. The other nobles... their intentions aren’t pure."

It wasn’t just the lustful stares directed at her. It was the greedy, calculating looks the other human refugees cast at Tristan. They knew the Greymounts held deeds to prime real estate in the safety of Stoneheart City. In a world falling apart, a house key was worth more than gold.

"Don’t overthink it, Adelina," Tristan said, shaking his head with a lazy smile.

Did she think he didn’t know?

"Look around you," he said, sweeping his arm toward the horizon. "Tens of thousands of people, all moving toward a new future. Don’t you think it’s grand? We are all marching forward."

His eyes sparkled with a carefree confidence that Adelina found intoxicating. To Tristan, disaster was just another word for opportunity.

"Oh, Young Master," she breathed, her anxiety melting away under his charisma.

Behind them, the disciplined thud of hooves marked the presence of the Blood and Fire Mercenary Corps.

"Godfrey," a deep, rumbling voice spoke up. "Some of these flies are getting bold. Should I swat them?"

Brundar, the massive Giant riding a beast-blood mount, glared at the nearby nobles who were eyeing his employer. Nothing escaped his notice—not the lust directed at the maid, and certainly not the avarice directed at the Young Master.

"Relax," Godfrey said calmly. "They don’t have the guts."

Godfrey knew his friend well. If he let Brundar off the leash, "swatting" would involve ripping limbs from sockets.

"Princess Ava and the Prince are leading the vanguard," Godfrey explained. "With the Raptor Cavalry and the Rose Knights patrolling the column, no one is going to start a riot. Ava wouldn’t allow it."

Godfrey had aligned his mercenaries with this massive refugee column for a reason. These hundred thousand humans were heading to the Stoneheart Horde. Protecting them was, effectively, a service to the Tribe. It was political savvy.

"Besides," Godfrey added, "we’re the rearguard for a reason. We’re the insurance."

Brundar grunted, accepting the logic. His gaze drifted back to Tristan, who rode with impeccable posture ahead of them.

"That kid... he’s interesting," Brundar mused, a smirk touching his lips. "He actually had the nerve to ask me about the Silent Goblet earlier. Casually. Like he was asking about the weather."

"Tsk, tsk." The Giant chuckled. "Looks like a scholar, acts like a degenerate. Is this what passes for a noble dandy in the Human Kingdoms?"

"Compared to the young lords back home, he’s soft," Brundar continued. "Our boys are either wrestling Abyss Dragons or hunting Flame-Tigers. At the very least, they’re cracking skulls in the Colosseum."

"He’s not a noble," Godfrey corrected him quietly.

"Not a noble?" Brundar blinked, confused.

He looked at Tristan again. The expensive clothes. The arrogance. The hot maid. The private mercenary escort.

"He looks like a noble. Spends like a noble," Brundar grumbled. "What am I missing?"

"Look past him," Godfrey said, nodding toward the front of the column. "See that carriage trailing behind the Princess? The beat-up one with the dents and the mud?"