Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1393: The Titan’s Ultimatum

"Are you certain?"

The Demigod who had first spoken still sounded skeptical, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Orion’s phantom.

"You want the Spring of Life?" Orion let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. "Too late. I already drank it."

Disappointment, grief, and a touch of simmering rage colored his tone. The location of the Spring of Life was one of the most guarded secrets in existence. The fact that Orion could name-drop it so casually lent his story a terrifying amount of credibility.

However, words alone weren’t currency here.

The three Demigods exchanged subtle glances. The air tightened. They weren’t backing down; they were preparing to strike. They began to channel their divine energy, intending to shatter Orion’s projection and scatter his consciousness.

"The Stoneheart Titan yields to no one."

Orion sighed again, a sound heavy with weariness.

Then, he took a step forward.

Behind him, reality seemed to tear open. An illusionary world manifested—a brutal, primordial landscape of jagged peaks, boiling lakes, and endless savannas. Within that phantom world, countless Stoneheart Titans roared in unison, and armies of nightmares assembled for war.

"Do you wish to fall into the Abyss?"

A terrifying gravitational pull erupted from Orion’s phantom world, locking onto the three Demigods. It wasn’t just physical gravity; it was spiritual. It dragged at their very souls, threatening to pull them into his domain.

This was the power of a Fourth-Stage Demigod—the Archon of the Abyss.

But just as Orion unleashed his aura, something stirred deep beneath the Chaos Continent. A pulse of ancient, eldritch energy began to wake up in response to his presence.

Orion frowned. He sensed it immediately—a dormant horror buried in the bedrock, a fail-safe mechanism for the continent itself.

Fighting three Demigods plus a planetary defense system is a bad trade, he realized.

He dispelled the Abyssal World. The gravitational pull vanished. The eerie pulse beneath the earth slowed and returned to slumber.

Orion glanced at the disheveled trio. He suddenly understood why Tusha the Reaper had failed to conquer this land. These three held a third of the Emerald Dream Realm for a reason; they were sitting on a doomsday weapon.

"I hail from the Dusk Continent," Orion stated, switching tactics. "Do you truly wish to start a war with us?"

He played the Champions Alliance card. It was a bluff, but a heavy one.

The faces of the three Demigods went pale.

If the Dusk Continent invaded, the Chaos Continent would fall. Everyone remembered that strike. The Commander of the Alliance had decapitated Mondusath, the Great Dragon King of Light, with a single, reality-shattering blow. That execution served as a warning to every deity in the realm.

And now, here was Orion—a new, unknown Demigod—proving that the Alliance’s depth was even more terrifying than they feared.

Seeing their fear, Orion softened his tone.

"He is my son," Orion said, gesturing to the unconscious Kaelen. "Born after you sealed this continent."

It was a simple explanation for his intrusion. A father retrieving his child.

"Per our previous treaties," Orion continued, "I will take him and the Dark Butterfly Clan. You keep the land."

The three Demigods visibly relaxed.

This confirmed two things: Orion was indeed from the Alliance, and he wasn’t here for conquest. The precedent was already set; the Silver-Eyed Kingdom had been evacuated in a similar manner years ago.

"Half a day from now," the leader of the trio finally spoke. "We will open a passage at Phoenix Butterfly Ridge. It will remain stable for fifteen minutes."

"Acceptable?"

They had no choice. If war broke out, the evil factions of the Dawn Continent would side with Orion just to watch the world burn. The Merfolk would invade from the oceans. Otherworldly opportunists would descend like locusts. The delicate balance of the Emerald Dream Realm would shatter.

Peace was the only option. And Orion was powerful enough to demand it.

"Acceptable," Orion nodded. "Very well."

Earlier. Gossamer Reach.

The sky had been screaming for hours.

Sophia stood on the ramparts, watching the distant battle tear the heavens apart. When the blood-red Titan phantom rose, blocking out the sun, her heart had leaped into her throat.

Four heads. Eight arms. It looked just like Kaelen.

She had hoped, prayed, that Kaelen’s mysterious father had intervened.

But then she saw Kaelen fall.

Her legs gave out. She collapsed against the cold stone of the battlements, staring blankly at the horizon where her son had vanished. Tears streamed down her face in silence.

Child... come back... she whispered, her voice cracking. We don’t need the territory. We don’t need to fight.

Just come back to the Ridge. Just come home safe.

Kaelen... Kaelen...

The helplessness was crushing. She had always thought herself strong, had thought she raised a warrior. But the thought of losing him peeled away her armor, leaving her shivering and terrified.

"Please... save him," she sobbed, closing her eyes. "He is your son too! I know you can hear me! I know you are strong enough!"

She prayed to the only god she knew—the man who had given her this child.

"You’re not quite as commanding as you were when you demanded my seed all those years ago."

A voice spoke directly in front of her.

Sophia froze. She thought it was a hallucination, a trick of her grief-stricken mind. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, continuing her silent plea.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"I brought Kaelen back," the voice said again, closer this time. Calm, with a hint of amusement. "Why are you still praying?"

Sophia’s eyes snapped open.

Standing before her on the rampart was a phantom. His features were blurred by divine energy, but she knew him. The aura, the voice, the sheer presence—it was him. The man from the illusion. The man who had given her nights of ecstasy and a lifetime of consequences.

"Where is our son?"

Sophia choked back a sob, tears streaming freely now. Her first instinct wasn’t anger or questions. It was just desperate, maternal need.