Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1402: A Spark of Life

It was a known truth among the ascended that no single realm could contain a Demigod’s ambition. The territory offered by the Titanion Realm alone was insufficient to fuel their ascension to true godhood, nor could it support a native apotheosis while the current laws of the world held firm.

They all had backdoors—footholds in other dimensions, escape routes secured in the void.

"We all have our contingencies," Orion said, his voice dominating the swirling energies of the void passage. "But having a way out is no excuse to surrender what is ours."

He looked around the circle of demogods. "The Titanion Realm is a feast that is only going to grow richer. The Stoneheart Horde will not just hold its ground; we will carve out a larger slice."

Sharp nails dug into the meat of his arm. Orion glanced down to see Seraphina glaring at him, her beautiful face twisted in a pout.

He cleared his throat. "And the Mermaid Race. They stand with us."

The punishing nails immediately softened, transforming into a gentle, caressing hand that smoothed over his skin.

"We will resist to the bitter end," Orion concluded. "That is where we stand."

Tyras, the Dragon Lord, nodded slowly. "The Dragonflight shares this interest. The world that is descending upon us... it holds potential. If the situation demands it, we can summon another Demigod from our flight to descend and aid in the defense."

He paused, letting the weight of the offer settle. "I believe the friendship between the Dragonflight and the Stoneheart Horde could be deepened."

It was an overt offer of alliance. By revealing he had reserves—another Demigod waiting in the wings—Tyras was proving that the dragons were peers to Orion and Seraphina, not subordinates.

Orion nodded. He didn’t accept immediately, nor did he reject it. He turned his gaze to Evander and Kairon.

"Orion," Kairon spat, his eyes darting briefly to Seraphina before snapping back to the giant. "I dislike you. Intensely."

Seraphina preened slightly.

"But like you," Kairon continued, his voice hardening, "I will not yield. The Titanion Realm is my home. My Paradise. I will not cede a single inch of my domain to invaders."

It was a declaration from a rival, bitter but principled. Orion shrugged, unbothered. Seraphina, however, looked at Kairon with a flicker of renewed appreciation.

"Humanity has bled for its lands," Evander said, his tone weary but resolute. "We will not give them up easily. Unless the sky truly falls and all hope is lost, we stand our ground."

"Since our resolve is aligned," Evander continued, looking between the heavy hitters, "I propose a mutual defense pact. A compact of blood and iron."

He gestured to the group. "We cannot trust each other completely—our factions are too distinct. But we can agree on this: if any one of us is targeted for assassination by the enemy, the others must intervene. We cannot allow them to pick us off one by one."

It was a pragmatic proposal. While Orion couldn’t trust these Demigods the way he trusted his own lieutenants, a rapid-response agreement was feasible. For beings of their power, crossing the world to aid a pinned ally was a matter of moments.

"Agreed," Orion said. The others nodded in assent.

"If you want this defense to work," Kairon interjected, seizing the moment, "then help me purge the oceans. I cannot cover the deep trenches alone. If we don’t act, the insect swarms will overrun us."

He looked pointedly at Seraphina and Tyras. Their domains also encompassed vast stretches of water.

Silence stretched between them.

"A purge is necessary," Orion finally said, speaking for his wife. "One does not allow pests to breed in one’s bed."

Kairon looked relieved, but Orion raised a hand.

"However... a total extermination is unwise."

Kairon’s expression darkened. "Explain."

"Have you not noticed?" Orion asked. "As these creatures evolve, they condense a specific essence within their carapaces. To us, it is nothing. But to our soldiers? It is a potent fuel for growth."

He looked around the circle. "The swarm is a threat, yes, but it is also a resource. We leave them to breed, we let them evolve, and then we use them as whetstones to sharpen our armies. We cannot face an otherworld invasion with green troops. They need to be blooded."

Tyras let out a low, rumbling laugh. "The Giant King speaks wisdom."

The Dragon Lord had remained silent for a reason. His kind had already discovered that devouring high-level insectoids purified the bloodlines of their lesser kin, the dragon beasts. To a dragon, the swarm wasn’t just an enemy; it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

"The Dragonflight stands with Orion," Tyras declared. "We will patrol our own borders and cull the herds within our territory. As for the unclaimed regions... let the insects breed. Let them grow fat."

It sounded like negligence, but it was cold calculation. The Demigods knew the insects, bound by the current laws of the Titanion Realm, could effectively cap out at the Legendary tier. They were dangerous to the small fry, to the minor factions without Demigod protection, but they posed no existential threat to the masters of the world.

It was a cruel, silent agreement: allow the insects to ravage the weak, clearing the board for the strong to consolidate power.

"Besides," Tyras added, his voice dropping an octave, "we only have ten years."

The mood in the void passage plummeted.

Ten years.

It hadn’t been spoken aloud until now, but they all felt it in the shifting of the planar laws. The countdown to the collision.

Orion felt a heaviness settle in his chest. It wasn’t fear—he feared nothing—but the uncertainty was maddening. Preparing for this war felt like punching smoke. He had no idea if their preparations would be enough until the sky actually tore open.

The meeting dispersed in a grim, silent accord.

Marina City.

Rain lashed against the spires of the city, drumming a rhythmic beat against the stained glass of the high tower. Inside, the air was warm and thick.

When Orion and Seraphina returned to her chambers, the political tension evaporated, replaced by a desperate, magnetic pull. There were no words, no coy games.

Orion swept her up in his arms. Seraphina buried her face in his chest, her cheeks flushed, her breathing ragged.

The storm outside raged all night, mirroring the tempest within the room.

The next morning, the rain had ceased.

Orion woke slowly, pulled from sleep by a faint, rhythmic pulse resonating at the edge of his perception.

His eyes snapped open. He turned immediately to Seraphina, who was still sleeping beside him. His gaze didn’t rest on her face, but lower, fixing intently on her abdomen.

There, he felt it. A profound, undeniable connection. A spark of his own bloodline, flickering into existence.

Seraphina’s eyes opened. She didn’t move, but a soft smile touched her lips as she saw where he was looking.

"You feel it too?" she whispered, her voice husky with sleep.

"I do."

"It seems," she murmured, placing her hand over his, "that our last bout of madness has created a little life."