Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1424: Shepherd of Men

"On a new continent, fighting for land and survival is inevitable. War will follow us."

King Harold stared out at the dark horizon, his voice heavy with the weight of prophecy.

"I do not know if I can lead our people to reclaim the glory we held on Utessar. We might rise higher than before, or we might fade into history. By staying here, you ensure the royal bloodline has a second path. We are not putting all our eggs in one basket."

Among all his children, Theodore was the only one with the grit to carve a kingdom out of nothing. He was the only one who could survive without the shelter of the crown.

"Three days from now," Harold continued, his tone hardening, "I will issue an Imperial Decree. I am expelling the commoners—the peasantry, the refugees—driving them north, to you. This is the final mercy I can offer them."

"I expect you to treat them well."

Harold fought to keep his voice steady, masking the storm of guilt raging inside him.

Theodore frowned, the gravity of the statement hitting him like a physical blow. "Can the Saints not protect them? Why must they be cast out?"

"It is not that they cannot," Harold said coldly. "It is that they will not. It is not worth the cost."

The King turned to his son, his eyes hard. "The resources required to teleport millions of commoners could support the growth of a population three times that size once we secure new land. It is cold arithmetic, Theodore. If you wore the crown, what would you choose?"

Theodore fell silent. He understood the logic of rulers. The nobility and the powerful came first; preservation of the core was the primary directive. They were making the ’correct’ choice.

But to discard their own people like chaff? It was heartless.

"You cannot make that choice. And I... I struggle with it," Harold sighed, seemingly aging a decade in a single breath.

"But I can offer them a lifeline. As the King of Humanity, this is my final act of service."

Harold looked up, his eyes locking onto Theodore’s with sudden intensity.

"Me?" Theodore let out a dry, incredulous laugh. "Father, do not jest. I cannot save them alone."

"Not you," Harold shook his head. He turned, pointing a gauntleted finger toward the territory of the Stoneheart Horde. "You are merely the Shepherd."

"The Shepherd?"

"Yes."

Before Theodore could question him further, Harold laid out the harsh reality.

"Theodore, I am proud of your resolve to hold the Northern Bastion. In a kinder age, you would have been a great King. You would have brought us a millennium of peace."

It was the truth. Theodore had his own power base, and through his Aunt Ava and his cousin—the Giant Prince Kronos—he had an ironclad alliance with the Stoneheart Horde. His throne would have been unshakeable.

"But the Cataclysm has come. The rules have changed."

Harold looked weary. His political maneuvering over the years—his leniency with Ava, his diplomatic overtures to the Stoneheart Horde—had all been leading to this single contingency.

"You cannot hold the Northern Bastion forever," Harold stated flatly. "The pressure coming for this world is something even the Ancestors are fleeing. Your shoulders are too broad to bow, but they are too young to carry the sky."

Harold reached out, placing a heavy hand on Theodore’s pauldron.

"When the commoners arrive, they become your currency. They are your leverage. When the time is right, you will lead them to the Stoneheart Horde. You will use them to negotiate better terms of survival."

"You give the people a chance to live. You give yourself a kingdom within a kingdom."

"Theodore, this is my command. It is your duty as a Prince."

Harold stared deep into his son’s eyes. This was the only viable path. Theodore was the only human royal who could thrive among the monsters of the Stoneheart Horde. He had family there. He would be accepted.

As long as he wasn’t foolish, Theodore would rise again.

"Promise me," Harold whispered. "Do not be too stubborn. Do not cling to pride or face. From this day forward, you are no longer a Prince. You are a survivor."

It was a warning. Harold knew his son’s pride was his greatest weakness.

A long silence stretched between them.

"If it becomes impossible to hold..." Theodore finally said, his voice barely a murmur. "I will make the choice."

Harold smiled. That was the answer he needed. Theodore cared about the people. That care would drive him to make the right decision when the walls began to crumble.

"Take this. It is the Kingdom’s apology to its people."

Harold removed a spatial bracelet from his wrist and pressed it into Theodore’s hand. It was loaded with grain and supplies—enough to feed an army, or a city of refugees.

Then, the King began to unbuckle his armor. Piece by piece, he stripped off his royal plate and handed it to his son.

"Do not refuse an old father’s care. You need this more than I do."

Theodore stood frozen, clutching the heavy steel. A lump formed in his throat, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

"Do not cry," Harold commanded softly, his form beginning to fade into magical light. "Never let them see you cry again."

The King vanished.

Theodore stood alone on the wall, the wind howling around him. He bit his lip until it bled, forcing the tears back.

This was the moment the boy died, and the man was born.

Human Kingdom, Soaring Bird City.

Ever since Ava had led the bulk of the population north to join the Stoneheart Horde, Soaring Bird City had collapsed into anarchy.

Civilization had fled, leaving behind a vacuum filled by chaos and vice. The empty districts had become nests for bandits, deserters, and wanted criminals. It was still a waypoint for mercenaries and travelers, but the price of admission was high—you had to be strong enough to keep your throat uncut, or rich enough to pay the protection fees.

"Father, is this Soaring Bird City?"

In a dilapidated safehouse, a little girl peeked out the window, looking curiously at the ruins her father had always spoken of with such reverence.

But that was the old city.

The current city was a graveyard of order. Screams echoed through the streets every night—a chilling lullaby for the damned.

"This is it," her father whispered, pulling her away from the window. "But it has been abandoned by the light."

"Sleep now. Tomorrow, we head north. We are going to the Stoneheart Horde. We are going to Stoneheart City."