Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1445: Sons of Stone

Secrets regarding the "Divine Calling" of a Fourth-Stage Demigod were not things Thresh would offer up unless asked. Information like that was a double-edged sword; knowing too much before reaching the appropriate level could shackle a warrior’s mind, freezing their progress with fear or overthinking.

"The Dead Sea you mentioned fits the scenario I described," Thresh said, leaning back. "When you’ve fully consolidated your Divine Fire and Divine Soul, then you can consider devouring it."

He pointed a greasy finger at Orion.

"Remember this: Don’t covet things that are out of your weight class."

"You have no idea what kind of failsafes those dying old monsters leave behind."

It was a warning, and a necessary one. Orion had been taking shortcuts, relying on the borrowed might of his Fourth-Stage realm and Sixth-Stage physical body. It was easy for a lamb to lose its way when it thought it was a wolf.

"Thank you for the lesson, Commander," Orion said, standing up and bowing with the respect of a student.

"We done? Good. I’m going back to sleep," Thresh waved a dismissive hand. "Get out of here. You’re easier to deal with than your son. That little brat wouldn’t leave until he broke the pot to ask what was inside."

Thresh crawled back into his tent. Within seconds, a rhythmic snoring drifted out.

Taking the hint, Orion turned and vanished from Blade’s Edge Peak.

Only after Orion was gone did Thresh’s voice drift from the tent, tinged with sleepy disdain.

"Demon King Theras... just a giant-assed demon... if he wakes up, I’ll just beat him back into a coma."

The World of Eldoria. Port Caelwyn.

The sky turned a soft, innocent blue.

As the sun rose over the horizon, its golden rays pierced the stained glass of Namir Cathedral. From the outside, the church looked as holy and majestic as ever, basking in the morning light.

Inside, however, it was a ruin.

The marble statue of the Goddess had been toppled and smashed. In its place stood a crude but imposing statue of a Stoneheart Titan, brought in by the Hellscream operatives.

Aina stood in the center of the nave, looking the picture of piety.

"The rising sun devours the filth. Peace begins here."

"Great Titan God, hear our prayer. Grant us the courage and strength to sweep away all sin. Let our conviction be firm as we march forward."

It was a surreal scene.

Aina prayed like a saintess, her voice melodic and pure. Nearby, Raveth sprawled on a broken pew, gasping for air like a dying fish.

He had fought the Ascetic, Cyrion, from dusk until dawn. And he had lost.

Raveth wasn’t a true Legend; his power was borrowed from Orion. It hadn’t been enough to overcome a fanatic like Cyrion. After beating Raveth into the ground, Cyrion had marched on Aina, intent on stopping her desecration of the altar.

But Aina had fought back.

Or rather, she had cheated. She produced the statue given to her by Orion and unleashed a focused blast of Demigod pressure. It instantly wiped Cyrion’s mind, turning the powerful monk into a drooling vegetable.

Now, Cyrion lay at the foot of the Titan statue, the first and finest sacrifice.

"Are you rested?"

Aina turned to Raveth, a gentle smile on her face. "When the sacrificial circle opens and the Titan God’s will descends, you will become even stronger."

Last night, Raveth had proven his loyalty. He was a dog worth keeping.

"Go. Have all the sacrifices ready before sunset," she ordered softly. "After today, the Holy Light will never touch this place again."

Raveth dragged himself up and limped out.

Left alone, Aina gazed up at the Titan statue and let out a laugh that sounded like silver bells chiming in a graveyard.

"Father, brothers, Vianne... don’t worry. Aina is sending you some friends. You won’t be lonely down there."

The Divine Kingdom. Stoneheart Temple.

On the highest peak, Rolan slowly opened his eyes. He threw his head back and let out a roar that shook the heavens.

He had done it.

He was the second Giant in the history of the Horde—after Lorelia—to condense a Lord’s Stone through sheer will and talent.

Having fully transformed into a Stoneheart Titan, his combat power had skyrocketed to a level even he couldn’t quantify. He felt as though he could shatter the sky with a punch or crumble the mountain beneath his feet with a stomp.

WAAAGH!

Just as Rolan’s roar echoed, a second roar erupted from the sea of blood below.

Rolan looked down. The crimson ocean was churning. A massive waterspout of blood spiraled upward, threatening to wash the sky clean.

The phenomenon lasted for fifteen minutes before the waters receded, revealing a figure floating in the void.

It was another Stoneheart Titan. But this one was different. He had four heads and eight arms.

Rolan and Kaelen stared at one another.

They were strangers. Kaelen had been awakened from his slumber by the sheer pressure of Rolan’s ascension roar.

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

They spoke in unison.

Rolan eyed the four heads and eight arms with curiosity. In his knowledge, only those possessing the direct bloodline of the Mentor could achieve such a form.

Kaelen, meanwhile, was assessing Rolan. He could sense the Lord’s Stone pulsing within the other giant. Despite having just entered the Legendary realm, Rolan radiated a sense of danger that made Kaelen’s skin prickle.

"I am Kaelen. Son of the King."

"I am Rolan. Disciple of the Mentor."

Again, they spoke almost simultaneously. The tension broke into surprise.

"Greetings."

"Greetings..."

Just as the awkward silence threatened to return, Orion materialized between them.

"Hahaha... Good! You both look excellent!"

Orion pointed to the multi-armed giant.

"Rolan, this is Kaelen. He and his mother were trapped on the Chaos Continent in the Emerald Dream Realm. I only recently brought them home."

Then he pointed to Rolan.

"Kaelen, this is Rolan. My only disciple."

Orion looked at his son. "You will call him Big Brother."

In the Stoneheart Horde, Rolan’s status was unique.

He came from nothing. His biological father had died fighting for the Horde in the early days, and his mother had remarried to ensure the tribe’s population growth.

Rolan had been effectively raised by Orion and Lilith. Every scrap of resource used to build him into a warrior had come from Orion’s personal vault. It wasn’t until he reached adulthood and joined the cavalry that he had started to stand on his own two feet.