Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1493: Ascension from the Abyss

The Abyssal World, Sixth Layer.

While Earthshaker was breaking his chains, changes were rippling through the dark planes as well.

Deep within a cultivation chamber inside the Tetra-Tower, a strange light pulsed. It was the volatile transition from quantity to quality.

Delilah sat with her eyes closed, the God-touched mark on her forehead glowing like a superheated brand. She had devoured countless Banshee Crystals, and the energy was finally hitting its critical mass.

The mark expanded, shining with the intensity of a full moon, bathing the chamber in a suffocatingly beautiful radiance. Under the light, Delilah looked ethereal.

Within the halo of that moon-like light, a silhouette danced.

Light, shadow, and time blurred together.

Eventually, the silhouette solidified, absorbing every photon of the scattered radiance back into itself. The moon faded, and the figure stepped out from the void.

It was Delilah. Or rather, Delilah’s body of faith.

She had ascended. She was an Archlord.

"Finally," she whispered, her voice trembling with triumph. "The long wait is over."

She had suffered through years of stagnation, but she had finally clawed her way back into the Stoneheart Horde’s inner circle of power. Delilah threw her head back and laughed, a sound like chiming bells carried on a cold wind, echoing through the entirety of the Foundry Citadel.

" The Master’s pet has caught up, has she?"

At the very peak of the Tetra-Tower, Xalathar opened one lazy eye. He was in his human form, sprawled out for a nap. He muttered the comment, then immediately drifted back to sleep.

Xalathar knew Delilah’s nature. The moment she woke up, she would demand full administrative control over the Horde’s territories in the Abyssal World. The woman was addicted to authority.

Fortunately, Xalathar, Vex, Phorzak, Eparus, Holrivus, and Thronlis couldn’t care less about bureaucracy. They were obsessed with cultivation. If Delilah wanted to play queen and manage the logistics, they would happily let her.

Especially the Scourge Wardens. As long as she didn’t interrupt their slumber—the primary method for their power growth—she could do whatever she pleased.

"I need to find a way back to the Horde soon," Delilah murmured to herself, her eyes narrowing. "If I don’t show my face, my little sister is going to get walked all over."

For Delilah, any woman in Orion’s orbit who was stronger than Lilith was a threat. A threat to her sister, and a threat to Delilah’s own position as the First Wife. In the Stoneheart Horde, the position of Orion’s favorite belonged to the Succubus Race. She intended to keep it that way.

World of Eldoria. The Twilight Vale Diocese.

The Twilight Vale was massive—a territory vast enough to support at least three Archlords.

Tangere, Caesar, Scarecrow, and Aurora stood in the cathedral at the heart of the diocese, looking at each other in stunned silence.

"Tangere..." Aurora started, her voice breathless. "Are you sure? He gave the entire diocese to just the four of us?"

She was trembling, barely holding back her shock. When Orion had first mentioned the Twilight Vale, they had been surprised. But now that they were physically here, standing amidst the sprawling cities, the intact infrastructure, and the sheer scale of the land, it felt like a hallucination.

It felt unearned.

They had forgotten one crucial detail: The Goddess Agaman had harvested the souls of her followers, but she hadn’t taken their houses, their vaults, or the unmined resources of the land. The wealth left behind was astronomical.

They had expected a plot of land. They hadn’t expected the treasury that came with it.

"Tangere," Scarecrow whispered, looking around warily as if the walls had ears. "Did the Big Boss... forget to loot this place?"

He wasn’t blinded by the gold. His upbringing had taught him to question sudden windfalls.

"He must have," Caesar said with certainty. "The war ended, and we marched immediately. He didn’t have time."

"It wasn’t an oversight," Tangere said, his voice steadying the group. "He just doesn’t care."

The team looked at him.

"To the Big Boss," Tangere continued, "the chocolate on the cake is just decoration."

Tangere was just as shaken, but he saw the reality of it. With this territory, he had every prerequisite needed to become an Archlord. All he had to do was manage the land, let the population recover, and harvest the faith energy. Time was the only barrier now.

"A man who holds wealth he doesn’t deserve is begging for ruin," Tangere stated, his eyes hardening. "We’ve been given too much. I suggest we round up all the mobile assets—the gold, the jewels, the artifacts—and ship them to the Big Boss."

He turned to face his three companions. "We have the land, the cities, the buildings, the mines. Everything is turnkey. We don’t need the liquid cash for construction. It’s pure profit, and we shouldn’t keep it."

The Holy Order hadn’t just been shepherding souls; they had been hoarding wealth for centuries. The hidden vaults in the diocese contained a king’s ransom in gold and grain—things the Goddess couldn’t carry into the afterlife.

"I agree," Caesar said immediately.

"Seconded," Scarecrow nodded.

"No objections here," Aurora added.

It was human nature. When you are weak and given a gift too large, gratitude turns to paranoia. Tangere and his team were feeling the weight of the crown, and paying tribute was the only way to alleviate the pressure.

Agaman Diocese. The Sanctum.

The coalition forces were dispersing, moving out from the central region to claim their new fiefdoms. For the next few months, the commanders would be buried in the logistics of occupation.

But that didn’t concern Orion, Leonidas, or Kraken. As the heads of the coalition, their eyes were already on the next threat: the ocean.

The three of them lounged in the ruined cathedral, leaning back in high chairs, staring up at the hole in the dome where the Goddess’s statue had shattered the ceiling.

"A God War makes a lot of noise," Kraken said, breaking the silence. "The Demigods of the Sea Folk definitely felt it. Hell, they were probably watching from the deep water the whole time."

"They didn’t show up. They didn’t reinforce her," Leonidas grunted. "That tells us a lot."

Kraken nodded. In his experience, the Sea Folk were usually the dominant species of any world simply due to geography—oceans were bigger than continents.

"Even when Agaman descended personally, the Sea Folk stayed dry," Kraken continued. "That proves they aren’t allies. More likely enemies."

"Ancient enemies," Orion agreed. "Maybe the Goddess smacked them down a few thousand years ago."

Leonidas tore his gaze away from the sky. "So, brother, what’s the plan?"

He looked at Orion, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Extermination? or Eviction?"

The ’Spartan King’ was itching for a fight. He felt he hadn’t pulled his weight in the battle against the Goddess. He needed to bleed something to justify the territory Orion had handed him. It felt too heavy in his hands otherwise.

"Eviction," Orion decided. "Those Sea Folk Demigods likely have a main nest in another world."

He paused, his expression calculating. "I don’t have the means to permanently kill a Demigod yet. Driving them out is the safer play."