Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1520: Demigod in the Mindscape

This orb was a boon, a rare gift bestowed upon the Seer lineage during their ascension.

"Hand over the light, little thing, and I might just let you live," the stranger purred, her lips curling into a seductive smile. A dizzying carousel of emotions spun in her eyes—innocence and malice, benevolence and raw greed. She was breathtaking, radiating a dark, intoxicating glamour that barely concealed her venomous cunning.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Anchored by the knowledge that Orion was with her, Sylvana remained remarkably calm. She feigned innocent curiosity, trying to bait the intruder into revealing her hand.

But the enemy saw right through the ruse.

"Hehehe... So young, yet already spinning webs," the woman trilled, ignoring the questions. "Clever. Very sly."

"Let me go, tell me where you come from, and this treasure is yours." Sylvana cupped the glowing orb in both hands. Holy light pulsed within it, radiating a power that vastly eclipsed mere faith energy. Sylvana met the intruder’s gaze with absolute sincerity—a sincerity underscored by iron resolve. "Otherwise, I’ll shatter it before you can kill me."

It was a genuine threat. The treasure was born of Sylvana’s soul; crushing it would be as easy as exhaling.

The strange woman knew this. She had walked the path of the Seer herself; she had survived this very crucible of ascension. She fell silent, her eyes narrowing as she weighed the Vixen’s bluff.

"What? Planning to hunt me down for revenge later?" The stranger’s smirk deepened into outright mockery. The idea of a newly minted Lord harboring thoughts of vengeance against her was utterly laughable.

Sylvana kept her silence, though a flicker of calculated surprise crossed her eyes—a flicker the intruder didn’t miss.

"I am Gozanthia," the woman declared, her voice echoing with dark majesty. "Demigod progenitor of the Triocul Vulpira Race, from the eighty-eighth layer of the Abyssal World."

A cruel glint danced in Gozanthia’s eyes. She wanted to crush Sylvana with the weight of her title. She wanted to watch this half-blood Vixen spiral into terror, to see her surrender to despair and tear herself apart. Right on cue, a tremor of undeniable anxiety rippled through Sylvana’s gaze.

"Hehehe... Hand over the prize, and you get to keep your miserable life." Gozanthia reached out.

Sylvana didn’t resist. She couldn’t have, even if she wanted to. Besides, her offer had been entirely genuine. The best way to fool an ancient, paranoid predator was to tell the truth. The orb floated from Sylvana’s palms. Fanatical joy ignited in Gozanthia’s eyes. Once the light left the Vixen’s hands, Sylvana would lose the power to destroy it.

"She is mine. What is hers, is mine."

A voice—heavy as a collapsing mountain, suffocating in its brutality—detonated from the deepest trenches of the mindscape.

"Did I give you permission to touch my property?"

Before Gozanthia’s fingers could graze the light, a hand massive enough to blot out the sky tore through the void and snatched the orb away.

The colossal hand withdrew into the shadows. As Gozanthia stared in shock, a titanic figure emerged from the depths, closing the distance with earth-shattering strides. He possessed four heads and eight arms, one of which casually cradled the stolen future. The behemoth halted beside Sylvana, his burning gaze locking onto the intruder.

"This aura... A Giant?" Gozanthia frowned, a note of uncertainty bleeding into her voice. She had seen Demigod Giants rampage across the Abyssal World, but the entity standing before her felt different from those mindless brutes.

"To peg my race just from the scent of my aura—you really are from the Abyss." Orion was certain of that much. Whether this Triocul Vulpira actually hailed from the eighty-eighth layer was another story; demons lied as easily as they breathed. Some truths could only be verified by kicking down the door yourself.

"Sir, this is an internal matter among the vulpine races. Don’t you think a Giant is overstepping his bounds?" Gozanthia showed no fear. Her current state was neither her true body nor a proper Demigod phantom. If this projection was destroyed, she would only suffer the temporary backlash of a broken talent.

"Are you deaf? Or just stupid?" Orion’s voice dripped with raw contempt. "I said, she is mine."

If Gozanthia didn’t take him seriously, the feeling was mutual. By reading the underlying laws of the mindscape, Orion had already stripped away her mystique. This wasn’t even a true phantom. It was a mere shadow. He could snuff it out with a backhand.

"Hmph. Giants. Always mindless, bumbling monsters," Gozanthia spat, dropping the aristocratic facade. Orion had just hijacked the prize she had in her sights; she wasn’t about to play nice.

"The Triocul Vulpira Race," Orion rumbled, testing the syllables. "Noted. I’ll take a trip down to the Abyss, find your little clan, and find you. Let’s see if your mouth is still running when I do."

He met her disdain with a lethal promise. It worked flawlessly. Gozanthia’s face darkened in an instant. In the Abyssal World, having a powerhouse mark your entire bloodline for death was a nightmare scenario.

She glared at him, etching the Giant’s features into her memory. If looks could draw blood, Orion would have been flayed alive.

"We will part ways here, sir!" Realizing she couldn’t win this fight in her current state, Gozanthia prepared to cut her losses and run.

Unfortunately for her, she was wildly optimistic.

"This mindscape is my territory. Did you really think you could just waltz in and walk out?" Orion snarled. "You’re staying right here."

As his vicious declaration echoed through the void, four of his massive arms shot out, slamming into the mental ether to seal off every avenue of escape.

But Gozanthia was a Demigod. She wasn’t helpless. The black vertical rune on her forehead split open, revealing a third eye that burned with starlight. It was the apex talent of the Triocul Vulpira Race. The eye unleashed a beam of pitch-black light, striking the invisible boundaries of reality. She was attempting to warp the dimensional laws, seeking to slip out of Sylvana’s consciousness the exact same way she had entered.

She had chosen the wrong opponent. Orion was a man who had compressed his very essence into a seed, buried himself in primordial chaos, and sprouted as a World Tree. He understood the bedrock laws of reality better than breathing. To him, Gozanthia’s arcane escape attempt looked like the clumsy strings of a marionette—blatantly obvious, and laughably easy to snap.

"Going somewhere?"

An oppressive, alien authority descended, instantly overriding and suffocating the surrounding laws of space. Gozanthia’s black light struck the void and fizzled out, not even producing a spark.

In that freezing moment of failure, the horrible realization dawned on her: she had picked a fight with an apex predator. But by the time the thought formed, it was already far too late.