Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1555: Sylvie, the Little Fawn

An Uncharted Realm. The Whispering Woods.

"Your Highness, this is no ordinary fawn."

Deep within a cavern hidden in the forest, the Gnoll Wepwawet strode in, dragging a tightly bound white deer by a thick rope. He approached Pallas, offering the prize to his Giant Prince.

"Not an ordinary fawn?" Pallas lounged lazily beside a crackling campfire deep inside the cave, barely lifting his eyes to inspect the white deer dangling from Wepwawet’s grip. "What, does white venison just taste better?"

"Heh heh... She’s different, Your Highness. When I caught her last night, she was a beautiful young maiden!"

A maiden? A white deer?

Pallas’s eyes instantly lit up. He and his royal guard had descended upon this alien world as the vanguard. Aside from securing a location to plant the ward-activator, their mission was to gather intelligence and subjugate the locals. This realm had been marked by the Platinum Authority. Everything here was destined to belong to the organization.

"Could she be from that elusive Spirit-Deer Tribe?"

It was obvious Pallas’s interest was piqued. He pushed himself up to his feet and snatched the white deer from the Gnoll’s grasp. The deer wasn’t actually small, but held in the hands of a Giant, it truly looked like a fragile little fawn.

"From now on, you’re my little fawn."

Pallas snapped the ropes binding her and cradled the beast in the palm of his massive hand, lowering his head to meet those wide, timid, and terrified eyes.

"Rumor has it the people of the Spirit-Deer Horde take the form of beasts by day and only return to their human shape at night. I wonder if it’s actually true."

In truth, Wepwawet had already given him the answer. It wasn’t that Pallas doubted the Gnoll; he simply wanted to see it for himself, right from the creature in his hands. Pallas stared intently at the deer, which had curled into a tight, violently trembling ball in his palm.

"Wepwawet, this is my fawn!" Pallas chided. "You absolutely cannot eat her. Look, you’ve terrified the poor thing!"

Having satisfied his curiosity for the moment, Pallas sat back down by the fire. He tucked the deer against his chest, petting its back as if it were a loyal hound. Her coat was incredibly soft, radiating a comforting warmth. It was incredibly soothing. Stroking the velvety fur, Pallas’s eyes grew heavy, and he soon drifted into a light doze.

Night fell swiftly.

As the evening breeze swept into the cavern, carrying with it a few glowing, firefly-like insects that cast a soft blue light, the white deer—held tight in Pallas’s embrace and too terrified to move—finally dared to relax her muscles.

A faint, emerald light began to ripple across her coat. Two breaths later, the white deer melted away, replaced by a young maiden draped in pale, gossamer fabrics, adorned with delicate trinkets woven from leaves and feathers.

Sylvie’s eyes fluttered open. She craned her neck, trying to get a look at the massive stranger holding her hostage. It was the dead of night—the Hour of Stillness. This was her absolute best chance to escape.

She pressed her small hands against Pallas’s heavily muscled chest, desperately trying to pry herself out of his suffocating, intimate grip. Unfortunately, it was useless. Pallas had her locked in a vice. Since brute force was out of the question, she had to call for backup.

Sylvie reached up, plucking a single green leaf from her hair. With a soft exhale, she blew it toward the cave entrance, sending it drifting into the night.

Just as she let out a quiet sigh of relief, Pallas’s voice rumbled right next to her ear.

"Sending a message, are we?"

"Eep!" Sylvie was naturally skittish. The sudden, booming voice sent a violent jolt through her entire body.

For a split second, she completely lost control of her limbs, paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of danger. It was a berserk, dark, and bloodthirsty aura. It felt purely evil, like a Demon crawling straight out of the abyss.

Then, the pressure returned. Her petite frame was once again enveloped by a pair of massive hands, locking her down completely, as if he were terrified she might vanish into thin air.

"It really is a maiden!" Pallas marveled. "Emerald eyes, cute little deer ears, twin braids, and cherry-red lips... Wepwawet, this is a fantastic gift!"

The campfire crackled and popped beside them. The dancing flames reflected in Pallas’s eyes, illuminating the sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl trapped in his arms. She wore a pale underskirt paired with an outer tunic of soft animal hide. She was remarkably petite and adorable, possessing an almost ethereal, otherworldly grace.

"You’re my little fawn!" Pallas declared. "You can’t run away. It’s dangerous out there!"

His massive hands squeezed tighter, shifting from a firm embrace to a suffocating bear hug.

"Cough... cough..." The sheer pressure was too much. Panic set in as Sylvie began to suffocate, her small face flushing crimson as she fought for air.

Seeing her struggle, Pallas immediately loosened his grip.

"You are my fawn," he reiterated, easing off the pressure but maintaining his absolute claim over her.

In Pallas’s mind, anything given to him as a gift belonged to him unequivocally. It was a mindset ingrained in him since childhood, raised in the brutal environment of the Stoneheart Horde. If it fell into his hands, it was his property. That included the white deer—the delicate, adorable girl currently in his grasp.

With the deer transformed into a maiden, Pallas was completely wide awake. He stood up, hoisting Sylvie high into the air, his eyes brimming with absolute delight. If Elara had been there, she would have instantly recognized that Pallas was overwhelmingly satisfied with his new toy.

"What’s your name, little fawn?"

Sylvie was terrified of strangers. Dangling high in the air in the Giant’s grip, she felt a profound mix of primal terror and deep-seated shyness.

"Don’t be afraid. You’re my fawn now. No one is ever going to hurt you."

Spotting the stark terror in her eyes, Pallas gently set her back down. He reached into his robes and withdrew a vibrant, emerald-green leaf. Resting in its center was a single, crystal-clear drop of dew. Under Sylvie’s fearful yet curious gaze, Pallas let the Drop of Tranquility slide from the leaf, landing squarely on her forehead.

The very next second, all the negative, panicked emotions swirling in Sylvie’s mind were utterly banished. A profound sense of peace washed over her, grounding her completely.

"My name is Sylvie!" she announced, staring up at Pallas. Her eyes were now filled with a mix of confusion and wonder. The moment that miraculous dewdrop touched her brow, her instinctual fear of the massive stranger had completely evaporated.

"Heh. I’m Pallas!" the Giant grinned. "I’m your master, and you’re my little fawn!"

Sylvie’s eyes went wide. She stared at Pallas as if he were a complete idiot. "Are you always this overbearing?"

Stripped of her paralyzing fear, her true personality began to shine through. She no longer spoke in a timid whisper, simply blurting out exactly what was on her mind.

"Overbearing?" Pallas chuckled, flashing a toothy grin. He wasn’t stupid; he could guess exactly what she was thinking. "Not at all!"

"You were Wepwawet’s prey, and Wepwawet offered you to me. Ergo, you are my fawn." He offered the simple logic before reaching out and hoisting her into the air once more, inspecting her with dead-serious scrutiny.

"I am a Spirit-Deer, not a fawn!" Sylvie protested, looking down to meet his gaze. She felt remarkably safe; she couldn’t detect even a sliver of malice radiating from him.

"Hahaha! Spirit-Deer, fawn—it makes no difference! You’re my little fawn!"