Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1584: Consuming the Profane

The Cult of Four. Unknown Territory.

Inside a magnificent, colossal palace—a domain reserved only for those ranking above the Twelve Pontiffs—a man in a gold-trimmed white robe sat on the high seat. The mural behind him depicted the four gods cradling a holy flame. Dozens of devout believers knelt before the Pontiff, their auras thick and heavy with power.

"Merciful Four Gods, we thank you for bestowing Divine Art and power upon your humble servants," the congregation chanted. "May your divine light grace the mortal realm eternally. We shall guard your gifts with absolute devotion and boundless courage. May your light guide our every day..."

When the prayers finally concluded, the cultists filed out. Only one woman in a sheer white robe remained, her gaze locked onto the Pontiff still basking in the residual faith of his flock.

"I can feel it. You’ve grown stronger again," the woman said. Her voice was as clear as moonlight, carrying a cold, holy resonance.

"You want to go to the Titanion Realm?" The Pontiff ceased his silent prayers, smoothed his robes, and stared down at her with absolute authority. "Looking for a chance to ascend in the chaos?"

"I suggest you stay put. The Titanion Realm is undoubtedly crawling with Alexander’s eyes right now," he continued. "Show even a hint of your presence, and you’ll be obliterated on the spot."

Anyone familiar with Alexander’s methods knew exactly who was speaking in this palace: Clown and Witch.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," Clown warned. "The Order has massive plans for the Titanion Realm. Do nothing that might invite trouble. Otherwise, if I don’t kill you, the zealots in the Inquisition will. And being hunted by The Order is far worse than being hunted by our old friends."

Clown understood Witch’s desperation. She wasn’t a demigod yet, and her standing within the Cult of Four was precarious. She lacked security. In this current climate, she desperately needed to ascend; she needed the power to stand her ground against old enemies like Leonidas and Alexander.

"What exactly are you people doing?" Witch demanded, staring him down. She desperately needed the intelligence Clown possessed as a Pontiff. Without it, she would just be swept along by the current, doomed to become cannon fodder.

"What am I doing? Hmph." Clown scoffed, a dark, cryptic mockery lacing his tone. It was hard to tell if he was mocking her or himself.

"Don’t overestimate the power of a Pontiff," he said. "Above me sit the four Archbishops. The true core secrets and absolute authority of the Cult of Four rest solely in their hands. Some things we won’t know until the axe is already falling."

Clown lifted his chin, shooting Witch a look of pure disdain. He wasn’t looking down on the woman herself, but rather the fact that the figure before him wasn’t the real Witch. It was a mere puppet. Not even a true avatar. Her excessive caution was a blatant display of her distrust in him.

"Fine. I’m leaving," Witch said, realizing she wouldn’t squeeze any real intel out of him. "Contact me on the Survivor’s Platform if anything comes up."

She turned to leave, but Clown had no intention of letting her walk away so easily.

"Witch, it’s been ages since we relaxed together. Why don’t you stay and keep me company?"

He phrased it as a request, but the moment the words left his mouth, Clown reached out and clawed at the empty air. Invisible force clamped down on Witch, dragging her backward into his embrace.

"We’re friends. Teammates. There’s no need to fear me..."

Before he could finish the sentence, the woman in his grip stiffened, reverting into a lifeless, rigid corpse.

Clown sighed, all the amusement draining from his face. "Just a joke..."

But was it really? Only the gods knew.

Titanion Realm. The Northern Titan Continent.

Within the massive crater where the insectoid demigod Abaddon and Moniq had originally lured Orion into their trap, a lone figure stood casting spells.

Moniq stared at the colossal, cocoon-like seal crawling with insectoid runes. An inexplicable sense of dread gripped her chest. The last time she felt this kind of visceral panic, she hadn’t even ascended to a demigod yet; she had been an Arch Lord leading her swarm into a foreign world against terrifying odds.

Why is my heart racing? Did something happen to Abaddon inside the seal? Impossible. Even if Abaddon dies in battle, Her Majesty the Insect Queen can resurrect him. Is the giant demigod breaking out?

Moniq couldn’t understand it. She was actively maintaining the seal. If Orion made even the slightest move inside, she would feel it immediately. The fact that she sensed absolutely no anomalies, yet felt such overwhelming terror, was exactly the problem.

Before she could piece the puzzle together, a pitch-black abyss ripped open beneath her feet. A monstrous, shadowy claw shot out, latching onto her and dragging her straight down.

"What—"

Her scream was cut violently short.

With Orion operating it at maximum capacity, the Divine Kingdom instantly ground Moniq to dust. The insectoid demigod was violently converted into a torrent of pure faith energy, pouring directly into the Stoneheart Temple.

Moments later, Orion materialized in the center of the crater. He looked up, his gaze locking onto the Planetary Hive hovering in the upper atmosphere.

Simultaneously, Orion’s demigod aura erupted, sweeping across the Titan Continent and surging through the entire Titanion Realm.

It was a declaration. The Giant King had returned.

In that exact moment, from Blackstone City in the north to Stoneheart City in the south, every single member of the Stoneheart Horde felt his boundless, crushing presence.

"The glory of my lord remains!"

"Giant King!"

"Long live the Chieftain!"

"We live and die with the Chieftain! To the ends of the earth!"

Cheers, prayers, wild laughter, and primal roars echoed across the continent. Orion’s reappearance on the front lines sent the Stoneheart Horde’s morale skyrocketing into the stratosphere.

Naturally, his arrival was also a lethal warning to the rats hiding in the dark.

In an instant, several faint demigod signatures stealthily observing the Titan Continent were utterly obliterated by his sweeping aura.

The pressure Orion unleashed was far beyond the scope of a First or Second-Stage demigod. Sweeping over the land like a tidal wave, his aura violently crushed every hidden demigod phantom and spy that failed to escape in time.

Orion’s intent was absolute. He had emerged to purge the continent. Every heretic had to die. Every external threat had to be erased.

Screeeech!

A long, piercing insectoid cry echoed from the Planetary Hive, rippling down through The Weave of Reality to ring directly in Orion’s ears.

Orion stared into the void, locking onto the phantom manifesting within The Currents of Reality. It was Insect Queen Moriphara. She was issuing a challenge.

"You think I’m afraid to fight?"

ROAR! Orion bellowed his response, refusing to back down. His body violently expanded and warped, taking on his ultimate combat form: four heads and eight arms. The demigod pressure crushing the world tripled in an instant.

"This aura... a Fourth-Stage demigod?!"

"Dammit! Who supplied this intel? Who said this native was only at the first stage?!"

"How is this possible?!"

"Run! This entire realm is a rigged death trap! It’s a meat grinder!"

As Orion finally stopped hiding his true power, the opportunistic scavengers and hidden observers scattered across the realm panicked. Some frowned in deep contemplation, while others instantly teleported away, abandoning the realm entirely. Regardless of their faction, Orion’s sheer power terrified them.

Even Seraphina, currently hovering above Stoneheart City and shielding the populace with her divine power, watched the Giant King with rapt attention.

"Such a captivating little man," she murmured, a proud smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched him march into the sky.

High above the northern crater. One step, one heaven.

Orion’s hair whipped wildly in the gale as he ascended. With every step he took, his physical form expanded tenfold. By the time he stood suspended in the upper atmosphere, his towering physique stretched tens of thousands of feet into the sky.

"You wanted to fight me in the heavens? I accept!"

"You wanted me to integrate into The Weave of Reality? I accept!"

Orion’s booming voice shook the heavens and the earth. He pulled out the Fel Fruit delivered by Vaelian and swallowed it whole.

A monstrous tide of profane energy flooded his veins, violently resonating with The Chapter of the Profane anchored within him. A bizarre, conceptual mutation began to take hold. Slowly, inch by inch, his colossal physical body began to turn ethereal.

"You oppose me. You scheme against me."

As his physical form fully phased into a conceptual existence, Orion’s low, freezing voice echoed across the realm one last time, sounding like the harbinger of a divine plague.

"Let’s see if you can withstand my wrath."

Everyone listening knew the truth. Giant King Orion was truly, finally, furious.