Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1602: A Realm Without Limits

"Since the world went silent, things have definitely changed behind closed doors," Nivarus continued. "I’d bet my life the Horde’s laws and regulations are going to shift with it. But because we’re right here in Stoneheart City, Progenitors, the second the Horde releases any new edicts, we’ll be the first to know."

That was the advantage of proximity—and the entire reason he had sunk his savings into property within the Stoneheart Horde to begin with.

"If what Nivarus says is true, the Titan Continent is perfect for our second stronghold," another Progenitor murmured. "The Stoneheart Horde’s terms are lenient. Give it time, and this place might even become our primary home."

The final Progenitor of The Clay-bound slowly opened his eyes. He was the strongest among them, standing at the absolute peak of the Arch Lord tier, hoarding his strength to make a push for the demigod realm.

"I just probed the foundational laws," he rumbled. "The ruler of this world hasn’t locked them down. This realm actually permits an Arch Lord to ascend to a demigod."

The room erupted. The Clay-bound powerhouses shot to their feet, staring at the final Progenitor in sheer disbelief. In their home world, the birth of a demigod was fundamentally impossible. The ruler of that realm hoarded the world’s power, stunting the growth of other races to ensure no one could ever rival him, let alone surpass him.

"Initiate the migration protocol," the final Progenitor ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Leave the old and crippled behind. Bring only the most gifted children. Stretch the timeline out so the ruling race doesn’t catch on."

"Once I ascend to demigod, we’ll finally have the leverage to negotiate with them. Then, and only then, will The Clay-bound dictate our own future." His absolute power as a peak Arch Lord was why he didn’t need a consensus from the rest of the tribe.

"Nivarus, you know this place best. I hear giants are straight shooters. Grease some palms and make some genuine friends." A hardened pellet of clay materialized in the Progenitor’s hand, packed with rare treasures of the Clayfolk Race. "We don’t make any moves. We just listen for any news from the Stoneheart Horde that benefits us."

If they were going to put down roots on this continent, he wasn’t going to penny-pinch.

"Also, act as the Chieftain of the Clayfolk Race and request an official audience with the Stoneheart Horde’s leadership," the Progenitor added. "The Horde’s laws and lenient terms don’t matter. The only one who truly decides if we stay is the master of this continent."

The true master: Giant King Orion, the sovereign of the World Tree’s throne.

"It will be done, Progenitor." Nivarus bowed deeply. Sometimes, a race’s survival hinged entirely on the foresight of its leaders.

The Titan Continent. The Bastion of the West.

By the time Orion’s Death-Soul Fiend avatar arrived, the entire sky above The Bastion Wall had been swallowed by a colossal sword array.

Three thousand six hundred spatial rifts scarred the heavens. Lethal sword aura surged through the tears, ringing out with a chorus of draconic roars and singing steel. Orion could tell instantly: those rifts were slash marks left by Alexander, each one carrying the full weight of his most devastating strike.

What surprised Orion most was the longsword hidden in the void—Alexander’s true form, his natal blade. Anchoring the array with this sword magnified Alexander’s combat power tenfold.

The natal blade spun furiously counterclockwise. At its tip, a flicker of sword-fire burned, pulsing in and out of existence. Sparks splintered from the flame, raining down on the earth beyond The Bastion Wall. Geysers of magma erupted where they struck as Alexander carved out a second, equally lethal sword array.

The moment the array finalized, the blood-red longsword at the Death-Soul Fiend avatar’s waist began to hum, instinctively wanting to merge with the formation to amplify its destructive power. Orion brutally suppressed the blade’s primal urge. Forged by the Scourge Wardens, this sword was the ultimate symbol of his Authority and the command seal for their legion. It couldn’t be risked. It was the Death-Soul Fiend’s most vital possession.

"I originally planned to forge this stretch of The Bastion Wall into The Blade-Singing Bastion," Alexander said, his Asura avatar landing on the wall next to Orion. He looked visibly disappointed. "Unfortunately, I’m not strong enough to awaken its spirit and give it life."

"So, I had to settle for these two apocalyptic sword arrays. For now, no enemy is slipping into our territory unnoticed."

It was a genuine sore spot for the swordsman. If he had managed to forge The Blade-Singing Bastion and breathe life into The Bastion Wall, his power within the Titanion Realm would have shattered his current limits. Fighting opponents well above his tier wouldn’t just be a possibility; it would be a certainty.

"Was that sword-fire earlier?" Orion asked. He was far more interested in the flame than the arrays.

It was sword-fire, but it was also divine fire. To Orion, Alexander condensing divine fire meant he was already brushing up against the second-stage of the demigod realm. While Orion had been running himself ragged, Alexander had clearly been pushing his own limits to improve this fast.

"Yes, but it’s just a phantom for now," Alexander said, nodding to confirm the divine fire, but shaking his head to dismiss the idea that he had reached the second-stage.

"Congratulations are still in order, brother," Orion smiled. "It won’t be long before you officially step into the divine fire stage."

He wasn’t just being polite. Just like Leonidas, Alexander had been siphoning origin power ever since he was decreed as a guardian. World Essence was the ultimate cheat code for a demigod’s growth.

Alexander brushed off the praise. "Blade Hall has deployed our best assassins and scouts. Within three days, you’ll have comprehensive intel on everything within ten thousand miles." He tossed Orion a top-tier assassin’s token. A simple pulse of divine power would unlock the intelligence recorded inside.

"One of your subordinates arrived early. Go see him," Alexander said.

Before Orion could reply, the swordsman vaulted off The Bastion Wall, dropping to its foundation to carve more sword marks into the stone. He might not be able to forge The Blade-Singing Bastion yet, but he could lay the groundwork for the future.

Orion smiled and shook his head as he watched him work. It was rare to see Alexander so intensely focused.