Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1332 New title

"You are of my blood. Aiding you was simply my duty."

Orion stood frozen, completely stunned by Kaidric's sudden claim.

When did I become his relative? Orion’s thoughts spun wildly. Was there a hidden Titan heritage he didn't know about? Or did the ruler truly perceive this Deathly Soul-Reaper form as Orion's actual physical self?

Sensing the confusion, the Commander stepped forward to provide an explanation.

"It is a fundamental law of the Death-Soul race," the Commander stated in a hushed tone. "To inhabit the shell is to take on the lineage. You might not have asked for it, but according to their ancient traditions, you are now recognized as one of their own."

To Orion, such a concept felt bizarre. In any other world, hijacking a body was a violation that sparked blood feuds. Yet here, it was treated as a form of adoption.

"My friend," Kaidric’s booming voice resonated from beyond the singularity, interrupting Orion's silent contemplation. "Surely you didn't disturb my rest just to lecture him on our cultural history?"

Though Kaidric didn't go into detail, the meaning was obvious. Death-Souls emerged from those who had fallen. Since the original owner of this Deathly Soul-Reaper vessel had surrendered their birthright and identity, Orion had effectively inherited it.

"Since he is now your kinsman," the Commander remarked casually, "you should find a chance to permit him entry into the Death-Soul Nexus."

"Do not worry," Kaidric answered, his ghostly eyes shifting to pin Orion in place. "He possesses more than enough potential."

Being scrutinized by an Abyssal Ruler was an agonizing experience. Despite his recent breakthrough to the Demigod realm, Orion felt an instinctive shiver run down his spine—a biological alarm warning him of a superior predator.

"I have faith in your judgment, my friend," Kaidric added, his voice sounding like the heavy grinding of boulders. "However, your recommendation alone isn't enough to grant him access to the Nexus. To be honest, I didn't see anything particularly impressive when the rift first opened."

It was a logical conclusion. When the Commander had forced the void gate open, Orion had instinctively masked his presence as a survival mechanism. Distorted by the gravitational pull of the black hole, Kaidric hadn't been able to gauge his true power.

"Nevertheless," Kaidric rumbled, "I shall grant him the opportunity to earn his place."

A small object flew out from the churning shadows of the rift. It was a token crafted from emerald-colored bone, fashioned into the likeness of a wailing skull. It flew across the spatial gap and landed with a heavy THUD in Orion's hand.

The Commander gave a small shrug, appearing unconcerned, though a hint of satisfaction danced in his gaze.

"If our business is concluded, I must return to my rest," Kaidric murmured, his voice thick with fatigue. "A decade of relentless warfare has drained me."

It was clear that manifesting the skull token across different dimensions had consumed a massive portion of Kaidric's remaining divine power.

"Go and rest," the Commander said with a nod. "Once you awaken, I shall bring this disciple to visit your people."

"Excellent. I shall wait for that day."

The massive eyes within the void slowly closed. The spatial passage shuddered before dissolving into a fine mist.

Once the ripples in space had calmed, Orion looked at the Commander while holding the green bone skull.

"That is the mark of the Death-Soul race," the Commander explained. "Think of it as your key to the Death-Soul Nexus. Because you inhabit that vessel, you have the right to visit their sacred lands to refine the rank and strength of your avatar."

"A Demigod-level avatar of the Death-Soul race..." The Commander trailed off, a smile forming on his lips. "That alone is sufficient to guarantee your survival within the Abyssal World."

Survival? Orion looked down at the sigil. That was an understatement. With such power, he wouldn't just be surviving; he would be a force to be reckoned with. Unless he went out of his way to provoke a high-tier Abyssal Lord or committed an act of extreme stupidity, no one in the Sixth Abyss—or the realms above—would dare cross him.

This was a monumental gift. At their level of power, mundane weapons were meaningless. However, a clear path toward further evolution was beyond price.

"I am in your debt," Orion said with deep sincerity. This wasn't his first expression of gratitude, but the weight of the favor was immense.

"It is a minor thing," the Commander said, waving it off. "You earned this because you were qualified. Had it been Leonidas or any of the others, this chance wouldn't have even been on the table."

The Commander remained as composed as a quiet pond. "I know you have questions. But first, examine your status interface. We will talk after."

Orion nodded in agreement. He expected that becoming a Demigod would change his stats, but the reality was far more shocking than he anticipated.

He summoned the interface, and his eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"The information... it's all gone?"

He wasn't referring to the screen itself, but the data it held. The numerical values he had tracked for years—Strength, Agility, Intelligence, and his various skill trees—had been wiped clean. It resembled a corrupted system file. The only things remaining were a few glowing Titles set against a void of nothingness.

"It hasn't vanished," the Commander said, pulling out two drinking horns and tossing one toward Orion. "It has simply become obsolete."

He took a deep, refreshing drink. "For us Survivors, once we attain the rank of Arch Lord, numbers lose their relevance. The interface is no longer capable of quantifying our existence. It lacks the depth required to guide us further."

He wiped his lips. "Consider this: can a basic integer truly represent your current divine power? Can a simple number capture the complexity of your martial skill now?"

Orion stared at the blank space where his techniques used to be listed. "So, my powers... the faith I have accumulated... the system can no longer register them?"

"Precisely." The Commander’s tone turned reflective. "The interface and the data were merely training wheels provided by the Survivor's Platform. They existed to help us grasp our development, turning our evolution into a game so our human minds could handle the transition."

Orion had long suspected this truth, yet hearing it confirmed felt as though the very foundations of his reality had shifted.

"Where do I go from here?" Orion asked, gesturing to the nearly empty display. "If the data was my map, what do these remaining Titles signify?"

"Now?" The Commander pointed toward Orion. "The Titles are everything. They are your identity. Your rank in the cosmos."

Orion fell silent, his thoughts wandering back—to his old life, his rebirth, his awakening, and every brutal conflict he had endured.

"The title [Survivors]..." Orion whispered as the truth dawned on him. "It’s a form of citizenship. A passport. It’s the sole reason this reality recognizes that we exist."

The Commander’s eyes sparkled with genuine respect. He gave a slow nod. "Exactly."

Everything began to make sense. If [Survivors] functioned as his identification, then [Giant King] was his record of achievement—his proof of dominion. It was the authority he had carved out from the Giant tribes through sheer force. It was a universal recognition of his right to rule.

That meant his third title—the one he had just acquired—represented a completely different echelon of existence.