Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1350 The Burden of Survival

Titanion Realm: The Human Kingdom

The path of commerce was paved with suffering.

The trade relationship between the Human Kingdom and the Stoneheart Horde had been forged from nothing.

Ever since the era of Torin, beginning with the fortification of Highbird City on the Kingdom's frontier, this trade route had served as a focal point for endless strife. During those early years, merchant caravans were forced to traverse the deadly territories of savage Ogres just to reach the lands of the Stoneheart.

In that period, only the most reckless merchants and the most battle-hardened Mercenary Corps dared to travel that road.

In the present day, the trade route was no longer haunted by the chaotic savagery of Ogre Tribes. Instead, it was being choked by the cold, bureaucratic greed of the Blood Elves.

While the frequency of slaughter had lessened, the expense of doing business had reached staggering heights. Every caravan and Mercenary Corps crossing through Blood Elf domains had to pay a heavy price in gold for safe passage. The Elves had shed a great deal of blood to seize these lands, and they had no intention of allowing anyone—be it from the Human Kingdom or the Stoneheart Horde—to pass without paying.

However, paying the fee was no promise of safety.

The trade route remained a tomb for the inattentive. It was a journey undertaken by desperate men living on the brink of death, a path swarming with bandits and famished predators waiting for a single lapse in vigilance.

Under the burning intensity of the sun, clouds of dust rose into the sky, signaling the approach of a caravan.

Draft horses moved forward with heavy, rhythmic strides, pulling wagons that creaked under the weight of merchandise from the Human Kingdom. At the center of the convoy rolled a carriage that was as luxurious as it was defensible. Two massive crossbows, engraved with glowing magical runes, were fixed to the back, aimed toward the forest. Two squads of veteran guards circled the vehicle without pause, their eyes scanning the surroundings.

The individual inside was clearly a figure of great status.

“Edwin, are we still within the borders of the Kingdom?”

Marquess Roderic was the eldest son of Grand Duke Richard, the man responsible for brokering the trade agreements with the Stoneheart Horde. This was not the first time Roderic had traveled to the Horde's territory, yet the atmosphere felt more suffocating this time.

He was filled with agitation. The beautiful vistas that usually charmed travelers now only served to intensify his dread.

“My Lord, at our current speed, we are three days away from Soaring Bird City,” Edwin answered smoothly. “If the travel is wearing on you, we can rest there for a few days before continuing.”

Edwin served as a senior handler for the Golden Apple Chamber of Commerce, the merchant organization supported by Grand Duke Richard. To him, Roderic was more than just a nobleman; he represented the future of the firm. His voice carried a tone of perfectly practiced respect.

“Three days?” Roderic scowled, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “That is far too long.”

Edwin hid his amazement. In his expert view, they were making fantastic progress. The carriage was drawn by blood-crossed stallions—creatures of magical descent bred for stamina and velocity. They were moving at a lightning pace compared to a typical convoy.

“My Lord,” Edwin asked with caution, “is there some urgent matter?”

He only inquired because Roderic’s tension was filling the carriage like thick smoke. But Roderic, currently a mass of raw nerves, snapped his head toward him, his eyes narrowing sharply.

Edwin’s heart hammered against his ribs. He had crossed a line.

“Forgive me,” Edwin said swiftly, lowering his head.

“That is not your concern,” Roderic stated, turning his gaze away. He was aware of Edwin’s loyalty—the magical contracts guaranteed it—but terror made men lose their patience.

“I only ask because your distress is visible, My Lord. It worries me.”

Roderic let out a slow breath, forcing the stiffness from his frame. He adjusted his expression, putting on the mask of a bored aristocrat once again. “We are transporting a massive shipment of rare goods. Perhaps I am simply overthinking our security.”

It was a believable deception. As a manager, Edwin knew the cargo was worth a king's ransom. He nodded and chose to remain silent.

Roderic looked out the window. The passing woods seemed more ominous than usual, the darkness between the trunks suggesting hidden monsters.

His thoughts returned to the private talk in his father’s study before they left.

“The Giant King has ascended. He is a Demigod now,” Grand Duke Richard had declared, his voice heavy. “His radiance reaches every corner of the continent. Roderic, you will represent our house. You will offer him a tribute worthy of his new rank.”

That was the public narrative. That was why the mercenaries were in high spirits—they were part of a legendary diplomatic mission to a new Demigod.

But Roderic’s gut twisted because of the second thing his father had revealed. The secret that filled him with horror.

The rise of the Giant King was the positive news. The negative news was a nightmare that was beginning to circulate among the highest circles of the Titanion Realm.

Their world had been breached. An invasion from a different plane was coming. A war between worlds could break out at any moment.

This wasn’t a business trip; it was a flight to safety. The security of the Kingdom was nothing but an illusion.

“Roderic, you are my firstborn. By right, you should stay and inherit my title,” the Duke had said, his face showing a father’s desperation. “But we cannot risk extinction. When the war begins, the safest location on the Utessar continent will not be the Human Kingdom, nor the Dragon lands. It will be Stoneheart City.”

“The Giant King is there. A Demigod can shield you. Take a portion of the family fortune. Go there. Survive. Ensure our bloodline persists.”

He was being sent away. A seed cast into safer soil. Roderic wasn’t merely looking for profit; he was looking for refuge.

Is our future truly with the Stoneheart Horde? he pondered. Can we truly—

Hiss… Hiss…

His train of thought was broken by a sharp, whistling sound coming from the thick woods lining the road.

Before Roderic could respond, the brush exploded. Dozens of long, snake-like shadows flew from the trees like living projectiles.

They were segmented, worm-like beasts, each over six feet long and protected by chitinous plates. They leaped into the air, their spines standing tall and their jaws opening to reveal rows of needle-like teeth.

They crashed into the convoy, striking directly at the necks and faces of the guards and mercenaries.

Panic erupted immediately. The sheer scale of the ambush sent the formation into disarray.

However, the guards were veterans of the trade route. After the initial surprise, their training took over. Swords flashed, and shields were raised into position.

Despite their aggression, the worm-beasts were weak. They were biologically similar to low-tier creatures—lethal to a peasant, but little more than fodder for trained warriors. The mercenaries reorganized and launched a counter-strike, cutting the creatures into pieces in a shower of dark fluid.

Within moments, the road was covered in twitching, segmented remains.

“My Lord, we’re clear,” the captain of the guard shouted, cleaning green slime from his sword. “It wasn't a beast tide. Just a swarm of Thorn-Worms. The vibrations of the wagons must have agitated them.”