Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1368 Dragon Rider’s Arrival

While Godfrey’s expression was a mask of strained bewilderment, Brundar’s features instantly brightened with realization. As soon as he pinpointed the origin of the disturbance, his fear transformed into a surge of pure adrenaline.

“The Raptor Cavalry Regiment?” Brundar gasped, his hands tightening around the stone battlements. “What brings them here?”

“Is this a siege? Are they coming for—”

Godfrey’s words were cut short. A high-pitched, ear-splitting shriek burst from the palace situated at the heart of Soaring Bird City.

A colossal Silver Dragon took flight from the palace courtyard, soaring in wide arcs above the urban spires. It let out a piercing warning, its aura erupting in a desperate attempt to cow the advancing army.

ROAR!

The answer from the horizon was swift and merciless. This second cry didn't just hurt the ears; it vibrated through the skeleton. It was a low, gravelly sound, dripping with ancient, primal malice.

“Did you hear that? That raspy, deep resonance... that is an Abyssal Dragon!”

Though Brundar was no scholar of draconic lore, being a descendant of the Stoneheart Horde meant the terrifying call of an Abyssal Dragon was woven into his very soul.

Among the Giant Tribes, subjugating such a creature was the pinnacle of prestige. Every young giant fantasized about the day they might form a bond with a war pet of such magnitude. They were raised on the legends of Orion and Xalathar, the icons who had transformed the Abyssal Dragon into a symbol of peerless talent and absolute dominance.

“Who is leading them?” Godfrey squinted, blocking the sun's glare with his hand.

“There are very few who ride an Abyssal while holding a command in Stoneheart City,” Brundar whispered, his thoughts spinning. “It has to be him. It must be Rolan.”

While many within the Horde possessed dragons, only a select few stood at the head of the elite Raptor Cavalry.

As the force crested the final ridge and approached the city fortifications, the identity of the leader became undeniable. Astride the monstrous beast sat a figure of imposing martial elegance, clutching a heavy trident. His stare burned like a torch, his very presence seizing control of the surrounding atmosphere.

It was the renowned Rolan of the Blood Trident.

The Raptor Cavalry pulled to a halt just beyond the range of archers. Rolan checked his mount, casting a cold, indifferent look at the Silver Dragon hovering above. He didn't brandish his weapon or shout a challenge. Instead, he projected his voice through a magical transmission sent straight to the palace—to Kronos and Ava.

Rolan leading this escort in person was a message far more potent than any war horn. It was an official proclamation from Lilith herself.

By dispatching one of the Horde’s premier champions, the Stoneheart hierarchy was publicly endorsing Ava. They were declaring to the world: She belongs to us. She has status.

Inside the palace walls, the weight of this realization hit Ava like a physical impact.

“Oh...”

Hearing Rolan’s message, Ava hid her face in her hands, her frame trembling as she collapsed into quiet, overwhelmed weeping.

Every soul on the continent recognized Rolan. Before the children of Orion had reached maturity, Rolan served as the Giant King’s own apprentice—the literal face of the Horde. His presence here, acting as her personal protector, was the equivalent of Orion himself standing before the nations to claim her. To a stranger, it was merely a high-level escort. But for Ava, who had spent years suffocating under a cloud of insecurity and the shame of being the “other woman,” this was her redemption.

The arrival of Rolan was a pillar of light that incinerated the shadows of her past. From this moment on, no one would view her with doubt or pity. They would look upon her with envy.

“Mother, it’s Rolan,” Kronos said softly, moving toward her. “He is a man of honor. A good man.”

Kronos was equally stunned. He hadn't anticipated that the Succubus matriarch—a woman he both feared and respected from afar—would send such a prestigious escort. It was a sign of genuine acceptance.

He pulled his mother into an embrace, allowing her to cry against his chest. He rubbed her back gently, his thoughts wandering to his youth.

He recalled the day he first departed for the Stoneheart Horde. Ava had stood outside Rose Manor, her hands shaking as she fixed his attire, repeating rules and cautions. In those days, her eyes were clouded with dread. She felt she was sending her son into a world where she didn't belong.

She had endured a lifetime waiting for this single moment of validation.

“Mother,” Kronos whispered, comforting her while maintaining a steady tone. “We cannot leave Rolan waiting. And the people of Soaring Bird City... they need you to guide them out. They need to see your strength.”

Ava drew a shaky breath. Wiping the moisture from her face, she looked up at her son, realizing she was no longer looking at a boy, but a sovereign.

My son has truly grown, she thought, a small, proud smile emerging through her tears.

***

In the far north, within Stoneheart City.

If Ava was a stormy sea of sentiment, Orion was the solid bedrock—unwavering and freezing.

Resting upon his throne, the Giant King slowly opened his eyes. Within his massive palm sat a solitary seed.

It was a [Bloodline Seed], an item Orion had obtained only moments ago from the Tower Defense World.

Orion moved the seed toward his finger, allowing a single drop of his golden-red blood to saturate it. If the seed he had cultivated to reach his Demigod rank was a [World Seed], then this object, nourished by his life essence, was a [Curse Seed].

Its function was not to create, but to defile.

Orion put the seed away and closed his eyes, sending his awareness into the Survivor’s Platform. He began a trade with Aina, transferring the item across the void between dimensions.

“Mister, what is this?” Aina’s voice resonated in his mind.

She could tell it was a [Bloodline Seed], yet the aura it emitted was distorted. It had been altered.

“This is a [Curse Seed], birthed from my own blood,” Orion stated, his mental voice cold and commanding. “Locate a secure, hidden spot and plant it. It will develop into a fruit-bearing tree.”

“And after that?”

“Once the tree produces fruit, give them to your people. Anyone who eats the fruit will be tainted by my bloodline,” Orion said. “They will surrender their free will and become fanatical zealots for your [Hellscream] faction.”

He withheld nothing. If Aina was to help him orchestrate the invasion of the Eldoria world, she needed to understand the power of such a weapon.

“You have such a wicked mind,” Aina answered. She didn't sound repulsed; she sounded exhilarated. “How are you so brilliant?”

Orion’s unconventional tactics for invasion never failed to shock and please her. The Hellscream faction was starving for soldiers, and she required a method to rapidly expand her influence.

“Once I plant the seed,” Aina asked with excitement, “does it require water? Fertilizer? How quickly will it grow?”

“Flesh and bone are its finest nutrients,” Orion answered, his voice as frigid as a tomb. “When the sprout emerges from the dirt, water it with fresh blood. Its growth will be incredibly fast.”