Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1424 Shepherd of Men

"Battles over territory and bare existence can't be avoided on a fresh continent. Conflict will trail us everywhere."

King Harold gazed into the shadowy skyline, his words burdened by ominous foresight.

"I'm unsure if I can guide our folk to recapture the splendor we knew on Utessar. We could soar even greater, or vanish into oblivion. By remaining here, you secure a backup for the royal lineage. We're not risking everything on a single gamble."

Out of all his offspring, Theodore alone possessed the toughness to forge a realm from scratch. He stood as the sole one capable of enduring without the crown's protection.

"In three days," Harold went on, his voice turning firm, "I'll release an Imperial Decree. I'm banishing the ordinary folk-the peasants, the displaced-driving them northward, straight to you. This marks the last kindness I can extend to them."

"I want you to care for them properly."

Harold struggled to maintain composure in his tone, concealing the torrent of remorse churning within.

Theodore's brow furrowed, the weight of those words striking him like a solid impact. "Can't the Saints shield them? Why force them into exile?"

"It's not that they lack the ability," Harold replied icily. "It's that they refuse to. The price isn't justified."

The King faced his son, gaze stern. "The supplies needed to shift millions of ordinary people could sustain a populace triple that number after we claim fresh territory. It's stark calculation, Theodore. If the crown rested on your head, what path would you take?"

Theodore grew quiet. He grasped the rationale of monarchs. Nobles and the mighty took precedence; safeguarding the essence came first. They were opting for the 'right' decision.

Yet abandoning their own subjects like worthless husks? It felt utterly ruthless.

"You couldn't make that call. And I... I wrestle with it myself," Harold exhaled, as if years had drained from him in one breath.

"Yet I can extend them a chance at life. As Humanity's King, this serves as my ultimate deed of duty."

Harold lifted his gaze, fixing it sharply on Theodore's.

"Me?" Theodore uttered a hollow, disbelieving chuckle. "Father, don't joke. I can't rescue them by myself."

"Not you," Harold denied with a shake of his head. He pivoted, jabbing a armored finger toward the Stoneheart Horde's domain. "You're just the Guide."

"The Guide?"

"Exactly."

Before Theodore could probe deeper, Harold unveiled the brutal truth. "Theodore, I'm proud of your determination to defend the Northern Bastion. In gentler times, you'd have made an exceptional King. You'd have granted us a thousand years of harmony."

It rang true. Theodore commanded his own strength, and via his Aunt Ava plus his cousin-the Giant Prince Kronos-he forged an unbreakable pact with the Stoneheart Horde. His rule would have stood firm.

"But the Cataclysm has arrived. The game has shifted."

Harold appeared exhausted. His years of scheming-his tolerance toward Ava, his outreach to the Stoneheart Horde-all converged on this one backup plan.

"You won't be able to defend the Northern Bastion indefinitely," Harold declared bluntly. "The forces bearing down on this realm have even the Ancestors in retreat. Your frame is too sturdy to yield, yet too inexperienced to shoulder the heavens."

Harold extended his arm, resting a firm palm on Theodore's shoulder guard.

"Once the commoners reach you, they turn into your bargaining chips. They become your advantage. At the proper moment, you'll guide them to the Stoneheart Horde. You'll employ them to bargain for improved odds of endurance."

"You grant the folk an opportunity to endure. You carve out a realm inside a realm for yourself."

"Theodore, this is my order. It's your obligation as a Prince."

Harold peered intently into his son's eyes. This offered the sole workable route. Theodore was the only human royal able to flourish amid the Stoneheart Horde's beasts. He had kin there. Acceptance awaited him.

Provided he avoided folly, Theodore would ascend once more.

"Swear it to me," Harold murmured. "Don't be overly rigid. Don't grip onto arrogance or honor. Starting today, you're no Prince anymore. You're a survivor."

It served as a caution. Harold recognized his son's pride as his chief flaw.

A prolonged quiet hung between them.

"If holding on grows impossible..." Theodore uttered at last, his tone a faint whisper. "I'll take that step."

Harold grinned. That response sufficed. Theodore valued the people. That devotion would propel him to the proper choice as the defenses started to fail.

"Accept this. It's the Kingdom's regret to its subjects."

Harold slipped a spatial bracelet from his wrist and placed it in Theodore's grasp. It brimmed with foodstuffs and provisions-sufficient to nourish troops, or an entire settlement

of displaced souls.

Next, the King started removing his armor. Section by section, he shed his regal plating and passed it to his son.

"Don't reject a weary father's concern. You require it far more than I."

Theodore remained rooted, gripping the weighty metal. A knot swelled in his throat,

scalding tears stinging the edges of his vision.

"Hold back the tears," Harold instructed gently, his figure dissolving into ethereal glow. "Never show weakness through weeping again."

The King disappeared.

Theodore lingered solitary on the rampart, gales whipping around him. He gnawed his lip

until blood welled, suppressing the sobs.

This marked the instant the youth perished, and the adult emerged.

Human Kingdom, Soaring Bird City.

Since Ava had guided most of the inhabitants northward to merge with the Stoneheart

Horde, Soaring Bird City had plunged into disorder.

Order had vanished, creating a void overrun by turmoil and depravity. The deserted quarters now harbored thieves, runaways, and fugitives. It lingered as a stopover for hired fighters and wanderers, but entry demanded strength to avoid a slit throat, or wealth

to cover the guard tolls.

"Father, is this Soaring Bird City?"

Within a rundown shelter, a young girl glanced from the pane, eyeing the wreckage her father had once described with deep respect.

But that was the former place.

The present city resembled a tomb for structure. Wails resounded along the avenues

each evening-a haunting dirge for the lost.

"Yes, this is it," her father breathed, drawing her from the view. "But the light has forsaken it."

"Rest now. At dawn, we journey north. We're bound for the Stoneheart Horde. We're heading to Stoneheart City."