Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1435 Father's Pride

Dirtclaw stood up from his chair.

Even now, his massive build overshadowed his sons, throwing a deep shadow across their forms. He moved around Anubis and Wepwawet with deliberate steps, stalking like a hunter weighing its attack, or maybe... holding back.

"Gustalon, what's your take on these two young ones?"

Dirtclaw kept his gaze away from his companion, yet the query aimed straight at the elemental lounging close by. "Can they make it to Legendary rank by themselves?"

Indecision gripped Dirtclaw tightly, so he turned to Gustalon, the one he'd hauled in for some ale.

Achieving Lord rank independently involved forming a Lord's Stone without any outside help.

By all reason, Anubis and Wepwawet came into the world after Dirtclaw's shift to a Hell-Drake Hound. Their hidden talents surpassed those of nearly every youngling in the Stoneheart Horde. Dirtclaw held great expectations for them.

While he'd opted to leave the Hell-Drake route behind for the Titan lineage, he couldn't impose that on his boys. They weren't him. Their boundaries remained unknown to him, and he dreaded a call that might stifle their growth.

"I'm not sure," Gustalon replied, his shape flickering faintly like air trapped in glass. "But it'd probably be extremely tough."

He offered no clear yes or no on the matter.

As an elemental being, Gustalon hadn't formed a Lord's Stone the usual way, making the challenge feel distant to him. Plus, Dirtclaw failed to grasp that entities like Gustalon and Lumi stood apart. For them, "forming" a stone didn't apply; they embodied it. An elemental's progress linked to knowledge and trials, not innate gifts.

"I think," Gustalon went on, "letting them follow their hearts is the right path."

Dirtclaw's gaze brightened.

He whirled to confront his sons, his face hardening into severity.

"Anubis. Wepwawet. Speak up. What's your decision?"

No longer mere cubs, they stood as grown warriors. Their thoughts were their own, even if they'd stayed quiet to honor their father's deep contemplation.

"Father, there's no real decision here," Anubis declared.

His words surprised both Dirtclaw and Gustalon.

"The Princess holds great power, doesn't she?" Anubis pressed on, his tone firm. "I'd bet she's mightier than you and Gustalon combined."

Silence enveloped Dirtclaw and Gustalon.

Elara ranked as an Archlord. Outsiders to the core group might remain unaware, but Dirtclaw knew full well.

"If the Princess herself yearns for His Majesty's bloodline, how bold would we be to pick another way?" Anubis questioned. "Father, we aim to tread in His Majesty's path. To achieve that, we must keep pace with the clan."

He drew himself taller. "Anubis leads his peers. I do so now, and I will forever."

Anubis served as Elara's attendant—a role Dirtclaw had arranged himself. From youth, Anubis trailed Elara more than he lingered at home. Thus, Elara shared much with him openly.

Anubis had observed her in battle. He'd witnessed her transform into the four-headed, eight-armed Titan shape and thrash Pallas until the Prince begged for relief. He'd endured the overwhelming force of her Archlord presence.

Wepwawet, bound to Pallas as his follower, had beheld it as well—often sprawled on the ground, crushed by the aura, while Anubis, protected by his loyalty, stayed upright.

After beholding the Stoneheart Titan's raw might, the notion of "choice" struck them as absurd. Only their father wavered.

On top of that, Anubis had gotten a subtle nudge from Elara: he'd join the assault on the foreign realm. The triumphs he'd longed for lay close at hand. Recently, he'd pushed his training with wild fervor.

Dirtclaw gazed at them intently.

He regarded the pair of sons who filled him with the most pride, and briefly, they seemed both close and oddly distant.

"If that's how it is... then leave my presence!"

The phrase struggled out after a heavy pause, past the knot in his voice.

Anubis and Wepwawet offered bows to their father and Gustalon, then departed the grand chamber.

Dirtclaw slumped into his seat once more. He seized a jug of wine and emptied it in a single, endless gulp. As he swabbed his lips, he uttered words that left Gustalon completely puzzled.

"Brother Gustalon, have you seen it... we're starting to age."

"The youngsters... their minds race way beyond ours."

"Heh..."

Though Dirtclaw wore a forced, wry grin, Gustalon caught the thread of satisfaction woven into the chuckle.

"Your life force burns brighter than before. I detect no trace of decline," Gustalon stated plainly. "And the young having their views— is that odd?"

Gustalon lacked offspring or a mate. He sensed the feeling in Dirtclaw's tone, yet couldn't grasp the mix of sorrow and joy from seeing your young outpace you.

It wasn't Dirtclaw's form that had worn down; it was his outlook. Or better said, the gap between his careful insight and their bold drive left him feeling outdated.

"No, not odd. Far from it!"

"It's truly... a fine thing."

Dirtclaw reclined, his eyes wandering out the wide entrance to the yard outside. His lips twitched up, more and more, until a broad, pure smugness spread across his face.

Long before, he'd dispatched Anubis and Wepwawet to attend the royal heirs, seeking just to grant them access to riches and a shield in politics. He'd wished for them to thrive near authority.

He never anticipated they'd claim something infinitely greater.

Insight.

That stood as Dirtclaw's supreme treasure. Maybe from their worldly encounters, but Anubis and Wepwawet wielded a foresight that dwarfed Dirtclaw's own at their years.

"Damn it all," he grumbled with glee. "Back when I was their age, I scrapped for bits with feral wolves in Thunderwood Forest!"

"No matching them. Absolutely can't!"

In mere lines, Anubis revealed insight, discernment, and drive beyond Dirtclaw's boldest dreams.

Intelligence. Foresight. Power. Anubis owned them wholly.

That was his boy!

And Wepwawet matched him step for step. A twin triumph.

Dirtclaw sensed he'd struck life's grandest prize.

"You appear... quite pleased?" Gustalon tilted his form, the breeze murmuring that the elation pouring from Dirtclaw outshone even his rise to Legendary rank.

"Thrilled beyond words!"

"Brother Gustalon, have you felt it?" Dirtclaw beamed, waving loosely at nothing. "The breeze in Blackstone City carries a touch more warmth right now."

Gustalon remained still in his spot.

He embodied the wind itself. Did Dirtclaw truly believe he understood it more?

Outlandish.

Yet... as Dirtclaw voiced it, the idea rang utterly real.