Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1449 Old Bones, New Blood

The journey to the Stoneheart Temple broke through boundaries for countless individuals. The populace had transformed; they now craved ambitions that soared loftier, tougher, and more distant.

The council session dragged on until the sun reached its peak at midday.

As the rest scattered, Dace headed toward the command chamber in the outer stronghold. He had taken up his role once more as the Head of the Guard.

Dace had now ascended to Legendary level as a warrior. Some might view resuming guard duties as a step down, yet for him, it represented a vocation surpassing any holy war. He served as Orion's protector. He remained the only one left from the initial guard.

Within the Stoneheart Horde, he held the title of First Sentinel. A heritage awaited his preservation.

Orion had entrusted him with a fresh mission: to shape the upcoming wave of defenders. In days to come, each Giant Prince would seek out Dace for an escort befitting their rank.

"Otho, Beyn, Torba... witness the Golden Age of the Stoneheart Horde."

To the vacant space, he uttered the names of those who had passed, paying tribute to the spirits that kept vigil alongside him.

Moonshadow Valley. The Mustering Grounds.

Elara positioned herself on the elevated reviewing stand. Ursa flanked her left side; Anubis stood to her right.

Upon learning that Elara planned to advance into a foreign realm, the Gnoll Anubis forsook his opportunity to access the Stoneheart Temple. He opted for the grime of combat over the splendor of rising higher.

Over the valley, Elara gazed. The armies formed up in flawless, fearsome ranks. A slight smile tugged at her lips. This scene had filled her dreams from childhood.

At this point, she began the muster call.

"Raptor Cavalry, one hundred thousand!"

Of course, the soldiers assembled in the valley didn't represent the entire might. They served as samples—a deadly display for the Commanders' evaluation. To unleash the full million-warrior host, Elara required Orion's Commander’s Token.

"Cave Spiders, including Broodmothers and their keepers... two hundred thousand!"

"Giant-blood Shock Troopers, ground assault squads... two hundred thousand!"

"Thunderstorm Bearmen Shield-Breakers..."

The Estate of the Grand Elder.

Once they departed the Horde Hall, Thundar trailed Rendall to his private domain—a vast, well-known tent reeking of aged hide and fumes.

"A fresh trial, huh, Grand Elder?"

Thundar lifted his wine flagon, letting out a deep sigh.

Rumors of the army's overhaul had reached his ears, yet he never anticipated the changes hitting so soon. He figured the shake-up would hold off until the Eldoria conquest concluded.

"What? Sensing the strain? Or merely worried you might lose your position as Cavalry Commander?"

Rendall swallowed a huge swig of liquor, brushing his lips with a pleased rumble prior to jabbing at his junior.

"The strain weighs heavy. But regarding the rank... truthfully, my drive for it isn't that strong."

Thundar shook his head. Serving as the Horde’s Battle Elder, the authority he wielded increasingly resembled a load too heavy for his frame.

"It's chaos," Thundar confessed, peering into his drink. "And way too many of them."

He snatched a chunk of roasted flesh that Rendall extended, ripping into it with his fangs.

"Wolf Cavalry, Raptor Cavalry, Flame-Tiger Cavalry, Cave Spider Riders, Scorpion Riders, Xenobeast Riders..."

Each chew brought forth another vexation from his lips.

"And that's only the land troops. The Air Corps? We've got Dragon Beasts, Thunderhawks, Ravens, Harpies, Vultures, Nightwings..."

"Then the Marine Cavalry. Half the mounts they use, I can't even name."

Thundar gulped down the bite and eyed his teacher.

"Grand Elder, take a good look at me. Do you honestly believe someone like me as Cavalry Commander can wrangle this madhouse? Prior to the Temple, I hadn't reached Legendary."

A harsh, mocking chuckle escaped him.

In his Alpha days, things stayed straightforward. Anything with four limbs and a harness fell under his rule. But these times? The elite squads, the war creatures, the mountsmen surpassing his might... they bowed only to sheer force.

Certain days left Thundar itching to issue commands yet clueless on how to begin.

"The Chief nailed it: 'When the will exceeds the grasp, and the wit fails the plot.' That described me perfectly."

Thundar sagged, drawing a deep draught of the scorching brew. Blame didn't fall on Orion. It landed squarely on himself—for his weakness, his dull mind, his failure to bear the Horde's weight.

"Hahaha! Thundar, are you ridiculing the fool I once was?"

Rendall's guffaw boomed, rowdy and utterly shameless.

"Old and worthless. Without Orion’s father showing mercy, I'd have been crow fodder ages back."

Rendall owned up to his former failings without shame. He admitted his timidity, the hopelessness that gripped him when his era seemed done. The turmoil Thundar faced today, Rendall had endured years before.

What set them apart: Rendall had crashed against his peak ability. Thundar merely collided with his own self-doubt.

"Thundar, the era has shifted!"

"Back in those rough times, the Stoneheart Horde lacked promise. We clung to strength and duties since nobody else could handle them."

"But glance about! Talent sparks in every clan's young one."

"Would you rather stand as the decayed log damming the stream? The senile has-been clutching a role beyond his reach?"

Thundar blinked in surprise. Briefly, he glimpsed the youthful Rendall—the fresh Alpha breakthrough, brash and blazing, set to raze the Black Forest.

"Thundar, what you're fretting over? It ain't an issue."

Rendall hoisted his cup. Thundar tapped his in response.

Fire scorched down with the drink, fierce and biting. It lifted the haze from Thundar’s thoughts.

"Thundar, your average Giant endures two hundred and fifty years."

"An Alpha endures three hundred and fifty."

"A Legend? At least five hundred ahead."

Rendall let out a burp, wine beads dotting his silvered whiskers.

"Your age, Thundar?"

"Under a century."

"Plenty of time awaits. Ages to study, to grow stronger, to climb further."

"Orion put it right: 'Perfecting oneself is a journey without end.'"

Drunkenness now claimed Rendall. Not from weak tolerance—he deliberately held back his superior energy from purging the spirits. He craved the haze. He sought the thrill.

"Us ancient frames... our role these days is to yield the path. Clear space for rising stars."

"Her Highness Elara. The Princes. That rascal Rolan. Steelblade. Dirtclaw’s young spawn... their gifts outshine us all."

Thundar stayed silent. He observed the Grand Elder, eyes aglow with zealous fervor.

"They embody the Horde's tomorrow!"

"Our duty... friend, our duty lies in nurturing them. Wave upon wave of splendid slayers. Dispatch them to claim realm after realm."

"Let the young ones bear the Chief’s renown. Let them uphold the Horde’s renown. Let them spread the Stoneheart saga... till it blazes brighter than the heavens!"