Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1450 Abyssal Ambush

Considering the grave duty Orion had placed upon him, Rendall became increasingly enthusiastic as he spoke. When he finished his address, he stood tall, his words echoing with intense passion.

Thundar was seeing a side of Rendall he'd never witnessed before. Observing the elder giant, he sensed the tangle of worry and uncertainty in his heart starting to unravel, eased by Rendall's straightforward assurance.

"He's correct," Thundar mused. Why am I tying myself up in worry about this?

"I'm already a Legend," Rendall proclaimed, swelling his chest proudly. "I've got plenty of time to study and hone my abilities. And if I hit a wall? I'll head over to that bard in the Silent Goblet at Stoneheart. Folks call him a sage."

West of Eldoria stretched the Westreach Sea.

This ocean featured an odd trait. Beyond the gentle nearshore shelf, the waters abruptly changed from a lively blue-green to a pitch-dark emptiness. Such a stark divide signaled the boundary of a huge geological fracture—a vertical plunge forming the Westreach Trench.

The Sirens living in the depths favored a more lyrical title: the Siren's String. Folklore claimed the trench served as one thread on the Siren Goddess's own harp.

And at this moment, that string was being strummed.

Over the trench, an enormous shadow glided across the ocean floor, engulfing the Sirens in the shallower zones in one swift motion. The tougher ones released an eerie, shrill sound right before perishing. A last cry that sped toward the oppressive bottom like a distress beacon.

Once it had consumed the nearby Sirens, the huge shadow spotted a fissure in the seabed. It pulled back its enormous tentacles and forced its massive body through, bit by bit.

"Blast it, Squiddy, couldn't you handle the goods a tad more carefully?" a voice grumbled from the creature's hold. "I spotted a couple in that group that were utterly flawless. Prime stunners. Wouldn't it make sense to haul them off to produce some heirs for you?"

Within the fissure, the giant octopus beast coiled up tightly, holding a enchanted glass container close to its body. Swimming in the container were a tiny Abyssal Dreadfin and a World Dragon.

These formed the trio of plotters: Kraken, Orion, and Leonidas.

Leonidas was presently mocking Kraken for his "brutal crushing of blossoms." To Leonidas—a shameless womanizer—loveliness ranked on a firm hierarchy: Pretty, Fair, Peerless, and Divine. Earning a Peerless from Leonidas meant exceptional acclaim, implying the Siren folk boasted remarkably stunning ideals of allure.

"Boss, will this act truly draw the Siren Archlord from her lair?" Kraken inquired, his tone rumbling through the depths.

Kraken's initial scheme was straightforward: the three would charge the entrance, eliminate the Siren Archlord, and compel the species into obedience. But Leonidas shot it down. His logic held weight—nobody could predict the vicious, timeworn snares lurking in the Siren bastion.

Enticing the Archlord into exposed waters offered a wiser choice. Orion concurred. They were outsiders to these seas; prudence trumped rashness. A lineage as ancient as the Sirens probably boasted safeguards that required the Archlord's attendance to trigger.

Thus, the performance: Kraken acting as a feral abyssal monster, tearing through the Siren numbers.

"If she stays hidden, keep feasting," Orion stated icily from the glass orb. "No Archlord would watch her kin get consumed without end. We're here to shatter the deadlock. The Sirens must yield or perish. No middle ground exists."

The Westreach Trench loomed perilously near Sunless City. Claiming this spot would provide a base to assault the ocean depths or a shield for their forces ashore.

"Sounds good," Kraken growled. "I'll dive in for another pass. Stir up more chaos this round."

In the container, the reduced figures of Orion and Leonidas laughed softly, dropping to the base to release bubbles. They stayed concealed, suppressing their presences, poised for the decisive instant to deliver a lethal blow once their target emerged.

At the same time, Aina and her group, Hellscream, had seized full control of Sunless City. With the city as their center, they launched a direct overhaul of the mainland.

The mainland of Santdagon resembled a distinctive six-pointed star, placing Sunless City at the lowest apex. The terrain split into seven regions: the core and the six tips. To dominate the mainland, seizing the Andor Diocese came first.

Port Caelwyn occupied the southwest edge of the Andor Diocese—a site now dubbed Sunless City.

"Santdagon spans wide," Aina murmured gently. "Our journey stretches far ahead."

She mounted a white steed, with Raveth following on foot behind. They moved down a barren path, empty of any wayfarers. After guiding Orion and his allies into the waters successfully, Aina headed toward the following ritual site.

Per Orion's directives, the upcoming sacrificial ring would call forth the Undead Legion—the key army meant to topple the Holy Order. Aina approached this duty with utmost seriousness; the ceremony demanded flawlessness.

"Your Holiness," Raveth questioned, shattering the quiet. "Is this truly justified?"

Raveth, once a disgraced aristocrat now on the run, had resorted to arson, murder, and pillage for survival. He viewed himself as no hero, harboring no illusions of purity. Yet, after beholding the ravenous Cave Spiders, he grasped that their summons would spell doom for all life across the mainland.

Raveth counted himself a rogue, sure, but not wicked enough to crave the whole realm's ruin alongside his own. He wandered in doubt, unclear if his chosen route led to redemption or ruin.

"Why? Feeling second thoughts?"

Aina pulled back on her white horse's reins, easing to a trot. She glanced over her shoulder at him, offering a soft smile. Still, under that kindness, Raveth detected a shiver that prickled his flesh.

Before he could muster a reply, Aina continued, her words floating softly.

"The mainland of Santdagon... its true name was Bilimona. Home to the Monai folk."

"Two centuries back, envoys from the Agaman Holy Order landed on Bilimona to spread their faith among the natives. They proclaimed and proclaimed, and two centuries flew by."

"In merely two brief centuries," Aina went on, her voice airy, "the Monai, who once thrived in every nook of Bilimona, vanished entirely. Butchered down to the final infant."

Aina faced ahead once more, disregarding Raveth, yet her tone reached him plainly from behind.

"That's what the Holy Order labels the 'War of Descent.' A sacred crusade."

"Say, Raveth. Do you reckon those native Monai were fiends? Do you honestly think this mainland was just a barbaric void before the Order stepped in?"

It was history, old and brutal. Raveth recalled bits of it. But amid his bewilderment, even confronting the stark truths of yesteryear, he couldn't separate the just from the unjust anymore.