Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1460 Overwhelming Force

Makareth, a Demon who had just risen to the status of Archlord and was engineered purely for warfare, burned with a desire for battle.

"Heh heh heh... The ominous melody of the Abyss is now resounding. Every being must sway to my rhythm, or they won't survive to witness the dawn of the next day!"

Emitting a wild, frenzied cry, Makareth surged toward the remote clouds.

Far off in the distance, Elara materialized out of nowhere, floating mere yards ahead of a figure clad in black robes.

"Declare your True Name and yield. Perhaps I'll let you keep your life."

Elara's voice remained utterly emotionless—uncharacteristically so for an Archlord. To Cavendish, the total absence of her presence seemed like some cruel prank.

"Yield?" Cavendish sneered. "You've got to be kidding. I serve as one of the Eight High Inquisitors in the Holy Order, a devoted follower chosen by the Goddess Agaman. What gives you the right to demand my submission?"

His tone turned icy cold. In his eyes, Elara's demeanor amounted to a sacrilegious affront.

"Ah. Then you opt for death."

Elara lifted her trident. Icy skeletal armor enveloped her body, while Chillbone Fire burst into flames at the weapon's point without warning.

"What is this..."

Noticing the strange occurrence, Cavendish—as a mid-level Archlord—realized danger loomed.

Yet it was already too late.

Elara had disappeared from his view in an instant.

Cavendish's eyes narrowed sharply. Driven by sheer reflex, he unleashed his superior energy, forming a protective shield around his person.

Clang!

Crack!

The trident first struck the barrier with a resounding clash, then came the sharp noise of breaking crystal right after.

Cavendish glanced downward, his gaze filled with shock. The trident had stabbed straight through his torso.

A lethal strike to the body.

However, for an Archlord with a Body of Faith, this wound alone shouldn't spell doom. It didn't leave him helpless. Still, the overwhelming force and unnatural essence of Elara's assault filled him with genuine dread.

"You're really this feeble?"

Elara's detached words echoed from behind him. Feeling shamed and trapped, Cavendish erupted in fury.

"Arrogant fool! You've gone too far!"

Cavendish bellowed, spewing blood from his mouth. He readied himself to explode his Body of Faith in a final, desperate act of self-destruction.

But it was too late.

The Chillbone Fire enveloping the Flame of Will didn't merely scorch his body; it eroded his spirit and seethed within the depths of his faith.

The Flame of Will had served Orion for countless years. Fueled by Orion's determination and reshaped by the Demigod Arthas, it stood as a Relic. When activated, no ordinary Archlord could endure its might.

Whoosh!

The Chillbone Fire burst forth from within. Before Cavendish could trigger his Body of Faith, he turned to dust inside his own inner realm.

Cavendish perished, overwhelmed by bitter hatred.

"Is that all the strength you possessed?"

Cavendish's demise held no significance for Elara. She merely faulted her foe for lacking resilience. Without invoking a banned incantation or unveiling her Stoneheart Titan shape, she had employed only a handful of combat skills passed down from Orion's lineage—and this was the outcome.

Elara gazed at the Flame of Will, her wide eyes sparkling with interest.

She perceived the weapon's thrill; she detected its potency. Having consumed the adversary's Body of Faith, the trident now shone with greater brilliance and splendor.

"Good girl," Elara murmured, clutching the Flame of Will firmly. She narrowed her eyes in a grin and teleported back to her allies.

"The enemy pulled back?"

To Aina, clashes between Archlords ought to unleash storms that blackened the heavens and rent the ground. Elara's swift reappearance left Aina doubting her prior assumptions.

"The foe I confronted is no more," Elara replied evenly. "It felt... underwhelming." She appeared let down, akin to a youngster denied more playtime.

The opponent lacked power? Wasn't an Archlord?

Aina had faith in Elara's abilities—after all, she was the leader dispatched by Orion—but curiosity compelled her to inquire. Certainty was essential.

Elara regarded Aina, piercing through her doubt effortlessly.

"Aina, he ranked as an intermediate Archlord. He just couldn't endure the arm I received from Father."

Elara extended the trident levelly, allowing Aina to inspect it. Upon learning it was an artifact once wielded by Orion, comprehension dawned on Aina.

"It's beautiful."

Aina lacked deep insight into the Flame of Will's capabilities, so her compliment stemmed from simple visual appeal.

"It's also incredibly powerful."

"..."

At the same time, as Makareth confronted another High Inquisitor named Albrecht, the warrior instantly identified Makareth's essence.

"A True Demon!"

"The reek of the Abyss!"

"Cursed unbelievers... they've summoned a Vile God and permitted a Demon to invade this realm!"

"The Light will drive out the shadows!"

Confronting the Demon stirred Albrecht with holy zeal, igniting a sacrificial drive to safeguard the world and eradicate malevolence. In that instant, a surge of might coursed through him. His battle was for all existence, not personal gain.

"A Demon arrives, yet the Light shall cleanse the impure!"

"I battle for righteousness! Perish, you Abyssal filth!"

Albrecht seized his greatsword in a two-handed grip and raised it aloft. A small golden sun emerged from the edge—the Sunray of Judgment, a hidden technique of the Holy Order crafted to vanquish dark beings.

This radiant light could eat away at a Demon, diminishing the Abyssal essence bound to it and hampering its fighting ability.

Sizzle!

Flesh seared, skin bubbled, and blood churned—that was the noise it made.

"It hurts!"

"I haven't experienced pain so profound and thrilling in so long!"

"More! That's insufficient!"

"Heh heh heh..."

Makareth was utterly deranged. A typical Demon would recoil from the Holy Light. Yet he stood apart. As one who had Awakened, Makareth deliberately plunged into the holy force that tore at his form and essence.

He held the conviction that withstanding sufficient exposure would forge his body's tolerance to the sacred. In Makareth's worldview, shadow and radiance were intertwined—born from each other, capable of both creation and annihilation.

"Why halt now?"

Makareth ceased his laughter. The High Inquisitor's incantation had dissipated.

The burning agony that had sent Makareth into ecstasy vanished, cutting his delight short.

Rage consumed Makareth. His voice sank into a deep snarl. It marked the eerie quiet following utter insanity—a hush brimming with icy, murderous intent.

"You... you lack fear of the Light?"

"What sort of abomination are you?"

Albrecht scowled, his expression one of utter astonishment.

What spectacle had he beheld? A Demon reveling in the Holy Light?

The fiend acted as if luxuriating in a soak!

And should that hold true, what role did that assign him?

A mere spa servant?