Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1471 A Wager of Blood

Makareth selected his phrasing with exacting care. In mentioning 'you Archlords,' he intentionally left himself out of the group.

He possessed far too many hidden aces to be counted among the ordinary members. Now that he had achieved ascension successfully, Makareth yearned to push his fresh boundaries. He sought no equal; instead, he craved a fierce confrontation with a Demigod's manifestation.

'If reinforcements from the foe arrive, I'll stand firm against a single Archlord.'

The declaration sliced through the thick atmosphere like a blade. Isabella rose prominently, dressed in snug battle leathers that highlighted her deadly elegance. She embodied the essence of a Valkyrie completely.

Though she had reached the summit of the Legendary rank, she offered to delay an Archlord. This bold, life-risking statement instantly won the admiration of everyone present.

The majority stayed quiet. Ever since she joined them, Isabella had maintained a facade of cool detachment, signaling others to stay distant.

'Sis, are you certain you can manage that?'

Makareth broke the silence. They were seasoned fighters, allies who had shared blood and battles for years. Despite his recent promotion to Archlord, he continued using the warm, familiar 'Sis' when speaking to her. It stemmed from no arrogance; it reflected true worry.

Isabella arched a brow. 'Why? Do you wish to duel?'

'I defeated you once. I can do it again.'

This was factual. During their initial encounter, Isabella had fallen to him.

'Pretend I never inquired,' Makareth chuckled, dismissing with a gesture. 'But honestly, Sis. Why not join forces with me? As a pair, we'd prove invincible.'

His intent was to safeguard her. With his Archlord status, he could offer solid protection amid the chaos of war.

'No need,' Isabella responded evenly. 'I arrived to hone my skills, not to shelter in your shadow.'

'Makareth, is that your way of belittling me?'

Tension gripped the chamber. Isabella meant every word.

'Not in the slightest,' Makareth answered, his grin shifting to a savage edge. 'I merely hoped to gauge your progress over these recent years. Care for a bet?'

'Should reinforcements show, let's compete to see who takes down the initial Archlord.'

This was their dark ritual, repeated endlessly on the Dragon fields within the Emerald Dream Realm. A pursuit they both cherished.

'Agreed.'

Isabella replied without hesitation. Decades of ruling expansive lands in the Emerald Dream Realm, bolstered by streams of supplies and Faith Energy, had positioned her on the verge of breakthrough.

Alexander dispatched her for precisely this purpose. She teetered at the threshold. True advancement demanded the blaze of battle, the thin line between survival and doom, to propel her forward.

These must be the remaining Survivors, Aina mused, observing the interaction.

Bold. Haughty. Untamed. Suspicious. Detached... and completely without fear.

Aina's view of the assembly transformed. She had viewed Orion as a singular madman fixated on warfare. Yet witnessing Makareth and Isabella, she understood the reality: Orion wasn't the exception. They were all deranged.

Birds of a feather, without doubt.

'We ought to stay vigilant,' Elara interjected sharply. 'A power that dominates a whole world won't fall easily.'

'To underestimate opponents leads straight to demise.'

As a veteran field leader, Elara saw her duty in cooling the hot-blooded fervor in the space.

'I concur,' Kaedros growled deeply. 'Our defenses must remain firm.'

The Dragonblood fighter sided with Elara, establishing a quiet restraint against the daring assurance from Makareth and Isabella.

They formed a unit. For the mechanism to function, both acceleration and caution were essential. Varied viewpoints alone could reveal the complete scenario and prevent stumbling into slaughter.

Agaman Diocese. The Cathedral Great Hall.

Within the heart of the main cathedral, the atmosphere brimmed with fragrant smoke and foreboding.

The Council of the Holy Order convened.

Attending were Cardinal Maelric and the High Priests overseeing the six vital dioceses: Andor, Stellaris, Twilight Vale, Sena, Silvermoon, and Gulaba.

With them was the Inquisition. The Shadow Commander claimed a prestigious position, surrounded by his six deputies—enigmatic enforcers who upheld the Order's decrees in every sector.

Among the High Priests, five appeared merely as glowing, ethereal images, linked over immense spans via the Order's hidden techniques. Only one stood in person: the successor to Father Orel—the priest who never reached the Andor Diocese before conflict erupted.

'Gentlemen. Dolame Square faces encirclement. Huge swaths of the Andor Diocese's grazing lands lie conquered. The adversaries are well-geared.'

Cardinal Maelric spoke steadily, with a booming tone free of any alarm. The forfeiture of a diocese appeared trivial to him, like a small ledger mistake.

'This alliance consists of the cursed. Undead, Dragon Beasts, treacherous humans, hordes of monsters, and Abyssal scum. They serve as the talons of shadow.'

'Their aim isn't the fields or the flock. They seek total annihilation.'

Maelric lifted his staff, directing it toward the enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the arched roof.

The relic vibrated softly. A dense fog emanated from the crystal, gathering centrally in the hall before clarifying into a flawless viewing surface.

Maelric uttered a word of power, igniting the scrying mirror.

Atrocities unfolded in vivid detail.

A horde of Undead ravaged a settlement like a toxic gale. Existence vanished in moments, replaced by decay and stark skeletons.

A Dragon Beast vaulted onto a diocesan stronghold, crushing a shrieking sentinel between its jaws in one savage chomp.

And amid them lumbered the Plague Zombies. In their wake, the Order's soldiers crumpled, wracked by illness, helpless as they awaited slaughter like penned livestock.

'Heretics!'

'Fiends from the Abyssal World! Spawn of the pit!'

'The war's origins are irrelevant now,' Maelric proclaimed, quelling the growing unrest. 'Unity is key. We shall defend the Goddess's domains. We will eradicate these intruders.'

Any group torn by discord in the face of assault courts destruction. The Agaman Holy Order grasped this truth. Their rapid assembly of this council demonstrated their preparedness to unite.

'Banish the unbelievers!' one holographic priest snarled, his tone quivering with bottled fury.

'Such pointless butchery,' another pondered, scowling at the devastation. 'Is their goal the world's end?'

'Proclaim a Holy War!'

Certain priests were already gearing up, gazes alight with fanatic fire.

Maelric hoisted his staff once more, enforcing quiet. He faced the figure lurking in darkness at his side—the head of the Inquisition.

'Upon founding Dolame Square,' the Shadow Commander grated, his words scraping like withered foliage over rock, 'we interred six Templars under its base.'

The chamber fell into utter hush.

'The Inquisition has dispatched the awakening command,' the Commander pressed on. 'As soon as the aggressors cross Dolame Square's boundary, the Templars shall rise.'

He scanned the assembly, his stare icy and vacant.

'No doubt you're as eager as I to witness... the precise might of our foes.'