Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1492 Shattered Shackles

Eldoria. The Agaman Diocese.

Combat had temporarily subsided. Coalition forces had dug themselves into positions ringing the Agaman Temple. The landscape was a chaotic, sprawling mosaic of military encampments, featuring Dragon Beasts, Undead, Brawnbulls, Plague Zombies, and various warriors of diverse bloodlines. Boneyards, pens for beasts, canvas tents, and toxic pools expanded as far as the vision could reach.

Orion arrived, materializing within a modest tent stationed at the periphery of the core command zone. Aina, Tangere, Caesar, Scarecrow, and Aurora stood up immediately from their positions to greet him.

Boss, you really showed up! Caesar exclaimed, his face bright with fervor.

Not bad at all. You have reached the Legendary rank. You have truly grown, Orion stated with an approving nod.

His assessment was sincere. Caesar had not only bolstered his raw power but had significantly matured in his temperament and outlook. In earlier times, Caesar’s rigid devotion to justice would have deterred him from participating in a war of aggression. Yet, he stood here now, his hands stained with the blood of conflict. While his dedication to Aina played a part, his transformation was undeniable. He had not fallen into depravity; rather, he had simply grasped the necessity of reading the room and making practical concessions in line with his own values.

This was the mark of maturity.

Everyone, be seated. Taking the head seat, Orion swept his gaze across them with warmth.

They were fellow Survivors, emerging from the very same cosmos. This shared provenance created a deep, gravitational bond.

I have finalized our negotiations. The Stellaris and Twilight Vale dioceses are being partitioned for your use, Orion announced, bypassing any trivial pleasantries. Makareth and Isabella engaged with the Archlords; they shouldered the greatest peril, so they are splitting the Stellaris diocese between themselves.

Orion did not seek their input. He was the one wielding the blade to divide the spoils. Such was the prerogative of true power; the leaders rarely polled the masses.

That leaves the Twilight Vale diocese. Tangere, Caesar, Scarecrow, Aurora—you operate as a collective. How you choose to divide that territory is entirely your concern.

Their expressions lit up with joy. In truth, not one of them had anticipated that Orion would bestow an entire diocese upon them. Scarecrow and Aurora, working under Orion for the first time, were visibly stunned by his immense generosity. They had expected, at most, a single barony suitable for a Lord, particularly considering the massive wealth they had already looted from the coalition treasury under Tangere’s oversight.

Any objections? Orion directed the question toward Tangere. As the architect of the team’s formation and a loyal subordinate, Tangere’s word was equivalent to a consensus of the entire group.

Tangere gave a slight shake of his head. No objections. We are simply... overwhelmed with gratitude. We never dared hope for such an expansive territory.

Having been witness to the terrifying clash of Archlords, they understood exactly how fortunate their position was. To state it plainly, the sheer volume of resources Makareth and Isabella dissipated throughout the war reflected losses that Tangere’s group could never have survived.

Then the matter is settled. Inform me once you have hashed out the internal details, Orion said. Our next objective involves the Sea Folk. The coastal borders must be reinforced against incoming tsunamis and amphibious incursions.

Orion gestured for the silent Aina to accompany him outside. Her circumstances were unique compared to the others; although she had not been at the front lines, she had provided the vital intelligence and world coordinates required for their campaign.

Her faction, Hellscream, had served as the tip of the spear during the primary assault.

The two walked through the camp in total silence, the leader followed by his subordinate, until they ascended a watchtower. Gazing out over the military sprawl that stretched toward the horizon, a familiar sensation washed over them—a memory of the Defense of the Spire, watching waves of monsters shatter against the fortifications.

Your request has been granted, Orion said, breaking the quiet.

I did not physically wield the blade myself, Aina replied in a soft voice, but I did force the hand of the one who did.

Orion had given her his word that he would purge the humans from this continent. Looking at the current state of affairs, with the exception of the humans integrated into Hellscream, that promise had been kept.

Aina remained unmoved, staring into the far distance with unreadable thoughts.

I am ceding the Andor Diocese to you, Orion declared. It shall be your domain. A sanctuary for Hellscream.

Orion held dominion over three dioceses. One was allotted to Aina, one would be sold off to fund Elara’s startup costs, and the third would fall directly under the jurisdiction of the Horde. While the Stoneheart Horde had secured little land in this specific arrangement, the inclusion of maritime rights to a third of the ocean completely altered the strategic equation.

Sir Orion, you are far more generous than I had envisioned, Aina said, turning her wide-eyed gaze away from the horizon to face him. I believed... I had expected, at best, to receive the Dolame Square.

Aina did not truly grasp the nature of Orion. They were merely comrades from the Spire trials, brought together by the basic need to survive. They knew nothing of each other’s histories or origins. She had sought him out only because she lacked the individual might to enact her revenge; approaching him had been a desperate Gamble to overthrow the Holy Order.

In the most twisted chambers of her mind, Aina had occasionally suspected that once Orion conquered this land, he would discard her—or perhaps eliminate her just to tie up loose ends.

Her judgment was perpetually obscured by hatred, painting the entirety of the world as sinners. Her past trauma had warped her survival instincts, forcing her to constantly prepare for the most catastrophic outcomes. Madness, paranoia, and obsession—everywhere she looked, she perceived sin.

You are a Survivor, Orion noted, his tone shifting to a more intimate register. You have watched others like us ascend from frailty to true power. A Survivor holds infinite potential. Your destiny is not shackled to this single world.

He looked at her steadily. We cannot alter what has passed. However, we have the power to shape the future.

The advice was offered out of genuine concern. Aina’s psychological state was fragile, teetering on the precipice of instability. Even among fellow Survivors, few would find it desirable to partner with someone so dangerously volatile.

Sir Orion... I thank you.

Aina offered a smile. It was simple, yet entirely sincere.

Orion reached out to pat her shoulder. He could not foresee how this radical, obsessed woman would evolve now that her vengeance had been realized. If she transformed into an individual compatible with the Champions Alliance, he would consider inviting her into his inner circle.

By handing over the coordinates to Eldoria, Aina had already established herself in the crosshairs of Leonidas, Kraken, Tangere, Makareth, and Isabella. She had successfully built a foundation of goodwill with these formidable heavy hitters.

Orion spoke no further. Giving a final nod, he turned away and left the watchtower, leaving Aina alone to face the sky. She lingered there for a long time, watching the world below.

The Divine Kingdom. Stoneheart Temple.

Earthshaker sat upon the chieftain’s throne within the Brawnbull stronghold. Although his body was decaying into a rotting husk, he could not curb his desire to guzzle bowl after bowl of spicy spirits.

It felt liberating. Exhilarating. Heroic.

Earthshaker was intoxicated. As his eyelids drifted shut, the alcoholic haze dragged his mind back toward the distant past.

In those days, he was of the most disparaged branch of the Brawnbull Race. He was held in contempt by his own kin, deemed fit only for the most menial of labor.

Then, he had bowed his head to Orion. He became a slave—the absolute lowest of the low compared to his own kind.

Indeed, a slave.

He had accepted this as his destiny. He had anticipated a life defined by humiliation and inevitable slaughter.

Instead, the ensuing days brought forth endless sustenance and inexhaustible resources for his Cultivation.

And war. Glorious, never-ending war.

And the brothers. The comrades he cherished with his entire soul.

The Prophet... the Arch Elder... Thundar... Dirtclaw... Rockwell...

These warriors from the Black Forest stood as Earthshaker’s greatest pride. Together, they had forged legacy and glory.

But that was merely memory now.

Now, Earthshaker was succumbing to the ravages of age.

He had failed to attain the Legendary level. His lifespan had been exhausted. In his remaining breaths, he could only return to the Black Forest, his birthplace, and await the encroaching silence.

Did I give it everything I had?

Yes.

I did not achieve that breakthrough, yet I hold no regrets.

To follow the Master, to conquer the four corners of existence, to know these brothers... this life was a treasure.

Within the dream, hot tears cascaded down Earthshaker’s face. He felt pride in a life lived without reservation. These were tears of pure glory.

Just as Earthshaker shut his eyes, fully prepared to embrace the serenity of death, a portal tore open within the darkness.

From across the rift, a voice—vast and authoritative—resounded through the void.

Not yet... Wake up.

He recognized that voice instantly.

Mas... Master!

Earthshaker wept. He had not been forgotten. His Master remembered him.

Dragging his decaying body, answering that command, Earthshaker stepped through the Gate of the Divine Kingdom.

In the next heartbeat, a bovine roar shook the very heavens, reverberating through the heart of the Stoneheart Temple.

Atop a mountain peak, Earthshaker’s form floated within a sea of blood. The crimson fluid surged into him, ruthlessly tearing apart his muscles and rebuilding them, compressing his essence, forging a formidable body of iron and steel.

The horns upon his head grew heavy. They began to twist.

His original horns arched forward and down, then curled backward, spiraling to encase his cranium like a natural, bony helmet.

Mooooo!

With a roar of pure agony, a second pair of horns erupted from his forehead. They were thick, sharp, and curved aggressively toward the sky.

If the original horns were designed for defense, these new protrusions were crafted for slaughter.

Earthshaker shattered the genetic shackles that had bound his lineage. From this moment onward, until he reached the threshold of being a Demigod, there would be no chains strong enough to hold him back.

The somnolent Earthshaker snapped his eyes open. His bovine pupils burned with a crimson light, radiating a terrifying pressure.

Is this... the Legendary level?

I have crossed the threshold?

Excitement swept over him, followed by disbelief. Then, a clarity ignited within his mind that pierced the clouds like the rising sun.

Not bad, a voice resonated in his ear. Your will is sufficiently strong.

It was Orion. Earthshaker was a slave he had personally bound by contract; to claim he felt indifferent would be a lie. However, until Orion attained sufficient power himself, he had been helpless to assist Earthshaker in breaking his limits.

Now, the shackles had been shattered.