Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1515 Dragon Soul

"A paradox indeed," one responded. "Us, trapped inside the circle, yearn desperately to escape. Outsiders clamor to break in."

"Nothing exists here. Should they shatter the barrier, disappointment awaits them. Their hopelessness will surpass ours."

Raspy, hushed voices echoed faintly through the gloom, their tones ambiguous—neither clearly male nor female.

"That entity piercing the boundary was a dragon soul. Does it signal a mature giant dragon prowling beyond the seal?"

"Perhaps the Sea Folk across from us have finally been eradicated?"

"Such a shame. That dragon was shrewd; its soul shard held no valuable memories."

"The flavor of dragon soul... intoxicatingly delectable."

A profound, throaty rumble echoed, chased by sloppy slurps and the snap of bones crunching. Moments earlier, a piece of Leonidas's soul had entered, only to be ripped asunder and consumed by the horrors.

"The Gate of Vigilance has fallen silent once more."

"Likely we frightened the creature away by devouring its soul projection."

"Couldn't you muster even a hint of restraint? We might have drawn the physical form inside prior to the feast. Wouldn't that prove superior?"

Gulp. "On that note... its taste was divine, merely... lacking in quantity."

The pack swiftly drowned out the whiner's protests.

"A dragon soul! The pinnacle of gourmet delights, the ultimate rarity."

"Restraint? And allow you to gulp it down alone as we spectate?"

"Fresh food hits the spot best, right? Tsk tsk..."

"Ah... those wretched fledglings. They grasp no notion of 'food' beyond this realm."

"Shall we unite our power to hammer the seal?"

"No harm in attempting. At worst, we flop and return to slumber."

Beyond the Gate of Vigilance, within the Temple of Terminus.

As the primordial ancestors of the Zeythan Dreadfin race pondered charging the seal, Orion arrived at a pivotal moment.

Concealed in an unseen dimension amid turbulent emptiness, the Divine Kingdom—the Abyssal World—neared the World of Eldoria, lingering just past reality's shroud.

Perched on his throne, Orion extended his hand.

To ordinary eyes, his grasp clutched vacant space. Yet Orion beheld a root materializing in his palm.

A root from the World Tree.

Ancient, mystical laws carved its surface, twisting from broad to narrow. Bulges dotted its form, each throbbing with void's wild power. To Orion, every bulge emitted a dazzling, pulsing glow. The root wound about his hand, flooding his thoughts with sentiments: delight, closeness, and craving.

An odd existence prevailed. Orion embodied the World Tree, though the World Tree exceeded Orion.

"Extend," he murmured, calming the being and directing its path.

With his palm as fertile ground, the root extended, probing toward the throne's distant barrier.

This marked the decisive instant. Rejection by the seal would doom the scheme. Astonishingly, the root slipped through the barrier like mist.

It burst into the outer void, undetected by the squabbling Zeythan Dreadfins. Invisible to them. The World Tree shaped reality's core; its roots functioned at the Void's primal foundation—a realm vastly superior to the Zeythan Dreadfins. Perception eluded them entirely.

"Success."

Orion's eyes flared wide, pulse thundering as he observed the root blooming in the Void.

A spectacle of radiance unfolded. The root dove into the Void's "earth," fracturing endlessly—one to two, two to four—embedding firmly into space's weave. An intricate web of nerves expanded, fusing with the realm.

Via the root's luminous nodes, Orion gazed into boundless depths, spotting it: a limb exuding primeval, enigmatic vibes, entombed in metaphysical soil.

Eldoria's World Tree.

Precisely then, the Abyssal World's root latched parasitically onto the host world's core.

Visions surged into Orion's psyche: species emerging, ages transforming, life's endless wheel, universal progression. Entranced, he surrendered to cosmic revelation's torrent. Meanwhile, luminous motes raced along the invading root. It drained the Source—the world's vital essence—channeling it back to the Abyssal World.

The Void.

Shadowy tides roiled.

The World Tree's triumphant infestation passed mostly undetected in this lightless, barren stretch. Merely the mightiest Zeythan Dreadfins sensed the quakes, the primal forces' upheaval.

They brushed it aside. Such ripples often heralded potent new offspring's birth.

"The kin must be spawning exceptional young today," they presumed. In a domain devoid of heavens, waters, or celestial lights, calamity crept soundlessly.

World of Eldoria.

The backlash erupted ferociously here.

Throughout the seven grand dioceses, the natural order rebelled in unison. The ground rumbled and buckled as dread energies amassed at the planet's heart, unleashing devastating quakes.

Grand halls rocked, metropolises collapsed, and spires pulverized to rubble.

Avalanches, chasms, and primordial pestilences burst forth together. Mountains spewed lava; deluges engulfed lowlands. Tempests, ice storms, bolts, arid spells—it wove a canvas of doom.

"What madness grips the heavens? Had Leonidas not departed moments ago, I'd vow an invasion raged."

Inside a converted basilica on Stellaris's fringes, Makareth, Isabella, and Tangere—the Champions Alliance trio—convened to oversee their domains.

Makareth loomed on the expansive balcony, scowling at the lightning's savage lattice across the firmament. As a Demon, the sacred ferocity of the bolts repulsed him. Fear evaded him, but revulsion clung.

"Invasion? Unlikely," Makareth muttered. "Orion and his crew sparked this chaos. They've unleashed something colossal."

Isabella shook her head, a sardonic grin curling her mouth. She understood Orion and Leonidas intimately. Chaos incarnate, they'd raze a palace merely to test the flames.

"So these are the 'celestial portents' of legend, right?"

"The lightning feels... off," Tangere whispered, eyes fixed on the raging heavens. "No mere tempest. The world howls in agony. Or seeks to expel an intruder."