Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1520 Demigod in the Mindscape

This sphere was a blessing, a scarce treasure granted to the Seer bloodline amid their breakthrough.

"Hand over the light, little thing, and I might just let you live," the intruder purred, her lips twisting into an alluring grin. A whirlwind of conflicting feelings whirled in her gaze—purity and viciousness, kindness and sheer avarice. She was stunning, emanating a shadowy, mesmerizing allure that thinly masked her poisonous deceit.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Bolstered by Orion's presence at her side, Sylvana stayed impressively composed. She pretended wide-eyed wonder, aiming to lure the foe into showing her cards.

Yet the adversary pierced the deception instantly.

"Hehehe... So young, yet already spinning webs," the woman giggled, brushing aside the queries. "Clever. Very sly."

"Let me go, tell me where you come from, and this treasure is yours." Sylvana cradled the radiant orb between her palms. Sacred radiance throbbed inside it, unleashing a force that far surpassed simple faith power. Sylvana locked eyes with the intruder in perfect honesty—a honesty backed by steely determination. "Otherwise, I'll shatter it before you can kill me."

It was no empty warning. The prize stemmed from Sylvana's very soul; smashing it would prove as simple as a breath.

The mysterious woman recognized this truth. She too had tread the Seer's path; she had endured this exact trial of elevation. Silence fell over her as her eyes narrowed, assessing the Vixen's gambit.

"What? Planning to hunt me down for revenge later?" The intruder's sneer grew into bold ridicule. The notion of a fresh Lord plotting payback against her was ridiculously absurd.

Sylvana held her tongue, but a spark of feigned shock flashed in her eyes—a spark the foe caught immediately.

"I am Gozanthia," the woman proclaimed, her tone booming with sinister grandeur. "Demigod progenitor of the Triocul Vulpira Race, from the eighty-eighth layer of the Abyssal World."

A wicked spark flickered in Gozanthia's gaze. She yearned to overwhelm Sylvana with her prestige. She craved seeing this mixed-blood Vixen plunge into horror, succumb to hopelessness, and shatter inwardly. Precisely as expected, a wave of clear unease trembled in Sylvana's stare.

"Hehehe... Hand over the prize, and you get to keep your miserable life." Gozanthia extended her hand.

Sylvana offered no resistance. She couldn't, even if she desired. Moreover, her proposal had been utterly sincere. Deceiving an ancient, suspicious hunter demanded nothing less than honesty. The orb drifted from Sylvana's hands. Wild ecstasy blazed in Gozanthia's eyes. The moment the glow departed the Vixen's grasp, Sylvana would forfeit her ability to annihilate it.

"She is mine. What is hers, is mine."

A voice—like a toppling peak, crushing with its ferocity—erupted from the mindscape's profoundest depths.

"Did I give you permission to touch my property?"

Before Gozanthia's fingertips could brush the glow, a palm vast enough to eclipse the heavens ripped through the emptiness and seized the orb.

The enormous hand retreated into the darkness. As Gozanthia gaped in stunned disbelief, a gigantic form rose from the abyss, striding forward with world-quaking steps. Four heads and eight limbs defined him, one arm idly holding the pilfered prize. The colossus stopped next to Sylvana, his searing eyes fixing on the trespasser.

"This aura... A Giant?" Gozanthia scowled, uncertainty creeping into her words. She had witnessed Demigod Giants ravage the Abyssal World, yet this being differed from those savage beasts.

"To identify my race from my aura alone—you truly hail from the Abyss." Orion felt assured on that point. If this Triocul Vulpira truly came from the eighty-eighth layer remained questionable; demons deceived effortlessly. Certain facts demanded direct confrontation to confirm.

"Sir, this is an internal affair of the vulpine races. Isn't a Giant meddling too far?" Gozanthia displayed no terror. Her form here was neither her real body nor a full Demigod apparition. Destroying this image would merely inflict brief repercussions from a shattered ability.

"Are you deaf? Or just stupid?" Orion's tone oozed utter scorn. "I said, she is mine."

If Gozanthia dismissed him, he returned the sentiment. By probing the mindscape's core principles, Orion had unraveled her facade. This wasn't a genuine specter. Just a flimsy echo. He could erase it with a casual swipe.

"Hmph. Giants. Always mindless, bumbling monsters," Gozanthia sneered, abandoning her refined pretense. Orion had stolen her targeted loot; civility was off the table.

"The Triocul Vulpira Race," Orion growled, rolling the words. "Noted. I'll descend to the Abyss, track your pathetic clan, and drag you out. Let's see if your mouth keeps flapping then."

He countered her scorn with a deadly vow. It struck perfectly. Gozanthia's expression soured instantly. In the Abyssal World, a mighty being dooming your whole lineage spelled catastrophe.

She fixed him with a murderous glare, searing the Giant's visage into her mind. If glares could wound, Orion would lie in ribbons.

"We will part ways here, sir!" Grasping she couldn't prevail now, Gozanthia opted to retreat and minimize damage.

Regrettably, her hopes were delusional.

"This mindscape is my domain. Did you truly believe you could stroll in and stroll out?" Orion roared. "You're staying right here."

His savage command reverberated across the void as four colossal arms lashed out, crashing into the psychic realm to block all exits.

Yet Gozanthia was a Demigod. Powerless, she was not. The dark vertical mark on her brow cracked open, exposing a third eye ablaze with stellar fire. It marked the pinnacle gift of the Triocul Vulpira Race. The eye fired a ray of inky darkness, battering the unseen fabric of existence. She aimed to twist dimensional rules, fleeing Sylvana's mind just as she had invaded.

She had misjudged her foe. Orion had forged his core into a seed, interred it in ancient turmoil, and bloomed as a World Tree. He grasped reality's foundational laws more instinctively than breath. Gozanthia's mystical evasion resembled a puppet's awkward tugs—glaringly apparent and trivially severed.

"Going somewhere?"

A crushing, otherworldly dominion crashed down, smothering and supplanting the local spatial edicts. Gozanthia's dark ray hit the void and sputtered uselessly, failing to ignite even a flicker.

In that icy instant of defeat, dread realization hit her: she had challenged a supreme hunter. But the epiphany arrived too late.