Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1532 Forged by Two Thousand Blows

From the titan's immense knowledge, survivors of the second stage always boasted either heaven-granted bodily strength or invaluable shielding treasures.

However, beholding Orion defend himself using a demigod's phantom will marked a total novelty for him.

"By the hammer's heart, I summon thy spirit!"

The titan's power accumulation hit its peak. The gigantic warhammer ballooned anew, slamming down bearing the force of a crumbling firmament.

Right then, Orion's Death-Soul tentacle avatar merged seamlessly with the enigmatic crystals hovering in the emptiness, melting into a gleaming liquid pool.

At the same instant, Orion's demigod will blended completely into the liquid, blurring the line between flesh and spirit.

The blow connected in utter quiet.

"A failure?"

Noting the Death-Soul vessel's liquid remnants lying motionless, the titan's profound, booming voice resounded across the void, colored by letdown.

Scarce moments after his words faded, the pool erupted in furious agitation.

A shadow writhed inside its depths, swiftly hardening.

In a flash, Death-Soul tentacles erupted from the strange liquid, greedily devouring the leftover beads.

Orion lived on. He had triumphantly withstood the two-thousandth blow.

Soon after, Orion's shape ballooned into a towering behemoth. His enormous lower section twisted with innumerable limbs.

In that form, Orion looked extraordinarily compact and weighty. Just eyeing his bottom half, he evoked the image of a Kraken.

"My kin, true essence emerges solely from compression."

Observing Orion unscathed, the titan raised his massive hammer again, his voice now infused with real respect.

"I shall aid you with everything I have!"

BOOM!

The warhammer descended, hitting Orion's frame with ruinous accuracy.

Each resounding impact caused Orion's body to contract slightly.

Precisely speaking, his corporeal shell was densifying.

The hammer compressed his bulk, dramatically boosting the toughness and sturdiness of his tissue.

This second-stage segment boiled down to a savage loop of tempering, merging, and more tempering.

The end aim was crafting a body of freakish, matchless toughness.

Abruptly, Orion grasped why the Death-Soul Race spawned countless invincible titans dominating the Abyss.

Whatever being endured such an ordeal would prove nearly indestructible.

In truth, the leftover thousand hits brought pure torment.

Still, they carried no dread specter of doom—unlike the prior second-stage part, bursting apart was no longer a peril.

The hammer's pealing clamor repeated endlessly. With the demigod phantom will wholly fused into his body, Orion's total mastery and awareness of his physique soared to inconceivable heights.

He could even foresee the precise instant of the hammer's drop, deliberately curving his frailest flesh to greet the titan's expert hammering.

This concluding stretch unfolded with astonishing ease.

Once the titan halted his battering and the warhammer dissolved into nothingness, Orion surprisingly missed it. He detected a tiny blemish lingering in his body, yet couldn't yet locate the defect.

"This is the most flawless body-forging I have ever witnessed!"

"What a pity..."

The nameless titan gazed at Orion. His gaze churned with tangled feelings—elation, sorrow, and deep helplessness.

"My kin, you have passed the trial!"

Before Orion uttered a word, the titan pressed his enormous palms together, forming bubbles that fully encased Orion.

Then, like launching a celestial lantern, the titan released him to rise.

It formed a wondrous, dreamlike scene.

The bubbles rose toward the endless skies. As he ascended, Orion experienced no unease or void distortions.

But peering below, the titan dwindled to ant-like proportions before disappearing completely.

Who was he?

Where precisely was this location?

What composed those crystals?

Countless queries raced through Orion's thoughts, demanding resolution.

Through this ordeal, he gained a direct way to enhance his Death-Soul tentacles' might and uncovered ideal evolution components.

Yet everything unfolded in a whirlwind blur. No chance arose to probe the enigmas.

...

Unknown Realm, Uncharted Waters.

An armed merchant galleon, adorned with a lightning-encircled lion prow, sliced across the roiling ocean swells, its hold stuffed with battle provisions.

"Winds are picking up! Hurricane forming to the southeast!"

"Alert! Alert! The swells are rising! Sea monster approaching rapidly!"

"Sound the alarm! Level-one crisis!"

"Captain, prepare for battle!"

From high up in the crow's nest, a bare-chested human lookout roared his warnings. Across his chest blazed a glowing tattoo depicting a pursuit hound, emitting a subtle mystical glow.

His voice carried an unnaturally profound depth. Each bellowed alert caused the tattoo to throb, enchantingly boosting and broadcasting his words throughout the entire warship.

"All hands to your stations! Prepare for battle!"

"Grappling hooks, harpoons, cannons, depth charges, and the ramming prow—ready them all! Any beast that dares attack a vessel of Lionheart City will be sent to the watery depths!"

A resonant, steely thunder from the Captain's voice echoed across the deck.

His commands instantly roused the frantic sailors, crewmen, and soldiers from their panic. In mere seconds, gunners and sea-hunters locked their weapons onto the surrounding waves, targeting the creature's probable strike paths.

This precise, disciplined reaction branded them as veteran sea fighters.

Yet their battle-hardened setups proved completely futile against the hundred-foot tentacles surging from the churning void.

Harpoons and cannons unleashed just a handful of futile shots before the tentacles' crushing mass smashed them and yanked them into the suffocating depths.

"A Sovereign-class leviathan!"

"No—!"

The galleon's captain's last frantic shout hung in the briny air as the enormous vessel flipped over.

The warship capsized completely, its whole crew devoured by the ocean, while a vast hoard of military goods was hauled into the bottomless chasm.

Just one petrel, perched high in the sails, broke free into the sky during the ship's final fatal instants.

...

Distant, upon the mainland.

Governor Tyrus held absolute sway over Lionheart City. As heir to an ancient Divine Sigil bloodline, glory had enveloped him since his first breath.

Moreover, his family's mighty Divine Sigil heritage bestowed upon him horrifying personal power.

At present, he stood as an Arch Lord and a member of the Chieftain council, commanding tremendous political and warrior influence.

Yet today, Governor Tyrus's face twisted into a deeply ominous scowl. His disposition had turned utterly rotten.

"Lord Governor, we have lost all contact with the Thunder Lion. The divine material, the Golden-Silk Tinder, hidden aboard is nowhere to be found."

"It is highly probable they were ambushed."

A functionary like an adjutant advanced toward Governor Tyrus, his visage dimmed by heavy worry.

The Golden-Silk Tinder acted as the essential reagent needed to enhance their Sigils. Tyrus required an advanced Mark to have any shot at elevating his strength any higher.

"Was it the work of House Shadowdrake?"

"Or are the old fossils within our own clan intercepting my shipments?"

Governor Tyrus drew a profound, trembling breath, brutally compelling himself to stay composed.