Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1542 The Sky Without a Sun

"Agreed," Orion declared. "But with a single condition. Any ocean territories seized by the Merfolk in the war will remain untouched by the Dragonflight after the conflict ends."

Orion trusted deeply in his formidable military power. Be it on land or in the waves, he was certain he could claim vast stretches of land in the emerging world. What he could not abide was dragons dominating the seas in the future.

"Giant King, your concerns are excessive," Pyraxis Bloodflame responded with silky ease. "In the upcoming world, neither land nor sea will belong solely to the Dragonflight or the Stoneheart Horde. We must simply grab the biggest portion we can, guard one another's flanks, and safeguard our gains."

Those words carried deep wisdom, laced with sharp foresight into the turmoil to come.

Orion met the gaze of the dragon demigod, reevaluating this partner who had rushed to negotiate. "Lord Pyraxis Bloodflame, I feel privileged by the dragons' alliance. You may doubt it, but I possess an ancient dragon companion—one I'd stake my life on."

Thus, Orion sealed the pact with the Dragonflight for good.

Afterward, Evander, the human demigod, and Kairon, the Siren demigod, shared quick mental exchanges with Orion. Unlike the dragons' firm commitment, they set up mere guidelines for aiding each other if assaulted.

After half a day, the gathering ended. The five supreme demigods of the Titanion Realm faded into nothingness.

Inside the citadel once more, Seraphina had fully surrendered to Orion's arms, reluctant to pull away. Her stunning eyes looked up at him, stripped of their typical fierce glint. They became irresistible snares—bait to capture a man's soul and ignite his passion.

Orion bent forward. Seraphina gave a faint protest sigh before yielding passionately to the kiss.

…

"Did they say anything to you?"

Well after, Seraphina reclined over Orion's lap. Clad only in sheer silk, she rested her feet on the throne's arm and used the Giant King as her cushion, softly singing a eerie, tuneless song from the sea's abyss.

"They all tried luring me to their sides, you know. Promising they could keep me safe," she joked, tracing a finger along the coarse beard on Orion's chin like it was a rare treasure. "Doesn't it scare you that I might flee with one?"

Orion snorted, his titan ego igniting just as she anticipated. "I'm the strongest. None of them could shield you like I do."

Seraphina tilted her head back in laughter, her clear, delighted peal ringing across the deserted chamber. "You truly are mighty, my love..."

…

Two days afterward, Pellam the Courier awoke from a drunken stupor that wiped out all recall of the night before.

His two thralls had hauled him back home after he passed out at the Silent Goblet from trying a fresh, enchantment-laced liquor.

Pellam's recent days had flowed with ease. He'd fought in the last inter-dimensional war and the Swarm purges, earning a pile of military credits. He clutched them tightly, eager to trade for a Lord's Stone and shatter into Legendary rank.

Serving as Orion's dedicated courier earned Pellam solid esteem. Back in the northern lands, he'd carried messages for Lord Arcas. These days, he bore them for the Giant King.

Yet, continent-wide unity had rendered his role mostly obsolete. He'd hit the Silent Goblet to drown his thoughts on seeking reassignment to fresh legions, yearning to dash messages through unknown realms again.

"Ugh... my head throbs like mad," Pellam moaned.

Two straight days of sleep had shaken off the booze at last. Still, his eyes opened to total darkness.

Pellam fumbled blindly into his Gryphon-maw pouch, fetching a glowing magic crystal to illuminate the space. Among Stoneheart Horde elites, crude skin-bags like his seemed outdated and crude. Horde treasuries brimmed with sleeker spatial rings. But Pellam hoarded his merits too fiercely for such extravagance.

"Woolsey! Hurry in here and say how long I've slept!"

Woolsey, his satyr thrall from a breed famed for meekness, stood at the door.

"Master, two whole days have passed while you slept," the satyr replied anxiously with a bleat.

Two days had passed. Not bad, considering everything.

"Did anything major happen? Anyone come looking for me?" Pellam inquired from pure habit. He didn't anticipate much; nowadays, the Stoneheart Horde's capital had become a bastion of tranquility.

"No one came looking, Master. No major events took place," Woolsey answered, pausing briefly. "But... something feels off today."

"Off in what way?" Pellam rose from the bed, striding across the chamber while attempting to clear the fog from his thoughts.

"Master, high noon has arrived. Yet the sun remains unseen."

Pellam halted abruptly. "High noon? And darkness still reigns?"

"Yes, Master."

A cold shiver crept along Pellam's back. His life had been filled with vibrant dangers, and now his gut instincts blared warnings.

"Any reports of Warden-tier fighters or stronger battling close by?"

The satyr shook his head, appearing utterly confused.

"Has His Majesty released any fresh decrees?"

"None, Master."

Pellam instantly sensed that disaster had struck on a massive scale. He flung wide his bedroom window and gazed skyward.

No stars appeared. No clouds drifted. Only a crushing, smothering blackness hung there, devouring all light. Without a further utterance, Pellam seized his cloak and bolted through the door. He had to track down his informants and uncover what infernal chaos gripped the world.

…

Atop a dazzlingly lit balcony of the citadel, Orion emerged from the royal bedchambers with Lilith at his side.

Lysinthia, Sylvana, Lycanor, and Ava stood behind him under the stark magical glow. They all gazed wordlessly at the darkened skies.

"So, the sun didn't rise," Orion whispered, showing no trace of astonishment.

Days earlier, he had sensed the world's core upheavals. Those had lacked visible signs then. Now, shadows had seized the heavens.

Orion pulled his eyes from the abyss and glanced back at Lilith. "Any unrest stirring in the Horde?"

"The event is too fresh to spark mass hysteria," Lilith stated sharply. "The common people need more time to grasp its gravity."

In a realm ruled by otherworldly might, a half-day of absent sun didn't instantly horrify the masses. A mere Legendary-tier fighter could blot out the sun above a city for days during a fierce rage.

"Maintain an ironclad hold on the Horde's inner defenses," Orion ordered, his voice turning to icy frost. "Execute anyone spreading rebellion or sowing fear immediately. Crises offer the perfect moment to purge the concealed corruption."

Though assured of his power, facing the treacherous, mysterious Swarm peril made suspicion a strength. He was certain sleeper operatives hid in the Stoneheart Horde—betrayers altered by foreign parasite implants, waiting patiently. He refused to let them act.