Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1593 Deadweights and Demigods

Grimm, within the vast World of Eldoria, was a domain belonging to Aina. At its center stood the Windmill Keep, a structure imbued with childhood memories for Aerin the Wood Elf, Caesar with his insatiable appetite for steamed buns, and the Scarecrow known as Branric.

Vibrant hues emanated from crystal chandeliers, casting light upon cloud-shaped tables reminiscent of cotton candy. Enchanted cutlery moved of its own accord across the table, while mushroom-shaped chairs released shimmering rainbow bubbles. A multi-tiered strawberry cake, suspended in the air, hummed a gentle, nostalgic melody echoing the distant moon of their forgotten homeland.

Scarecrow Branric slowly pulled his eyes open, forcing himself from the comforting embrace of recollection.

"Fairy tales are woven from falsehoods," Branric croaked, his voice rough. "While this place is pleasant, I'd prefer to understand why the Boss has summoned us all here."

Hearing Branric's words, Aerin, Caesar, and Tangere were jolted from their reminiscent state and turned their attention to their host, Aina.

"The location was my contribution," Aina stated, indicating the table. "Tangere is the one with the intelligence."

All eyes shifted to Tangere. The cloaked figure deliberately finished his fruit tart, placed his dancing fork aside, and straightened his posture.

"I've just received the latest information," Tangere announced. "The Boss is initiating a war on a global scale. The exact timing remains uncertain. Moving forward, he requires Aerin and Branric to secure enormous stockpiles of food."

In theory, the newly formed Titanion Realm possessed immense territory, and a lack of fertile land was not a concern. However, Orion was unwilling to risk the Stoneheart Horde's food reserves on undeveloped land. The Titanion Realm was on the precipice of an era of utter turmoil.

Commander Thresh had described it as a bloodbath certain to shatter the skulls of innumerable powerful beings.

An epoch like the one approaching would inevitably bring forth endless natural and man-made calamities. A master of poisons like Tangere could readily devise a plague to decimate a faction's entire harvest. Orion was aware that the Profane Lands harbored countless monsters with the capacity to inflict such devastation. To ensure security, he was significantly increasing the Horde's off-world food supplies.

"Furthermore," Tangere added, rapping his finger sharply on the table to underscore his next revelation, "Aina, Caesar, Branric, and myself have the option to volunteer for the vanguard."

He allowed the implication to settle in the air for a moment. "The Boss mentioned this war will be protracted but will involve countless Primordial Treasures. The available resources and territories are sufficient to elevate us to the level of demigods. He also made it clear that vying for these resources will inevitably lead to casualties. If you choose to participate in the deployment, make your affairs in order beforehand."

Tangere's tone grew somber. He observed each of their expressions, hoping to detect fear or hesitation. Truthfully, after sharing so much time with this group, he had developed a fondness for them. He wished for these comparatively inexperienced individuals to withdraw. Even a Lord such as himself would merely be a supporting character in this conflict. The true combatants wreaking havoc on the battlefield would be the invincible Arch Lords and demigods. In comparison, everyone seated at this table was expendable.

"I'm in," Aina declared without a moment's delay. Her demeanor was fiercely resolute, completely disregarding the mortal peril. "This is precisely the breakthrough opportunity I have been anticipating."

"Count me in as well," Caesar voiced with conviction. "I am aware that my combat strength is limited and I lack an army to lead, but this is my chance to repay the Boss. I will not let it pass."

As a Sword King, Caesar had long ago accepted the possibility of his own demise. Fighting for righteousness and the people he cherished formed the essence of his swordsmanship path.

"I will decline a position on the front lines," Scarecrow Branric stated, shaking his head. He possessed the capability to muster a vast legion of combat-focused scarecrows, and he was not lacking in personal strength. However, he recognized his strategic value in logistics. Cultivating the Horde's food supply held far greater significance for Orion than his direct involvement in the fray.

Tangere gave a nod. It was their decision, and he would not interfere. Moreover, as minor players, they likely wouldn't even meet the qualifications for the primary battlegrounds.

"This is so difficult... I don't know what to choose!" Aerin lamented, burying her face in her hands. Since the conclusion of the conflict in the Silverwood Realm, the Forest of Nature had benefited from Orion's complete protection. Aerin, the Decadent Elf Queen, had been indulging in an exceptionally idle existence, dedicating her time solely to eating and sleeping.

"The Boss did not invite you to the battlefield," Tangere replied dryly, casting a sideways glance at her. He found it inconceivable that a lethargic burden like Aerin could survive even three days on the front lines. She would likely perish in the initial skirmishes.

"He's not refusing the Wood Elves," Tangere explained. "He's specifically refusing you. He doesn't want a fool stumbling onto the battlefield, especially not on his side. Those were precisely the Boss's words. Don't blame the messenger."

Thwack! Thwack!

Aina, Caesar, and Branric all shifted their gaze to Aerin. At that moment, it felt as if daggers were metaphorically piercing Aerin's very soul.

Aerin froze, her eyes fixed forward, her face burning scarlet with pure, unadulterated shame. Then, in the next instant, she lost it.

"Aaaargh! Hulk, you insufferably arrogant brat! You've crossed the line!" she screamed, her voice cracking with hysterical sobs that reverberated off the keep's stone walls.

...

Deep within the Origin Sea of the Titanion Realm, the concepts of heaven and earth dissolved. A swirling vortex of chaos and clarity, only the untamed streams of cosmic laws coursed through the emptiness.

Within this profound stillness, a few hushed voices emerged.

"Chaos recedes. The heavens and earth find their order. The prior epoch has returned to the void, and now, the dawn of a new age must awaken!"

Orion stood imposingly within the Origin Sea, his form—four heads, eight arms—a solid manifestation, like a primal fiend god. The obliteration of the original world had drastically sharpened his grasp of cosmic laws. Currently, his divine fire blazed fiercely, pulsing with immense power. This was the crucial prelude to coalescing his divine soul!

The standard cultivation path for a demigod followed a strict sequence: first, gestate divine power through faith. Then, utilize that power to ignite the divine fire. Within this fire, forge a divine soul. Comprehend a divine calling through the soul. Finally, use that calling to birth a Divine Spark. Only with a Divine Spark could one eventually condense a Divine Vessel.

Orion had already leaped past the initial two stages and was on the precipice of forming his divine soul. Coupled with his nascent grasp of the fourth stage (divine calling) and the sixth stage (Divine Vessel), he could already contend with a genuine stage-four demigod. Combined with the entirety of the Platinum Realm bestowed by Commander Thresh, the overwhelming authority backing him rendered his current power absolutely terrifying.

Here within the Titanion Realm, Orion effectively wielded the might of a true stage-five powerhouse. However, this surge in power was strictly confined to the Titanion Realm, his personal domain. A portion of this realm had already been integrated into his Divine Kingdom.

Naturally, Orion was not the sole entity to achieve such a feat. Three other beings within the Titanion Realm currently possessed that same caliber of power and authority.

"It beggars belief that anyone would dare to bypass the early demigod stages just to force the manifestation of a Divine Vessel," a dry, rasping voice echoed.

To Orion's left, the statue-like figure of The Lifeless Dreadgod emerged from the Currents of Reality. He gazed at Orion's four-headed, eight-armed Divine Vessel, his expression a complex blend of deep wariness and undisguised envy.

A Divine Vessel was the very realm Dreadgod had been striving for. He had remained bottlenecked at the fifth stage—the Divine Spark—for an extended period. The Divine Spark represented the embodiment of destiny, the ultimate efflorescence of an individual's potential. After the bloom comes the fruit; The Lifeless Dreadgod remained stuck in the blooming phase, desperately yearning to bear fruit.

"It is not you," Orion stated, shaking his head as he looked toward The Lifeless Dreadgod. This was not the Dark Deity he was seeking. "Which means this cannot belong to you either."

Orion opened his hands. Two pages from The Chapter of the Profane materialized above his palms. He had acquired one from the cloaked man, Vaelian, and seized the other from Insect Queen Moriphara as she made her escape.

"Why pose a question for which you already know the answer?" Dreadgod responded. "Those pages are beyond price, yet they inflict agony upon anyone who dares to hold them."

Dreadgod made no move to take them. Even as a fellow Dark Deity, The Chapter of the Profane was a perilous artifact he had no desire to handle.

"You misunderstand my intent," Orion countered, carefully stowing the pages away. "I merely hoped you might possess more. Perhaps I could further expand my collection."

He had intentionally displayed the pages to provoke Dreadgod into revealing his own hidden acquisitions. Alas, the Dreadgod appeared to be empty-handed.

"The Four Gods show mercy unto all living beings. Ascend The Dais of Judgment, and eternal life awaits you! I offer my gratitude to the Four Gods for guiding me through the encroaching darkness, granting me rebirth from this decay."

Just as Orion secured the pages, a colossal, spectral projection of The Dais of Judgment breached the Currents of Reality opposite him. Archbishop Kysar stood upon its summit, adorned with a triple tiara and resplendent golden robes. An overwhelming wave of pure, holy aura radiated outward, saturating the surroundings.

"A pack of imposters," Dreadgod scoffed even before Orion could utter a word. "You might harness their power to adorn yourselves, but true godhood will forever elude you."

He tore through the Cult of Four's pretense with brutal force, striking directly at Archbishop Kysar's deepest vulnerability. Being barred from godhood with no conceivable path forward was utter despair for a demigod at stage five. This realization was particularly agonizing for Kysar, who harbored a secret conviction that he and his brethren were merely glorified servants, mere pawns manipulated by the Four Gods.

"Those who utter blasphemy against the Four Gods will face annihilation!" Whether to uphold the sanctity of his deities or to shield his own precarious ego, Archbishop Kysar unleashed a cascade of cosmic law threads, directing them with lethal intent at The Lifeless Dreadgod.

The Dreadgod merely let out a low chuckle. His imposing figure seemed to ripple and blur, effortlessly absorbing the barrage of law threads as if they were mere water.

"A world in need of renewal. A new epoch is commencing. The established order of this realm demands revision."

A disturbing, skittering sound resonated through the vast emptiness as an enormous, arachnid-like horror emerged from the very fabric of the laws. Perched atop this monstrous entity was Insect Queen Moriphara.

"The Brood Empress!" The Lifeless Dreadgod exclaimed, momentarily stunned. "You deranged woman. You actually managed to make a sacrifice sufficient to summon that entity? Are you not concerned it might consume your entire lineage?"

Moriphara paid him no mind. The Brood Empress beneath her remained utterly immobile, resembling nothing more than an empty vessel.

"Giant King," Moriphara declared, her gaze locking with Orion's. "The established order of this world requires rectification, would you not concur?"

Within this domain composed of pure laws, Orion's tangible, solidified existence granted him a considerable advantage. Moriphara's request for his opinion was a clear acknowledgement of his superior might.

"The world's order indeed requires a recalibration," Orion rumbled, taking a formidable step forward. "However, the right to meddle with it is not granted to just anyone."

At his silent command, countless laws coalesced, forming a colossal tidal wave that surged directly towards Moriphara. Leveraging the advantage of his familiar territory, Orion opted to probe her defenses. Moriphara appeared to be the most fragile combatant, the most opportune target for an initial assault.

Yet, Moriphara's formidable power far surpassed his initial assessment. Or, to be more precise, her mount possessed a terrifying degree of strength. The Brood Empress simply widened its formidable maw and engulfed Orion's advancing torrent of laws entirely.