Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1605 Harvesting Realms

The Titanion Realm. The World Tree.

Orion’s eyes fluttered open. The spectacle unfolding was a precise replay of the world’s inception. Before them, The Lifeless Dreadgod, Archbishop Kysar, and Moriphara maintained their positions atop their thrones as the four primary limbs of the World Tree ascended from the ethereal expanse.

Orion, Kysar, and Moriphara collectively directed their attention toward The Lifeless Dreadgod, or more precisely, the World Tree branch that materialized behind him.

This particular branch was actively elevating a miniature world. In essence, it was consuming it.

"Heh heh heh... I imagine I caused quite a disturbance. Didn't intend to rouse you all," The Lifeless Dreadgod taunted, showing no concern whatsoever for the reactions of Orion or the others.

No response was offered. All gazes remained fixated on the branch. As the World Tree absorbed the small realm, The Lifeless Dreadgod’s branch noticeably swelled and pulsed with burgeoning power.

Orion’s brow furrowed. He comprehended the situation precisely. When The Demigod of the Moonwell integrated her Pocket Dimension into the World Tree, Orion had experienced a comparable enhancement. Nevertheless, her Pocket Dimension was a minuscule contribution compared to the entirety of the world The Lifeless Dreadgod was currently absorbing.

"Observe this. It’s a method for accelerating our realm’s establishment. Swift and decisive," The Lifeless Dreadgod proclaimed, his tone shifting from indolent to scornful. "You mean to tell me none of you were aware?"

Silence persisted. They simply bore witness to the process of consumption. The diminutive world under The Lifeless Dreadgod’s dominion offered no resistance whatsoever.

Orion observed intently. The roots of the Titanion Realm’s World Tree descended into the small world like an Abyssal Wyrm, vigorously agitating its fundamental power. A nascent, incompletely formed World Tree was violently extirpated from the realm’s World Essence. Ensnared within the crushing embrace of the Abyssal Wyrm roots, it withered instantly, disintegrating into dust.

With its World Tree obliterated, catastrophic devastation immediately befell the small world. Molten magma erupted through the crust, transforming the landscape into a turbulent ocean of fire.

The indigenous civilizations were eradicated within minutes. Enormous flying fortresses plummeted as their buoyancy failed, torn apart by chaotic gravitational shifts. The terrified inhabitants dissolved into clouds of crimson mist, their remains raining down with the debris to be engulfed by the ash and inferno.

Every organism—be it plant, animal, microbe, or elemental—succumbed to rapid decay and disintegration. In under fifteen minutes, an entire world was reduced to pure, unrefined World Essence.

The Abyssal Wyrm roots functioned akin to a conduit, draining the realm utterly and instantaneously.

Eventually, the pandemonium subsided, leaving behind inert dust.

When Orion finally shifted his gaze, he noticed a solitary, golden droplet suspended in The Lifeless Dreadgod’s palm. A bestowal from the World Tree. It resembled water, yet it was the most unadulterated essence of World Essence.

Under the collective observation of the other three, The Lifeless Dreadgod emitted a coarse burst of laughter and ingested the golden drop. His aura demonstrably escalated.

"I am aware that none of you are simpletons," The Lifeless Dreadgod boomed. "Fortifying this world’s origins is not a solitary endeavor. The true benefits are only reaped if the Titanion Realm achieves full maturity. Time is of the essence."

His frigid voice gradually dissipated, yet that ultimate admonition lingered palpably in the atmosphere. Orion frowned, detecting the subtle yet undeniable undertone of urgency in the Dreadgod’s pronouncement.

Casting a glance at Archbishop Kysar and Moriphara, Orion offered no parting words. The branch supporting him dissolved. They were adversaries in a ruthless competition for power; civilities could not obscure the inherent animosity that existed between them.

The Titanion Realm. Staghelm City.

As the World Tree’s benediction concluded, the resplendent silver moon receded. Beneath the astonished gazes of the city’s populace, Isilra descended gracefully back into the city, alighting beside The Demigod of the Moonwell.

"Mother... what has become of me?" Isilra inquired, exhibiting a slight sway. The immersion in World Essence had left her profoundly disoriented.

The Demigod of the Moonwell delayed her response. She merely gestured towards the heavens. A spectral outline of the silver moon still shimmered where Isilra had ascended.

"Isilra, do you perceive your destined path?"

To the inhabitants of Staghelm City, that ethereal moon was merely the lingering luminescence of a miraculous event. However, to The Demigod of the Moonwell, it signified Isilra’s future. It was her definitive trajectory toward the demigod tier.

"What is that...?" Isilra whispered, her eyes fixed upon the phantom moon. Her initial bewilderment gradually gave way to profound amazement, ultimately resolving into an absolute, crystal-clear understanding.

A full day later, Staghelm City underwent an official renaming to Argentis.

It was christened in honor of the perpetual, unyielding silver moon now permanently fixed in its firmament—the ultimate emblem of Isilra.

The Central Continent. Stoneheart City.

Amidst the lively chaos of trade and survival, the sounds of merchants from various races haggling harmonized with the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths' hammers and the deep growls of controlled beasts.

A peculiar adventuring party, appearing quite out of sync with the bustling prosperity, strode directly into the heart of Orion's domain.

The group consisted of Aina, adorned in a pristine, storybook-like gown; Aerin, a Wood Elf Ranger with an artfully tailored tunic featuring snug cuffs; Caesar, a colossal warrior brandishing a massive greatsword upon his back; Tangere, concealed entirely by a heavy, charcoal-hued cloak; and Scarecrow, sporting a straw hat and currently being transported over Caesar's shoulder as if a mere parcel.

"So, this is the boss's territory?"

"It's astonishingly developed."

Caesar tilted his head upwards, his gaze not fixed upon the immaculate cobblestone pathways or the luminous, magically powered streetlights. Instead, he observed the immense formations of tamed ravens and the swift Flying Fish Mayflies navigating the airspace above. The masterful coordination of such vast numbers of airborne beasts was an undeniable testament to a highly advanced dominion.

"Unbelievable," Aerin breathed, her Wood Elf senses keenly attuned to her surroundings. "The ambient Qi here is astronomical. Hulk is truly on another plane."

"The crucial transition from a rudimentary, agrarian existence to a sophisticated commercial civilization hinges on a single element: surplus," Aina observed, her eyes scanning the environs. "An abundance of food and resources fosters societal stratification, specialized guilds, governmental structures, and formalized spiritual practices. It is evident that this place has already achieved the critical juncture of societal transformation."

She indicated the imposing, heavily fortified ramparts of the inner city, then gestured towards a recently arrived contingent of slaves being processed near the main gates.

The sheer opulence and thriving nature of Stoneheart City filled Aina with wonder—and a potent surge of envy. Her mind immediately began to tally, contemplating the immense quantity of blood she could extract from such a domain, the sheer magnitude of the army she could sustain... the prospect was truly breathtaking.