Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1630 Embracing the Madness

"Securing a Divine Mantle is our top priority, but don't forget to establish our foothold on Titan and The Primordial Continent."

"Titan will soon see an influx of powerhouses and new races. Major conflicts can be negotiated with their leaders, but the minor skirmishes will be uncontrollable and will only multiply."

It was inevitable. When an elite powerhouse joined the Titan faction, they brought their entire lineage with them. As the host, Orion would have to carve out territories for them to use as their base of operations. It was essentially a feudal system. As the continent's ruler, Orion would levy taxes—gold, resources, and faith. Nothing would be exempt.

"You all know how the old empires shattered, right?" the Deputy Commander asked. "Orion's Stoneheart Horde will act as the high crown, but the vassal lords will war among themselves. They'll ignore his edicts while paying lip service. At worst, someone might even try to turn the high king into a puppet to command the rest."

He wasn't fear-mongering; it was a certainty. Even acknowledging Orion and his Stoneheart Horde as the continent's rulers, factions backed by overwhelming power would never quietly fall in line.

Therefore, the Champions Alliance had to prepare.

"I suggest we restructure our forces," the Deputy Commander continued. "We need to secure our place in Titan's power structure and resource distribution. We must get our infrastructure and personnel up and running immediately. Our goal is defense. We need to make sure these newcomers can't shake the order we've established. Once you and the Commander ascend to a Divine Mantle, all these volatile elements on Titan will vanish overnight."

Orion, Leonidas, Alexander, and Arthas nodded in agreement. They needed their pieces on the board before the outsiders flooded in.

"Let me remind you of one thing," Orion spoke up as the Deputy Commander finished. "A Divine Mantle is vital, but it comes with restrictions."

He paused, ensuring he had everyone's attention. "A Divine Mantle forged in the Titanion Realm is anchored to the Titanion Realm. It binds you to this world. Just like the demon gods—their Divine Mantle was forged in the Abyssal World, binding them to it. They belong to the Abyssal World faction by default, for better or worse. They can't separate from it."

"Brothers, think carefully before you choose," Orion warned. "Only then can you properly organize the transfer of your resources and people."

He was being blunt. From now on, their focus had to be the Titanion Realm. The Divine Mantle was here; this was their stronghold.

Meanwhile, in a Pontiff palace on the Continent of the Pantheon...

Dim candlelight flickered against dull stained glass. Twisted shadows writhed in the gaps between the heavy doors and windows. The once-holy cathedral was covered in dust. The supposedly eternal divine fire held by the statues of the four gods was gone, leaving only the musty scent of beeswax and ash.

"See? They are the lunatics!"

"Betraying The Order, transferring its foundations, deceiving the four gods, hiding the truth from their subordinates... They are the real madmen! Archbishop? Fuck the Archbishop!"

Clown and Witch sat shoulder-to-shoulder on a pew facing the statues. It was the closest they had been in a long time. Clown was roaring, his voice and very soul caught between shrill hysteria and utter helplessness.

"You called me crazy before, but look at it now! Madness is the only way to survive!" Clown spat. "These ancient, undying Archbishops are living proof. If we don't embrace the madness, we're dead!"

Clown's voice dropped. Beneath the terror was a primal instinct to survive. That sheer will to live surprisingly centered him.

"Are you saying our soul marks merged into the Titanion Realm along with the Continent of the Pantheon?" Witch asked. "And that this is Orion's territory, watched over by the Commander?"

Compared to Clown, Witch was disturbingly calm. It was a stability born of total despair—the kind of hopelessness that makes a person give up.

"If the Commander wanted to, he could kill us right now?" She looked at Clown, her voice cautious, desperate for a sliver of hope.

"Theoretically, yes."

A ripple of emotion broke through the deadness in Witch's eyes. She clutched at the proverbial straw. "Where is our way out?" she demanded urgently.

"The Titanion Realm is an Ascendant Plane now," Clown said, staring at the stained glass saints. Moonlight sliced through a window gap, reflecting across his rigid, puppet-like features. He narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. "Archbishop Kysar and his cronies did all this to forge a Divine Mantle here. They want to shake off the four gods and ascend themselves."

"A Divine Mantle is exactly what the Commander is after, too. He and Orion won't let anyone ruin the Titanion Realm before the prize is claimed. For now, we are safe."

Clown stood and walked to the altar beneath the statues. He reached out, trying to manifest a spark of faith to light the central candelabra.

He failed.

The divine fire wouldn't ignite. Here in the Titanion Realm, Clown had lost his anchor. He couldn't pray to the four gods; he couldn't connect with their will.

"If I'm right, Archbishop Kysar must hold a fragment of the world's Authority. Otherwise, they wouldn't have risked everything to benefit the Titanion Realm." Clown hesitated, his confidence slipping. "From his perspective, even if the Commander attacks, they'll shield us."

He only said that based on Archbishop Kysar's grip on the Authority. As a continental ruler, the Archbishop wouldn't tolerate outsiders encroaching on the Continent of the Pantheon.

"Our fate is still in someone else's hands," Witch said, the light in her eyes dimming again. Clown's logic didn't solve their underlying problem.

"Is there really no way to change this? How do we save ourselves?" Witch looked up, staring at Clown with searing intensity. She knew that if her desire to live was a hundred, Clown's was a thousand—a million. If he didn't want to die, he would tear the world apart looking for an exit.

"Change... save ourselves... a way out..." Clown fell into a manic state, muttering the words under his breath like a mantra.

Seeing him unravel deepened Witch's helplessness. She curled up on the pew, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face in her legs.

"All this scheming, and we still failed. If only back then..."

Was it regret? Witch didn't know. Right now, she just wanted to survive. When she first joined the Cult of Four and had her soul mark extracted, she thought the protection of the four gods would shield her from the Commander's hunt.

In the end, she was still just running.