Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 783: I Would Rather Make a Deal

Orion thought, his mind racing.

In the space of a single breath, Orion had pieced it together. But why this ancient demigod was here, locked in this strange embrace, remained a mystery.

"Who are you?" Orion asked, deciding to feign ignorance. Whether he could truly fool a demigod was debatable, but he was certain of one thing: this creature did not know him.

"Hahahaha... a lowly, insignificant creature, attempting to play the fool before me," the serpent’s voice hissed with a sinister amusement. "You lie with your eyes wide open, little giant. You have courage."

Orion said nothing. He watched the serpent, his body coiled and ready for any hostile move. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, the serpent’s glistening black eyes radiating a palpable sense of danger.

Then, the man trapped in the serpent’s coils opened his eyes.

A light, brilliant and absolute, erupted from his gaze. It flooded the cavern, illuminating the still water and the featureless black void of a sky.

"Damnable old thing!" the serpent shrieked. Under the power of that blinding light, its scales hardened, its coils tightened, and it became utterly still, a living statue fused to the man.

The light was so intense that Orion had to shield his own eyes, an instinctive revulsion rising within him. It was a pure, holy radiance, anathema to any being with a touch of the abyss in their blood. After a moment, the light dimmed slightly, but the man’s form remained a blinding silhouette.

A new voice, firm and resolute, sounded in Orion’s mind.

Orion’s heart hammered in his chest. So it was true. This was the great evil, the world-ender. No wonder its projection had spoken with such arrogance.

the voice continued.

The fist of fear around Orion’s heart finally loosened. If they were only projections, he had a chance. Deep in the sea of his consciousness, a blade of absolute power lay dormant.

he thought, a wave of relief washing over him.

the being of light continued. Valthor

Valthor, a demigod of Chaos Continent. His attitude was a world away from the serpent’s contempt. He was courteous, respectful even.

And yet... Orion remained wary. What demigod was not a survivor of countless trials and bitter hatreds? A kind face could hide a cunning heart.

"My apologies," Orion said aloud, his voice carefully neutral. "I came here only to find the Spring of Life. A battle between demigods is not something a being of my station has any right to interfere in."

He had to be cautious.

In Orion’s eyes, there were no true saints in any world. Every soul had its own selfish desires. He saw Valthor as a hypocrite, cloaked in a mantle of goodness and light.

Every demigod was a terrifying being. Even the mighty Alexander, Leonidas, and Arthas had not yet reached that rank. To treat such a creature with anything less than extreme caution would be the height of folly.

"I am sorry," Orion stated firmly. "I cannot help you. Nor can I help the millions of souls you speak of."

Valthor’s voice began to fade, growing distant, as if something were dragging him back into an unseen abyss. The light receded. The man and the serpent became a silent, frozen statue once more.

The mysterious place fell completely quiet, so still it felt like a paradise at the end of time. Orion stood on the mirror-like surface of the lake, looking at his own reflection, and felt as if none of it were real.

The silence was broken by a familiar, hissing laugh. The serpent was alive again.

"It seems you are not a complete fool, little giant. Now, submit to me."

"I will grant you a forbidden rite. You can forge your body of faith right here, in this very place, and become the Archlord you long to be."

The black serpent did not wait for a reply, its voice dripping with temptation.

"You are clever enough to know that such arcane knowledge is precious. Ascension to the rank of Archlord always comes at a price. Submit to me. Help me destroy this old man."

"Once I have taken the Spring of Life, I can even grant you passage to my world. This one, after all, is doomed to perish."

"Heh heh heh hahahaha..."

...

The serpent’s laughter was thick with triumph, as if its victory were a foregone conclusion.

If Orion had been a native of this world, like Sophia, perhaps the offer would have been irresistible. A guaranteed escape from a dying world, a path to godlike power... it was a potent lure.

But Orion was not a native. He had the Champions Alliance. He had a world of his own.

"Your Grace," Orion said, his face an unreadable mask as he stared down the great serpent. He was beginning a negotiation, a parley for information. "Submission is impossible."

He had to engage, to press, to learn more.

"However," he continued, "we could cooperate. You give me this secret rite of ascension, and I will help you eliminate your foe."

If the evil one agreed, Orion was willing to play along. A technique for forging a body of faith, if it was real, was an asset of incalculable value—not just for him, but for Kraken and Isabella. And if he found a suitable buyer, it could be traded for other priceless treasures.

"My secrets are for my servants alone," the serpent hissed, its amusement vanishing. "You are dreaming, little giant."

The negotiation was over before it had truly begun. Orion stared at the serpent, considering his next move.

But at that moment, the brilliant light flared once more. Valthor awoke, and the great black serpent was once again frozen in stone.

The question struck Orion to the core. He would not. At the very least, he would need Leonidas, Alexander, and the Deputy Commander to examine it. With their vast knowledge, they might spot the traps hidden within. And even if they didn’t, he would still hesitate. This universe was vast; it was all too easy to imagine a single, cursed rite that could lead to an eternity of damnation.

Valthor warned.

It was a bizarre tableau. Two demigods, one of light and one of shadow, both treating him as a simple, impressionable child to be swayed. One tempted him with power, the other preached virtue. Orion remained silent, watching the being of light, waiting to see what he would offer, what reward he would promise.

But Valthor promised nothing. Instead, he simply explained the true, righteous path to power.

Orion listened intently. He had already gleaned the basics of this from his own recent ordeal. The Commander’s Blade Flash had annihilated the wills of the evil demigod and the Flower Goddess, but it had left their raw power behind. Now, hearing Valthor state it plainly, his understanding became complete. Valthor was right. No secret rite was necessary.

Valthor continued earnestly.

Valthor’s words sent a chill through Orion. He understood the implications. A body of faith forged through a shortcut might be unstable. Worse, the creator could have woven a hidden chain into its very design, a backdoor for control or influence. The new form might have inherent weaknesses, or be entirely mismatched with a warrior’s own spirit and fighting style.

And then, the final piece clicked into place. Alexander, Leonidas, Arthas... none of them had ever spoken of such a thing. They had deliberately kept the existence of these shortcuts from him, wanting him to ascend through his own strength, on his own terms.

The higher one climbed, Orion realized, the more treacherous the path, the more insidious the traps. He felt as though he were walking on the thinnest of ice.

Valthor’s voice was growing fainter.

Valthor’s voice trailed off as the light faded. The serpent stirred, its evil presence descending once more.

"Do not listen to the old man, little giant," it hissed. "He offers you nothing but empty words and expects you to die for him. Such is the way of hypocrites. Besides, this world is doomed. Do you not wish to secure a path forward for yourself, and for the horde at your back?"

The serpent’s tone was as arrogant as ever, but Orion could now hear a faint tremor of desperation in its attempts to obfuscate the truth.

"Submit to me," it repeated. "I will help you ascend. And you must believe this: even a demigod would not easily discard a follower who has attained the rank of Archlord."

The last part was likely true. An Archlord was a valuable asset. But Orion also knew that in a moment of true crisis, a being of pure evil would sacrifice anyone—even its own kin. He did not hear a word of it.

"Your Grace," Orion said, his voice now firm with a newfound confidence. "Submission is impossible."

Knowing they were merely will-projections, his fear had abated.

"I would rather make a deal."