Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

"You didn't see this coming, did you? The Ghost Dragon doesn't deal any real damage."

"But it can imprison anything."

"Now you're completely helpless, mwahahaha…"

"I told you I'd kill you and drink your blood."

"Oh, and your skull? I'm going to treasure it."

Arch Lord Kian stared at Orion as if admiring an exquisite piece of art.

For several seconds, Orion felt Kian's gaze linger on his neck, sweeping back and forth.

Orion couldn't move. He was utterly powerless.

Kian's sinister laughter echoed, growing more triumphant.

…

Titanion Realm, Ironveil Escarpment.

"Revered Xalathar, a city is planned for this location. We'll need to use a Lord's Stone."

Although Delilah was one of the four senior elders of the Stoneheart Horde, Xalathar, as a Warden, held a visibly higher status.

Before Xalathar, Delilah was exceedingly polite and respectful.

Back when they were mere hero level, Xalathar had already reached the Alpha level. Following Orion, he had performed countless meritorious deeds for the Stoneheart Horde.

In truth, the Stoneheart Horde had never officially recorded Xalathar's accomplishments, nor had it allocated significant public resources to him.

Xalathar's resources for advancement all came from Orion.

It was hard for anyone to feel hostility towards a being like Xalathar, who had given so much to the Horde yet sought almost nothing in return.

Consequently, Xalathar's standing within the Stoneheart Horde was very high, laden with honor.

The dozing Xalathar slowly opened his eyes but didn't rise.

Xalathar looked at the succubus before him. She stood no taller than his lower jaw, and a thoughtful expression crossed his enormous eyes.

"I remember you,' Xalathar rumbled, his voice metallic. 'You're one of the Master's sex slaves. I've even carried you on my back before."

Delilah was momentarily stunned but quickly recovered. It was no secret that Xalathar could speak.

But hearing Xalathar use the word 'sex slave' to describe her, Delilah found it both exasperating and amusing.

"Xalathar, could you still carry me around the camp for a spin now?"

Delilah's gaze was fervent. She knew very well that if Xalathar, the Abyssal Dragon, agreed to her outrageous request, it would cause a massive sensation. Her status and prestige within the Horde would then be vastly different.

"What did you say?"

However, Xalathar's only reply was a cold inquiry, an icy killing intent gradually coalescing in his massive eyes.

Since reaching the Legendary level, Xalathar's heart had room only for Orion.

Alpha-levels, in his view, were merely weak prey.

Of course, if Orion made a request, that was another matter entirely. Xalathar wouldn't even object to carrying a boar.

"My apologies! I was just joking!"

"Being carried across battlefields by you back then was truly unforgettable, so nostalgic."

"It was my honor to fight alongside you!"

Delilah offered a coquettish smile, her words sounding sincere as she subtly flattered Xalathar.

Battle... the past... Xalathar's enormous eyes flickered with reminiscence.

"Those days were indeed worth remembering!"

The killing intent in Xalathar's eyes vanished. He knew Delilah was important to Orion.

Besides, Orion had given some instructions before he left.

"Set up the castle. I will place the Lord's Stone."

Hearing Xalathar's promise, the corners of Delilah's mouth turned up. Her mood was splendid.

"Could you help me build a Nest?"

"A Nest of my own!"

Delilah was truly surprised by this request, then curious, and pleasantly so.

"Xalathar, what kind of Nest do you desire?"

…

Walking out of the camp, Delilah wore a faint smile.

Xalathar's request was a trivial matter for Delilah.

What delighted Delilah was having established a basis for communication with Xalathar; she had forged a connection with him.

Such a connection might mean little to a Legendary-level powerhouse.

But for someone like Delilah, who had not yet reached the Legendary level, it was exceedingly important.

This relationship was a significant boon for Delilah, and for the succubus race.

Outside the camp, at the canal excavation site.

Dace, Beyn, and Torba stood on a high earthen mound, gazing blankly at the canal stretching towards the sea, lost in a daze.

Otho, one of their fellow guards, had died in battle here. It was a truth the three of them found hard to accept, and they were deeply grieved.

As guards of the Giant King, his death in battle here made them feel indignant, enraged, and humiliated.

"Are we too weak?"

"As guards of the Giant King, we grew complacent. We never thought we'd see a day like this."

"Have we disappointed Orion?"

Otho's death in battle had shattered the guards' honor and dignity. Dace, Beyn, and Torba were reeling from the blow.

"It's those damned Sea Folk! They killed Otho!"

Beyn stared at the distant sea, roaring endlessly, venting his frustration.

"Dace, will this be our fate too?"

Dace didn't answer Torba; he didn't know the future either.

After a while, Dace's firm voice reached Beyn and Torba.

"It's a shame Otho didn't die protecting the Giant King!"

"But Otho died on the battlefield. He died fighting for our Stoneheart Horde."

"This is his glory, and ours too."

Dace spoke with resounding force, making Beyn and Torba shudder.

"No one escapes death. It might be you next, or it might be me. We will all die."

"But I hope we die a worthy death, a glorious one."

"Beyn, Torba! For the next generation of the Stoneheart Horde, for the future of the Horde—even if we die in battle, what is there to fear?"

After Dace finished, the air fell silent.

Only the whistling sea breeze remained, as if Otho himself were shouting encouragement in their ears.

What is there to fear?

Emerald Dream Realm, Dark Sacred Chalice space.

Facing death, Orion echoed the thought: What is there to fear?

As his body, spirit, and soul were imprisoned by the Ghost Dragon, and Archlord Kian raised the blade, a hidden trump card Orion possessed was finally triggered.

Boom!

Rummmble!

Where lightning struck, all things were annihilated.

Thump, thump, thump… The thunderclaps in the Dark Sacred Chalice space grew louder with each strike, the sound like a roaring thunder dragon, its immense power unstoppable.

In a trance, it seemed someone was chanting, performing ancient sacrifices to the heavens.

Amidst the rolling lightning, divine phantoms slowly coalesced, and a suffocating, chilling aura suddenly descended upon the void.

Even Leonidas and Lestat, still locked in close combat far away, were startled by the immense commotion.