Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1281 Guardians of the Sleeping Titan
Caelus didn't understand his own tactics, not really.
Just like he didn't understand Commander Thresh. He couldn't grasp why his mentor insisted on suppressing his power, capping his growth since birth.
While his own physical strength had stagnated, the internal world nurtured by the Miracle Divine Tree within him had expanded exponentially. It was a thriving ecosystem now, teeming with new life forms.
Keep playing with your kites, the arrogant voice inside him sneered. Your little brothers are going to surpass you soon.
The cold, haughty Caelus had nothing but contempt for his alter ego's evasive fighting style.
Surpass me?
Hah! Even if Kronos and Pallas attacked me together, I could beat them with both hands tied behind my back!
The chatty, neurotic Caelus might have been a chronic avoider of conflict, but when it came to his status as the Big Brother, his ego was ironclad.
Shameless, the arrogant voice spat. Everyone knows magic is just for people who like to talk.
See? You just don't get it, the chatty Caelus retorted. If magic was just about talking, mages would be everywhere. Go on then, cast something. Let's see it.
As the words left his lips, the wind howled.
WHOOSH!
A dense concentration of wind mana wrapped around Caelus's body, lifting him effortlessly into the air. He shot toward Garland like a streak of light.
Windflight? the chatty voice squeaked in shock. Wait... you... how do you know magic?
Heh, the arrogant voice scoffed. Like I said. Just for people who like to talk.
Despite the internal bickering, Caelus arrived at Garland only to find disappointment. Orion was nowhere to be seen. Even the underground chamber was sealed by an invisible, impenetrable force.
The ascension to Demigod was still underway.
Godforsaken Land. The Sea of Sand.
From the shifting dunes, countless undead clawed their way to the surface. They dragged the screaming invaders down into the sand, burying them alive to join the eternal ranks of the damned.
"Fourth wave," Soraya noted dryly.
The situation was escalating. Since she had butchered Grand Magus Faraday's kill team seven years ago, the Sea of Sand had known no peace.
Four years ago, the family had sent a Peak Arch Lord after three years of preparation. Soraya had killed him too.
Since then, like clockwork, a new group of outsiders invaded every year.
Soraya wasn't stupid. She knew what was happening. Faraday's family had realized the Sea of Sand was a hard nut to crack, so they had sold the coordinates on the black market. They were letting the rest of the world do their dirty work.
Unless a Demigod drops from the sky, I'll bury them all.
Years of constant warfare had tempered her. She was no longer just a Broodmother; she was a Warlord. This was her territory, gifted by Orion, and under her rule, the Scorpion Tribe had exploded in numbers. As long as the ecosystem held, her army had no cap.
I can feel it. Arch Lord is close.
Holding the [Desert's Authority] gave her a cheat code for understanding the laws of the world. The longer she held it, the closer she got to ascension.
It had taken a decade for the reality to sink in: the gift Orion had given her was priceless. The Faraday family had burned mountains of resources and lives trying to reclaim this land, all for a taste of that Authority.
Only those who can keep up with Orion will survive.
"My small scorpions have been resting long enough," Soraya whispered, a cruel smile touching her lips. "Time for a drill."
With a wave of her hand, the undead army sank back beneath the sands, returning to their slumber.
The Abyss, Layer Two: Vigil's Point.
Delilah stood watch.
Ten years had hardened her. Her aura was dense, a testament to her reaching the peak of the Legendary level. Here in the Abyss, her growth outpaced even Lilith's. But the view from the top was bloody.
Vigil's Point was on permanent high alert.
War had broken out eight years ago—a massive territorial clash between Makareth and the Demondrake Arch Lord.
Fortunately, Makareth had ascended to Arch Lord status a few years prior, giving him the weight to hold his ground. His protection kept the fires of war from consuming Vigil's Point directly, but Delilah wasn't the type to rely on charity.
She had built the Sentinel Corps into a formidable force, frequently sending aid to Makareth's front lines to keep the enemy at bay. War was their neighbor, always knocking on the door.
When will Orion wake up? she wondered, looking out over the fortifications.
I've outgrown this place. Vigil's Point runs itself now. I need a bigger stage. I need to reach Arch Lord.
Ambition was a fire Delilah had never been able to extinguish. If anything, it was burning hotter than ever.
The Abyss, Layer Six: Foundry Citadel.
While Delilah and Soraya were hungry for ascension, the three Scourge Wardens—Eparus, Holrivus, and Thronlis—had already crossed that finish line five years ago.
They were now Arch Lords.
The Foundry Citadel commanded a territory vast enough to support a Demigod, which meant feeding three Arch Lords was trivial. Their ascension had finally freed the Deathly Soul-Reaper from being the sole pillar of defense.
Even the rank-and-file Scourge Wardens had seen a surge in Legendary level promotions.
However, the Reaper couldn't leave. The territory was too big, too valuable. If the Demigod-level deterrent disappeared, the surrounding Abyssal Lords would carve the Citadel apart like a Thanksgiving turkey.
"My Lord," Eparus rumbled. He, like his brothers, could now control his size, and they had moved into the Four-Sided Tower alongside Wraith Knight Ashreign. "The neighbors are getting restless. The recent rebellions? Definitely their work."
"We're a beacon," the Deathly Soul-Reaper said, its metallic voice echoing. "Immigrants are flooding in. We're fat, rich, and growing. Of course they want a bite."
Since the Gray World had receded, the Foundry Citadel and the Conquest Legion had experienced explosive growth. It was a golden age, and in the Abyss, a golden age was just an invitation for slaughter.