Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1292 The Scythe's Verdict

Orion hesitated, his thoughts racing while the sounds of the surrounding carnage echoed. He had indeed pilfered a Gray Crystal from an Arch Lord. It was a prize of great value, but was it truly enough to force an Abyssal Ruler to act in person? It seemed improbable, like a monarch stepping down from his throne just to hunt a common thief.

If the Abyssal Ruler had truly marked Orion for death, no simple messenger or squad would have been dispatched. A total calamity would have been sent instead.

Gripping his scythe tighter, Orion reasoned that if this were truly the Ruler's decree, the designated executioner would be no less than a Demigod.

He shifted his focus to Eudan, scrutinizing him closely. The demon was merely putting on a show.

He’s bluffing.

Orion understood the power dynamics of the Abyss. The chasm between his own power and that of an Abyssal Ruler was as vast as the difference between a flickering candle and a supernova. Had he truly ignited the personal wrath of such a being, his life would have ended long ago.

“Do you honestly believe you have the right to speak for the Abyssal Ruler?” Orion’s voice grew deep and cold, causing the local temperature to drop instantly.

He lifted his weapon, allowing a thick, suffocating killing intent to saturate the atmosphere.

Eudan stood his ground, a smirk playing on his lips as he puffed out his chest. “My forefather is the legendary Julius! I am Eudan of House Julius! Do you doubt that I wield the authority of my own bloodline?”

His arrogance was nearly tangible. In Eudan's mind, the prestige of the Abyssal Ruler was a personal asset he could wrap around himself like a garment.

“Die.”

Shhhk.

The smirk on Eudan's face didn't fade; it simply petrified.

A scythe blade burst through his chest, dripping with dark ichor. Orion was no longer in front of him. Having moved with impossible speed, he now stood behind the demon, whispering into his ear with the intimacy of a lover sharing a secret.

“I am well aware of how the Chaos Demon clans operate,” Orion murmured. “You are obsessed with blood purity—the True-Demons. If you were actually a favored member of the inner circle, your name would honor that lineage. You would be called a ‘Julidean’ or a ‘Julivus.’”

Orion gave the blade a cruel twist.

“But ‘Eudan’? You are nothing more than a distant relative from a bastard branch. At best.”

Orion was no novice. Having survived over a decade within the Abyss, he wasn't some lost traveler wandering blindly through the shadows. His Conquest Legion was comprised of high-ranking demons; he understood their internal politics as intimately as their physical weaknesses.

“You wretch... how dare you...”

Eudan’s words turned into a wet gurgle as the [Doomsday Fire] flared to life. Within moments, his physical form was reduced to ash, scattered by the wind.

However, as the smoke dissipated, Orion didn't find a corpse. Instead, a severed demon horn hovered in the air. It shattered, emitting a burst of Demigod energy, and Eudan’s body began to reconstruct itself once more.

So many spare lives, Orion thought with irritation. It’s like dealing with a trust fund brat.

The situation reminded him of his battles against the Survivors—foes backed by infinite wealth who relied on layer after layer of expensive safety nets. It seemed the great demon houses of the Abyss functioned the same way.

“You lowborn scum!” Eudan screamed as he reformed, his pride completely shattered. “You dare ignore me? You dare disrespect House Julius?”

He had become hysterical. To be humiliated within the territory of his own ancestor was a disgrace he could not endure.

“You think being an Over-tier makes you untouchable? I’ll make you regret the day you were born!”

Eudan reached into his garments and crushed a crystallized demon eye.

BOOM.

The very fabric of the atmosphere fractured. A massive, ancient pressure fell upon the Donough Blood-Crow Nest. High above, the Arch Lords halted their skirmishes, their instincts forcing them to go still.

A spectral figure manifested before Eudan.

It was a Demigod phantom—a towering Chaos Demon equipped with blazing wings and a greataxe massive enough to cleave mountains. Its eyes were pits of eternal hellfire.

“Ancestor!” Eudan wailed, pointing a shaking finger at Orion. “There is the thief! The one who plundered the Lord’s trophy! He mocks us! He insults House Julius! He has already slain me three times!”

Eudan’s arrogance returned in full force. While an Over-tier warrior was formidable, they had their breaking points. They possessed limited stamina and could not hope to win a war of attrition against a Demigod, even a mere phantom.

“Hahaha! It’s over for you, trash! You’re—”

“A Death-Soul?”

The phantom’s voice sounded like the grinding of massive stones, instantly cutting through Eudan’s manic laughter.

The towering, fiery entity ignored its descendant entirely, fixing its gaze solely on Orion—or more specifically, the vessel Orion inhabited.

“It is merely an avatar,” Orion remarked with a shrug, showing no fear.

The Demigod phantom remained silent, withholding its attack.

The Death-Soul race was a name that carried immense weight in the high-dimensional realms of the Abyss—perhaps even more than the Chaos Demons. House Julius had only recently asserted dominance over the Sixth Layer, whereas the Death-Soul race had governed their own Abyssal world since the dawn of time, remaining undefeated.

They were a vengeful and reclusive people. One did not simply "take" a Death-Soul body. If an outsider dared to possess one by force, the entire race would pursue them to the edges of the universe.

The fact that Orion stood there, alive and in control of that body, suggested he had permission. It implied a high-level alliance.

The phantom wavered. Killing a rogue thief was simple, but starting a blood feud with the Death-Soul race was a different matter entirely.

Of course, the phantom was overthinking the situation.

Orion had no diplomatic ties to the Death-Soul race whatsoever. This avatar was simply loot. It was a trophy from the Crucible of the Gods, seized during a campaign led by Commander Thresh of the Champions Alliance. In the Crucible, the winner takes everything. Had the Death-Soul champions emerged victorious, they would be wearing Orion’s equipment right now.

“How did you come to possess a Death-Soul avatar?” the phantom demanded, its voice heavy with suspicion.

Orion merely chuckled.

He had to give credit to Commander Thresh; the man’s reach was truly terrifying.

To coordinate a duel with the Death-Soul race required a level of influence and raw strength that Orion was only beginning to fully appreciate.

“This land is my domain,” Orion declared, his voice echoing across the ruined terrain. “Out of respect for Lord Julius, I will permit you to depart. But only you.”

He leveled his scythe toward the gathered legions below. “The armies that dared to invade my territory? They will not be leaving. They die here.”

It was an icy, deliberate ultimatum. If these two hadn't been linked to the House Julius bloodline, Orion wouldn't have bothered with words; he would have simply added them to the body count.

The reply was a burst of crazed laughter.

“Curse you! Who do you think you are?” Eudan shrieked, his features contorting. “Do you think a Death-Soul avatar makes you royalty? Even the Death-Soul race must bow in the Sixth Layer! This is the domain of House Julius!”

The demigod phantom let out a roar of agreement, its body transforming into a comet of intense heat.

“Die!”

The phantom lunged. It was a concentrated mass of Demon Fire—the unquenchable, starving flame found in the Abyss's deepest pits.

“Suicide,” Orion whispered.

This wasn't pride speaking. He had possessed the strength to challenge demigod phantoms for a long time. After years of perfecting the Deathly Soul-Reaper avatar and mastering the mysteries of his war scythe relic, a mere projection was no longer a concern.

The only beings Orion truly feared were a demigod in the flesh or an Abyssal Ruler. This was nothing more than target practice.

Orion didn't flinch. He lunged forward, his war scythe humming as the laws of the Void and Doomsday Fire swirled around the blade.

CRACK!

It was a sound Eudan would hear in his final moments—which were rapidly approaching.

The demigod ancestor, the crowning glory of his house, didn't just fail; he was decimated. Orion’s blow instantly shattered the phantom’s willpower, dispersing the Demon Fire like spilled liquid.

The flames hit the earth, burning aimlessly without a consciousness to lead them. Orion stood in the center of the blaze, unharmed, walking toward Eudan with slow, deliberate steps.

“I imagine you didn't foresee this,” Orion said, his tone hauntingly steady. “Even your ancestor was powerless to save you.”

Eudan scrambled back, his heels dragging through the dirt.

“No... No! Get back! Stay away from me!”

It was the desperate cry of a being who had never faced real consequences, now confronting his absolute end.

Orion did not slow down.

In a flash of speed, Orion disappeared and then stood before him. Eudan’s eyes widened, mirroring his own destruction.

A Chaos Demon’s head spun into the air, followed by a spray of black blood against the dim sky.

Eudan was merely an Arch Lord who had exhausted his artifacts. He was out of extra lives.

Orion took no chances. He pumped Doomsday Fire through his scythe, incinerating the headless body and the falling skull. The flames surged, devouring flesh, bone, and most importantly, the soul.

Orion watched until only drifting smoke remained. He swept the area with his spiritual sense, searching for any hidden soul-vessels or escape techniques.

There was nothing. Eudan was erased from existence.

“Now,” Orion sighed, his adrenaline cooling into a knot of tension. “We wait for the Abyssal Ruler’s response.”

He was aware he had crossed a significant line. But he also knew that hesitation was a death sentence. If the Abyssal Ruler came for him, he would fight. For now, he had a task to complete.

He looked toward the heavens.

The invading Demon forces were from Iron-Forged Ridge, servants of the demigod Lord Reklos. Their intrusion was a declaration of war.

Orion intended to send a clear message. He wouldn't just beat them; he would build a monument of bone and fear—a warning to the entire Abyss.

Kill them all.

The battle in the sky was already a bloodbath. The Scourge Wardens—Eparus, Holrivus, and Thronlis—acted as a meat grinder, their teamwork flawless. With the abyssal dragon Xalathar striking the flanks, the six enemy Arch Lords were collapsing.

“Finish it,” Orion commanded softly.

He vanished.

When he reappeared high in the air, his scythe became a shimmering blur. Two Arch Lords were butchered before they could even sense him. Doomsday Fire reduced them to ash before they hit the ground, giving them no chance to deploy their defensive avatars.

Orion struck again. The relic weapon tore through magical shields as if they were wet parchment.

Splash.

A rain began to fall—not of water, but a thick, red drizzle of demon blood.

The two remaining Arch Lords broke formation, screaming for a retreat. They turned to fly away, wings flapping desperately.

But the sky around them grew black.

Eparus, Holrivus, and Thronlis struck their weapons together, activating a spatial seal unique to the Scourge Wardens. A cage of Calamity energy locked tight around the combat zone.

There was no way out.

Orion fell upon the trapped demons. His scythe cut vertically, splitting one of the retreating lords from head to toe.

The ensuing screams rang out through the void—the sound of absolute ruin.

“That is enough!” a thunderous voice boomed. “The blood price is satisfied! We will retreat from the Donough Blood-Crow Nest. You will not be bothered by us again.”

A faint, glowing projection emerged from the corpse of the last Arch Lord. It was Reklos, the demigod lord of Iron-Forged Ridge.

Orion paused, floating in the air while covered in the blood of Reklos’s commanders. He stared directly at the phantom.

“It is not enough,” Orion replied coldly.