Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1315 The Stoneheart Titan

The critical threshold for the micro-world's expansion was reached, making Orion realize the urgency of his situation. Inaction would lead to him becoming a disembodied cosmic entity—a formless deity of creation, omnipotent yet lacking tangibility.

He required a physical vessel.

This was a paradoxical origin.

Orion's form was not materializing within the new world, nor was it being born from the World Tree. Instead, his physical manifestation was coalescing directly within the Primordial Void, external to the World Tree. He was enveloping the nascent world with his body, thereby becoming its living container and protector.

This undertaking was agonizing.

Forging a body within the Primordial Void represented an act of supreme arrogance. Under typical circumstances, such extensive bodily reconstruction was reserved for beings at the Sixth Stage of Demigodhood—patrons as esteemed as Commander Thresh.

Yet, Orion was an anomaly. He was neither a Sixth Stage powerhouse nor even a Fifth Stage. He was a Demigod neophyte endeavoring to construct a god-tier chassis from its very foundation.

Within the chaotic swirl of the Void, a silhouette began to take shape around the World Tree. A phantom of immense proportions appeared—four heads, eight arms. A true Titan.

Initially, it was merely an outline, a celestial sketch. To imbue it with reality would demand eons of energy.

Fortunately, time was on his side. The World Tree’s roots had plunged deeply into the fabric of chaos, drawing forth pure, raw energy. Orion simply needed to await the tree's refinement of that chaos into the fundamental building blocks of his new existence. His new body would transcend mere flesh and blood; it would be meticulously forged from chaos itself.

"Wait... this isn't just a Giant anymore."

As Orion mentally sculpted his form, a profound realization struck him. He had sacrificed his original flesh. Consequently, he was no longer constrained by the biological limitations of a Giant.

He was constructing something entirely new. He was taking the fundamental aspects of his Giant bloodline and evolving them. He wasn't merely growing; he was undergoing an ascension.

"I am Orion Stoneheart. I am the Hulk. The blood of my parents flows through me."

This declaration resonated within his mind, serving as a confirmation of his soul and ancestral lineage.

"I am a Stoneheart Titan!"

The phantom form, still somewhat unstable, vibrated intensely with the sheer force of his will.

From this moment forward, the "Asura Titan Form" was rendered obsolete. Within the Primordial Void, the phantom transformed, solidifying into something truly unique.

Orion had officially become the first Stoneheart Titan.

WAAAGH!

It was an epiphany. This roar shattered the profound silence of the Void.

Titanion Realm. The Northern Bastion of Menethis.

Deep inside the fortress, within a luxurious guest chamber, Pallas jolted awake. He sat bolt upright, sweat beading on his forehead.

He had distinctly heard it—a roar emanating from the depths of chaos, reverberating deep within his very bones.

"Daddy!"

The word escaped his lips before he could suppress it. He couldn't explain why, but he sensed his father's presence. It felt as if Orion's roar was echoing from within Pallas's own chest.

However, when he attempted to focus on this sensation, it vanished. The connection was severed as abruptly as it had appeared.

"Pallas, what's wrong?"

Space warped, and Elara materialized at the foot of his bed.

Few understood that Elara, as a World-Spirit, did not require sleep. Her reserves of mental energy were boundless. For her, sleep was not a form of rest; it was merely entering a standby mode. She maintained constant vigilance over everything.

"Sis... I think I had a nightmare," Pallas mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "But I can't remember it. It's... blurry."

He flopped back onto the pillows, pulling the blanket higher. He paid no mind to Elara's sudden appearance. He was accustomed to his sister materializing and dematerializing as if she were a glitch in the matrix.

"A nightmare?"

Elara tilted her head. The concept was entirely foreign to her. Since attaining sentience, she had never experienced a dream.

Observing that Pallas was physically unharmed, she shook her head and vanished, departing the room as silently as she had entered.

The North. Blackstone City.

War had descended upon the Black Forest.

Under the cloak of night, a siege was actively underway. Kronos stood upon the battlements, gazing down at the vast multitude of enemies below. The invaders were relentless—well-armored, disciplined, and charging the gates with the ferocity of a tidal wave.

But to Kronos, they appeared as lemmings plunging off a precipice.

He had heard tales of the Stoneheart Horde's immense power, but witnessing it firsthand was an entirely different experience.

Upon his arrival at Blackstone City, he observed the Bloodline Warriors marching forth from Moonshadow Valley. Thousands of them, clad in bone armor, their killing intent so dense it felt like a physical weight pressing down.

The spectacle was awe-inspiring. It was also perplexing.

If the Stoneheart Horde possessed such formidable power, why were the enemies even at the gates?

"Prince Kronos, you seem puzzled."

The voice originated from beside him. It belonged to Dirtclaw, the legendary Gnoll hero. He was one of the esteemed patrons overseeing this theater of war. Since Kronos's arrival, Dirtclaw had not allowed the young prince out of his sight.

"Sir Dirtclaw," Kronos inquired, "if we are this strong... why did we permit them to approach so closely? Why didn't we crush them days ago?"

Kronos held immense respect for Dirtclaw. Even having grown up away from the Horde, he had been raised on bedtime stories recounting the Gnoll's heroic exploits.

"The Horde's territory is vast," Dirtclaw explained, his tone serious and didactic. "Chasing rats through the forest is inefficient. It is more advantageous to allow them to congregate in a single location—a trap—and then exterminate them all at once. Efficient. Clean."

Dirtclaw's explanation sounded convincing. However, it was a fabrication.

The truth was straightforward: this entire conflict served as a test. A test specifically for Kronos.

Eliminating these invaders would have been trivial for a standard Horde army. A single patrol could have utterly annihilated them. But the High Council and Lilith required data. They needed to observe Kronos in action.

They needed to evaluate his combat prowess, his leadership capabilities, his mental fortitude, and, most crucially, his loyalty. Did he fight like a mere mercenary, or did he fight like a true Stoneheart?

They needed to ascertain if he possessed the heart of a King.

"I see," Kronos nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

WAAAGH!

Abruptly, a sound erupted from within Kronos's own body. A soul-shaking roar that nearly brought him to his knees.

"This is..."

Kronos's eyes widened dramatically. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, then to a fleeting flicker of primal fear.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Dirtclaw stepped forward instantly, his hand hovering near his weapon. He meticulously scanned the perimeter.

Dirtclaw was certain there were no Arch Lord level threats in the vicinity. Absolutely certain.

Why? Because hidden deep within the city, continuously fueled by a stream of Faith Energy, a Slaughter Tyrant—a biological superweapon—was silently watching over them. Nothing could possibly bypass its vigilance.

So what had so thoroughly spooked the Prince?

***

After more than a year, our Orion has finally ascended to Titan—just in time for Christmas. I hope this makes for a gift you'll enjoy. Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas Eve.