Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1316 Roar of the Bloodline

The Slaughter Tyrant had already been capable of fighting in an Alpha-level weight class ever since Orion first stationed it.

However, that was many years in the past.

The biological construct had undergone a profound evolution, nourished by the Stoneheart Horde's exponential expansion and a continuous supply of Faith Energy. It had officially reached the rank of an Arch Lord.

Within the Horde, it remained one of their most closely guarded secrets.

While it possessed certain drawbacks—specifically its reliance on Blackstone City and the fact that its strength was tied to Faith Energy reserves—it was an absolutely terrifying defensive trump card. Had any hostile Arch Lord dared to infiltrate the northern lands, the Slaughter Tyrant’s kill-protocols would have already triggered, bringing the creature to life.

Consequently, Dirtclaw was positive about one thing. Whatever dread was currently gripping Kronos, it was not being caused by an outside enemy.

"I... I simply thought that I..." Kronos faltered, his complexion turning pale. "It is nothing."

He forced himself to remain silent. How could he possibly explain the sensation?

Hey, Sir Dirtclaw, I believe I just heard my father’s roar echoing from inside my own spleen.

It was impossible. Dirtclaw would assume he was losing his mind under the stress of battle. Anyone would.

"Take a breath, kid. You’ve just got some pre-battle nerves," Dirtclaw remarked, misreading the Young Master's hesitation.

"Do not let the display out there rattle you. Those xenos are fond of their extravagant magic, but most of it is nothing more than flashy pyrotechnics."

Dirtclaw pointed toward the horizon, where the Northern Coalition mages were manifesting a vibrant spectrum of elemental sorcery—cascading firestorms, jagged ice spikes, and arcs of lightning. To a seasoned veteran like Dirtclaw, it was all spectacle with very little substance.

He performed one final sensory sweep of the battlefield. Everything was still clear.

"Go forth, Your Highness," Dirtclaw commanded, his tone turning stern. "Lead your warriors. Butcher every trespasser who dares to set foot upon our soil."

"Yes, sir!"

Kronos clenched his trident until his knuckles turned white. Squaring his shoulders and shoving his confusion aside, he allowed his primal warrior instincts to take control.

He leaped into the heart of the conflict.

This was his moment to shine. Every swing of his blade, every life taken, and every strategic choice would be documented by the Bloodline Warriors. They would eventually carry the tales of his bravery back to the rest of the Horde.

As a Prince of the Giants, he refused to let his younger brother, Pallas, overshadow him. The eyes of everyone were upon him. His mother. His father.

Pallas is likely dealing with the same nonsense in the south, Kronos thought with a dark grin as he smashed through an enemy shield formation.

***

Champions Alliance. Blade's Edge Peak.

High upon the windswept summit, Caelus was engaged in his sword drills.

Down, then up. Down, then up.

For more than a decade, he had been practicing this exact, repetitive motion.

His mentor, Commander Thresh, watched him with a half-closed eye from a nearby tent. The Commander followed a basic philosophy: once Caelus could cleave through anything with a basic strike—once the very idea of "defense" became pointless—only then would his instruction be complete.

And so, for ten long years, Caelus did nothing but chop.

WAAAGH!

Just as Caelus started the downward swing of his sword, the roar of a Titan exploded within his very core.

Unlike his siblings, Caelus did not waver or fall into a panic. He halted mid-motion, not out of terror, but because he recognized the sound. Closing his eyes, he felt the resonance vibrating in his blood, enjoying the familiar pulse.

"Master, did you sense that?"

Caelus turned toward the Commander. Thresh was lounging on a bed of furs, a drinking horn halfway to his lips. For the first time in many years, the veteran warrior appeared truly startled.

"I sensed it," the Commander grunted, taking a deep gulp.

"That sounded like... Father," Caelus remarked, his voice soft yet filled with conviction.

"Indeed. That was him."

Thresh wiped his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he considered the situation. "That was a resonance of bloodline and soul. It is the sign of an impending Bloodline Feedback. Your father has ascended into the realm of Demigods."

He hesitated, tapping his finger against the horn. "However, his circumstances are... unusual. The feedback loop hasn't been fully established yet."

Thresh’s thoughts moved quickly as he tried to solve the metaphysical mystery.

He gave up his physical body to become a Seed. He endured the madness of the Primordial Void. If the soul is resonating, it means the Seed has sprouted—he has transformed into a World Tree.

Why is there a delay, then?

Is his physical vessel not yet prepared? Is he attempting to construct a body separate from the tree itself?

Thresh’s instincts were incredibly sharp. He was nearly correct. He simply could not have imagined the sheer boldness of Orion attempting to fashion a body out of raw chaos within the Void.

"Master," Caelus said while sheathing his sword. "I wish to return home."

"Then go," Thresh replied with a shrug, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "The path is that way."

Thresh did not believe in forcing anyone. He had never made Caelus stay at Blade's Edge Peak. The youth arrived every day of his own volition. To Thresh, passion was a far superior instructor than forced discipline.

"I shall return to visit you shortly, Master."

Caelus gave a deep, respectful bow. He took a crystal bottle of wine from his storage ring and placed it carefully on the table.

Thresh watched his pupil walk down the mountain, his gaze eventually settling on the bottle.

"Did Orion give him this?" Thresh whispered, picking it up. "Or is the boy a Survivor as well?"

The wine originated from the Survivor's Platform. Thresh was curious as to how Caelus had acquired it.

In reality, he was overthinking the matter.

The wine had come from the Mysterious Shop, a nearly forgotten structure located next to the Silent Goblet tavern in the Horde's lands.

Orion had constructed it years ago. Every month, it produced three random items in exchange for crystals. It usually spat out useless trash. Orion eventually grew tired of the gacha-like mechanics and gave the keys to Delilah.

When Caelus was born, Delilah had gifted him the ownership of the shop.

The leadership of the Horde had a unique strategy for Caelus. They realized that the Horde's gold and influence meant nothing to him. Burdening him with the duties of leadership would only hinder his growth.

They did not require him to lead the Horde; they wanted him to transcend it. Their hope was for him to become a Titan capable of guarding them from the heavens above.

Thus, while Elara and Pallas were cherished, Caelus was the one who was truly favored. He received whatever he desired without question.

***

Emerald Dream Realm. Chaos Continent.

High above the clouds, a gargantuan, translucent butterfly drifted silently through the sky.

It drifted toward the glowing defensive barrier of Phoenix Butterfly Ridge. Rather than being blocked, it glided through the shield as if the barrier didn't exist.

"Who goes there?" a guard yelled from the ground.

Then, the shock set in.

"It is the Young Master! The Young Master has come home!"

"Inform the Matriarch immediately! He has returned!"