Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1319 Prince of the Giants

"Just what is it that I know?"

A smirk played across Theodore's lips. "Heh... perhaps that is a question you ought to be directed at yourself."

Following their brief clash of steel, Theodore had already measured the capabilities of the Insectoid King. Lokiviria simply wasn't his equal.

Theoretically, both stood at the summit of the Legendary tier. However, Theodore was a Prince of the Human Kingdom. His resources were vast, his equipment was of the highest grade, and he possessed more hidden trump cards than a dishonest gambler.

"How much do you truly understand about this continent, pest?" Theodore questioned, his tone heavy with disdain. "Do you honestly think a single Arch-Lord patron is enough to ignite a civil war? Do you truly believe Lord Frostsire achieved victory in the last war unaided? Your ignorance is genuinely pathetic."

"Heh..."

Theodore’s chuckle was quiet, nearly refined. Yet to Lokiviria, it was as stinging as a physical strike. It was the effortless contempt of a royal looking down upon a commoner who had forgotten his station. It poked at a deep-rooted insecurity within the Insectoid King.

"Say whatever you wish!" Lokiviria hissed, tightening his hold on his blade. "My faith lies with my Mentor!"

This was his final barricade, his sole mental anchor.

BOOM!

High above the clouds, a thunderous explosion rent the heavens.

The resulting shockwave shredded the cloud layer, exposing two gargantuan phantoms locked in a struggle: the avatar of the Clown and the Human Saint.

"Friend," the Human Saint’s voice descended like a rolling tide of thunder. He donned a crown that emitted a holy radiance, amplified by ancient relics. He held no fear for an Arch-Lord. "The affairs of the Utessar Continent are far more complex than you realize. Return to the place you originated from."

"Fate is forged by man! Destiny lies within our own grasp!" The Clown bellowed in response, his voice echoing loudly for the benefit of Lokiviria and the gathered alien forces below. "If we do not take up the fight, if we do not seize our future, the Hundred Races will find no sanctuary under the sun! Regardless of the hardship or the obstacle, as long as we possess conviction and bravery, all things are possible!"

It was a masterfully executed manipulation. The Clown knew precisely which nerves to strike. For the Alliance of the Hundred Races, this was a matter of survival.

"ONCE MORE!"

The Clown gathered transcendent energy, hurling his massive avatar against the Saint again. The firmament shrieked as reality distorted under the force of the collision.

"Anything is possible!"

On the battlefield below, the Clown's rhetoric acted like a surge of adrenaline.

"FOR THE ALLIANCE!" Lokiviria roared, hoisting his long blade and sprinting toward Theodore with a renewed, fanatical zeal.

Theodore remained unmoved. His sacred armor pulsed with protective enchantments. He lifted his greatsword and met the onslaught directly.

Sparks erupted as metal clashed against chitin. They were evenly matched in terms of sheer strength, exchanging strikes that caused the very air to fracture around them.

"Go to hell!"

Upon the battlements, Pallas was a cyclone of carnage.

Armed with his trident, he defended a segment of the wall entirely on his own. Any xeno-soldier that managed to reach the top was promptly impaled or reduced to a pulp.

Pallas was intoxicated by the combat. The bloodlust of battle was taking hold of him.

For the first time, he grasped the brutal reality of warfare. Blood wasn't merely a red fluid; it was searingly hot. When a head was severed, the eyes continued to blink. When a combatant collapsed, their limbs still spasmed in the filth.

It wasn't just high-stakes. It was barbaric.

WAAAGH!

Pallas shouted, his Titan blood vibrating. He was clinging to his sanity by a thread, but the urge to slay was nearly irresistible. He felt as though his energy was limitless.

"Perish, giant filth!"

Suddenly, a shaft of transcendent power shot down from the sky.

Lokiviria had broken away from Theodore for a fleeting moment. Spotting a vulnerability, he directed a treacherous strike at the ramparts, aiming a blade beam directly at Pallas’s head.

This was a strike from a Peak Legendary being. Pallas, being a full tier lower, had no hope of defending against it.

For the first time, the icy touch of death reached for Pallas. A numbness originated in his chest and crept toward his fingers.

Is this truly the might of a Legendary? Pallas mused as time seemed to crawl. Am I about to die?

No... I will not...

WAAAGH!

Pallas looked up and screamed his defiance at the approaching beam. It was a rejection of death itself. He refused to meet his end while kneeling.

HUMMM!

Just as he braced for the impact, a massive green shield flickered into existence before him. The blade beam collided with it and disintegrated into harmless embers.

Elara appeared at his side, her expression a mask of frozen neutrality. She glared up at Lokiviria with eyes cold enough to turn water to ice.

"Heh... hehehe... Is this the extent of the Stoneheart Prince's power?" Lokiviria jeered from the sky, attempting to regain his footing. "How underwhelming!"

Having failed to secure the kill, he turned to psychological taunts.

"Taking cover behind a young girl? Is this the way of the Giants? Or is the Prince of the Stoneheart Horde simply inferior to the Prince of the Human Kingdom?"

It was a transparent attempt at provocation. A clumsy lure designed to bait Pallas into a suicidal charge.

Pallas gripped his trident until his knuckles turned white. He glared at Lokiviria, his breathing heavy. He felt the urge to leap. He wanted to shred that insect limb from limb.

Elara remained silent. Theodore remained silent.

The entire theater of war seemed to pause. Every significant gaze was locked on Pallas. Would he succumb to the bait?

"Prince of the Giants... are you referring to me?"

The voice echoed from the horizon.

It was steady. Unemotional. Yet it pierced through the cacophony of war like a blade, possessing a terrifying weight.

It was so prominent that even the Arch-Lords battling in the high atmosphere paused for a split second to look down.

In the distance, a dark silhouette was traversing the sky.

He appeared to be taking a leisurely walk, yet every stride covered miles. One moment he was a speck on the horizon; the next, he was directly above.

He was teleporting with every single step.

Caelus had made his entrance.

He had just arrived from the Valkorath Realm. His original intent was to remain concealed, observing the conflict from a distance to gain insight.

But then he heard Lokiviria insulting his kin.

"I am Caelus Stoneheart," he declared, moving into the air above Pallas. "The First Prince of the Stoneheart Horde."

He stared Lokiviria straight in the eye.

"You wish to fight?"

"Big Brother!" Pallas cried out, the fury in his heart replaced by pure, unbridled relief.

"Little Brother!" Elara smiled brightly. Unlike the others who used titles like Prince or Brother, she used a specific, warm nickname. It was a sign that within the Horde’s internal order, they stood as equals.

Caelus did not answer immediately. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts.

Deep within his consciousness, his other half—the Mage Caelus—was howling with anticipation.

He is only a Peak Legendary! Let me handle this! Let me have him! I want to try out that new forbidden curse! I will reduce him to his basic atoms!

The Mage was desperate to turn Lokiviria into nothing more than a scorched crater.