Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1328 Resonance

But at this moment? Pallas had successfully crossed the threshold that trapped countless warriors in mediocrity for their entire lives. He had achieved this through a single, explosive burst of Bloodline Resonance.

Far more impressively, he had accomplished this feat entirely on his own. There were no elaborate rituals or precious catalysts involved. He hadn't even relied on a Lord's Stone.

Lilith felt a surge of savage, predatory exhilaration ripple through her.

The heavy burden she had carried for years finally vanished. No longer did she need to worry about the path ahead for Pallas.

For a long time, she had secretly watched Caelus—the son of Violet—with a hidden, burning resentment. While Violet seemed content to play the role of a simple gardener within the territory, pretending that true power was beneath her, her son was a terrifying genius. Caelus possessed such innate strength that the members of the Horde were drawn to him like moths to a flickering flame.

But the situation had changed. Now, the balance of power had finally shifted.

"Mother! Elara! Can you feel this power?"

As the crimson mist faded, Pallas emerged from the center of the training grounds. His voice resonated with arrogance, self-assurance, and raw, unbridled strength.

"I am... invincible!"

"Pfft."

"Hahaha!"

Instead of the reverence he expected, he was met with two jarring sounds: a muffled snort and a burst of uncontrollable laughter.

Pallas stopped dead in his tracks. All four of his heads blinked simultaneously.

"Mom? Why are you reacting like that? I’ve gained incredible power. Shouldn’t you be proud of me?"

Confused, he turned toward his sister. "And you! What’s so hilarious?"

Elara wore a familiar grin, the same mischievous look she gave him after playing a childhood prank. But his mother? It was rare to see Lilith looking quite so... entertained.

"Oh, you’re definitely powerful, little brother."

With a flash of teleportation, Elara appeared at his side instantly. She reached out, patting his shoulder condescendingly. "Very scary indeed."

Lilith approached him with a swaying gait. She actually had to crouch—low to the ground—to meet his gaze, holding out a small bundle of cloth.

It was a pair of tiny shorts and a miniature vest. They were sized for a toddler.

"Put these on," Lilith cooed, her voice shaking as she tried to hold back her laughter. "You're a little too old to be running around completely naked."

Pallas stared at the infant-sized clothing in his mother’s hand. He looked up at Elara, who was now looming over him. Finally, he looked down at his own frame.

His eyes stretched wide with realization.

"Aaaah!"

The training grounds became the stage for a legendary sight: the multi-armed Pallas scrambling desperately to hide his nakedness.

However, this was his debut in the Asura Titan Form, and his coordination was non-existent.

Four heads shrieked in a panic while eight arms flailed in every direction. Rather than covering himself, three of his hands became knotted together, one accidentally punched him in the face, and the remaining four slapped against his legs in a clumsy, rhythmic disaster.

As a direct scion of Orion, Pallas had bypassed all intermediate stages to evolve straight into a Stoneheart Titan. Because his bloodline purity was unprecedented, the four-headed, eight-armed combat form had unlocked instantly.

But this evolution demanded a steep price. The resonance had incinerated every impurity within him, scrubbing his genetic code so violently that he had undergone a biological regression.

Physically, he was four years old again.

"Oh, come here. Let Mama have a look at you."

Once Pallas had finished struggling into the tiny garments, Lilith scooped him up into her arms.

She had missed this. She longed for the days when he was tiny, full of mischief, and completely reliant on her. She spun him around, inspecting him as if he were a prized trophy.

Pallas, meanwhile, was suffering internally. He possessed the mind of a seasoned warrior and a veteran of the Civil War, yet he was being cradled like an infant.

Lilith paid no mind to his grumbling. she stroked his four identical heads and tested the movement of his eight small limbs.

The Asura Titan Form was a silhouette well-known to everyone in the Stoneheart Horde.

It was the hallmark of the King—Orion's supreme war aspect. In the squares of Blackstone City and the inner sanctums of Stoneheart City, massive statues of this very form stood tall, serving as vessels to gather faith energy for their lord.

"You look more like your father every single day," Lilith murmured, her voice thick with pride.

She placed him back on the ground with a gentle smile. "That’s enough training for today. Go wash up. You smell like ozone and a newborn."

She exited the arena, her spirit feeling lighter than it had in a decade.

Elara lingered behind. She began to circle Pallas, her eyes wide with a mix of humor and jealousy. She could sense the dense, terrifying potential vibrating within his small body.

"Alright, tiny," Elara smirked. "Put all your hands up. Big sister wants to count them."

"Elara, I swear by the gods..."

The North. Blackstone City.

After the Civil War concluded, Kronos had chosen not to return to the capital. He was a true soldier who preferred to stay with his troops, embracing the military lifestyle on the frontier.

On this day, Kronos was leading a patrol along the towering city walls.

Suddenly, right in front of his men, it happened.

Kronos shared a genetic makeup similar to Pallas. While their mothers were formidable, their lineages were filled with "genetic noise" compared to the pure Titan blood of their father.

The resonance struck him with the force of a sledgehammer. His Titan blood reached a boiling point, burning away impurities and rebuilding his very flesh.

In a blinding flash, the hardened commander disappeared. In his place stood a bewildered four-year-old child with four heads and eight arms.

"Uh... Commander?"

Gustalon, a fellow officer, watched in total shock. He didn't have children of his own, and nothing this bizarre had occurred when he ascended to the rank of Lord.

"What is happening to the Prince?"

Beside him, Dirtclaw began to tremble. It wasn't out of fear, however.

"It's the Resonance," Dirtclaw growled, his voice thick with reverence. "The Prince... his potential has just reached the heavens."

"Usually, this only happens when..."

Dirtclaw cut himself off. His reptilian eyes shot toward the south, sensing the distant presence of his master.

Pure fanaticism took hold of the hound's gaze.

"Oh! Praise the Great Lord!" Dirtclaw howled, falling to his knees. "Your strength is the sun that drives away the dark! You are the starlight that leads the Stoneheart Horde through the abyss!"

"Your wisdom is as deep as the ocean! The mountains bow in your presence! Even the greatest walls crumble before your gaze!"

Gustalon wasn't as theatrical as the hound, but he was no fool. Observing Dirtclaw’s ecstatic display, he quickly put the pieces together.

The Stoneheart Horde finally possessed its own Demigod.

The limits of their future had been shattered.

"We must inform Lady Lilith at once," Gustalon urged. "We have to secure this perimeter before—"

WAAAGH!

The small, four-headed Kronos released a primal roar.

It was a raw, instinctive outburst. A shockwave of Legendary-level pressure exploded from the toddler's frame.

"Get down!"

Gustalon and Dirtclaw reacted in a heartbeat.

This was no laughing matter. Kronos had zero control over his newfound power.

The wave of pressure slammed into the stone walls. Across half the city, anyone below the rank of Lord was forced to the ground. Soldiers slumped over, gasping for breath as their knees hit the floor. Some of the weaker guards were knocked unconscious by the sheer spiritual weight.

Gustalon and Dirtclaw released their own auras, forming a protective shield to save the nearby soldiers from the brunt of the impact.

Just like his brother, Kronos had been swept up in the wake of his father's magnificent ascension.