Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1332 New title

"You are of my blood. I was bound by duty to save you."

Orion stood there, completely stunned by Kaidric’s sudden claim.

Since when am I his relative? Orion wondered, his thoughts spinning. Was he once a member of the Titan race? Or did he truly believe this Deathly Soul-Reaper form was his actual physical body?

Sensing the confusion, the Commander stepped forward to provide an explanation.

"This is the decree of the Death-Soul race," the Commander muttered in a quiet tone. "To inhabit the shell is to take on the lineage. You might not acknowledge them, but according to their primal laws, you are now one of their own."

To Orion, such reasoning felt completely foreign. Under normal circumstances, taking over someone’s body was a violation that sparked blood feuds. Here, however, it was treated as a form of adoption?

"My friend," Kaidric’s massive voice thundered from across the singularity, interrupting Orion's silent pondering. "Surely you didn't wake me just to discuss the customs of my people?"

Kaidric offered no more details, yet the meaning was obvious. Death-Souls originated from the fallen. The original soul of this Deathly Soul-Reaper vessel had surrendered their identity, and Orion had simply claimed it.

"Since he shares your heritage now," the Commander remarked casually, "you should find a chance for him to step into the Death-Soul Nexus."

"Do not worry," Kaidric answered, his ghostly eyes shifting to pin Orion in place. "He possesses more than enough potential."

Being scrutinized by an Abyssal Ruler was an immense pressure. Despite his newly attained Demigod rank, Orion felt a cold shiver run down his spine—an instinctive warning to escape a superior predator.

"I have faith in you, my friend," Kaidric added, his voice sounding like the grinding of massive stones. "But your recommendation alone isn't enough to let him enter the Nexus. To be honest, I didn't see anything particularly special about him when the rift first opened."

It was understandable. When the Commander had forced the void passage open, Orion had instinctively masked his presence as a survival tactic. Distorted by the black hole's energy, Kaidric hadn't been able to gauge his true strength.

"Regardless," Kaidric growled, "I am prepared to grant him the opportunity to prove his worth."

A small object flew out from the swirling shadows beyond the tear in space. It was a token made of emerald bone, carved into the image of a wailing skull. It flew across the gap and landed with a heavy THUD in Orion’s hand.

The Commander gave a small shrug, acting as if he didn't care, though a satisfied spark danced in his eyes.

"If that covers everything, I need to return to my rest," Kaidric stated, his voice heavy with fatigue. "A decade of brutal warfare has drained me."

It was clear that throwing that skull token across the dimensional barrier had used up a massive portion of Kaidric’s remaining divine power.

"Sleep well," the Commander said with a nod. "Once you awaken, I’ll bring the disciple to meet your people."

"Excellent. I shall wait for that day."

The massive eyes within the darkness slowly closed. The void passage shuddered before dissolving into a faint mist.

When the spatial ripples finally died down, Orion turned toward the Commander while holding up the emerald skull.

"That is the emblem of the Death-Soul race," the Commander explained. "It serves as your pass to the Death-Soul Nexus. Because you use that body, you have the right to visit their sacred lands to refine the rank and strength of your avatar."

"A Demigod-level avatar from the Death-Soul lineage..." The Commander paused, a smile forming. "That will be more than enough to keep you alive in the Abyssal World."

Merely survival? Orion stared at the token. That was putting it lightly. With such power, he wouldn't just be surviving; he would be untouchable. Unless he went out of his way to provoke a high-level Abyssal Lord or did something incredibly reckless, no one in the Sixth Abyss—or even the realms above—would dare challenge him.

This was an incredible gift. At their level, physical weapons were minor things. However, a path to greater power was priceless.

"I am in your debt," Orion said with sincerity. This wasn't his first time showing gratitude, but the weight of the favor was immense.

"It’s a small matter," the Commander said, waving it off. "You earned this because you met the requirements. If it had been Leonidas or the others, they wouldn't have even been considered."

The Commander remained as poised as a calm lake. "I know you have questions. But first, look at your status interface. We will speak after that."

Orion nodded. He anticipated that becoming a Demigod would change his stats, but he wasn't ready for the sight that met him.

He summoned the interface, and his eyes stretched wide.

"The information... it’s all gone?"

He wasn't referring to the screen itself, but the data it held. The long lists of numbers he had tracked for years—Strength, Agility, Intelligence, and his skill trees—had been wiped clean. It looked like a broken file. Only a few glowing Titles remained against the void.

"It hasn't vanished," the Commander said, pulling out two drinking horns and passing one to Orion. "It’s just obsolete."

He took a deep, long drink. "When we Survivors reach the level of Arch Lord, numerical values lose their purpose. The system can no longer measure us. It isn't complex enough to provide guidance anymore."

He wiped his lips. "Consider it. Can a simple number truly represent your current divine power? Can a digit define the intricacies of your fighting style now?"

Orion looked at the blank space where his abilities used to be listed. "So, my powers... the faith I’ve amassed... the interface just can't keep track of them?"

"Precisely." The Commander’s tone became more thoughtful. "The interface and the data were nothing more than training wheels provided by the Survivor’s Platform. It existed to help us comprehend our own growth, turning our evolution into a game so our human minds could handle it."

Orion had suspected this for quite some time, but hearing it confirmed felt as if the world was shifting beneath him.

"So what happens now?" Orion asked, staring at the few lines of text that were left. "If the data was a map, what is the purpose of this remaining panel?"

"Now?" The Commander pointed toward Orion. "The Titles. Those are your identity. Your rank in the cosmos."

Orion frowned, his thoughts traveling back—to his old life, his birth in this realm, his awakening, and every brutal fight he had endured.

"The title [Survivors]..." Orion whispered as a realization hit him. "It’s a form of citizenship. A passport. It’s the only reason this world recognizes our presence."

A look of genuine respect appeared in the Commander’s eyes. He gave a slow nod. "Exactly."

Everything started to make sense. If [Survivors] was his identification, then [Giant King] was his record of achievement—his proof of rule. It was the status he had carved out from the Giant tribe and other powers through fire and steel. It was a cosmic validation of his right to lead.

And that meant his third title—the most recent one—signified a completely different level of existence.