Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1424 Shepherd of Men

"Battling for territory and existence becomes unavoidable on this fresh land. Conflict will shadow our every step."

King Harold gazed into the shadowy distance, his words laden with the burden of foresight.

"I'm uncertain if I can guide our folk back to the splendor we knew on Utessar. We could soar even greater than in the past, or we might vanish into oblivion. By remaining here, you secure a backup for the royal lineage. We're avoiding placing every hope in a single venture."

Of all his offspring, Theodore alone possessed the toughness to forge a realm from barren ground. He stood as the sole one capable of enduring beyond the crown's protection.

"In three days' time," Harold pressed on, his voice turning firm, "I shall proclaim an Imperial Decree. I'm banishing the ordinary folk-the peasants, the displaced-driving them northward, straight to you. This marks the last compassion I can extend to them."

"I demand that you care for them properly."

Harold struggled to maintain composure in his tone, concealing the torrent of remorse churning within.

Theodore's brow furrowed, the weight of those words striking him like a forceful impact. "Can't the Saints shield them? Why force them into exile?"

"It's not a matter of inability," Harold replied icily. "It's a refusal. The expense isn't justified."

The monarch faced his son, gaze unyielding. "The supplies needed to shift millions of ordinary people could sustain a populace triple that number after we claim fresh territory. It's stark calculation, Theodore. If the crown rested on your head, what path would you take?"

Theodore grew quiet. He grasped the reasoning of sovereigns. Nobles and the mighty took precedence; safeguarding the essence remained the key command. They were opting for the 'proper' route.

Yet abandoning their own subjects like worthless husks? It felt utterly ruthless.

"You couldn't bear to decide that. And I... I wrestle with it myself," Harold exhaled, as if years had etched into him with one breath.

"Yet I can extend them a chance at life. As Humanity's ruler, this serves as my ultimate duty."

Harold lifted his gaze, fixing it sharply on Theodore's with abrupt fervor.

"Me?" Theodore uttered a hollow, disbelieving chuckle. "Father, spare the humor. I can't rescue them by myself."

"Not you," Harold denied with a shake of his head. He pivoted, jabbing a armored digit toward the Stoneheart Horde's domain. "You're just the Guide."

"The Guide?"

"Indeed,"

Before Theodore could probe deeper, Harold unveiled the grim truth. "Theodore, I take pride in your determination to defend the Northern Bastion. In gentler times, you'd have made an exceptional ruler. You'd have granted us a thousand years of tranquility."

The fact rang true. Theodore commanded his own stronghold, and via his Aunt Ava plus his cousin-the Giant Prince Kronos-he forged a unbreakable pact with the Stoneheart Horde. His rule would have stood firm.

"But the Cataclysm has arrived. The game has shifted."

Harold appeared exhausted. His years of scheming-his tolerance toward Ava, his outreach to the Stoneheart Horde-all converged on this one backup plan.

"You won't be able to defend the Northern Bastion indefinitely," Harold declared bluntly. "The onslaught heading for this realm has even the Ancestors in retreat. Your frame is too sturdy to yield, yet too inexperienced to bear the heavens."

Harold extended his arm, resting a weighty palm on Theodore's shoulder guard.

"Once the commoners reach you, they turn into your bargaining power. They form your advantage. At the proper moment, you'll direct them toward the Stoneheart Horde. You'll employ them to bargain for improved chances of endurance."

"You grant the folk an opportunity to survive. You carve out a realm inside another realm for yourself."

"Theodore, this is my order. It falls to you as a Prince."

Harold peered intently into his son's eyes. This route offered the sole real hope. Theodore was the only royal human able to flourish amid the Stoneheart Horde's beasts. Kin awaited him there. Acceptance would come.

Provided he avoided recklessness, Theodore would ascend once more.

"Swear to me," Harold murmured. "Don't let stubbornness rule you. Don't grip onto honor or dignity. Starting today, you're no Prince anymore. You're a fighter for life."

It served as a caution. Harold recognized his son's arrogance as his deepest flaw.

A prolonged quiet hung between father and son.

"If holding on proves unfeasible..." Theodore responded at last, his tone a faint whisper. "I'll take that step."

Harold's lips curved in a smile. That response sealed it. Theodore's concern for the people would propel him toward the wise choice as defenses started to fail.

"Accept this. It's the realm's remorse to its subjects."

Harold slipped off a spatial bracelet from his arm and placed it in Theodore's grasp. It brimmed with provisions and rations-sufficient to nourish troops, or an entire settlement

of displaced souls.

Next, the monarch started loosening his armor. Section by section, he shed the regal plating and passed it to his son.

"Don't reject a weary parent's concern. You'll need it far more than I."

Theodore remained rooted, gripping the burdensome metal. A knot swelled in his throat,

stinging warmth gathering at his eye edges.

"Hold back the tears," Harold urged gently, his shape dissolving into ethereal glow. "Never allow them to witness your weakness again."

The sovereign disappeared.

Theodore lingered solitary atop the rampart, gales whipping about him. He gnawed his lip

until blood welled, shoving the sobs down.

Here, the youth perished, and the adult emerged.

Human Kingdom, Soaring Bird City.

Since Ava had guided most of the inhabitants northward to merge with the Stoneheart

Horde, Soaring Bird City had tumbled into disorder.

Society had vanished, creating a void overrun by turmoil and depravity. The deserted quarters now harbored thieves, fugitives, and outlaws. It lingered as a stopover for hired fighters and wanderers, yet entry demanded strength to guard your neck, or wealth

to cover the guard tolls.

"Father, is this Soaring Bird City?"

Within a rundown shelter, a young girl glanced through the pane, eyeing the wreckage her dad had once described with deep respect.

But that belonged to the former era.

The present city resembled a tomb for structure. Cries resounded along the lanes

each evening-a haunting melody for the lost.

"Yes, this is it," her father murmured, drawing her from the view. "But it has lost all traces of hope."

"Rest now. At dawn, we journey north. We're bound for the Stoneheart Horde. We're heading to Stoneheart City."