Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1431 Stoneheart Baptism

In the northern reaches, inside the walls of Blackstone City.

The flames of the Bonfire Festival had dwindled to faint embers ages ago. Reason suggested that the hordes of visitors drawn by the grand event ought to have scattered by now. However, the lively energy in Blackstone City refused to fade. Quite the opposite—the masses expanded as fresh waves of clansfolk streamed in from nearby lands.

This change stood out most sharply in the Inner City. Top Horde commanders and their heirs appeared more often than ever. The sharp-minded among them had already detected the subtle stirrings of change on the horizon.

On numerous countenances, anticipation was solidifying into a tangible craving.

Moonshadow Valley, the Underground Plaza.

Orion positioned himself in front of the assembly, his eyes scanning the thousand individuals gathered in his presence.

Included in their ranks were Rolan, Rendall, Thundar, Dace, Ursa, Drakthul, Brom, James... along with their offspring. This group of a thousand formed the initial batch chosen for the Inter-realm Teleportation Circle.

In many ways, they represented the Giant faction most devoted to Orion—the ones he trusted without reservation. All of them descended from pure Giant lineages. Before long, they would pioneer the shift into Stoneheart Titans.

"I have only one instruction," Orion's voice boomed, profound and echoing. "For the adult Giants: stay within the Stoneheart Temple for as long as you can endure. The longer you remain, the greater the power you will seize."

He halted briefly, his gaze warming a touch as it settled on the youths. "As for the whelps, they will undergo their conversion in a separate sector."

Addressing his kin, Orion spoke not with the aloof command of an Archlord or the Giant King, but with the warmth of a family elder tending to his own.

"Your will be done, patriarch!"

"Patriarch, we follow your command!"

Orion sensed the unique tides of emotion rippling through the atmosphere. From the grown Giants came surges of zeal and devotion. From the young ones flowed unadulterated adoration and yearning.

He uttered nothing further. Advancing ahead, he triggered the teleportation array himself. Power flared up, and with a burst of brilliance, he transported his family straight into the Divine Kingdom, right to the core of the Stoneheart Temple.

"You are merely the beginning," Orion whispered, observing the void energies fade away.

These pioneers among his people would gain strength ahead of the looming worlds' collision. He felt a surge of eagerness for what lay ahead.

Outside, with a view over Blackstone City.

Darkness had settled in, yet the city—in its Inner and Outer sections alike—glowed with vibrant illumination. Past the watchful guards on patrol, inns and pleasure dens stayed crammed with locals reluctant to head back. Ever since the Stoneheart Horde claimed the Black Forest, restrictions like curfews had vanished into memory.

Perched on the eastern mountain crest, the panorama stunned—a lookout that shrank the expanse below to insignificance.

"Prophet, Blackstone City buzzes with more life than ever. Greater wealth, greater splendor."

Rockwell and Onyx stood side by side, peering at the vast array of twinkling lights. This panorama belonged solely to the Obsidian Golems' privilege. In times past, Orion had bestowed this peak upon their kind. Despite their triumphs in seizing new domains to the South and in the Abyssal World, the Golems cherished this height as their sacred heritage and refuge.

"Heh. It wasn't always this noisy," a gravelly tone emerged from those trailing them. "Years back, it was mostly just Rockwell up here, eyeing the fresh trainees practicing in Moonshadow Valley."

Onyx held his silence, but one of the pair lingering behind had jumped in.

That was Magmus. He ranked as the sharpest Obsidian Golem of his era—still young, yet a formidable Alpha-rank fighter. At his side waited Gort, who had taken over from Rockwell as Chieftain a few years earlier.

Here assembled the four key supports of the Obsidian Golem lineage, and their purpose went far beyond soaking in the sights.

"I have confirmed it with My Lord," Onyx stated, his focus locked on the urban glow, brushing off the light talk from behind. He passed along the details from Orion with flawless accuracy. "If I enter the Stoneheart Temple to accept the baptism, the Obsidian Golem bloodline will not vanish. However, the probability is high that it will condense into a singular ability—a vassal trait to the Titan form."

Rockwell embodied the history. Gort represented the now. Magmus pointed to tomorrow.

These four grasped the destiny of their people. Onyx outlined the route he intended to take. It served as both a declaration and an experiment. The outcomes from Onyx's trial would guide Rockwell and the rest in shaping the Obsidian Golem race's path forward.

Onyx remained uncertain about the choices of the others, yet his resolve stood firm. He would step into the Stoneheart Temple. He would finish evolving into a Stoneheart Titan.

The remnants of Golem heritage mattered little to him. His drive to climb into the Legendary realm burned unwavering. This formed his position, and a signal to his brethren.

Quietness fell over them.

Rockwell, Gort, and Magmus gazed at the shimmering metropolis below, offering no words.

Moments slipped by, tracked solely by the moon's glow that started to highlight the ridge's jagged edges.

"If I speak for the past of the Obsidian Golems," Rockwell declared, his rugged stone face aglow in the lunar light, "I vote for the entire race to undergo the blood conversion. We must elevate the tribe's collective strength, talent, and potential. However... if there are those who are unwilling, we cannot force them."

As the old chief, he stood as a emblem of eras gone. None would challenge him, since his era had ended.

"If I speak for the present," Gort announced, echoing his elder, "my opinion aligns with Chief Rockwell. If a warrior is unwilling, I will not force him."

Now, just Magmus lingered.

"Chiefs," the youthful fighter started, his tone firm. "In truth, there is no 'Obsidian Golem Race' anymore. There is only the Stoneheart Horde. We are members of one great family."

"I don't care about the title of Golem Patriarch. The other young ones don't care either." Magmus advanced, his gaze aflame. "What we care about is not falling behind the whelps of the other tribes."

"The heights that others can reach, we must reach as well."

Onyx, Rockwell, and Gort pivoted, taken aback by the intensity in the young Golem's words.

"The power of the Princess and the Prince is plain for all to see," Magmus pressed on. "The Prince is a Legendary-rank entity—that is an indisputable fact. And rumors say the Princess has inherited My Lord's bloodline and is now a powerhouse at the Archlord level."

Even if it stemmed from whispers, considering Elara's fearsome prowess, the tales probably held truth. To the youth, Pallas's dread of Elara served as the sole gauge for her real might.

Their elders saw the realm through altered eyes.

"Prophet, Chiefs," Magmus regarded them. "Your generations were defined by how desperately you craved to advance to the next rank."

"My generation is defined by how desperately we crave not to be left in the dust."

"Let us convert," Magmus proclaimed. "Let the Obsidian Golems integrate completely into the Stoneheart Horde. Let us share a blood connection with the Horde."

"Let us become a true family."