Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1434 Genetic Limit

"Aina initially aimed to wipe out every trace of life in her world—down to the last blade of grass and every living being."

"I convinced her to limit it further. At this point, only the humans in that world are marked for destruction."

Orion's voice in the mind stayed flat and emotionless. "Still, even under those limits, I can't promise our fighters will handle it well. Killing soldiers in battle is different from massacring countless defenseless civilians up close."

"A disease takes away the hands-on killing. It's something all can stomach since it spares them from wielding the sword themselves."

As he absorbed the reasoning, a cold shiver ran up Tangere's back. The vastness of the impending doom overwhelmed him. But right away, that cold gave way to a shiver of wicked thrill.

"Big Boss," Tangere sent in response, his mind buzzing with delight. "In that case... would it bother you if I reused the waste?"

"They're doomed regardless, so throwing away the biomass feels pointless. Allow me to craft some fresh pets from those bodies."

Orion felt no shock. From their first encounter, he'd realized Tangere wasn't some holy figure. Their bond started with the Plague Totem Pole from Tangere—a device built for the vile act of stealing Faith.

"Handle it however you want. Just make sure it's finished. And Tangere... hold your position for the moment. Put all your effort into creating this plague agent."

Orion cut off the mind connection.

"He'll go to any lengths to rise as an Archlord," Orion reflected, his eyes fluttering open in the real realm.

He held no grudge against Tangere. As a lord of plagues, the themes of sickness, demise, and might defined his life. It made perfect sense for him to orchestrate a grand performance.

Orion shifted his focus inside once more, returning to the Divine Kingdom. A ripple in the spiritual fabric drew his notice.

In the heart of the Stoneheart Temple—right in the Trial of Flesh, where the blood mountain embodied Orion's core—a figure had scaled to the top.

"What a shame."

Scaling the Mountain of Flesh and Blood to its crest demanded an unbreakable resolve, matching any previous climber.

WAAAGH!

Scaling the Mountain of Flesh and Blood to its crest demanded an unbreakable resolve, matching any previous climber.

WAAAGH!

A thunderous yell ripped across the spirit realm. It came from a Stoneheart Titan's bellow.

Deeper than any dragon's roar, keener than an eagle's call. It belonged to Rolan.

At the peak, Rolan had changed form. He towered beyond three hundred feet, a massive blend of sinew and rock. Three heads emerged from his shoulders; six limbs extended from his chest.

His presence weighed down heavily, swirled in chaos, and brimmed with fearsome might.

"Young one, are you ready for that last leap?"

Orion's projection appeared high above the Temple, gazing at his follower.

Rolan's success in claiming the bloodline enough to show the Three-Headed, Six-Armed shape was remarkable. It went beyond what Orion had anticipated.

When Orion uttered "a pity," he wasn't grieving Rolan's shortcoming. He was regretting the bounds of natural limits.

Lacking a special build like Elara's, this marked the peak. Only she could fully take on the Stoneheart Titan lineage to manifest the ideal Four-Headed, Eight-Armed version.

No other like Elara existed.

Three heads and six arms signaled the ultimate boundary for Giant heritage. Without some wonder, this ended the path. Gazing at Rolan, Orion foresaw the same caps for Rendall, Thundar, and Dace.

In truth, Orion wished for more successors able to match his complete strength. But beyond his own blood heirs and Elara, even his top disciple Rolan could only hit the level of Fergus and Tarn.

Long before, upon Orion's rise to Demigod, Fergus and Tarn had linked to his lineage. Not many realized they also held the Three-Headed combat shape.

"Three heads, six arms... enough to face a Lord," Orion judged. "He's achieved insight at the summit. Now, the real test: can he forge his Lord's Stone in a single move?"

"I'm genuinely eager for this."

Should Rolan craft his Lord's Stone on his own, he'd prove worthy to rank with Orion's offspring. Real strength never hinged solely on ancestry; it sprang from the spirit.

For Rolan's rise, Lilith had gathered the needed materials ages ago. Lands and supplies stood ready.

Orion left him alone. He blocked the zone for solitude, then directed his sight to the darkest depths of the ghost sea.

There, shrouded in shadow, rested another Stoneheart Titan.

Differing from Rolan, this one had four heads and eight arms. His build loomed even larger.

It was Kaelen.

Orion had given him free rein over the Temple's bloodline forces to mend his shattered form. The outcome proved clear. Kaelen had regained his prime and pushed past it.

His emergence wouldn't take much longer. After that, with added lands and Faith, becoming an Archlord was certain.

"Kaelen's comeback means Pallas and Kronos must set out."

"After Rolan finishes his shift, he'll guide Kronos into the Abyss."

Orion pictured the layout sharply.

Pallas headed for the Platinum Authority. She ought to witness the broader realm, grasp ruling and influence on a grand level. A bloom sheltered indoors had to brave the gale.

Kronos aimed for the Abyss. He required toughness. Orion planned a grown successor fixed in the Abyssal World to manage affairs. Kronos fit the role.

As for Kaelen... Orion chose to hold the exiled-raised son nearby. Kaelen would remain in the Titanion Realm, heading the fight versus the Insectoids. Battling with family would build the ties he missed, strengthening his devotion and tie to the Stoneheart Horde.

Elara would lead the charge into the Eldoria continent.

And Caelus? Orion fretted over him the smallest. In the Platinum Authority, Caelus would join assaults on foreign realms as a matter of course. The Commander was already leading him to the Death-Soul Race's proving grounds. His path lay assured.

Plans locked in, Orion pulled his view from Kaelen.

He spared a quick look at where Rendall, Thundar, and Dace toiled. Some battled the blood waves; others started the ascent; a few meditated, desperately drawing in energy.

Orion could only observe now.

Titanion Realm, Blackstone City.

Under scrutiny too were Dirtclaw's pair of sons, Anubis and Wepwawet.

Labeling them "whelps" no longer fit.

They rose close to eight feet—true titans among Gnolls. Their coats grew dense, their builds rippled like iron ropes.

Yet to their aged sire, Dirtclaw, they remained mere younglings.

"Well done." Dirtclaw rumbled, pacing around them. "Peak Alpha rank. You've not disgraced me."

His gaze forced Anubis and Wepwawet to fidget.

It went beyond fatherly command; it was lineage dominance. Dirtclaw's intense aura sparked deep terror in them, a base urge to flee and cower.

Dirtclaw ignored their dread. Strength alone mattered to him.