Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1441 The Goddess of Vengeance

"Born into shadows, humanity gropes blindly through the gloom, seeking purpose. True vision belongs only to those who nurture light within their souls."

"The light remains visible to you yet. Redemption lies within reach."

"Yield now. Allow the Holy Light of the Order to cleanse you and erase your transgressions."

An aged voice resonated from the cathedral's core right after Raveth's words ended. This tone embodied flawless balance, infused with a sacred vibration that could dispel terror and wickedness.

"If yielding could revive my kin and companions, perhaps I'd weigh it," Aina responded, her tone laced with feigned reflection. "Yet the Holy Order has already executed them by hanging. The deceased hold little interest in atonement."

"Move out of the way, Ascetic. Avoid dooming yourself for a futile endeavor."

Aina advanced. Gusts tore at her cloak, flinging her locks into a frenzied whirl. Bathed in the cathedral's radiance, her exquisite visage appeared celestial rather than infernal; she resembled a heavenly manifestation.

Upon beholding her, the Ascetic—Cyrion—halted as he stepped from the nave.

He gazed at her, confusion veiling his gaze. No hint of corruption emanated from her. In stark contrast to the man trailing her, whose presence churned like a tempest of hatred, this woman radiated... purity.

"You... you're free from the shadows," Cyrion declared. For the first time across his extensive years, doubt crept into his convictions about the Holy Order and the essence of Light.

"I never claimed to embody darkness," Aina grinned, advancing once more. "I'm Nemesis at worst. The Goddess of Retribution."

"Stop right there," Cyrion urged, his tone sincere. "This sacred soil rejects your presence."

"Sacred soil often conceals the foulest stains," Aina shot back. "I've come merely to scour it clean."

She pressed on without pause.

Cyrion sealed his lips. His gaze turned steely. Gradually, he lifted a hand, thickening the atmosphere. Pure Holy Light coalesced in his grasp, radiating the dread might of the Legendary realm.

In Port Caelwyn, Cyrion reigned supreme. Bishops and priests served as mere overseers; he formed the city's bulwark.

"Foes of the Light shall be ripped apart!"

ROAR!

Aina faced the searing brilliance without wavering. She continued her stride.

Yet Raveth, at her rear, surged into motion. His frame expanded, ballooning threefold. A pair of hideous limbs erupted from his spine as he leaped past Aina, bellowing with savage fury while charging at Cyrion.

The carnage ignited.

Throughout Port Caelwyn, plagued inhabitants launched their initial assault of devouring one another. Trailing them came Hellscream's agents, gliding like grim harvesters to claim the casualties. Those who collapsed into exhausted sleep post-rampage were loaded onto wagons and dragged to hidden shrines.

The grandest such shrine rose adjacent to Namir Cathedral.

Aina had guided Raveth to this spot with intent: to pursue Cyrion. A zealous Ascetic, saturated with years of gathered Faith, stood as the ideal, most vigorous offering conceivable.

Within the cathedral, Aina positioned herself before a marble depiction of a deity, exhaling as she gazed upward at the carved countenance.

"Deities... why won't you awaken? The light the Holy Order desperately grasps has warped into shadow ages past."

Quiet met her words.

"Did you spark this uprising?!"

A frenzied cry shattered the side chapel's hush. The priest, Deryn—the same who had indulged with the nun moments before—sprang forth. His fingers twisted into talons, lunging directly at Aina.

He appeared clear-headed. Somehow, he'd quelled the affliction inside. Regrettably, he remained oblivious to assaulting a fiend.

"An Alpha?" Aina whispered, underwhelmed.

Schlick.

Deryn hung suspended mid-leap. Horror widened his eyes as he glanced downward at the slender fist that had pierced his torso with ease.

The maiden who seemed as gentle as a doe had just hollowed him out like fruit.

Desolation flooded him. His pulse ceased. The vigor of his lineage ebbed away. Obscurity engulfed his sight.

"A core brimming with corruption," Aina remarked, pulling her hand free. She raised the oozing organ toward the glow. "Unworthy for the shrine. Still, you'll nourish my cherished ones splendidly as compost."

She retrieved a vial of glass, placed the heart within, and secured the lid. It would sustain the Cursed Tree in time.

Withdrawing a silken cloth, she daintily cleaned a drop of blood from her digits. No trace of a slayer marked her; she evoked one concluding an afternoon repast.

Minor Hell. Ashenheart Domain.

Shakes from the Ever-Burning Volcano intensified fiercely.

In the depths of the grotto housing Orion's demigod avatar in repose, gales wailed with eerie ferocity. Before Arthas could utter alarm, Orion, Leonidas, Alexander, and the Deputy Commander jolted alert.

"Arthas, report?" Leonidas demanded sharply. A oppressive weight in the atmosphere struck him, unseen since his rise to demigod.

"The foe lurks overhead," Arthas stated, his gaze sharpening as he rose. "His presence registers, yet his spot eludes me. He's... superior to us all."

Orion shared a somber glance with Leonidas, Alexander, and the Deputy Commander. Silently, they exited the cavern.

Beyond, the heavens had vanished.

Absolute night cloaked everything. The volcano's infernal blaze appeared smothered, failing to breach the murk.

"A spell array ensnares us," the Deputy Commander noted, tension straining his words. He craned his neck, celestial patterns whirling in his eyes as he probed for anchors or energy paths. Typically, targeting vital points would dismantle an array or expose vulnerabilities.

Yet nothing appeared. No imperfections. No framework.

The adversary had enclosed the volcano stealthily, employing mastery beyond their grasp.

"Damn this deception. I'll shatter it!"

Leonidas advanced. He struck the firmament.

An illusory wyrm bellowed to life, surging upward with tempestuous power. Peals of thunder boomed and gales screamed as the embodiment of raw might slammed into the world's roof.

Zap.

A ray of ebony darkness lanced from the emptiness. In one flash, the wyrm illusion disintegrated.

However, the strike unveiled reality. Briefly, Orion and his commanders glimpsed it: a reflector.

An enormous, obsidian reflector spanned the vault above. It emitted no essence, no force. It merely existed.

"That's no array," the Deputy Commander discerned, color draining from his features. "It's a magnetic barrier from the relic proper."

An array and a relic's field presented utterly distinct horrors.

"Relics can't produce barriers this vast," the Deputy Commander murmured, dread seeping into his voice. "Such strength demands a Demigod Artifact."

"The invader... commands a Demigod Artifact."

The declaration struck them like a tangible strike. A Demigod Artifact held a fragment of godhood. It embodied unchallenged dominion.

A colossal, warped voice thundered from the reflector, quaking the ground.

"Yield the Ever-Burning Volcano, and you'll depart alive."