Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1445 Sons of Stone

Thresh wouldn't freely share the mysteries of a Fourth-Stage Demigod's "Divine Calling" without a direct request. Details of that nature served as a blade with two sharp sides; absorbing them prematurely, prior to achieving the proper stage, might chain a fighter's thoughts, stalling their advancement with dread or

excessive contemplation.

"That Dead Sea you brought up aligns perfectly with the situation I outlined," Thresh remarked, reclining further. "Once you've completely stabilized your Divine Fire and Divine Soul, you could think about consuming it then."

His oil-slicked finger jabbed toward Orion.

"Keep this in mind: Avoid grasping for powers beyond your current reach."

"Those ancient beasts on their last breaths set up defenses you can't even imagine."

The caution was essential, and well-timed. Orion had been cutting corners, drawing on the strength loaned from his Fourth-Stage cultivation and his Sixth-Stage physique. A sheep could easily stray when it deluded itself into believing it was a predator.

"I appreciate the guidance, Commander," Orion replied, rising to his feet and offering a respectful bow like a devoted pupil.

"Are we finished? Excellent. I'm heading back to rest," Thresh dismissed with a lazy wave. "Now leave. You're far simpler to handle than your boy. That troublesome kid wouldn't quit until he smashed the jar open to see its contents."

Thresh shuffled back into his shelter. Moments later, steady snores echoed

from within.

Catching the signal, Orion pivoted and disappeared from Blade's Edge Peak.

Only once Orion had departed did Thresh's voice murmur from the tent, laced with drowsy contempt.

"Demon King Theras... nothing but a massive demon brute... if he stirs, I'll simply pound him back into unconsciousness."

The World of Eldoria. Port Caelwyn.

A gentle, pure blue colored the heavens.

As dawn's light crested the skyline, its warm golden beams filtered through the colored windows of Namir Cathedral. To onlookers outside, the sacred structure appeared as grand and divine as always, glowing under the early sun.

Yet within its walls, devastation reigned.

The elegant marble figure of the Goddess lay overturned and shattered. In its stead rose a rough-hewn yet formidable statue of a Stoneheart Titan, hauled in by the Hellscream agents.

Aina positioned herself in the heart of the main hall, embodying utter devotion.

"The ascending sun consumes all impurity. Tranquility starts right here."

"Mighty Titan God, listen to our pleas. Bestow upon us the bravery and power to eradicate every evil. May our resolve stand unyielding as we advance."

The sight was utterly bizarre.

Aina chanted like a holy maiden, her tone clear and enchanting. Close by, Raveth slumped across a splintered bench, wheezing desperately like a fish gasping its final breaths.

He had clashed with the monk Cyrion from twilight through to daybreak. And defeat was his fate.

Raveth lacked true Legendary status; his strength was merely borrowed from Orion. It proved insufficient against a zealot such as Cyrion. Once he had pounded Raveth into submission, Cyrion advanced toward Aina, determined to halt her violation of the sacred altar.

Yet Aina resisted fiercely.

Or more precisely, she bent the rules. She revealed the statue Orion had bestowed upon her and released a concentrated surge of Demigod aura. It shattered Cyrion's sanity in an instant, reducing the formidable ascetic to a mindless shell.

Now, Cyrion sprawled at the base of the Titan idol, serving as the prime and most worthy offering. "Have you recovered enough?"

Aina faced Raveth, her expression soft and kind. "Once the ritual circle activates and the Titan God's intent arrives, your power will surge even higher." During the night, Raveth had demonstrated unwavering allegiance. He deserved to remain by her side like a faithful hound.

"Move out. Prepare every offering before the sun sets," she commanded in a tender voice. "From this day forward, the Holy Light will never grace these grounds again."

Raveth hauled himself upright and hobbled away.

Alone now, Aina lifted her eyes to the Titan statue and released a laugh that rang like tinkling bells amid a burial ground.

"Father, brothers, Vianne... rest easy. Aina is dispatching companions your way. You won't feel isolated in the depths."

The Divine Kingdom. Stoneheart Temple.

Atop the loftiest summit, Rolan gradually lifted his eyelids. He tilted his head skyward and unleashed a bellow that rattled the firmament.

Success was his.

He stood as the second Giant in the Horde's annals—following Lorelia—to forge a Lord's Stone purely through determination and innate gift.

With his complete shift into a Stoneheart Titan, his battle prowess had exploded to heights beyond his own measure. Strength coursed through him, making him feel capable of cracking the heavens with one fist or grinding the peak underfoot with a single

step.

WAAAGH!

Right as Rolan's cry resounded, another thunderous roar burst from the blood ocean far below. Rolan glanced downward. The scarlet waves boiled violently. A towering column of blood twisted skyward, as if poised to scour the clouds away.

The disturbance persisted for a quarter hour before the torrent subsided,

exposing a silhouette hovering in the emptiness.

It was yet another Stoneheart Titan. However, this one stood apart. Four heads crowned him, and eight limbs extended from his frame.

Rolan and Kaelen locked gazes.

They were unknowns to each other. Kaelen had stirred from his deep sleep, roused by the overwhelming force of Rolan's breakthrough howl.

"Who might you be?"

"And who are you?"

Their words overlapped in perfect sync.

Rolan studied the four heads and eight arms with intrigue. From what he knew, only bearers of the Mentor's pure lineage could manifest such a shape. Kaelen, in turn, evaluated Rolan closely. He detected the Lord's Stone throbbing inside the newcomer. Even fresh to the Legendary stage, Rolan exuded a perilous aura that set Kaelen's nerves on edge.

"I am Kaelen. Son of the King."

"I am Rolan. Disciple of the Mentor."

Once more, their declarations nearly coincided. The strain eased into astonishment.

"Greetings."

"Greetings..."

Before the uneasy quiet could settle again, Orion appeared squarely between

them.

"Hahaha... Excellent! Both of you appear in top form!"

Orion gestured at the multi-limbed colossus.

"Rolan, meet Kaelen. He and his mother were confined to the Chaos Continent within the Emerald Dream Realm. I just managed to return them lately."

Next, he indicated Rolan.

"Kaelen, this is Rolan. My sole apprentice."

Orion turned to his offspring. "Refer to him as Big Brother."

Within the Stoneheart Horde, Rolan's position held special distinction.

He had risen from humble origins. His birth father had perished in battle for the Horde during its formative years, and his mother had wed again to bolster the clan's numbers.

Rolan had essentially been nurtured by Orion and Lilith. All the materials poured into forging him as a fighter stemmed from Orion's private stores. Only after maturing and enlisting in the mounted forces did he begin forging his independent path.