Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1450 Abyssal Ambush

As he pondered the grave duty Orion had placed upon him, Rendall's enthusiasm surged with each passing sentence. When he finished speaking, he stood tall, his words echoing with intense passion.

Thundar had never witnessed Rendall in such a state. Observing the elder giant, he sensed the tangle of worry and bewilderment in his heart starting to unravel, eased by Rendall's genuine assurance.

"He's right," Thundar mused. Why am I tying myself up in worry over this?

"I'm already a Legend," Rendall proclaimed, his chest swelling proudly. "I possess endless time to study, to hone my abilities. And if I hit a wall? I'll simply seek out that storyteller at the Silent Goblet in Stoneheart. Folks claim he's full of wisdom."

West of Eldoria stretched the Westreach Sea.

This body of water held a strange feature. Beyond the gentle nearshore shallows, the sea transformed abruptly from a lively turquoise to a pitch-dark emptiness. Such a stark divide signaled the boundary of a vast underwater chasm—a vertical plunge forming the Westreach Trench.

The Sirens residing in the depths favored a more lyrical title: the Siren's String. Folklore claimed the chasm served as one string on the Siren Goddess's own harp.

And at this moment, that string was being strummed.

Over the trench, an enormous shadow glided across the ocean floor, engulfing the Sirens in the upper regions in one swift motion. The mightier ones released an eerie, shrill sound right before perishing. A last cry that echoed into the oppressive profoundness like a distress beacon.

Once it had consumed the nearby Sirens, the huge shadow discovered a fissure in the seabed. It pulled back its immense tentacles and forced its massive form through, bit by bit.

"Damn it, Squiddy, couldn't you handle the goods with a bit more care?" a voice grumbled from the creature's hold. "I spotted two in that group that were utterly flawless. Prime stunners. Wouldn't it make more sense to haul them away to produce some heirs for you?"

Within the fissure, the gigantic octopus beast coiled up tightly, clutching a enchanted crystal container to its body. Swimming inside the container were a tiny Abyssal Dreadfin and a World Dragon.

These formed the trio of plotters: Kraken, Orion, and Leonidas.

Leonidas was presently mocking Kraken for his "wanton ruin of blossoms." Through Leonidas's gaze—a shameless womanizer—loveliness ranked on a rigid ladder: Pretty, Fair, Peerless, and Divine. Earning a Peerless from Leonidas meant exceptional acclaim, implying the Siren folk boasted staggeringly captivating allure.

"Boss, will this act truly draw the Siren Archlord from her lair?" Kraken inquired, his tone rumbling through the waves.

Kraken's initial scheme was straightforward: the three would charge the entrance, eliminate the Siren Archlord, and compel the species into submission. Yet Leonidas rejected it. His logic held weight—nobody could predict the vicious, age-old snares lurking in the Siren bastion.

Enticing the Archlord into exposed waters offered the wiser choice. Orion concurred. They were outsiders to these seas; prudence outweighed boldness. A lineage as ancient as the Sirens probably featured safeguards that required their Archlord's attendance to trigger.

Thus, the performance: Kraken masquerading as a feral abyssal monster, terrorizing the Siren numbers.

"If she stays hidden, keep feasting," Orion stated icily from within the glass orb. "No Archlord would watch their kin get eaten without end. We aim to shatter the deadlock. The Sirens must yield or perish. No other path exists."

The Westreach Trench loomed perilously near Sunless City. Claiming this spot would provide a base for delving into the ocean depths or a shield for their forces ashore.

"Fair enough," Kraken growled. "I'll dive in for another pass. Stir up more chaos this round."

In the container, the diminished figures of Orion and Leonidas laughed softly, settling to the base to release bubbles. They stayed concealed, suppressing their presences, poised for the decisive instant to deliver a lethal blow once their target emerged.

At the same time, Aina and her group, Hellscream, had seized full control of Sunless City. With the city as their center, they launched a bold restructuring of the mainland.

Santdagon's mainland resembled a distinct six-pointed star, placing Sunless City at the lowest spike. The territory split into seven regions: the core area and the six extensions. To dominate the mainland, seizing the Andor Diocese came first.

Port Caelwyn occupied the southwest edge of the Andor Diocese—a site now dubbed Sunless City.

"Santdagon is immense," Aina murmured gently. "Our journey remains far from over."

Mounted on a white steed, she advanced with Raveth following on foot. They journeyed down a barren path, empty of wayfarers. After guiding Orion and his allies into the waters successfully, Aina headed toward the subsequent ritual site.

Per Orion's directives, the coming sacrificial ring would call forth the Undead Legion—the key army meant to topple the Holy Order. Aina approached this duty with profound seriousness; the ceremony demanded flawlessness.

"Your Holiness," Raveth questioned, shattering the quiet. "Is this truly worthwhile?"

Raveth, once a disgraced aristocrat now on the run, had resorted to arson, murder, and plunder for survival. He viewed himself as no hero, harboring no illusions of purity. Yet after beholding the ravenous Cave Spiders, he grasped that their summons would unleash disaster upon all life across the mainland.

Raveth counted as a rogue, sure, but not wicked enough to crave the whole realm's destruction alongside his own. He wandered in doubt, unable to judge if his chosen route led to redemption or ruin.

"Why? Feeling second thoughts?"

Aina pulled back on her white horse's reins, easing to a trot. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her expression soft and inviting. Still, under that kindness, Raveth shivered with an icy dread.

Before he could craft a reply, Aina continued, her words floating softly.

"The mainland of Santdagon... its true name was once Bilimona. Home to the Monai folk."

"Two centuries back, envoys from the Agaman Holy Order landed on Bilimona to spread their faith among the natives. They proclaimed their message relentlessly, and two hundred years slipped away."

"In merely two brief centuries," Aina went on, her voice casual, "the Monai, who thrived throughout every inch of Bilimona, vanished entirely. Wiped out down to the youngest soul."

Aina faced ahead once more, overlooking Raveth, yet her tone reached him distinctly from behind.

"That's what the Holy Order labels the 'War of Descent.' A sacred crusade."

"Tell me, Raveth. Do you see those native Monai as fiends? Do you honestly think, prior to the Order's coming, this land was just a barbaric void?"

It stood as history, old and brutal. Raveth recalled bits and pieces. But amid his turmoil, confronting the stark truths of yesteryear, he found himself unable to separate the just from the unjust.