Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1460 Overwhelming Force

Makareth, freshly promoted to Archlord among Demons and engineered purely for battle, yearned for combat.

"Heh heh heh... The ominous melody of the Abyss starts its performance. Every being will sway to my rhythm, or they won't witness the dawn of another day!"

Letting out a frenzied bellow, Makareth charged toward the far-off clouds.

Far in the distance, Elara appeared out of nowhere, floating mere yards ahead of a figure clad in black robes.

"Reveal your True Name and yield. Perhaps I'll let you live."

Elara spoke in a monotone—unusually so for an Archlord. To Cavendish, her total absence of aura seemed like a cruel prank.

"Yield?" Cavendish sneered. "You can't be serious. I'm among the Eight High Inquisitors of the Holy Order, a devoted follower chosen by the Goddess Agaman. What gives you the right to demand my capitulation?"

His tone turned icy cold. In his view, Elara's demeanor was an outrageous sacrilege.

"Ah. Then you opt for death."

Elara lifted her trident. Icy skeletal armor wrapped around her body, and Chillbone Fire burst into life at the spear's point.

"This is..."

Noticing the strangeness, Cavendish—as a mid-level Archlord—realized danger loomed.

Yet he reacted too slowly.

Elara had already disappeared from view.

Cavendish's eyes narrowed sharply. On pure reflex, he unleashed his supreme energy, forming a protective shield around his body.

Clang!

Crack!

The trident first struck the barrier with a resounding clash, then came the sharp noise of breaking crystal.

Cavendish glanced downward, his eyes bulging in shock. The trident had stabbed straight through his torso.

A lethal strike to the body.

For an Archlord with a Body of Faith, though, this wasn't necessarily fatal. He wasn't helpless. Still, the overwhelming force and chilling quality of Elara's assault filled him with genuine dread.

"You're really this feeble?"

Elara's emotionless voice echoed from behind. Cavendish, shamed and trapped, exploded in fury.

"Arrogant whelp! You've gone too far!"

Cavendish bellowed, blood spurting from his mouth. He readied himself to explode his Body of Faith in a last-ditch, self-destructive move.

But it was too late.

The Chillbone Fire encircling the Flame of Will didn't merely scorch his flesh; it eroded his spirit and seethed through his reservoir of faith.

The Flame of Will had served Orion for ages as a weapon. Fueled by Orion's determination and remade by the Demigod Arthas, it stood as a Relic. When activated, no ordinary Archlord could endure it.

Whoosh!

The Chillbone Fire burst outward from within. Before Cavendish could trigger his Body of Faith, he turned to dust inside his spiritual domain.

Cavendish perished in overwhelming bitterness.

"Is that all the strength you had?"

Cavendish's demise held no significance for Elara. She faulted her foe for lacking resilience. Without invoking a banned incantation or unveiling her Stoneheart Titan shape, she had merely employed some combat skills from Orion's lineage, yielding this outcome.

Elara gazed at the Flame of Will, her wide eyes lighting up.

She perceived the armament's thrill; she detected its might. Having consumed the adversary's Body of Faith, the trident's radiance shone brighter and more lavish now.

"Good girl," Elara murmured, clutching the Flame of Will firmly. She narrowed her eyes in a grin and teleported back to her position.

"The enemy withdrew?"

Aina had imagined an Archlord clash would eclipse the heavens and fracture the ground. Elara's swift reappearance left Aina doubting her assumptions.

"The foe I faced is no more," Elara replied evenly. "It was... underwhelming." She appeared let down, akin to a kid short on playtime.

The opponent was feeble? Not truly an Archlord?

Aina believed in Elara's prowess—after all, she was Orion's dispatched Commander—but curiosity compelled her to inquire. Certainty was essential.

Elara regarded Aina, piercing her doubt instantly.

"Aina, he ranked as an intermediate Archlord. He just couldn't endure the weapon from Father."

Elara extended the trident levelly, allowing Aina to inspect it. Learning it was Orion's former armament, Aina grasped the situation at once.

"It's beautiful."

Aina lacked full insight into the Flame of Will's potency, so she complimented its standard visual appeal.

"It's also very strong."

"..."

At the same time, as Makareth confronted another High Inquisitor named Albrecht, the latter instantly identified Makareth's essence.

"A True Demon!"

"That's the reek of the Abyss!"

"Cursed infidels... they've summoned a Vile God and permitted a Demon to invade this realm!"

"Light will drive out the shadows!"

Confronting the Demon, Albrecht brimmed with holy zeal, a sacrificial drive to protect the world and eradicate wickedness. In that instant, power surged through Albrecht. He battled not for personal gain, but for all existence.

"A Demon arrives, yet the Light shall cleanse the impure!"

"I battle for righteousness! Perish, Abyssal filth!"

Albrecht seized his greatsword with both hands and raised it aloft. A small golden sun emerged from the edge—the Sunray of Judgment, a hidden technique of the Holy Order crafted to oppose malevolent beings.

This radiant light could eat away at a Demon, diminishing the Abyssal essence bound to it and impairing its fighting ability.

Sizzle!

It echoed like searing meat, bubbling skin, and evaporating blood.

"It hurts!"

"I haven't savored such intense, marrow-piercing agony in so long!"

"More! That's insufficient!"

"Heh heh heh..."

Makareth was insane. A typical Demon would escape the Holy Light. But he stood apart. As an Awakened, Makareth deliberately plunged into the holy force that tore at his form and essence.

He thought that withstanding ample amounts would forge his body against the divine. In Makareth's creed, shadow and radiance were intertwined—born from each other, destroying each other.

"Why halt now?"

Makareth ceased his laughter. The High Inquisitor's incantation had waned.

The burning thrill that had ecstatic Makareth vanished, cutting his delight short.

Makareth grew furious. His voice sank to a menacing rumble. It was the quiet after utter delirium—a hush brimming with icy, murderous intent.

"You... you lack fear of the Light?"

"What sort of abomination are you?"

Albrecht scowled, his expression one of utter incredulity.

What had just transpired? A Demon relishing the Holy Light?

It resembled a leisurely soak!

And if so, what role did that assign him?

A spa servant?