Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1481 A Crunchy Snack

The very crust of the planet didn't merely vibrate; it shuddered violently. Under the sudden, intense freeze, the earth transformed into cold iron.

Sentries standing watch and devout followers tending the grounds were paralyzed in mid-action, their lives extinguished before they could even collapse. They stood frozen like icy effigies, silent witnesses to a sudden, catastrophic end.

Inside the Great Hall, Maelric and his high priests observed the unfolding tragedy via a scrying mirror.

"An Evil Deity," one priest choked out.

"Evacuate! Teleport to Headquarters immediately. We must initiate the Summoning Rite. Now!"

Maelric surged from his throne. His crimson robes trailing behind him like a river of blood, he marched toward the Holy Order's sanctum, forcefully ushering the Lord Commander of the Inquisition and the High Judges forward.

In the surrounding air, holographic projections of priests from distant Dioceses blinked and dissipated.

This was a dire emergency. Corruption had reached the very threshold of the Holy Order. Their only path to survival lay in consolidating their power to call upon their deity. Should they falter, the dark god’s insatiable maw would surely consume them.

"Her beauty is not merely skin deep; it is the warmth and kindness that radiates from within..."

Ignoring the glacial nightmare, the Agaman Sanctuary reacted with the precision of a veteran military force.

A barrier of pale, golden illumination materialized, completely enveloping the city. Where this holy radiance brushed against the encroaching ice, the frost hissed and withered, dissolving into harmless vapor.

In a modest stable behind the sanctuary, an elderly man clad in roughspun linen was jolted awake. The penetrating chill had pierced his slumber. Emerging into the open, he gazed upward.

"The Goddess is kind. She is the Light, illuminating the dark, dispelling the fog, guiding us lost lambs to the path..."

Looking through the translucent walls of the golden barrier, the elder identified the source of the dread: the World Dragon.

To an Ascetic, fear was not an adversary, but an old companion. With every victory over terror, their Cultivation grew more refined, and their faith deepened into crystalline purity. Their resolve was iron, tempered in the scorching fires of dread.

And so, the elder began his chant. He stepped forward—not upon solid earth, but into the atmosphere itself. Ascending degree by degree, he walked toward the heavens to confront the World Dragon.

"Praise the Goddess. Kindness is power. It melts the indifference of the world, bridges the chasm between souls, and lets your heart speak to mine..."

The anonymous Ascetic breached the golden barrier, hovering defiantly before Leonidas. He sang hymns to his deity, attempting to rebuke the calamity-bearing wyrm using nothing but scripture.

"An Archlord at the pinnacle of his potential?" Leonidas mused, his voice sounding like glaciers grinding together. "And in rags, no less. You must be one of those ridiculous Ascetics."

The dragon sneered. "You fool. Convert to me."

"Faith in your Goddess yields only ruin. Worship me, and I shall bestow eternal life!"

"Hahaha!"

To Leonidas, an Ascetic was little more than an obstinate monk. While he recognized they were notoriously difficult to break, his pride insisted on the challenge.

"Your Eminence," the elder spoke, his tone unruffled despite the gaze of the behemoth. "This is the domain of the Agaman Goddess. I suggest you depart, to avoid sparking a futile War of Gods."

Ascetics were far from mindless, rigid fanatics. This elder possessed genuine wisdom. Even after Leonidas had desecrated their sacred lands, he still extended an olive branch.

"Hahaha! Do you truly believe I arrived here out of fear for a War of Gods?" Leonidas roared. "An Ascetic such as yourself... your Faith Energy is remarkably pure. Since your destiny is to serve as sustenance, you might as well nourish me."

The dragon did not wait for a reply. His jaws unhinged, a void of darkness lunging toward the old man.

Searing holy light erupted from the Ascetic, a desperate bid to win a tug-of-war against the dragon's abyssal suction. Had he been facing a lesser World Dragon, the old man might have held his ground.

But Leonidas was empowered by Divine Power.

The struggle persisted for a mere second. Then, the monk was dragged into the abyss and vanished down the dragon's throat.

"Not bad," Leonidas grunted, relishing the surge of power. "Rich. Excessively rich."

To a World Dragon, a high-level Ascetic was merely a nutrient-heavy snack.

Agaman Sanctuary. The Main Cathedral.

The very moment Leonidas consumed the nameless monk, Maelric finished the ritual.

The Goddess statue located in the nave—previously a featureless wooden carving—abruptly erupted with blinding radiance. Having gorged itself on the panic-fueled Faith Energy of the masses, the icon awakened.

BOOM!

The statue vaulted skyward, shattering the cathedral's ornate dome and rising into the firmament like a Valkyrie. A majestic, suffocating aura bled from her form.

Leonidas spotted her immediately.

"A Will Projection?" The dragon narrowed his eyes. "No... that signature is too faint. It is only a Seed of Will."

He had steeled himself for a brawl with a Demigod's full avatar. A Projection would have possessed a significant portion of a deity's true potency. A Seed, however, was usually nothing more than a spiritual bookmark left behind to harvest faith.

The disparity in power was immense. Nevertheless, bolstered by the Holy Order's vast reserves of accumulated Faith Energy, this Seed was punching well above its weight, mimicking the presence of a true Demigod.

"Wonderful. First a delicious Ascetic, and now a Goddess's Will Seed? My luck is exceptional today."

The World Dragon opened his maw once more, preparing to unleash his gravitational devourer.

However, this time, his effort fell short.

The Goddess statue leveled her torch-like scepter. Infinite holy radiance cascaded outward, effectively neutralizing the dragon's gravitational pull.

Simultaneously, golden runes bled from the hem of her robes, swirling and coalescing at her side into the spectral form of a massive, golden Dragon Lance.

The weapon radiated a terrifying sharpness. Even Leonidas felt a distinct prickle of genuine danger scrape along his scales.

"Careful, brother," Orion's voice whispered softly in Leonidas's mind. "Do not let the aura deceive you. It is merely a projection of a Demigod Artifact. It lacks the true substance of a Relic."

Reassured, the flicker of hesitation in Leonidas's eyes vanished, replaced by sheer ferocity. His Dragon Aura lashed out like a whip, initiating the assault.

A projection of a Demigod Artifact?

Hidden within the Void, Orion observed the battle, his thoughts racing. Does the founder of the Agaman Holy Order truly wield a Demigod Artifact?

Had Orion discovered this when he first attained the status of a Demigod, he would have fled without a second thought.

But the circumstances had changed. He now understood the secrets of the high table.

The majority of Demigod Artifact owners—along with the terrifying entities of the Sixth Realm—were currently deep in hibernation. They lay dormant, waiting for a chance to ascend to godhood or perhaps to slaughter a god. Regardless of the reason, slumber was their default state.

Even Thresh, the Commander of the Champions Alliance, currently slept within his true form.

In reality, Orion's own choice to keep his physical body out of this world was driven by more than just the fear of fracturing the realm's delicate physics. It was because he sensed a looming, nebulous crisis.

That instinctive dread kept him on edge. It was the reason his true form remained in the Chaotic Void, laboring through Cultivation night and day, arming himself for the inevitable storm.