Titan King: Ascension of the Giant-Chapter 790: A Rootless Source

"Activate the Imperial Hallow," the Ancestor Saint commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We are going to the border. Perhaps, from there, I can sense the aura of this new Giant King."

The Saint did not doubt Harold’s word. His plan was simple and logical. With the power of the empire’s most sacred artifact, he should be able to extend his senses into the territory of the Stoneheart Horde.

If he detected the presence of an Archlord, it would mean the bloodline evolution was a fluke, and Orion had not truly ascended. If he sensed nothing, it would confirm his suspicions: the Giant King was not on his own lands. He had ascended in another world entirely.

Emerald Dream Realm, Marshlight Sanctuary.

In a vast, torch-lit hall, Leonidas circled Orion, then circled him again, his expression a comical mix of disbelief and scrutiny.

"Was the Dawn Continent really that good to you?" he finally burst out. "You take one trip over there and come back an Archlord?"

Orion simply smiled, saying nothing. The path his ascension had taken was something he could have never predicted himself.

"Gods damn it all," Leonidas grumbled, his tone sour with envy. "When Arthas wakes up, he’s going to lose his mind with joy."

Orion just laughed. "My friend, I have only just ascended. What comes next? What must I be wary of? A student requires his master’s wisdom."

He was sincere. He may have attained the rank, but compared to old wolves like Leonidas and Alexander, he was a newborn. After leaving the tarn, he had used a teleportation scroll to return to the Dusk Continent immediately, leaving no time to ask Alexander these questions.

"Hah! Details, my friend, mere details! Come, let us drink, and we will speak of such things!" Leonidas boomed, slinging an arm over Orion’s shoulder and pulling him toward the throne.

Moments later, tables were laden with roasted meats, candied fruits, and casks of strong ale.

Leonidas took a great swig of ale before finally meeting Orion’s expectant gaze.

"Alright, my friend," he began, his tone now serious. "You are an Archlord now. A true patron of a realm. Above us is the rank of demigod—beings who touch the very rules of creation, who take their first steps toward immortality."

"So, from this day forward, you must learn a new way. You must learn caution. You must learn to be cunning. The time for reckless charges is over. Our goal, yours and mine, is godhood. And you cannot become a god if you are dead."

He paused, letting out a loud belch. The words were not a jest; they were the heartfelt counsel of a brother-in-arms. A demigod, barring some unforeseen catastrophe, could live for a hundred thousand years. To throw away such a prize for a moment of pride was the ultimate folly.

"But to preserve your life, caution is not enough," Leonidas continued, raising his cup. "You must also grow stronger."

Orion grabbed a cask of his own and drank deep.

"As an Archlord, the path to strength is through your domain. You must have more territory, nurture more subjects, and gather more faith for yourself. And, I’ll speak plainly with you, brother... your current state is unstable. Your foundation is not your own."

Before Orion could ask, Leonidas elaborated.

"You ascended using the faith energy left behind by others. It is not that this is bad, but that power is a rootless source. Once it is spent, it is gone. And battles between Archlords are wars of attrition. The more faith energy you have, the less you fear your enemy."

Orion listened intently, taking another long drink from his cask. Leonidas was warning him that beyond bloodline and personal might, the true contest between Archlords was a clash of faith energy. Certain forbidden arts, certain ultimate techniques, could not be cast or countered with mere physical power.

"Is that why," Orion interjected, a piece of the puzzle clicking into place, "the Archlord avatars we fought would rather die than summon their bodies of faith?"

"Exactly," Leonidas confirmed with a grin, clearly pleased with his student. "Faith energy, once spent, takes a very, very long time to replenish. But an avatar? An avatar can be remade. This world is filled with secret rites for creating or finding new vessels."

He leaned back, looking relaxed. Now that Orion was an Archlord, topics that were once off-limits could be discussed freely. To see Orion listening so earnestly, like a fresh-faced squire, filled him with a deep and profound satisfaction.

With Arthas still sleeping, teaching Orion felt like fulfilling a duty to his oldest friend—a responsibility, and a validation of his own long, hard-won wisdom.

"And, my friend," Leonidas said, his voice dropping conspiratorially, "the amount of faith energy one has is also linked to ascending to the rank of demigod. Take an old warrior’s advice: in the future, avoid using your body of faith unless you have no other choice. It is the core of an Archlord’s being, the foundation upon which a demigod is built."

Orion nodded, and with genuine gravity, he bowed his head to Leonidas in thanks.

"Hahaha! For that bow alone, I will light a few more paths for you," Leonidas laughed, his good humor restored.

"First: lay low and build your house. You have a new form, but it was built with another’s energy. You must focus on your territory, on your people. They are the wellspring from which you will draw your own power, the foundation that will truly make you a lord."

In ancient times, he explained, many worlds did not even distinguish between Lord and Archlord; they were simply two sides of the same coin, a path of gathering power through one’s domain. The body of faith simply made an Archlord a far more terrifying prospect in a fight.

"Second," he continued, "you need to acquire some capable avatars. An esteemed patron cannot be everywhere at once, doing everything himself. You cannot risk your true body on minor adventures. At our level, you must learn to delegate. All of it."

He chuckled, a strange, knowing look in his eyes, as if he could see right through Orion. Orion looked down, pondering the meaning. He knew Leonidas had seen his tireless efforts, his constant running between two realms, his hands-on approach to every aspect of the Horde. To Leonidas, he must have looked like a busy little bee.

"And third," Leonidas said, his expression turning serious again. "You need more trump cards. Your new body of faith... does it have proper weapons? Proper armor?

And the avatars you will create... will they not need their own equipment? Their own secret weapons for a desperate moment?"

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