Titan King: Ascension of the Giant-Chapter 830: The Path to Godhood

An unknown passage of time, a long, quiet moment suspended in the salt-laced air, went by before Orion’s focus returned from the abyss of his thoughts.

"You are wrong."

The words were spoken calmly, cutting through the sound of Vorluk’s weeping.

"I may be the devil you name me, but I am not the root of this calamity."

Orion’s gaze was hard as forged steel. "Think, Vorluk. If Marina had never met me, what fate awaited her? Handed from one master to another like a treasured cup, her beauty a curse that would have invited endless humiliation. She would have been broken by a thousand cruelties or driven to take her own life."

He spoke with absolute certainty. She had already been offered up as a gift by the dragons; her path was never destined for a happy end.

"In the end, it was the Tidefang Clan that killed her. It was your precious laws, your unbending pride." He swept his gaze over the two brothers, huddled on the deck. "And it was you. Three brothers, so utterly powerless you could not protect your own sister, and now you seek to cast blame upon a power you cannot even begin to comprehend."

As he spoke, Orion released the iron grip he held on his aura. A terrifying, suffocating pressure, the pure might of an Archlord, slammed down upon the deck. Vorluk and Gulas, who had just managed to struggle to their knees, were flattened once more, pinned to the timbers as if by the weight of the sea itself.

Orion’s voice was imbued with that same, crushing confidence. "Marina chose me, and she was right to do so. I am greater than she ever imagined."

He paused, his expression unpitying. "As for whether I came too late... that was never a matter I could command."

It was true. He had been back in the Titanion Realm for less than two months. Even if he had left for the sea the moment he returned, he could not have reached her before she was sacrificed. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

But if she was forced to her death, then he would force those responsible to join her. The rules of the Tidefang Clan were the rules of merfolk. They were not Orion’s rules, and he cared nothing for them.

Moreover, Orion didn’t believe Marina was dead at all; he was determined to uncover the truth.

The Emerald Dream Realm, Dusk Continent.

High in the sky, Arthas swung his bone-forged sword. Arcs of energy, sharp enough to tear rents in the fabric of the void, forced back a demigod shrouded in a mist of blood.

"The Dusk Continent is ours for the taking," Arthas’s voice was as cold as the grave. "You are not welcome here."

He pressed his attack, his power undeniable. The demigod in the mist, finding no purchase and gaining no ground, ceased his assault. He cast a wary glance at the old man watching the battle from a distance, then turned without a word and fled toward the scattered islands across the sea.

As the enemy vanished, Deputy Commander Edward stepped forward. "How did it feel?"

Arthas was a newly ascended demigod. These duels against his peers were the perfect crucible in which to temper his power. For that reason, unless more than one demigod attacked at once, Edward left the defense of their territory to him.

"He was not as strong as I imagined." The statement was about his foe, but also about himself. The gulf between an Archlord and a demigod was the difference between the earth and the heavens. One had begun to grasp the fundamental rules of the cosmos, while the other was still merely accumulating the dregs of faith. They were not in the same reality.

"There are chasms of difference between demigods as well," Edward said with a sigh. "Different realms of understanding, different levels of strength. Most who reach this stage will spend an eternity lingering on the very first step."

To mortals, a demigod was the pinnacle of existence, the ultimate power in many lesser worlds. But they did not know of the vast hierarchy that existed even among gods-in-the-making.

"The first step?" Arthas asked. "Where I am now?"

Edward nodded. "From what I have gleaned, there are five stages on the path. Or perhaps, it is more accurate to say six." He paused, reconsidering his own words.

Arthas waited in silence.

"Demigod is only the beginning," Edward murmured, his gaze distant. "From faith, you nurture divine power. With that power, you ignite a divine fire. In that fire, you forge your soul. Within that forged soul, you awaken to your divine calling. That calling will, in time, birth a God-Spark. And only with that Spark can you finally construct a divine body."

He looked at Arthas, and for a moment, the weariness in his ancient eyes was replaced by a roaring, indomitable will. "That final stage... that is godhood."

Without the ambition to become a god, how could one ever hope to attain eternal life?

A long silence passed before Arthas spoke, deliberately steering the conversation away. The topic of godhood was too immense, too heavy. Even as a demigod, true divinity felt impossibly distant.

"Has the duel in the Crucible of the Gods been set?"

"It has."

"Two demigods and three Archlords?"

"Indeed. The wager is three Relics and two legendary quipments."

"Three Relics?" The casual way Edward spoke the words sent a shock through Arthas. A Relic was an artifact forged beyond the Legendary tier, an object that could only be claimed, typically, from the corpse of a fallen demigod. While they could be crafted through a confluence of rare materials and master artisans, the resources required were staggering, beyond the means of most factions.

"The Commander has put up one of the Relics himself," Edward explained. "Neither you nor I possess one. He hopes our strength can turn his one into three."

Arthas fell silent again. He hadn’t realized the stakes of this Crucible were so high. In the past, these duels between factions were fought over resources—world essence or the coordinates to lesser realms. To wager three Relics at once was a gamble of staggering proportions.

"Are you certain about letting Hulk fight?" With the stakes so high, Arthas felt a surge of apprehension.

"Have no fear. I have personally tested Hulk’s mettle. He is stronger than you think," Edward assured him. "While you were... indisposed... he has slain several more Archlords. His talent for battle is profound."

Orion had heard of Relics. The artifact King Harold used in the human kingdom of the Utessar continent to teleport his armies was one such item. It was so precious, so potent, that over time, myth had transformed it into a ’Godly Artifact’ in the minds of the common folk. True Godly Artifacts, however, could only be created and wielded by the gods themselves.

The Titanion Realm, The Silvercurrent Sea.

Darkness. Crushing pressure. Absolute cold. This was the environment of the abyssal trench, an extreme realm that had birthed terrifying forms of life. As the Sea-Devouring Warships descended into the unknown depths, they were flanked by swarms of silent, armored figures.

They were Abyssal Chitin-Warriors, their bodies encased in black carapaces as thick and hard as plate mail. From the oppressive gloom, countless pairs of baleful, blue-glowing eyes stared at the Stoneheart fleet, their focus fixed on the ancient giant-horned whale leading the procession.

Orion knew that if not for the overwhelming, predatory aura radiating from his undead leviathan, the swarm of chitin-warriors would have descended upon his fleet in a frenzied wave, eager to tear them apart and feast upon the scraps.