Titan King: Ascension of the Giant-Chapter 783: I Would Rather Make a Deal

So, this is the one, Orion thought, his mind racing. The evil being. Its true form is that of a great serpent? But what is it doing here?

Does it truly not recognize me? No... wait. The Deputy Commander’s Wind Ward. Its will-projection was destroyed within the seal. Its main consciousness... it never sensed what happened. It doesn’t know who I am.

In the space of a single breath, Orion had pieced it together. But why this ancient demigod was here, locked in this strange embrace, remained a mystery.

"Who are you?" Orion asked, deciding to feign ignorance. Whether he could truly fool a demigod was debatable, but he was certain of one thing: this creature did not know him.

"Hahahaha... a lowly, insignificant creature, attempting to play the fool before me," the serpent’s voice hissed with a sinister amusement. "You lie with your eyes wide open, little giant. You have courage."

Orion said nothing. He watched the serpent, his body coiled and ready for any hostile move. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, the serpent’s glistening black eyes radiating a palpable sense of danger.

Then, the man trapped in the serpent’s coils opened his eyes.

A light, brilliant and absolute, erupted from his gaze. It flooded the cavern, illuminating the still water and the featureless black void of a sky.

"Damnable old thing!" the serpent shrieked. Under the power of that blinding light, its scales hardened, its coils tightened, and it became utterly still, a living statue fused to the man.

The light was so intense that Orion had to shield his own eyes, an instinctive revulsion rising within him. It was a pure, holy radiance, anathema to any being with a touch of the abyss in their blood. After a moment, the light dimmed slightly, but the man’s form remained a blinding silhouette.

A new voice, firm and resolute, sounded in Orion’s mind.

"Young friend. I sense no taint of evil corruption upon you. By that measure alone, we are not enemies."

"Perhaps you are a native of this Emerald Dream Realm, or perhaps you are a being from the abyss or another world. You are at the peak of the Legendary tier; you must feel it. This world has been corrupted. And the source of that corruption... is the evil being upon my body."

Orion’s heart hammered in his chest. So it was true. This was the great evil, the world-ender. No wonder its projection had spoken with such arrogance.

"Do not be alarmed," the voice continued. "This is not its true form. Like me, it is merely a will-projection."

The fist of fear around Orion’s heart finally loosened. If they were only projections, he had a chance. Deep in the sea of his consciousness, a blade of absolute power lay dormant.

Thank the Fates for the Commander’s foresight, he thought, a wave of relief washing over him.

"I can sense the faith energy you carry, young friend," the being of light continued. "It is enough. You are qualified to ascend to the rank of Archlord. My name is Valthor. I am a demigod of the Chaos Continent. Perhaps you have heard of me."

"Let us cooperate. Help me destroy this projection of the great evil. Give the tormented souls of the Emerald Dream Realm a chance to see the light once more. What say you?"

Valthor, a demigod of Chaos Continent. His attitude was a world away from the serpent’s contempt. He was courteous, respectful even.

And yet... Orion remained wary. What demigod was not a survivor of countless trials and bitter hatreds? A kind face could hide a cunning heart.

"My apologies," Orion said aloud, his voice carefully neutral. "I came here only to find the Spring of Life. A battle between demigods is not something a being of my station has any right to interfere in."

He had to be cautious.

"Young friend, this world is drowning in darkness. With but a small effort from you, we could light a torch for millions of souls, a flame that might guide them out of the gloom."

So, this one fancies himself a great savior. In Orion’s eyes, there were no true saints in any world. Every soul had its own selfish desires. He saw Valthor as a hypocrite, cloaked in a mantle of goodness and light.

Every demigod was a terrifying being. Even the mighty Alexander, Leonidas, and Arthas had not yet reached that rank. To treat such a creature with anything less than extreme caution would be the height of folly.

"I am sorry," Orion stated firmly. "I cannot help you. Nor can I help the millions of souls you speak of."

"Young friend, this is our chance! To destroy his will-projection is to weaken him, we... we..."

Valthor’s voice began to fade, growing distant, as if something were dragging him back into an unseen abyss. The light receded. The man and the serpent became a silent, frozen statue once more.

The mysterious place fell completely quiet, so still it felt like a paradise at the end of time. Orion stood on the mirror-like surface of the lake, looking at his own reflection, and felt as if none of it were real.

The silence was broken by a familiar, hissing laugh. The serpent was alive again.

"It seems you are not a complete fool, little giant. Now, submit to me."

"I will grant you a forbidden rite. You can forge your body of faith right here, in this very place, and become the Archlord you long to be."

The black serpent did not wait for a reply, its voice dripping with temptation.

"You are clever enough to know that such arcane knowledge is precious. Ascension to the rank of Archlord always comes at a price. Submit to me. Help me destroy this old man."

"Once I have taken the Spring of Life, I can even grant you passage to my world. This one, after all, is doomed to perish."

"Heh heh heh hahahaha..."

...

The serpent’s laughter was thick with triumph, as if its victory were a foregone conclusion.

If Orion had been a native of this world, like Sophia, perhaps the offer would have been irresistible. A guaranteed escape from a dying world, a path to godlike power... it was a potent lure.

But Orion was not a native. He had the Champions Alliance. He had a world of his own.

"Your Grace," Orion said, his face an unreadable mask as he stared down the great serpent. He was beginning a negotiation, a parley for information. "Submission is impossible."

He had to engage, to press, to learn more.

"However," he continued, "we could cooperate. You give me this secret rite of ascension, and I will help you eliminate your foe."

If the evil one agreed, Orion was willing to play along. A technique for forging a body of faith, if it was real, was an asset of incalculable value—not just for him, but for Kraken and Isabella. And if he found a suitable buyer, it could be traded for other priceless treasures.

"My secrets are for my servants alone," the serpent hissed, its amusement vanishing. "You are dreaming, little giant."

The negotiation was over before it had truly begun. Orion stared at the serpent, considering his next move.

But at that moment, the brilliant light flared once more. Valthor awoke, and the great black serpent was once again frozen in stone.

"Young friend," Valthor’s voice resonated in his mind, "a secret art from such a being... he offers it to you, but would you truly dare to practice it?"

The question struck Orion to the core. He would not. At the very least, he would need Leonidas, Alexander, and the Deputy Commander to examine it. With their vast knowledge, they might spot the traps hidden within. And even if they didn’t, he would still hesitate. This universe was vast; it was all too easy to imagine a single, cursed rite that could lead to an eternity of damnation.

"Be wary of his temptations," Valthor warned. "Hold fast to the integrity of your soul. Do not place your trust in evil, lest you fall into a bottomless abyss. The darkness is the unknown, and the unknown is the wellspring of fear. It will make us afraid. It will make us lose our way. Do not be seduced, or you will regret it when it is far too late."

It was a bizarre tableau. Two demigods, one of light and one of shadow, both treating him as a simple, impressionable child to be swayed. One tempted him with power, the other preached virtue. Orion remained silent, watching the being of light, waiting to see what he would offer, what reward he would promise.

But Valthor promised nothing. Instead, he simply explained the true, righteous path to power.

"To ascend to the rank of Archlord, young friend, requires more than a resilient will. It requires a vast reserve of faith energy. To forge a body of faith is, in essence, to fuse your will with that energy. To command faith with your will. When that fusion is complete, you will have your new form. Then, wherever your will goes, your power will follow."

Orion listened intently. He had already gleaned the basics of this from his own recent ordeal. The Commander’s Blade Flash had annihilated the wills of the evil demigod and the Flower Goddess, but it had left their raw power behind. Now, hearing Valthor state it plainly, his understanding became complete. Valthor was right. No secret rite was necessary.

"A shortcut, while tempting, is fraught with peril," Valthor continued earnestly. "Never trust an arcane rite from an unreliable source. Such techniques only make the process of fusing will and faith easier. The body of faith they create is often fixed, specified by the rite’s creator. The hidden flaws are too great."

Valthor’s words sent a chill through Orion. He understood the implications. A body of faith forged through a shortcut might be unstable. Worse, the creator could have woven a hidden chain into its very design, a backdoor for control or influence. The new form might have inherent weaknesses, or be entirely mismatched with a warrior’s own spirit and fighting style.

And then, the final piece clicked into place. Alexander, Leonidas, Arthas... none of them had ever spoken of such a thing. They had deliberately kept the existence of these shortcuts from him, wanting him to ascend through his own strength, on his own terms.

The higher one climbed, Orion realized, the more treacherous the path, the more insidious the traps. He felt as though he were walking on the thinnest of ice.

"The lake at your feet, young friend," Valthor’s voice was growing fainter. "This is the Spring of Life. If not for my presence here, and that of the evil one, you could claim it with ease. But now it is tainted with the essence of our wills. To take the Spring, you would first have to destroy us both. Young friend..."

Valthor’s voice trailed off as the light faded. The serpent stirred, its evil presence descending once more.

"Do not listen to the old man, little giant," it hissed. "He offers you nothing but empty words and expects you to die for him. Such is the way of hypocrites. Besides, this world is doomed. Do you not wish to secure a path forward for yourself, and for the horde at your back?"

The serpent’s tone was as arrogant as ever, but Orion could now hear a faint tremor of desperation in its attempts to obfuscate the truth.

"Submit to me," it repeated. "I will help you ascend. And you must believe this: even a demigod would not easily discard a follower who has attained the rank of Archlord."

The last part was likely true. An Archlord was a valuable asset. But Orion also knew that in a moment of true crisis, a being of pure evil would sacrifice anyone—even its own kin. He did not hear a word of it.

"Your Grace," Orion said, his voice now firm with a newfound confidence. "Submission is impossible."

Knowing they were merely will-projections, his fear had abated.

"I would rather make a deal."

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