Titan King: Ascension of the Giant-Chapter 787: Hope Has Finally Appeared

In the aftermath, Orion felt a pang of disappointment. For all the power unleashed, the demigod projections had left no tangible spoils, no echo of their power to be claimed. He now understood.

Killing a will-projection was not like felling a true foe; it was merely wounding the great beast, severing a single claw from a monster with a thousand more. The projections had only been able to manifest in such solid forms because of the immense, life-giving energy of the Spring of Life itself.

The enemy is slain, he thought, shaking off the feeling. But to be safe, I must leave this place quickly.

He closed his eyes, and once more summoned the Asura Titan Form. The Commander’s Blade Flash still pulsed in its primary right hand, smaller now, but no less absolute. He had learned a valuable lesson: to actively wield the ward as a weapon cost far more than letting it act as a passive defense.

Dismissing the thought, he commanded the Titan to step into the Spring. Its eight arms rose as if to hold up the sky, and its four heads let out a silent, earth-shaking roar. The entire sanctum began to tremble violently.

The mirror-like lake, the featureless black sky—the very fabric of the pocket dimension wavered like a heat haze, then dissolved into mist and vanished. Within the heart of the great Asura Titan, a new wellspring now pulsed, radiating an endless, vibrant energy. He had taken the Spring of Life and hidden it within his own body of faith.

The moment it merged with him, Orion’s senses exploded. For a fleeting instant, he was connected to the very rules of the Emerald Dream Realm. Its sky, its earth, its rivers and lakes, its flora and fauna, its native souls... he saw the world’s ley lines as a great, intricate web of light.

And within that web, he sensed a familiar thread. An echo of his own blood.

That is... it is... my own bloodline? Sophia?

Miles and worlds away, on the Chaos Continent, within Phoenix Butterfly Ridge, Sophia’s expression was grim. Her repeated refusals to submit had finally angered Archlord Emeric, and he had unleashed his vassals upon her lands.

Now, all that remained of the Dark Butterfly race’s territory was this ancestral peak, shielded by the wards of generations of lords. She was besieged, cut off. It was a death sentence, albeit a slow one.

"Your Majesty," an Enchanted Butterfly whispered from behind her. "The enemy has surrounded the Ridge. We cannot get out."

Sophia stared at the shimmering shield above them, her mind racing. "We stockpiled supplies long ago. We can hold out. Send all non-combatants into a healing slumber. We must conserve every resource."

"As you command." The attendant flickered and was gone.

Not a minute later, Sophia gasped, her hands flying to her stomach. A power that was hot, wild, tyrannical, and terrifying surged from within her womb. It was the bloodline of her child.

This... this is... bloodline evolution? she realized in a panic. The aura of an Archlord! He has ascended!

Joy, terror, hope, and dread warred within her. Joy, because this was the salvation her people so desperately needed. Dread, because a newly ascended Orion, with his senses now attuned to such things, would eventually feel the presence of his own child across the world.

And when he came to find it, what would become of the child? What would become of her? What path would be left for the Dark Butterfly race?

As her thoughts churned, a sharp pang of pain shot through her. The child, long-conscious within her, was ready. It wanted to be born.

Realizing what was happening, Sophia vanished, retreating to the sanctity of her main nest.

In another unknown place, the avatar of Valthor opened his eyes. They shone with the light of creation, with shifting rules and the flux of a million possible futures.

"He has taken it," Valthor whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion that sounded like ecstatic relief. "He has stripped the Spring of Life from this realm. Tusha, you fool... you could never have predicted this. Our world... it has been given a chance."

Orion believed he was the victor, but he was wrong. Valthor was. The Emerald Dream Realm had been incomplete, its very rules fractured because a third of its essence—the Spring—had been held hostage.

Now that it was not merely controlled, but removed, the rules could be mended. The wound could be healed. Valthor finally had a chance to rebalance the cosmic laws of his world, to counter the dark influence of Tusha.

"Hope," he breathed, a tear of light tracing a path down his cheek. "Hope has finally appeared."

In the subterranean river, Orion fought his way back against the current, his new power a raging sea within him.

When he finally broke the surface of the tarn on the peak of the Greyridge Mountains, Alexander was there, standing so still at the water’s edge that he seemed a part of the landscape. If not for the faint, occasional glint of light in his eyes, one would have thought him a statue.

As Orion emerged from the dark wellspring, Alexander’s gaze sharpened.

"You took your time," Orion said with a weary grin.

Alexander stared at him. He could no longer feel Orion’s aura, could no longer gauge his level of power. This could only mean one thing.

A genuine, unguarded smile touched the assassin’s lips. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"You have done well," he said, the simple words carrying the weight of his full and honest praise.

Orion was no longer just a promising ally. He was a true peer, a pillar of the Champions Alliance.

"My luck was good," Orion admitted. "And without the Deputy Commander’s fine artifact, I’m not sure I would have escaped so cleanly."

He looked around at the icy peaks, the majestic glaciers. In his new state of being, they seemed exquisitely beautiful. Even the biting wind felt like a refreshing caress, scented with the clean fragrance of snow and stone.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢