Titan King: Ascension of the Giant-Chapter 1451: Parting Gifts

"Although the Monai people are extinct, their bloodline endures."

"Raveth, do you know why your family lost the struggle for power?"

"Do you know why the Holy Order stood by your enemies?"

Aina’s voice was soft, laced with a seductive magnetism.

Walking behind her, Raveth trembled as a terrifying possibility took root in his mind.

"The reason is simple. It is because your eyes are emerald green."

"You carry the blood of the Monai."

In truth, this was merely Aina’s conjecture. But even as a guess, the probability was high.

"Right and wrong, truth and lies... let us not dwell on such things," Aina said, turning back with a dazzling smile. "Let future generations judge us."

If we die in battle, she thought with cold indifference, there won’t be any future generations. And as for what other people’s descendants think? What the hell do I care?

Titanion Realm, Blackstone City.

Inside the main hall of the Horde, Orion slowly opened his eyes.

Kronos and Pallas entered together. After a period of adjustment, both brothers had finally adapted to their awakened bloodlines, taking on their adult forms. It was precisely because of this maturity that Orion was now assigning them trials to temper their strength.

"Do you both know where you are headed?"

Orion’s voice was warm, devoid of the distant aura of a Demigod or the heavy authority of a King.

"Father, I am ready to follow your arrangements," Kronos said.

"Father, I am ready as well!" Pallas chimed in.

Orion looked at his two sons. They might not have possessed the most heaven-defying talent among his children, but they had been by his side the longest. Even when Kronos was far away in Soaring Bird City, for a Demigod like Orion, checking on him was as simple as opening his eyes.

They had come to say goodbye.

Rolan, having met his birth mother, had quickly contacted Kronos. As for Pallas, his journey to the Platinum Authority had been on the schedule for a long time.

"The Abyss is filled with countless powerhouses. Conflict is inevitable," Orion advised, his tone serious. "If you cannot win, flee. There is no shame in survival."

Blood-colored light flashed in Orion’s hand. He pointed at Kronos, and a pair of boots trimmed with gold and wrapped in crimson energy appeared on his son’s feet.

They were the Boots of the War-Tyrant. Imbued with teleportation capabilities and the offensive power of Asura Blood Light, they were a practical artifact for both combat and escape.

"Father, what about me?"

While Kronos was still stunned by the gift of such a supreme treasure, Pallas was already shouting. Compared to his siblings, Pallas was the closest to Orion and the most brazen.

"You?" Orion snorted. "You are a flower grown in a greenhouse. Lazy and lacking drive."

Sparks erupted in Orion’s palm as a trident materialized. He tossed it casually to Pallas.

It was one of Orion’s personal weapons: Spite of the Wrathful Star. It was a magnificent artifact capable of unleashing forbidden fire spells. Orion mostly used it when operating his avatar, but now it would serve his son.

Pallas caught the trident with one hand, his eyes lighting up. Ever since Elara had shown off her Flame of Will, he had been green with envy.

"Remember," Orion said, his expression hardening. "When you are out there, do not disgrace the dignity of the Stoneheart Horde!"

"Now, go!"

Orion disliked partings.

After chasing the two young ones out, he stared blankly toward the distant cityscape of Blackstone City. He remained lost in thought until he felt a warmth at his side. Lilith had approached unnoticed and was leaning against him.

"Can’t bear to see them go?" she asked softly.

"A little. Pallas has never really suffered. The beginning will be hard for him."

With Pallas teleporting to the Platinum Authority, a void had opened around Lilith. Regardless of whether they were her biological children or not, none of the brood remained by her side.

"Don’t worry," Lilith comforted him. "The children must have their own stories. You’ve given them strong trump cards. They won’t run into major trouble."

Orion reached out and gently patted her back. Then, remembering something, he spoke in a low voice.

"Kaelen and Sophia will arrive in Blackstone City in two days. Make the arrangements."

"Kaelen is strong. You can dump the Horde’s recent troubles on him. It will help him integrate into the Horde faster."

Lilith nodded. She felt no ill will toward Kaelen or Sophia. In fact, after hearing their story, she felt a deep pity for the mother and son. As Kaelen’s stepmother, she knew she needed to show proper hospitality upon his return to the Stoneheart Horde.

"Let’s grant Kaelen the city south of Blackstone," she suggested. "Give him a place to call his own."

Kaelen was a grown man; living under the same roof wasn’t appropriate. Even Pallas had moved out of the castle in Stoneheart City eventually. Currently, the only one who could still live with Orion and Lilith was their eldest daughter, Elara, but even she was away on a mission.

"I was thinking the same thing," Orion agreed.

With the children leaving one by one, a faint sense of unease settled over the couple.

Eldoria, The Agaman Heartland.

Sunlight, white clouds, doves.

A towering cathedral with a spire piercing the clouds, cobblestone paths, and sunlight filtering through Gothic rose windows. Everything was peaceful and beautiful.

The melodious bell atop the spire tolled, marking the end of the day’s prayers.

As the believers dispersed, a priest in red robes, holding a scripture in one hand and a staff in the other, returned to the vestry.

Maelric sat at his desk, placing the scripture and staff into a drawer. As he straightened up, dappled light streamed through the glass window, illuminating his face.

At the same time, a tall, dark silhouette emerged from the shadows behind the office door.

"Your arrival means the Holy Order is about to unleash slaughter once again," Maelric said without turning.

He glanced at the shadow briefly before picking up a quill to correct documents.

"You are the brightest point of the Holy Light," the shadow said, his voice grating. "You should have sensed it before I did. A light to the south of the Andor Diocese has gone silent."

The shadow was the Commander of the Inquisition. He was dismissive of Maelric’s attitude; he operated outside Maelric’s ecclesiastical system, making them equals in rank.

"Perhaps it is merely a delay. Perhaps an ascetic monk has returned to the Divine Kingdom," Maelric replied, not looking up. His explanation was reasonable. "Such things have happened before."

"If it were just a believer returning to the Light, I would not be here."

Only when the shadow spoke these words did Cardinal Maelric slowly raise his head. There was no shock on his face, only a cold weariness.

"What is your evidence?" Maelric asked. "Who is the enemy? What heresy is it this time?"

Maelric’s tone was blunt. He detested it when the Inquisition stirred up bloodshed in his diocese. It did nothing to help him educate the faithful.