Titan King: Ascension of the Giant-Chapter 368 No matter how many of you show up, I’ll slaughter you all

High above, in the golden barrier, the battle was fiercer than ever.

Inside that sealed-off space lay a mysterious void. Elven King Anasterian had transformed into a giant golden sword, clashing relentlessly with White Dragon Frostsire's will projection in midair.

"Whelp, even if you wield the sacred sword of the Elves, you still can't defeat me!"

"The gap between a lord and an arch lord is an unbridgeable chasm—you won't cross it with just one sword."

Roar!

White Dragon Frostsire's hiss echoed across the void, pounding into Anasterian's ears and radiating oppressive force. At the same time, the great white dragon reached out a set of razor-sharp claws, capturing the soaring sword in one iron grip.

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In the next moment, Frostsire bared his fangs and chomped down savagely.

Crunch!

Under the horrifying pressure of that bite, cracks began to form along the sword that was King Anasterian.

"When I roamed this continent freely, the Blood Elves were mere vassals to the dragons!"

"Had I not been merciful back then, your people never would've survived here. Now prepare to die!"

Roar!

White Dragon Frostsire's draconic might surged. The great golden sword was shuddering on the brink of destruction.

Meanwhile, on the ground, the City of Blessings' wall had collapsed in one section after relentless assault by countless cannon fodder troops and bloodline warriors. A portion of the Northern Coalition warriors had already poured inside, forcing the Blood Elves into close-quarters combat—a style of fighting in which the Coalition had the advantage.

In an instant, chaos engulfed both inside and outside the city. Limbs flew, blood sprayed, and the air filled with war cries. Swords clashed against hammers in a deafening crescendo. Lives kindled and snuffed out in the swirling storm, each warrior battling to the bitter end. It was a spectacle of heroes, even in death.

Such carnage, however, did nothing to sway the Legendary-level fighters still hovering high above. This was a war between races, a war for survival.

The five remaining lords in midair continued their standoff, awaiting the outcome of the siege below, as well as the decisive clash within the golden barrier overhead between King Anasterian and Frostsire.

"Grand Elder, what do we do now?"

"Northern Coalition is inside our City of Blessings. If we don't head down and help, our people will suffer even heavier losses."

Transcendent power rippled around Blood Elf Elanor as she used telepathy to speak with Lireesa, pleading for a way to save their folk.

"Elanor, hold your ground. Our current standoff is actually the best we can manage. If we rush to defend the city, we'll only lure disaster right where our people are. Then the City of Blessings truly would see its final day."

Grand Elder Lireesa offered that warning while keeping her gaze fixed on Orion. She could clearly sense an aura of threat from the giant king before her—an upper Legendary being whose power was strong enough to make even her wary. That danger was the main reason she refused to make a rash move.

Simultaneously, Orion, Lokiviria, and Aldous were communicating likewise.

"My friend," Aldous said, voice grim and anxious, "what do we do now?"

Things had reached a stage none of them had anticipated.

"We wait," Orion replied. "We hold position and see who triumphs between the Elven King and Frostsire."

Indeed, so much hinged on whether King Anasterian or Arch Lord White Dragon Frostsire's will projection prevailed. Should Anasterian somehow claim victory, Orion would say nothing and simply retreat to Stoneheart City with whatever remains of his cave spiders and a handful of giant warriors. He'd then seek aid from Arthas or other allies, hoping to secure survival and growth despite the murky conflicts still to come.

If White Dragon Frostsire's projection won, the City of Blessings would fall, and the Blood Elves would be obliterated. Orion, Lokiviria, and Bluehide stood to reap the real spoils of this campaign.

…

In the central region—on the human battlefield.

Even as the City of Blessings standoff continued, White Dragon Frostsire was already locked in combat with a human Saint. In a separate, unnamed void, the wounded Saint was on the losing end.

However, in the far southern reaches of the continent, within a coastal city, the intercontinental teleportation array suddenly flared to life. The next moment, an enormous griffin stepped through the portal, unleashing a terrifying power that forced every human in the city to the ground.

"Sir Paladin, this is Utessar, our continent!"

Grand Duke William of the human kingdom had come through the portal with him, speaking urgently into the paladin's ear.

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"No need to say more. The war's already begun—I can sense the presence of two arch lords clashing."

From atop the golden-feathered griffin's back, a paladin clad head-to-toe in gold armor lifted his gaze skyward, toward that distant void.

Screech!

The griffin roared and took flight, heading straight for that war-torn space. White Dragon Frostsire caught the griffin and paladin's aura at once, and his expression changed drastically.

"Crawlers from another land… you never learn!"

He was furious. The human Saint he'd cornered was already on the verge of collapse. But just when it seemed the Saint would succumb, reinforcements from a distant realm had arrived in the nick of time.

"Come on, then—no matter how many of you show up, I'll slaughter you all!"

Seething, White Dragon Frostsire recalled the three will projections he'd posted to the eastern, central, and western battlefronts. The newcomers were a veteran Legendary golden-feathered griffin and an equally seasoned Legendary paladin. Frostsire would need everything he had if he didn't want to be sealed away for another ten thousand years.

…

Western Front, City of Blessings.

Back in the skies above Orion, Lireesa, and the others, something huge changed within the golden barrier.

Crack, crack!

The giant golden sword Anasterian had become began splitting apart, breaking into shards. The king himself was blown backward from the remains of that sword. Gravely injured, he tumbled through the air.

But White Dragon Frostsire's will projection wasn't about to let him go. It lunged in a blur of motion, jaws closing around King Anasterian, swallowing him whole.

Everyone who saw—especially the Blood Elves—stared in open-mouthed horror.

"My king!"

"Your Majesty!"

Grand Elder Lireesa and Blood Elf Elanor cried out, their eyes blazing with sorrow.

Conversely, Orion, Lokiviria, and Bluehide exchanged exultant looks. Perhaps the western theater's battle was now decided.