Titan King: Ascension of the Giant - Chapter 1211

Chapter 1211: Intruders in the Sand

An affectionate smile touched Orion’s lips. He was pleased. In his experience, most sought power and comfort. Only a rare few were willing to stand with their partner when a true storm was on the horizon. Soraya was one of the few.

“Easy,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “You are the master of this domain, the wielder of the Desert’s Authority. While you may not be able to go toe-to-toe with a demigod, you have the home-field advantage. You belong here. They don’t.”

He slid his arm around her waist, a steadying presence. He could feel the frantic, rabbit-quick beat of her heart. For all her power, the thought of facing a true demigod was terrifying. It was a primal fear she hadn’t felt since the first time she’d taken human form—a mix of terror, awe, and inadequacy.

What truly unnerved her, however, was the silence. She had just reached out with her power, touching every grain of sand in her domain, and the Desert’s Authority had responded with absolute certainty: they were alone.

Orion gave her a reassuring squeeze, already sensing her confusion.

“They’re demigods,” he explained. “They don’t just follow the rules of reality; on some level, they are the rules. Your authority over this desert is incomplete. It’s no surprise you can’t sense them.”

It was the same vulnerability that had cost the previous master, Faraday, his life. He hadn’t seen Orion coming until it was too late. The difference was that Faraday had only had a Mage Tower for backup. Soraya had him.

Buoyed by his confidence, Soraya’s own resolve began to settle. She matched his stride as they walked to the very edge of the oasis, stopping where the last blade of grass gave way to the endless sea of sand.

“We’ll wait for them here,” Orion said.

A quarter of an hour passed. Soraya stared out into the vast emptiness, seeing nothing, feeling nothing beyond the familiar whisper of the desert. The wind picked up, kicking sand into swirling eddies.

The wind… Wait. A jolt went through her. I control the wind here. And I’m not doing that.

Her eyes narrowed, locking onto the area where the sandstorm raged most fiercely. The distortion was subtle, a patch of reality that felt… wrong. Three minutes passed. Then five. A flicker of movement resolved itself in the chaos. Two figures, clad in white, hooded robes, were walking toward them. They weren’t walking on the sand so much as through it, their steps unhurried, yet they closed the distance with impossible speed.

Soraya blinked, her eyes dry from staring. In that single instant, the two figures were there, standing two meters away.

Two pairs, a man and a woman on each side, sized each other up.

“To have sensed our approach,” the visiting man said, his voice a low baritone. “You are no demigod, but you must be an archlord of the highest order, one who has awakened his Lord’s Stone.”

His hair and eyebrows were the color of fire, and his frame was powerful, easily ten feet tall. On a normal man, it would have been an intimidating presence. Standing before the giant-blooded Orion, it was nothing. If anything, it was the red-haired man who seemed to sense a coiled danger in Orion’s stillness.

Impressive. These weren’t some backwater demigods like Faraday. They had a real faction behind them, a proper understanding of the power scale. It was the first time anyone had correctly identified that he wasn’t quite a demigod himself.

“State your names,” Orion said, his tone flat. They hadn’t offered an introduction, which meant that after sensing he was the only power in the area, they had already placed themselves above him. It was an assumption he intended to correct.

“If you come as guests, I have wine to share,” Orion continued, his voice dropping, taking on a dangerously cold edge. “If you come as intruders, I have a locked door and a very big stick.”

Before they could react, his demeanor shifted to one of utter, dismissive contempt.

“Are you calling us intruders?” the red-haired man bristled, a visible wave of anger flushing his face. If this were a game, his rage meter would be screaming in the red zone.

“So you’re not guests, then?” Orion shot back, ignoring the man’s fury.

As he spoke, the Curse Avatar began to bleed out of his form, a semi-corporeal shadow that fixed its alien gaze on the red-haired man.

“What… what are you doing?”

Under that unholy stare, the man felt a horrifying sensation—a flicker of dissociation, as if his own body was no longer his. For a demigod to experience such a thing wasn’t just an illusion; it was a tangible threat. In an instant, the auras of both visitors flared to life.

Orion took a single step forward, meeting the wave of power head-on and shielding Soraya behind him.

“We mean you no harm,” the woman said, her voice cutting through the tension. Her eyes were a startling, piercing blue, the only feature visible above the veil covering her face. She stood nearly as tall as her companion, a perfectly matched partner.

“No harm?” Orion scoffed, his tone dripping with arrogant disbelief. “So you just decided to take a stroll through my territory without so much as a knock on the door?”

“You misunderstand, sir,” the woman replied, her tone diplomatic, a stark contrast to her companion’s aggression. “This sea of sand is, and has long been, the property of the Eltar Mage Alliance. The late Faraday was merely leasing it on a five-hundred-year contract.”

She was explaining, offering a path to negotiation. The combined presence of Orion and his Avatar had made her uneasy. She knew a contest of pure force was not a guaranteed win.

Orion, however, wasn’t playing that game. They still hadn’t given their names.

He slowly lifted a hand, digging a finger into his ear with an exaggerated motion, then turned his head toward the woman. The gesture was unmistakable.

“Sir,” the woman said again, her composure unshakable, “this is sovereign territory of the Eltar Mage Alliance. I’m sure you have no wish to complicate matters for yourself.”

A slow, unreadable smile spread across Orion’s face.