The silence after the doors crashed open was shattered by the unmistakable, thunderous footfalls of a man who could only be described as a force of nature. His towering frame, a living colossus of muscle and stone, loomed so large that the high ceiling seemed barely sufficient to contain him. Shadows clung to his body, deepening with each of his thunderous footfalls, making the chamber feel smaller, suffocating beneath his presence. Every step was like a tremor, the stone beneath his boots groaning in protest as if the very foundation of the castle quaked under his weight.
In one hand, he casually held one of the royal guards by the scruff of his armor, the man’s limp body dangling as though he weighed nothing. With a flick of his wrist, the Titan system user tossed the guard aside like discarded refuse, the unconscious man’s armor clanging against the stone floor as he slid to a stop. Behind him, two guild members scurried into the chamber, their forms nearly dwarfed by the Titan’s immense size. Despite their hardened expressions and sharp, calculating eyes, their presence felt insignificant next to their leader’s towering frame. But they exude the same arrogance that seemed to radiate from their leader.
The king’s fingers tightened around the ring on his finger, twisting it slowly, the metal turning white-hot under the pressure of his grip. His lips pressed together in a thin, hard line, and for a moment, he bit down on the corner of his lip as if to stop the sharp words rising in his throat. His gaze flickered toward the open doors, lingering on the unconscious guard that lay motionless on the cold stone floor, before returning to the Titan.
A bead of sweat traced the line of his temple, unnoticed by all but the most perceptive. His jaw tightened imperceptibly, the muscles flexing as he ground his teeth, the movement so subtle it could have been mistaken for nothing at all. His fingers twitched over the armrest of the throne, the only outward sign of the pressure building within him. Even the ring on his finger grew warm under his grip, the metal responding to the quiet storm simmering beneath the surface.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring for just a moment before exhaling, the slight tremor in his breath the only hint of his crumbling patience. His mind reeled with the implications—this was no ordinary interruption.
“Titan of the Chronus guild,” the king said, his voice calm but carrying the full weight of his displeasure. His eyes flickered with barely concealed anger as he released the ring and slowly rose from his seat. The size of the Titan dwarfed the royal throne, but the king’s composure remained unshaken.
"I believe it's not your guild's turn yet."
The Titan—taller, broader, and more menacing than most had ever seen—grinned, his sharp, mocking smile spreading across his rough-hewn face. His voice, deep and booming, echoed off the chamber’s stone walls like the rumble of distant earthquakes. “Turns? Hah! I think we’re beyond turns now, don’t you?”
With a careless motion, he flicked his wrist, and the royal guard clattered further across the floor. His colossal hand rested on the hilt of the enormous sword strapped to his back, a weapon so massive that most would struggle to lift it. For him, it was little more than a tool of destruction, forged for a being of his stature.
The council members stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. Elois, standing near the back, clenched her fists, her face pale as she tried to steady her breathing. Lady Kiara’s sharp eyes followed the Titan’s every move, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. The tension in the room grew thicker with each passing second, the air itself seeming to bow under the pressure of the Titan’s presence.
He took another step forward, each heavy boot fall like the crash of a hammer on stone, causing a faint tremor beneath their feet. “You know why I’m here, King.” His voice lowered, the mockery fading, replaced by a simmering impatience that radiated from him like heat. “The Dragon Lord’s share. I’ve waited long enough for this ridiculous game of yours. It’s time you handed over what’s mine.”
The king’s jaw tightened as he fought to maintain his composure. The Titan’s very presence exuded a primal power, like a living mountain ready to crush anything in its path. “Your portion has already been decided, and you’ll receive it after the council meeting, as agreed.” His voice remained steady, though the subtle shift in his stance betrayed the rising tension. “But this… display,” he motioned toward the unconscious guard, his eyes grew colder like a sharpened blade, “is unnecessary. You will get what you’re owed, but you’ll do so with respect.”
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A low, dark chuckle rumbled from the Titan’s chest, his grip tightening around the hilt of his colossal sword. “Respect? You dare speak to me of respect after making me wait like some common errand boy?” His grin sharpened, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
“No, King. I’ve indulged your games long enough. You’ll give me what’s mine—now—or I’ll carve it out of your kingdom myself.”
Lady Kiara, her brow furrowed, slowly rose to her feet, her presence commanding attention as she spoke. Her voice was cold, precise, cutting through the tension in the room. “You would do well to remember where you stand, guildmaster. This throne, this kingdom—your power may be recognized here, but it does not grant you the right to make demands like a petulant child.”
The Titan’s eyes flicked toward her, his grin widening, amusement gleaming in his gaze. “Ah, Lady Kiara. Still sharp as ever, I see.” He let his gaze linger on her for a moment before returning it to the king. “But you misunderstand me,” he said, his voice dropping to a menacing rumble. “I’m not here to ask anymore. I’m here to collect.”
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, his presence a looming threat. Every step he took seemed to resonate with the earth itself, as though the stones beneath his feet trembled at his approach. His power was undeniable, and the threat implicit in his words left no room for misunderstanding.
The king's breath escaped in a long, slow sigh, each exhale a deliberate release of the tension that had been building since the Titan’s arrival. His shoulders slumped for a moment, the weariness of holding his composure finally betraying him. His hand clenched into a fist before loosening once more. The flicker of patience that remained in his eyes extinguished as they grew cold, distant, a mirror of the steel sharpening in his resolve.
He straightened, his expression hardening as his gaze locked with the Titan’s. “Your rudeness,” he began, voice low and steady, “has reached its limit. Perhaps it’s time I remind you why I’m called the king.”
Without breaking eye contact, the king’s hands moved deliberately, almost reverently, toward the twin blades resting against his armor. His fingers brushed the cold steel, and for a moment, the air itself seemed to still, holding its breath. Then, with a slow, deliberate pull, the blades slid free, their edges singing through the silence. The sharp sound echoed like a death knell, sending a ripple through the room that chilled even the most seasoned warriors.
It wasn’t just the sound—it was the way the air seemed to shift, a ripple of cold authority radiating from the king as the swords were drawn. The council members shuddered in unison, a tremor passing through them like an invisible wave, the weight of the moment sinking in.
The Titan’s grin faltered, though only slightly, his eyes narrowing as he shifted his stance. He could feel the change in the room, the cold, quiet fury emanating from the man who had until now held back his anger.
The Aurora Paladin stepped forward, her gleaming armor catching the light as she glanced at the fallen soldier. Her expression softened for a brief moment before her hand rose, a graceful gesture toward the griffin at her side. The majestic creature ruffled its silver-and-white feathers, letting out a low growl as it padded across the room. With a careful but swift motion, the griffin’s talons curled around the unconscious guard, lifting him effortlessly before gliding him to safety on the other side of the chamber.
"Behind me," she commanded, her voice calm yet resonating with the authority of one who had faced countless battles. The council members didn’t hesitate, moving swiftly to gather behind her as she raised her left arm toward the Titan.
A shimmering light began to pulse in the air around her arm, a large magic circle blooming into existence from the intricate runes etched into her gauntlet. The runes glowed with an ethereal radiance, growing in intensity as the circle expanded, its surface humming with energy. The structure of the shield began to materialize—a translucent barrier with veins of glowing silver that twisted and arced, mirroring the feather-like patterns of the griffin itself. At the heart of the shield, a radiant core pulsed, its light reflecting the purity of her Aurora system.
The shield that blossomed into existence was a marvel of magic and craftsmanship—vast, radiant, and pulsating with raw, celestial energy. Intricate veins of glowing silver twisted through its surface like the living branches of an ancient tree, each one humming with the lifeblood of the Aurora Paladin’s power. Its sheer size was monumental, dwarfing herself, and as it formed, the air thickened with its weight. The ground beneath her cracked and buckled, struggling to bear the tremendous force of the radiant barrier, and the light it cast flickered like a second sun, dazzling and blinding all who dared to stare too long.