Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Valkorath Realm, deep within the Primordial Void.

Wrong. It's all wrong.

I've missed something... but what?

Drifting in the endless chaos was a massive, translucent silhouette—a Stoneheart Titan. This was Orion's phantom form.

Initially, after successfully ascending to the rank of Demigod, Orion's plan had been simple: condense a physical body and exit his meditation. But the process had stalled. It was dragging on for an eternity.

And an eternity in the Primordial Void—where time and space were merely suggestions rather than laws—was a terrifyingly long time.

Orion pushed his will against the ether, trying to weave matter into existence, but his form remained stubborn. A ghost in the machine. A phantom.

He stopped struggling. He let the silence of the void wash over him, analyzing the problem. The condensation of his spectral form paused.

Then, a heavy sigh rippled through the chaos. The process resumed, but with a different intent.

Orion had figured it out.

He hadn't taken a wrong turn; he had simply started running before he learned to walk.

He realized what he was trying to build wasn't a standard body. He was inadvertently trying to forge a True Divine Body—the kind of vessel reserved for the absolute peak of Demigod ascension. He was trying to skip straight to the finish line.

Orion realized his path to godhood was... unconventional.

Moreover, a gut instinct warned him: If he actually succeeded in forging that True Divine Body right now, the sheer density of its power would likely be rejected by lower planes of existence. He wouldn't be able to descend into other worlds. He would be a whale trying to swim in a puddle.

If I can't bring the mountain to the world, Orion mused, I'll have to build a climber to go down it.

He needed an avatar. A vessel to walk the earth.

He pulled his consciousness inward, diving into his internal universe.

The Abyssal World, the Stratum of Asura.

This wasn't the Abyss in the traditional sense. This was a pocket dimension born from the seed of Orion's bloodline. Currently, it was a sapling of a universe, which Orion had named the Asura Stratum.

In his grand design, this internal cosmos would eventually consist of six distinct layers. But for now, only the first layer, Asura, existed. The other five were just blueprints in his mind.

Despite the ominous name, the Asura Stratum was breathtaking.

Every inch of the land pulsed with a vibrant, raw vitality. The air was crisp, possessing a purity that tasted like cold water on a hot day. The sky was a piercing, unblemished azure. The earth felt deep and ancient, a soil where anything planted would not just grow, but evolve.

It was the scent of a world just waking up.

Wrapped in a golden aura, Orion's consciousness solidified, manifesting in the deepest heart of the Asura Stratum.

Sunlight... clouds... warmth. It's alive.

I made this.

Standing in his own creation, the feeling of omnipotence was intoxicating. And it wasn't a delusion. Here, in this specific coordinate of reality, he was God.

"But this is only half the picture," Orion whispered.

His divine sight pierced the veil. Beneath the rolling hills and blue skies lay the flip side of the coin—a shadow world. Dark, cold, and lifeless.

Every world has a shadow. Most just hide it better, or seal it away. But Orion understood now: existence is dual. Light requires dark.

"This is my world. My Divine Domain."

Orion stood at the axis of his creation, feeling a strange mix of pride and confusion.

Technically, he was a baby Demigod. He shouldn't have a fully realized Divine Domain yet. That was usually reserved for higher-tier entities who had heard the Divine Calling. Yet here he was, skipping grades, building a True Body, and ruling a Domain.

The only thing he was missing was the Divine Spark itself.

I'm a glitch in the system, Orion thought. I need to have a serious talk with Commander Thresh when I get out of here. He'll know what's going on.

But first, the vessel.

Orion raised a hand, his will expanding to encompass the horizon.

"Here, there shall be a temple."

It wasn't a request. It was a command written into the source code of reality.

The sky rippled like a disturbed pond. The earth groaned and buckled. From the tectonic upheaval, a structure rose—ancient, imposing, and severe.

The Stoneheart Temple.

In front of it stood a massive statue of a Stoneheart Titan, carved from rock that looked older than time.

"And within the temple," Orion's voice boomed, "there shall be a mountain and a sea."

Visually, the world outside didn't shift, but the laws inside the temple rewrote themselves.

Inside the sanctum, a landscape of horror and majesty took shape.

The mountain was not made of granite. It was constructed entirely of Orion's own bone structure.

The sea did not smell of salt. It was a churning ocean of his own flesh and blood.

"The genesis of the Stoneheart," Orion declared.

His avatar form stepped forward and walked into the temple, vanishing into the gloom.

An instant later, the interior erupted.

The Mountain of Bone fractured, collapsing into dust. The Sea of Flesh boiled, evaporating into a thick, crimson mist. The materials swirled, fusing together in a violent alchemy of biology and magic.

From that chaotic forge, a figure emerged.

It was massive. It possessed four heads, each looking in a cardinal direction. Eight arms fanned out from its broad torso, rippling with power.

A Stoneheart Titan in its War Form.

This was Orion's vessel.

He stepped out of the Stoneheart Temple, flexing his eight hands, examining the texture of his new skin.

So, this is how Thresh does it.

It suddenly made sense. Commander Thresh spent all his time in meditation, yet he was also training Caelus on Blade's Edge Peak.

The Thresh on the peak wasn't the real body. It was an avatar. A projection.

Just like this form.

"I am Orion Stoneheart," he rumbled, the voice sounding like grinding tectonic plates. "But I am merely a piece of the whole."

Because it was only a fraction of his true power, it had been easy to create.

Orion closed his eyes. With a thought, the monstrous form shifted. The extra heads merged, the extra arms retracted. In seconds, he looked like a standard Stoneheart Giant again.

He turned back, gazing at the silent, empty temple.

"A temple needs guardians," he mused.

Behind him, the Mountain of Bone and the Sea of Flesh began to boil once more.