# Chapter 9: Titan
That night, over the Anson Mountains of the Wulan Empire, the clouds grew thick, and a drizzling rain carried a bone-piercing chill that soaked into every patch of soil.
The moon had vanished.
Thus darkness surged in like a tidal wave.
The night was heavy as water, mist churning, the quiet eucalyptus forest swaying like ghosts in the wind.
Xize sat atop his warhorse, standing before the village he had protected. He gazed at the endless army of shadowy undead that appeared and disappeared within the mist and forest, as if stretching without end, and fell into silence.
After a long while, the heroic spirit knight stroked his mount, which had also been revived as a spirit, and let out a bitter, wordless laugh. He murmured to himself, "This number... it's even greater than when I died."
Four hundred and eleven years ago, the Flame Spirit Knight Xize·Dawei'er had stood alone in the Anson Mountains—one man, one horse—and at the cost of his own exhaustion, ignited a mountain-burning blaze that routed three thousand elite mountain troops and four equally ranked titled knights of the Gru Empire who had launched a surprise attack. This prevented the Wulan Empire's main front from collapsing and preserved the vast majority of its fighting strength. After the battle, the knight's descendants were granted the Anson Territory, and countless survivors came here with reverence to pay homage to the hero's statue and stele.
Three hundred and eighty-four years later, darkness surged once more. The heroic spirit, returned to the mortal world, discovered that though the path he should walk had ended, his battle was far from over.
But this time, the enemy had changed from the living to the dead.
Over twenty years ago, under the assault of shadowy undead that surged like a tsunami, the revived Xize led his descendants and painstakingly carved out a modest village within the mountains. This mountain range in the northwest of the Grandia Continent was remote and rarely visited. Aside from the spirits of some fierce beasts, no powerful souls would awaken here. So for twenty-seven years, though life was hard, everyone lived in peace. Their daily routine consisted of farming and, more arduously, searching for primal crystal veins in the mountains.
But now, that peaceful time had come to an end.
The shadow called the Undead Army had arrived.
Like an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, the now completely surrounded village had almost no path of retreat—except for the primal crystal mine behind them, which led to an unknown destination.
The knight gripped his lance tightly, his left hand resting on the flail at his waist. In a faint voice, he said to the villagers behind him, who had long since packed their belongings and were waiting anxiously, "Run. Follow the mine tunnel. Stay by the underground river cavern you discovered last time. Block the crack at the entrance and never come out again."
"Then what about you, ancestor?"
A girl's uneasy voice asked.
"Me?"
The heroic spirit closed his eyes and let out a soft laugh. The Flame Spirit Knight opened his eyes again, and magical energy began to boil within his body. The humanoid form composed of light turned crimson in an instant, like a blazing, burning flame.
"Me? I'm going to do what a hero is supposed to do."
At that moment, darkness was driven away by the light of the flame. Sparks flickered even amidst the icy rain, never extinguishing, radiating warmth and heat. As the villagers retreated in an orderly fashion, the knight urged his warhorse forward. The shadowy undead army, which should have been mindless and only capable of obeying orders, gradually fell back, as if instinctively fearing the flame ignited by this heroic spirit's soul.
The next moment, battle cries rang out. The Anson Mountains blazed with a fire that would not be extinguished for ten days.
Just as it had been four hundred and eleven years ago.
The same scene played out in every corner of the Grandia Continent.
In coastal fishing villages, mages wielding frost froze tens of thousands of undead knights. In quiet forests, rangers wielding divine bows rained down meteor-like arrows, annihilating one dark legion after another.
Countless awakened but uncorrupted heroic spirits exhausted their strength to protect the people and things they wished to safeguard. But under the overwhelming, endless numbers of the enemy, they all met with defeat one by one.
Centered on the Wulan Empire's capital, Gaitar, one after another undead unit—utterly different from ordinary shadowy undead—marched silently toward one hidden sanctuary after another hidden deep in the mountains and forests. Under their assault, these villages and towns, protected by heroic spirits or human experts, were successively conquered. Some kind of sinister, dark secret art corrupted even those heroic spirits that had remained uncorrupted through the Great Cataclysm, assimilating them into the ranks of their former enemies in just a few days.
In the southwest of the continent, humanity's last four large settlements only learned of this shocking news nearly ten days later. The shadowy undead, now fighting at full strength, had revealed power they had never anticipated.
But by then, when they belatedly tried to contact other sanctuaries, they discovered that no other sanctuaries remained. Perhaps there were still a few scattered settlements on the distant edges of the continent, but they could no longer be reached.
Now, these four final human habitats—which guarded the resting place of generations of heroes within the Grandia World—had been surrounded by darkness, completely isolated and without aid.
And at the same time.
Grandia Continent, Central-Western Region, Shaya Mountains, Dark River Forest.
Rain.
Heavy rain.
A downpour as if the heavens themselves were tipping over flooded this swamp forest surrounded by mountains, submerging it completely in mud and water.
The ruler of the Shaya Mountains, the overlord of the woodlands, the master of the swamps—the King of Dark River, Urban Derni—stood at the very center of the forest. At the top of his body, formed from roots, a single purple flame eye scanned the distance.
The air was filled with a deathly, oppressive atmosphere. Choking, thick mist hung in the air, impossible to disperse even by the waterfall-like rain. But Urban Derni could see countless shifting black shadows within the dense fog. Crimson, brutal light shot from eyes that had long lost their souls, all focused on the forest before them.
"Lord King of Dark River, how are things now?"
The slightly weak voice of the dragon-winged girl sounded behind the massive treant. Xiliya, who had just finished healing her own injuries, spoke hesitantly: "If it's truly impossible, then let me go alone..."
"Silence, human."
Urban Derni's voice could shake the atmosphere as he sternly rebuked: "My decision is not for you to question. Since I have agreed to safely escort you out of the Dark River Forest, I will not break my word."
"Besides, do you think these ants can stop me?"
Xiliya let out a bitter smile.
It wasn't that she didn't believe in his strength, but rather that she felt helpless and ashamed of her own power.
Ever since that day, when her family heirloom robe had resonated again, this powerful nature spirit had changed his attitude. Urban Derni had expressed his willingness to escort her out of the Shaya Mountains so she could safely reach the human settlements in the southwest.
But after that day, an endless tide of shadowy undead had surged from nowhere, waiting before the forest, tightly surrounding it.
With Urban Derni's cooperation, Xiliya had attempted several breakouts, but all had failed. The last time had probably been the best opportunity, but a mistake caused by her extreme fatigue had not only ruined the breakout but also left her severely injured.
However, aside from these disheartening pieces of bad news, she had also learned, from information inadvertently revealed by him, the significance behind the robe she wore.
**[Origin Sage's Robe]**
In ancient times, the Grandia Continent was still a barren wasteland. The newborn world was filled with the heat of flames, leaving the entire land with nothing but boiling hot springs and lava lakes.
But a sage had crossed the realms, bringing with him countless people. He called himself an apostle of the 'Sage of Sages,' and through some ritual, he performed a divine art beyond human imagination, cooling the entire world from its fiery state. He scattered the seeds and young of plants and animals, and within a mere hundred years, transformed the barren continent into a new, vibrant land full of life and the scent of vegetation.
That sage who crossed the realms, along with the countless people, were the origin of all life on the Grandia Continent. And the Origin Sage's Robe was the ceremonial garment worn by the sage when performing that ritual.
Though all of this might be nothing more than an unreliable folk legend, seeing Urban Derni's confident expression, Xiliya couldn't help but suspect that her robe might indeed have some extraordinary origin. The ancient sage might not have existed, but it was undoubtedly a piece of transcendent equipment powerful beyond reason.
But now was not the time to think about that.
Across the forest, within the mist, the endless ranks of shadowy undead suddenly showed clear signs of movement. The dense formations parted in an orderly fashion, leaving a long passage.
The massive treant shifted its body. Countless roots writhed, mud surged like a tide, and the immense force made the entire forest tremble. The Lord of Dark River watched the scene before him, the purple flame giant eye on his head flickering for a moment, and his face, composed of dark brown wood, grew serious.
A swarm of bugs.
As for the densely packed dark undead before him, Urban Derni dismissed them with contempt. As a being that had lived for nearly a thousand years, far older than most heroic spirits, why would he care about mere shadowy undead? Even tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or millions of such beings couldn't harm a single hair on his body. A diamond is not afraid of being struck by eggs, and if one were to compare, he should be a mountain of diamond.
So what could make the Lord of Dark River stand on guard had never been these pitiful undead.
From the deepest part of the thick fog, three figures slowly walked out along the parted passage. Wherever they passed, the shadowy undead bowed their heads, the rain parted, and even the ground, which had long turned into a muddy swamp, became dry and solid under their steps.
One was a middle-aged spellcaster surrounded by seven crystal orbs of various shapes. He was accompanied by a misty humanoid form that would go unnoticed without careful observation, and a skeleton archer whose entire body was shrouded in cyan-blue light. They came to the dark forest and stood opposite the massive treant at the forest's center.
"Lord of Dark River, Urban Derni, why do you shelter our enemy?"
The spellcaster spoke in a voice like a machine, enunciating each word to the treant: "For twenty-seven years, the Undead Army has never invaded your territory. So why do you now abandon your neutral stance and throw yourself into the arms of those humans?"
"She offered a sacrifice, so I naturally must keep my word and grant her protection."
A deep, powerful voice shook the mountains and forests, even causing ripples in the rain in midair. Urban Derni replied contemptuously: "The earth and forest have never belonged to any side. My answer is this, and it will never change."
"Is that so? But we do not wish to fight you."
After a moment of silence, the middle-aged spellcaster lowered his hood, revealing his true face beneath—a skull composed mostly of crystal. This undead commander used magical energy to vibrate the atmosphere, producing a stiff voice: "Then, how about considering another suggestion?"
He used a tone as gentle as possible, persuading: "Join us, King of Dark River. Your strength is enough to make you one of us. I could even give you my throne. As long as you agree to this condition, what harm is there in letting this dragon girl leave? And from then on, the shadowy undead will never invade the Shaya Mountains or enter your territory."
Hearing this, Xiliya, behind the treant, immediately tensed up. She wanted to speak and persuade this powerful being not to be deceived by the other side.
The dragon-winged girl knew that without the robe, her life was utterly insignificant. Even dying would be no great loss. But Urban Derni was the oldest and most powerful being in this world. He stood at the hub between the northwest and southeast of the continent, preventing the Undead Army from moving in large numbers into the former Gru Empire's territory. If he truly joined the enemy, or even just allowed the undead army to advance, it would be a terrible disaster for the remaining human forces across the entire continent.
But upon hearing these words, the Lord of Dark River let out a harsh, mocking laugh.
"Pitiful dead. Already degraded heroic souls... Darkness has blinded your once-wise eyes."
This powerful being, who appeared to be merely a massive treant, spoke in a strangely calm tone: "When did you ever think that bringing along a few bugs like this would be enough to have me? When did you ever think that I needed to agree to your terms to fulfill my promise?"
Hearing this, the skeleton spellcaster did not speak. He simply extended his own crystalized palm bones and clapped.
*Boom!*
Suddenly, thunder cracked within the dark clouds above. Flashes of lightning interwove within the cloud layer, and three colossal beings, shimmering with magnificent light, descended from the sky.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
Three consecutive dull, heavy impacts. The ground, which had already turned to mud, rolled like waves. Three enormous puppets, entirely constructed of crystal, landed before the Dark River Forest.
Each of these puppets was colossal, nearly forty meters tall. They were composed of irregular crystal blocks shaped like geometric figures, inscribed with countless profound runes. At the center of these giant puppets, whose size rivaled even the Lord of Dark River himself, three sacred stone seeds—red, purple, and brown—rotated with different lights, supplying the powerful energy they required.
"It seems you have refused."
The spellcaster shook his head, but for some reason, he didn't appear disappointed: "I don't know why the High Commander thinks so highly of you, but to me, though you are powerful, you are not powerful enough to make us wary."
"Lord of Dark River, it's time you learned a lesson."
Behind him, the misty humanoid had vanished without a trace, and the skeleton archer had slowly but steadily taken the longbow from his back. But neither of them made a move, waiting instead for the spellcaster to act.
As the strongest beings who had each led an era—the spellcaster who commanded crystal puppets, the formless, shadowless ultimate assassin, and the divine archer who had once shot down floating mountain whales and sea king beasts—each had their own pride. Even if they had fallen for some reason, they would not easily interfere in another's battle.
But the massive treant shook his head dismissively.
"So you still have a shred of honor that hasn't been forgotten."
"But it's meaningless."
Countless roots turned into tentacles, lifting the dragon-winged girl and sending her toward the other end of the forest. Facing the three puppets that were now striding forward, preparing to crush into the forest with unstoppable force, Urban Derni's voice grew fainter and fainter, and the roots composing his body also retracted into the earth one by one.
But just as the others wondered if Urban Derni was planning to avoid the fight, a sound like an earthquake's roar erupted from beneath the entire Dark River Forest.
*Boom! Boom!*
It was the sound of some colossal being slowly awakening, moving its body.
"I am of divine blood, descendant of the Earth Mother Goddess."
A low, yet extremely clear voice seeped out from the depths of the entire earth: "I breathe with this land. I can hear its fury and unwillingness. Undead, no matter what you and the being behind you intend, there is no doubt that this path leads only to complete destruction."
"You should all come at me together."
And the next moment after the words fell, an enormous pillar-like object, seemingly a mixture of flesh and roots, pierced through the surface, revealing itself to everyone. This towering pillar of flesh and wood, nearly a hundred meters high, simultaneously attracted and absorbed the surrounding soil, trees, rocks, and even the rain and wind onto itself, then constructed a thick, massive 'hand.'
This arm used rock and soil as its flesh, flowing water as its blood, and plant roots as its sinews. Meanwhile, on the mountainside in the distance, rocks cracked, the peak loosened, and a giant head entirely composed of black hard rock revealed two clusters of purple flames like suns, blazing with light. An incomparable majesty descended.
The crystal skeleton spellcaster, upon seeing this colossal being whose mere half-body was hundreds of meters tall, immediately commanded his puppets to rapidly retreat, urgently pulling back distance while letting out a sharp intake of breath through his non-existent lung cavity.
"Titan!"