The sky darkened further, and the eyes of the Titan statues began to glow faintly.
"Only one among you shall receive the baptism of the Titan Ancestor."
He paused, letting that truth settle.
"As for this test, it is simple. There are thirty-six great Titan statues; anyone who can awaken more than three great Titan statues will get the chance to finally receive the Titan god’s blessing."
He narrowed his gaze.
"But understand this—these statues are not awakened by brute strength alone. They test your bloodline, your will, your spirit, and your path."
He swept his sleeve, and a ring of runes ignited at the feet of the gathered participants. The boundary shimred, revealing the starting point of the trial—a vast, open expanse that led toward the statues like a sacred battlefield.
"Now go. Let the will of the Great Titans decide your worth."
As he said that, imdiately the thousand or so geniuses from the northern continent began their test.
The Titan Trial had begun.
The first to step forward was a young man clad in crimson robes—a well-known genius from a prestigious clan. He had struck the War God Drum six tis, earning admiration and high expectations from both spectators and peers.
All eyes turned to him as he approached the nearest statue—its massive form wrapped in iron chains, fists raised as if to crush the heavens.
He placed his hand on its stone foot, closed his eyes, and tried to channel his energy.
Monts passed.
Nothing happened.
A faint frown appeared on his face. He tried again, this ti pouring more spiritual power into the contact. Still, the statue remained silent and unmoving, its surface cold and unyielding.
Whispers began to ripple through the crowd.
He stepped back, gritting his teeth, and tried a second statue—then a third. Still, no reaction.
After a long, tense silence, he was forced to retreat in sha.
The result was clear.
Not a single Titan had acknowledged him.
The crowd murmured, many shaking their heads. The hopeful gleam in his eyes was gone, replaced by confusion and disbelief. He had trained for years, carried the pride of his clan and bloodline—and yet, the will of the Titans had rejected him completely.
Apollo watched from the distance and furrowed his eyebrows, feeling sothing was off, but he couldn’t figure it out. He needed to carefully observe this.
After this disappointnt, others also, one by one, tried to awaken the will of the statues. But after so tries no one even managed to awaken a single titan statue, let alone more.
Dozens had tried by now—each pouring spiritual power, willpower, bloodline energy, and everything else they could muster into the statues. But not a single one had succeeded.
"Master, what’s wrong?" Thomas beside him noticed the furrowed expression and couldn’t help but ask.
Apollo’s gaze never left the statues as he spoke in a calm, almost detached tone:
"It looks like... this worshipping ceremony isn’t going to end simply."
Thomas blinked, confused. "Not going to end simply?" he echoed, unable to grasp the full aning.
But Apollo said no more.
He didn’t need to explain—not yet. Not until he understood what exactly was wrong.
Finally, after more than a dozen failed attempts, sothing changed.
As the next participant placed his hand upon the base of a colossal Titan statue—one shaped like a kneeling warrior clutching a shattered spear—the earth gave a faint tremor.
A soft glow pulsed from deep within the statue’s chest.
BOOM.
A low, resonant sound echoed across the trial grounds, different from the War God Drum—deeper, older.
The Titan’s eyes lit up with a dim golden light. The will within it had stirred.
A ripple of energy spread outward, brushing against the nearby contestants and spectators like a breeze from ancient tis.
Gasps filled the air. Murmurs quickly followed.
"He... awakened one?"
"Finally...!"
"Wait, isn’t that guy one of the weakest?"
Relief surged through the crowd like a dam had broken. The heavy silence that had settled over the trial finally lifted.
Many had begun to whisper suspicions that the ceremony was rigged, or worse—a test ant to humiliate outsiders. But now, that tension was gone. Hope returned to their eyes.
Apollo’s eyes glowed with mysterious light as he carefully felt what just happened.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Interesting," he murmured.
The genius who awakened the titan statue’s will was a guy who only barely managed to beat the war drum five tis and was considered the weakest genius among the thousand, and yet he was the first one to awaken the titan statues’ will.
He finally, after looking through dozens of geniuses and looking at the person who awakened the titan statue’s will, found sothing.
’They seem to be marked with a mysterious power whether they awaken the titan will or not, and it seems to be related to bloodline.’ He figured it out after careful observation.
As most of the geniuses that ca here today have so kind of bloodline, because if they can receive the powerful blessing of a titan, their bloodline would beco more noble.
But now, Apollo understood sothing most hadn’t noticed.
The boy who awakened the Titan’s will first... he wasn’t the strongest. Far from it. But the latent potential within his bloodline was significantly superior to those before him. It hadn’t yet blossod into strength, but with the right opportunity and nurturing, it could surpass many of the so-called elites.
Yet that wasn’t what troubled Apollo.
What did... was the mark.
Every participant, regardless of success or failure, was left with a faint yet ancient imprint. And for the boy who awakened a statue, the mark was heavier—deeper, as though the force behind it had taken particular interest.
’Why?’ Apollo wondered. ’What is the purpose of this mark? Is this trial truly for choosing a worthy heir... Or is sothing else watching and recording us all?’
He narrowed his eyes slightly, his body still and composed, yet his thoughts growing heavier.
This worshipping ceremony was not as simple as a test of strength or bloodline.
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