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The entire Sky City was shaking violently.
From deep beneath the city's foundations, one colossal being after another clawed its way out.
Titans, roused from an imprisonnt that must have spanned countless ages. The city didn't just tremble; it bucked and groaned as if trapped in the iron grip of an endless earthquake.
Cracks ripped through the stone like jagged lightning beneath Ian's feet. From the very center of the city ca a deafening roar of snapping rock, the sound of an ancient shackle being forcibly torn apart.
Giants were being released, one by one.
That deep, prival sound… the bellowing fury of the Titans themselves echoed through the surroundings. After thousands of years of forced slumber, they were finally, spectacularly, free.
"Well… this is certainly one way to bring mythology to life," Ian muttered, his gaze locked on the towering figures bursting from the earth.
Their bodies were imnse beyond comprehension. Muscles coiled like stressed cables, their skin seed forged from the very rock and tal of the world. Each deliberate step they took sent a palpable tremor through the airborne tropolis.
Without exception, every giant still bore the grueso remnants of heavy shackles and thick chains.
That detail… it genuinely piqued his curiosity.
But panic? That was simply not on the nu.
Instead, Ian calmly raised his wand and cast a complex spell upon his own eyes.
"Piercing Vision!"
He wasn't sure what the original inventor of the spell had intended; he'd rely found the obscure incantation tucked away in the deepest corner of the Hogwarts library one slow afternoon.
Unlike the simple x-ray or rudintary detection charms, this particular enchantnt allowed him to choose exactly what to see through and even how many layers to pierce. For a wizard as pragmatic as Ian, this was the first ti he'd ever bothered to use it outside of a private practice session.
A faint golden light shimred across his pupils. His sight imdiately bored through the bricks and stone beneath his shoes, past dense layers of rock and faint magical wards, straight into the city's depths.
And there, deep underground…
As expected.
Beneath the city lay not just hollowed-out chambers, but enormous cages, carved directly into the bedrock itself. Countless chains of enchanted script wove together into a seamless web of confinent. Each chain was engraved with ancient runes, pulsing with a faint, yet potent magical power.
These weren't simple sealing formations. They were complex, composite enchantnts and a fusion of advanced alchemy and archaic sorcery. Even Ian, with his vast knowledge, found the technique strange and unfamiliar.
Countless bronze lattices made of the sa mysterious tal that ford the city's shell, interlocked to form chambers, all bound together by the dense network of rune-chains.
It was a prison.
A prison of baffling bronze tal, built right into the city's core.
There was a reason for its construction. Dark red rune-chains wrapped tightly around each cage, but now, many of them hung loose and open, their locks utterly undone.
The giants erupting onto the surface had co from these very cells. Even now, more Titans remained trapped, still in the agonizing process of being released. When Ian's sharpened gaze finally fell upon them, he realized sothing truly astonishing.
Those massive tal chains, they weren't just restraints.
They were embedded into the Titans' very bodies, like veins burrowing deep into flesh and muscle, actively drawing power directly from their life force. As energy flowed, the runes along the chains pulsed rhythmically, 'bright and dim, bright and dim,' as though the chains themselves were breathing.
They weren't restricting movent; they were continually draining their strength.
"I see it now…" Ian finally understood the city's secret.
These Titans… they were the power source of the Sky City.
This tropolis floating among the clouds… the reason it could defy gravity and remain eternally suspended… wasn't thanks to mysterious levitation stones or raw magical energy.
It was these imprisoned Giants. They served as living batteries, providing an unending stream of primal energy to sustain the entire structure!
"I was wondering why I couldn't sense much ambient magic. So that's the trick… this isn't magic at all," Ian mused, finally deciphering why the chanics of the Sky City had been so resistant to his analysis.
The system operated on a completely different principle than the magic he practiced. The power held by these Giants was unlike any form of spellcraft Ian had ever encountered.
It wasn't magic at all, but sothing far more primordial, and yet imnsely more powerful. It was precisely this pure, elental energy, serving as the city's engine that allowed this enormous sky-bound tropolis, easily the size of a major capital city, to thrive.
With minimal magical power, it possessed every condition necessary for prosperity and abundance, because the Giants contained the world's most basic, elental life force, an energy attuned to nature itself.
As long as one could tap into that, one could indeed create a perfectly sustained "small world" anywhere.
"ROAR!"
One after another, the Giants were fully released.
Perhaps this was the ancient wizards' final, desperate trump card against their enemies. When the chains embedded in their flesh stopped the debilitating drain, the Giants began to awaken rapidly.
Their chests heaved, and lifeblood surged once more. They struggled, roaring in pure, unadulterated fury, climbing out from their abyss-like prisons, step by brutal step ascending to the surface.
Amid the churning dust clouds, several enormous figures slowly beca distinct. Their bodies towered like mountains, their skin and forms varying wildly depending on their inherent elental nature.
Yet all of them bore the tangible texture of flesh and blood. Broken chains still dangled from their bodies, so stubbornly remained embedded, others had been violently ripped away, falling to the ground with an earth-shaking crash. Each link looked massive enough to forge several large airplanes.
From that alone, a wizard could calculate the sheer, horrifying enormity of these Giants.
"Titans…?"
Ian heard the black-robed woman beside him whisper the word. Her pupils were shaking violently, and the sound that escaped her cracked lips was thick with absolute despair.
"They've gone mad! How dare they… how dare they release the Titans! The ans of control aren't stable! If they lose control… it would be a catastrophe far worse than having your soul taken away!"
Her fear was so intense it almost beca a tangible presence. Her fingers dug into her own arms, as if the pain was the only thing holding her consciousness together.
"First of all, I don't 'take' anyone's soul," Ian said calmly, not taking his eyes off the giants. "And secondly, if your ancestors defeated the Titans once, is there truly no way to defeat them a second ti? Forgive my poor understanding," he added with a faint, cutting sarcasm.
"In my view, a defeated enemy will always remain a defeated enemy."
Ian simply didn't understand the woman's terror. Fragnts of ancient Greek mythology flashed through his mind… Cronus, Uranus, Oceanus… In myth, the Titans were older and more violent than the Olympian gods, yet they were ultimately overthrown by Zeus and his siblings. They were supposedly imprisoned in the depths of Tartarus, but in reality…
It seed they had rely been captured and turned into exceptionally grumpy batteries.
Worse than batteries, even. They were a city's life support.
The Titans before him were not the clean-cut figures of Greek marble. Each one felt like a living, breathing law of nature, a chaotic embodint of raw power and brute flesh.
"You truly don't understand!" The woman beside him was shaking so hard she looked ready to crumble into dust.
"I truly don't," Ian replied mildly. "So, since you're here and they are clearly not interested in a chat, could you be a dear and explain it to ?" His gaze remained locked on the slowly awakening giants.
"Explain… to you?"
The black-robed woman shuddered, only now realizing that the terrifying figure next to her was waiting for an answer. She didn't dare flee. Curling in on herself, she forced out the words in a voice as faint as a dying whisper:
"They… are undying beings. Eternal existences. They are our true creators, and we… we are nothing more than their failed creations."
Her voice was laced with pure, soul-deep terror. It was not the fear a captor holds for a prisoner, but the stark, agonizing terror of a lesser being facing a superior, incomprehensible god.
"Creators?" Ian frowned.
According to the myths he knew, the gods were the children of the Titans. But the woman's words peeled back a far crueler truth: the future gods were not the Titans' descendants… they were their alchemical creations?
The sheer gulf between the established myth and this new reality left him speechless for a mont.
He understood the sickening implication. The future pantheon wasn't born of the Titans' blood; they were manufactured tools, deliberately shaped by the Titans' own hands, much like a potter shapes clay. This completely derailed his entire understanding of this world's tiline.
Yet, if this were true, a terrifying clarity began to settle.
No wonder. No wonder the future pantheon, despite their imnse power, could never surpass a certain limit. They weren't forces born of raw nature; they were deliberately engineered. And those tools, grown too powerful, eventually rose up and betrayed their makers.
But as creations, no matter how potent, they could never be as perfectly, innately powerful as life created by a true, primordial force.
Ian realized he wasn't just witnessing a legend; he was standing in a splintered fragnt of genuine history, a fundantal truth long lost to the modern magical world. The "history" and "myths" known to later generations were nothing more than bedti stories rewritten countless tis by the victors. The real truth was always shocking and unimaginable.
Though, he reminded himself, uncertainty still reigned. Was this truly so distant past, or rely a localized, sophisticated space-ti distortion, like the ti loops he'd accidentally stumbled into before? With so little context, it was impossible to place himself. Especially after eting a child goddess, the entire situation was so absurdly coincidental it felt deliberately crafted.
It was absurd, chilling, and fascinatingly dangerous. All the right adjectives, and they all matched Ian's mood perfectly.
"Relax," Ian said, forcing his tone to be as gentle as a casual threat. "I'm not a bad person. I'm just a fourteen-year-old wizard, and in my future, I might even be friends with your child."
The woman froze, her eyes vacant and terrified, clearly unable to process the casual horror of the statent. But Ian didn't have ti to explain.
The Titans had finished breaking free. Their colossal heads slowly turned, their stone-like faces searching, until their imnse, ancient gazes locked onto the single, impossibly small wizard in the rubble.
In their eyes glead the look one gives a botherso prey.
"So it's the bird they were worried about, after all…" Ian gripped his wand tightly, his face set. He was not surprised in the slightest.
At that mont, a voice like a landslide speaking bood across the ruins.
"A bird… you are afraid of a re bird?"
It was the largest Titan, the one whose very presence commanded the broken landscape. His voice was thunder, rolling across heaven and earth. His body was rougher than the others, his veins glowing with internal molten magma, and his dark red eyes radiated cold, crushing authority.
"As expected of a failed creation!" He sneered, clearly mocking the black-robed wizards who had imprisoned him. And, just as clearly, taking the opportunity to look down on Ian as well.
This Titan's presence was overwhelmingly imposing. Even after millennia of imprisonnt and decay, he carried the unmistakable aura of a king.
It was obvious: The Titan King.
His words dripped with contempt for the ancient wizards, and his scorn for the little wizard was barely concealed. The Titan King had likely only heard of Ian through the panicked reports of his captors.
"Filthy traitors… to think you would stoop so low as to use our power again! Neither you nor I could have imagined this day would co. Very well… let see what kind of bird has frightened you, you pack of arrogant, failed creations!"
The Titan King finished his taunt and turned his dangerously sharp gaze fully toward Ian.
"I'm a person, damn it! And it's your whole family that's made of birds!" Insulted, Ian's temper flared. He didn't hesitate. He snapped his wand up and focused every ounce of dark intent.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding, razor-sharp flash of sickly green light tore through the ruined air and struck the Titan King squarely in the chest.
The curse, powerful enough to snuff out a soul in an instant left nothing but a faint, brief network of green-veined marks on his stone-like skin.
"Pathetic insect!" The Titan King lowered his head, glancing at the mark before roaring with contemptuous laughter.
Unfazed, Ian couldn't help but return a small, dry grin of his own.
"So, magic does work on Titans after all."
It had been a test… a quick way to confirm the deductions he'd drawn from the woman's earlier reaction and his own analysis of the city's power source. The result proved his insight correct. That was why the ancient wizards had managed to win the original war: magic could harm these colossal beings.
Of course, their resistance to magic was utterly insane. Even the Killing Curse couldn't claim their souls.
However… it wasn't absolute immunity.
Under Ian's sharp gaze, the faint green mark on the Titan King's chest rapidly sealed itself. Not only his flesh, but his very soul was healing the damage from the unforgivable curse.
"Fwooo…" Ian swung his wand again.
Ghostly blue flas 'Fiendfyre' coiled around the nearest Titan like hungry serpents, devouring its flesh in a frantic feeding frenzy. But no matter how fiercely the fire burned, it couldn't keep pace with the creature's boundless regeneration.
Ian discerned the pattern: the faster he burned them, the faster they healed, as if their regenerative power had no limits and simply responded proportionally to the damage inflicted.
"We are the undying… the truly eternal," the Titan King sneered, looking down at the slim wand in Ian's hand.
"True immortality, huh? Tom Riddle would go absolutely insane with jealousy," Ian muttered with dark amusent.
The Titans' power utterly defied the known laws of nature—or perhaps, they were an unbreakable part of those very laws. As long as the world itself remained intact, they could never truly die. No wonder they were called eternal beings.
However.
"In my ti, none of you exist anymore, and there isn't even a trace left that you ever did. That ans a way to destroy you must exist."
Ian knew the script of the future. He had read the ending.
"Let's see then… if your complete and utter erasure… happens today."
He swung his wand once more, and the terrifying, impossible power of paradox began to ripple through ti and space itself.
(End of Chapter)
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