Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1355 The Weight of a Gift

The shock hit Tangere like the first rays of dawn breaking over a frozen horizon—brilliant, warm, and completely life-changing.

Standing within the inner sanctum of his Mage Tower, Tangere gazed at the nine treasures spread across the obsidian table. Each item was a masterpiece, pulsing with raw power.

A set of Dragonscale Leather Armor, a scroll inscribed with a Forbidden Spell, a peculiar token vibrating with energy, a cryptic statue of black gold, a dormant Dragon Egg, and a Conch Fortress habitat... every single object was something he had previously only encountered in his wildest dreams.

And now, they belonged to him.

"Is this real life?" he whispered, his voice shaking slightly.

I have actually formed a partnership with Demigods, he thought, his mind spinning. What kind of monstrous organization have I blundered into?

I have been chosen.

The sheer magnitude of the gifts bestowed by the Champions Alliance left Tangere staggered. The rush of adrenaline was fierce, nearly becoming overwhelming. This was especially true after Orion had casually revealed the bombshell that every other member of the squad was more powerful than him.

"Calm down," he muttered, splashing cold water onto his face, though his heart continued to hammer against his ribs. "Get a grip on yourself."

If I was selected, it means I possess value. It means I contribute something to the table that they require.

Now is not the time for arrogance. It is time to get to work.

Tangere paced the chamber, his state of shock evolving into a sense of hyper-focused resolve.

I must handle these relationships flawlessly. Whatever mission the team assigns me, I don't just need to complete it—I need to crush it.

Orion’s vow to introduce him to "a few friends" had proven to be the ultimate understatement. Tangere had a powerful feeling that his life was about to skyrocket into the stratosphere.

Silverwood Realm, Atlantis

The Witch, acting as the emissary for the Cult of Four, had taken her leave.

Deep within Current's Bend, the three Sea Marshals remained in their private hall, served by graceful, silent siren attendants.

"Honorary High Priests? Three slots, no land, no voting rights?" Leonidas scoffed, draining a goblet of wine in a single, aggressive gulp. "They truly believe we are cheap dates, don't they?"

He wiped his mouth, his features twisting into a look of contempt. "A title stripped of power. Typical corporate garbage."

Orion sat back, looking pensive. The proposal from the Cult of Four was indeed underwhelming.

"They don't require our loyalty," Orion remarked, his tone steady. "They only need to ensure we do not align ourselves with the Sea Race. As long as we maintain neutrality, we aren't a high-priority target."

"But once they finish tearing down the Sea Race," Orion added, his eyes narrowing, "the crosshairs will shift to us."

Orion’s analysis of the geopolitical landscape was incredibly sharp. Without the Sea Race serving as a buffer, Atlantis would become the lone nail sticking up in the territory of the Cult of Four.

"Hulk... is the Cult of Four truly that frightening?" Kraken asked, leaning forward. "That Witch... she carried herself like royalty. The way she looked at me—it was as if she were inspecting a primitive savage who hadn't even discovered fire yet."

This had been Kraken’s first meeting with the Cult, and the Witch’s arrogance had left him rattled.

"Hah! That is merely theater," Leonidas barked, dismissing the siren attendants with a wave so they could speak without being overheard. "She is putting on a performance. She wants us to believe the Cult is invincible and that her very presence is a blessing."

"If we were actually barbarians, or just typical Arch Lords, an Honorary High Priest rank would be a fantastic deal," Leonidas admitted, leaning back. "Unrestricted access to Faith Energy is nothing to scoff at. But we are not typical."

The heavy doors swung shut behind the departing servants, sealing the three leaders in silence.

"So, Big Boss," Kraken inquired, "what is the move?"

He had sent the Witch away with polite vagueness but no firm commitment. The future of Atlantis now sat in the hands of Leonidas and Orion.

"Bro, what are your thoughts?" Leonidas didn't answer Kraken directly, instead directing the question to Orion.

"We join them," Orion stated.

His voice was certain. There was no hesitation.

"Oh?" Leonidas sat up straighter, and Kraken’s eyes grew wide.

They had witnessed Orion’s rise from a Lord to a Demigod. They knew he never gambled unless the dice were weighted in his favor. If Orion was writing off the Sea Race completely, he clearly had a plan.

"It is simple mathematics," Orion explained, drawing a line across the table with his fingertip. "Our ultimate goal is total control over the oceans of the Silverwood Realm. We want this entire sea to be our personal domain."

"That means, eventually, both the Sea Race and the Cult of Four are hurdles we must eliminate."

"Considering the Cult's scale and wealth, they are the final boss," Orion continued. "The Sea Race is a fading faction. They will not survive to the final stage."

"Therefore, we assist the Cult in wiping out the Sea Race early. We accelerate the timeline. It clears the board and allows us to seize a larger portion of territory amidst the chaos."

It was a strategy of speed. Force the final confrontation to happen sooner rather than later.

"Furthermore," Orion added with a grim smile, "the Sea Race is incompetent. Their house is engulfed in flames, and they are still bickering over who owns the water bucket. Stingy fools never win wars."

Leonidas observed Orion’s expression. This was a change in tactics. Previously, their plan had been to keep the waters murky—allowing the giants to clash while they profited from the turmoil. Now, Orion intended to pick the winner.

"Fair enough," Leonidas nodded slowly. "The Cult is too massive to bleed out slowly. Dragging this out serves no purpose for us."

He could tell Orion was pushing for time, likely wanting to conclude this theater of war quickly. Leonidas didn't know what was fueling Orion’s urgency, but he trusted his partner's judgment completely.

"I agree that the Cult is dangerous," Kraken added, looking relieved that a solid strategy was forming. "Just seeing that Witch’s avatar gave me a bad feeling. If there are twelve Demigod Pontiffs above her... we must proceed with caution."

At the Legendary level, Kraken had assumed that becoming an Arch Lord would put him at the peak of the food chain. Now that he had reached that rank, he realized the only way to be truly secure was to attain Demigod status.

The finish line for survival simply kept moving further away.

"We will play it smart, however," Leonidas said, a sharp glint appearing in his eye. "We don't simply roll over."

"We stall. We turn them down. We make them work for our cooperation."

"If we agree too quickly, we appear weak. If we drag it out—rejecting them three times before finally consenting—they will believe we have carefully weighed the options and are joining out of logic, not out of fear."

Orion nodded his approval.

"That Witch thinks she can snap her fingers and possess Atlantis? Not a chance."

"The ideal scenario," Orion said, closing his fist tight, "is to compel one of their Demigods to come here. We trade blows. We fight them to a draw."

"Only then do we sit down to negotiate peace."

"That is how we earn respect," Orion concluded. "And that is how we secure a better price."

"Alright," Leonidas grinned, pouring another round of wine. "The decision is made. Here is how we will execute it..."