Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1363 The Hellscream Legion

After fifteen minutes had passed, Orion retracted his divine projection. The Titan relic held by Aina lost its luster, the menacing radiance fading back into the dull texture of cold stone.

"Heh... he he... strength... I can feel it."

"It’s there. I’ve become more powerful than the dog who murdered my parents. I’ll track him down... and I’m going to rip him to pieces..."

The hysterical laughter erupted from a man whose chest had split open to make room for a second set of arms. Previously, he had been a commoner, a mere Hero-level combatant of no consequence. Now, saturated with divine blood, he had bypassed all limits to reach the Alpha-level, his new appendages twitching with a grotesque and independent precision.

"I feel it too!"

"I feel... like I could..."

CRACK-BOOM!

Another man attempted to speak, but instead of a voice, a bolt of lightning as wide as a human arm shot from his throat, obliterating a nearby stone wall.

"Lightning? Is that actual lightning?"

"Hahaha!"

For this disorganized band of outcasts and fugitives, obtaining powers usually reserved for noble-born mages was a divine revelation. This wasn't merely about Cultivation; it was about survival. It signified that they were no longer the prey fleeing from the hunters.

They had transformed into the wolves. Vicious, vengeful wolves fueled by hatred.

"Listen to me!" Aina cried out, seizing the opportunity. "Starting today, Grimm serves as the headquarters for Hellscream!"

"By the decree of the Stoneheart God, Hellscream shall be led by two High Protectors and four Divine Envoys."

"These six positions of authority will not be handed out. They must be bought with the weight of your own sacrifices!"

"The God himself will make the selection!"

Aina was pulling a classic bluff, borrowing the tiger’s prestige to intimidate the foxes. Yet, it was effective. By invoking Orion's name and the tangible power he had just granted, she forged their loyalty in the heat of the moment.

"Saintess! We obey the God's will! We await your orders!"

The initial shout originated from a plant Aina had hidden within the crowd.

However, the roar that followed was genuine. The commoners in this theater had turned into fanatical believers, their consciousness warped by the corruption flowing in their veins. They had tasted true power—the strength to take revenge and seize whatever they desired.

"Saintess! We follow the God's will!"

"Saintess! Give us your commands!"

The outlaws and killers bellowed, their eyes glowing with a manic, addictive high. They craved more. They craved a future.

"Darkness descends!" Aina shrieked, thrusting the statuette upward. "Light and inequality will be wiped away!"

"The spirits of the dead are wailing! Hell needs to scream!"

Hellscream was forged in a crucible of blood and insanity.

Silverwood Realm, Current's Bend

The dreadnought warship of the Cult of Four broke the surface once more at the Atlantean borders. The Witch, inhabiting her Marilith Naga avatar known as Nym'zarith, had made her return.

Once again, Kraken was waiting to receive her.

"Grand Marshal Aqzathuun," the Witch hissed, her tone laced with spite. "You have delayed me three times now."

"The Cult of Four follows a specific rule: three strikes and you are finished."

"Today, I will have a definitive answer."

Inside the palace, the Witch had acted with civility, trading wits with the massive octopus. However, the moment Kraken led her to the city gates, her facade crumbled. She became icy, sharp, and confrontational.

"Envoy Nym'zarith, was there not an agreement?" Kraken answered calmly. "Atlantis simply requires a bit more time."

These repeated delays were a strategy devised by Leonidas—a deliberate risk. He intended to provoke a Demigod from the Cult into appearing. If Atlantis intended to switch sides, they had to demonstrate they were a powerhouse worth the investment.

"I fear our patience has been exhausted," the Witch remarked, shaking her head in frustration. Three trips, and she had seen nothing but the octopus. The remaining two Grand Marshals were like ghosts, shadows she could never grasp.

"The time has come for Atlantis to choose."

As she spoke, a suffocating pressure burst from the dreadnought behind her. A wave of Demigod-level aura crashed against the barriers of Atlantis, causing the very ocean to tremble.

Deep inside the Atlantean palace, Leonidas and Orion both opened their eyes at once.

"Brother, the fish has bitten the hook!"

Leonidas smirked, his gaze flashing with excitement. "Finally, a big catch. I truly hope it's the Clown."

If the Clown had arrived, Leonidas was ready to enjoy himself.

"You or me?"

Orion noticed the restlessness in Leonidas’s eyes, but he wasn't going to step aside for this one.

"Brother, let me take this. Since my breakthrough to Demigod, I haven't had a genuine battle. Not even once."

"I must test my boundaries against a real foe. It is necessary."

Orion’s tone was solemn. Training was one thing, but a life-or-death struggle against an external threat was the only way to measure his new cultivation.

"Fine. It's yours," Leonidas agreed. "But listen... if it turns out to be the Clown? Smash him into the dirt. Show the Cult exactly who they are dealing with."

Orion gave a nod, rising from his seat and walking toward the palace gates.

At the city's edge, Kraken was struggling to hold his ground. The Demigod aura was overwhelming. Had he not been a powerhouse himself, the pressure would have crushed him into paste.

"Marshal Aqzathuun," the Witch mocked, savoring his pain. "Make your decision."

ROAR—!

An explosion of sound tore through the deep—a cry that was part-dragon, part-whale, and utterly terrifying.

A mountain of scales and muscle appeared outside the city walls. The Abyssal Dreadfin had arrived, manifesting its True Form.

The creature opened a maw that seemed capable of devouring the light itself. Fueled by Orion's divine Qi, a gravitational vacuum locked onto the Cult's warship.

The dreadnought groaned as its hull began to buckle. Metal shrieked, tearing apart as easily as wet paper.

The elite Cultists on board didn't even have the chance to cry out before the wreckage sucked them into the Dreadfin's throat.

When the chaos cleared, only a single figure remained.

A gentleman dressed in a fine suit, wearing a top hat and glasses, hovered in the water. He radiated divine power, fighting to stay stable against the Dreadfin's pull.

It was a puppet. It was the Clown.

"Envoy Nym'zarith," Kraken said, standing tall as the oppressive pressure vanished. "The ocean is vast and the world is wide. Do not mistake Atlantis for an easy prey."

He stepped over to the Witch, watching the confrontation between the Clown and the gargantuan beast.

"I am only the Third Marshal of Atlantis. Greeting you was an act of politeness, not a sign of weakness."

"But your little stunt just now? That was an insult."

Kraken pointed toward the massive creature looming over the tiny, struggling Clown.

"Meet the Second Marshal of Atlantis. And be warned... he isn't nearly as civil as I am."