Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1379 The Vulture's Pact

[Hulk]: Bro, don't underestimate the Cult of Four. And don't sleep on the Clown.

[Hulk]: They've dragged an entire armada right to your front door. Should these talks fall apart, they won't simply pack up and go. No, they'll raze everything to the ground.

That silent fact overshadowed the whole exchange.

Who hunted whom in this game?

The Champions Alliance aimed to devour the entire Cult. In return, the Cult sought to behead the Atlantis rulers or force them into total submission. Should Leonidas side with the Sea Race, the Cult would suffer heavy losses. If he threw in with the mainland powers of the Champions Alliance, the Cult would find itself trapped on all sides.

Such tangled stakes called for talks. The Cult's Pontiffs stayed practical; a strong ally beat a lifeless foe any day.

[Leonidas]: Vultures, every single one.

Leonidas swore under his breath, all too conscious of the thin edge he balanced upon.

[Edward]: It's settled then. Let them believe they've come out on top.

[Edward]: If they pick the option we dread most... fine. We'll show our cards sooner than planned. But right now, stick to the script.

Silverwood Realm, Atlantis

As Leonidas, Orion, and Kraken snapped out of their "trance," the distant look in their eyes faded away. Pontiff Valerius observed them intently, certain that a decision had been made.

"Pontiff Valerius," Leonidas started, his tone shedding its earlier wild fury. "I have to say, your proposals... they carry weight. We agree. Atlantis swears loyalty to the Cult of Four."

The shift happened without a hitch. Leonidas nailed the role of the reformed conqueror, giving a courteous bow to the group.

"But," Leonidas went on, shifting closer, "we need to nail down the details."

He wasn't pleading; he was hashing out surrender conditions. Valerius and his team held steady. They anticipated resistance. Actually, a quick cave-in from Leonidas would have set off alarms about a ploy right away. They'd lined up backups—intimidation, spell-based pressure, or outright destruction if pushed—but a cooperative gain suited them better.

"Our demand stays straightforward," Leonidas stated, eyes like steel. "We're partners, not disposable pawns. Not expendable shock troops."

"Atlantis will spill blood for uniting the Moon Sea," he pressed on, "yet we won't charge headfirst into the slaughter."

18:02

The request made perfect sense. At present, the Sea Race and the Cult clashed as main foes. Leonidas's sharpest play involved holding back, staying out of the brutal frontline work.

"Grand Marshal, if you will," Valerius replied, hand pressed to his chest in smooth earnestness. "Don't peg us as oppressors. The Cult of Four values its members. We're kin."

"Joining our side secures Atlantis's tomorrow," Valerius added, his grin sharpening ever so slightly. "Have no doubt, when loyalty's tested... the proving field probably won't be here at all."

The warning hid in soft layers. Valerius offered protection in this spot, while alluding to the coming "review" elsewhere, in a domain under the Cult's full control.

"Done deal!" Leonidas bellowed, pounding the table—this round in triumph. "We're brothers now! Guards! Fetch the wine! Time to celebrate!"

Valerius dipped his head, content. The room's strain shattered, giving way to the rattle of dishes and flowing drinks. The urgent threat had passed. Next up: planning the assault on the Sea Race.

The Northern Waste, Unknown Underground Caverns

These shadowy, twisting passages weren't just natural formations. They formed the ancient birthplace of the Insect lineage—the original nursery for the Insectoids.

To the surviving smart insectoids, the cross-world conflict wasn't disaster; it was a boon. The clash of planar rules, the merging of worlds, had sparked a surge in their biology. Evolution sped up, shattering old genetic limits that had bound them for ages.

"My son," a hoarse voice bounced from the wet rock surfaces. "This marks the starting point. This is the cradle of the First Generation."

Far inside the cave, a huge, daunting Insectoid called Kar'Sheen loomed near a throbbing, timeless formation. It resembled a petrified cocoon, a leftover from the initial Hive Lord upon gaining awareness.

"The prior two Lords were idiots," Kar'Sheen hissed, his jaws snapping in scorn. "Their greed surpassed their brains. They dragged us to destruction."

He swung his compound gaze to the youth at his side.

"History's gone, Eryndor. We're carving a fresh path on the evolution branch. And your lineage kicks it off."

The youth, Eryndor, bore no resemblance to his sire. A teen, he seemed mostly human. He gazed into the void of the old shell, quiet and unmoving.

Indeed, he was Kar'Sheen's offspring. Yet Rowena's too.

He shared half-blood with Lokiviria, the doomed soul who'd given her life. But Eryndor endured where she fell.

Long before, as the Clown pursued Rowena, she'd foreseen the peril. She'd exchanged her infant boy, stashing him safe before luring the Clown away from the Hive. Kar'Sheen and Eryndor had endured in hiding.

For years, Kar'Sheen viewed the child with contempt. Rowena's human essence ran strong; it muted the insect features. Eryndor showed Skybond traits—he appeared human and held a natural, mind-link bond with the massive Thunderhawks on the northern heights. To Kar'Sheen, the kid spelled weakness, a taint on the true line.

Yet the world had shifted.

The foreign rule influx had stirred a hidden spark in Eryndor's genes. The insect side stirred, not clashing with the Skybond flow, but blending into it.

"We reboot in this changed realm," Kar'Sheen breathed, unusual warmth in his tone.

Eryndor gave a single nod. Silently, he crossed the edge of the ancient cocoon and settled into its empty core.

"Rest now, my boy," Kar'Sheen said softly. "Rest and transform into our destined form. I'll stand guard."

With the youth's eyes shutting, a quake rippled through the cave.