Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1414 Two Devils and a Saint

Beyond the borders of Azurehold in the Silverwood Realm.

As the Cetus Giants along with the local sea creatures battled fiercely against the advancing forces from the Cult of Four, the Atlantis faction's commanders—Orion, Leonidas, and Kraken—stayed back at the rear lines, watching the turmoil unfold.

It was at this spot that the Witch came to see them once more.

"Marshals," the Witch started, her voice carrying a subtle edge of warning, "if Atlantis's troops keep staying inactive, you'll earn no goodwill from Pontiff Valerius."

She stopped for a moment, allowing the hint to linger. "It'd be regrettable if such idleness ended up... hindering the First Marshal's rise to Pontiff status."

The Witch felt far from cheerful. Full-scale conflict had erupted, but these Atlanteans showed no signs of action. Their quiet demeanor felt disturbing. The Cult of Four wasn't seeking wonders from Orion or Leonidas, nor a precise tally of kills. What mattered was their position. They required Atlantis to send soldiers into the fray against the sea folk, confirming without question their alliance.

Talk held no value. The Cult insisted on bloodshed to seal the deal.

"Hah!" Leonidas tilted his head upward, his guffaw echoing loudly and untamed. "Do you fear we'll stab the Cult in the back when your guard's down?"

Abruptly, the chuckles halted. Leonidas's face turned from lively to menacing. The atmosphere nearby grew heavy as he let loose the overwhelming force of his essence—the Demigod's aura—targeting the Witch with the savagery of a predator ready to strike.

"Do you believe you can intimidate us?"

Next to him, Orion unleashed his own dominating energy. The merged might of two Demigods crashed down on the Witch, intensifying the strain until the air seemed as dense as iron.

The surroundings turned rigid.

The Witch, tense already, started to shake. Beneath the stares of two entities who could rend the fabric of existence, breathing became a struggle, speaking even more so.

"I think," a milder tone sliced through the strain, "this is merely a mix-up."

Kraken advanced, his manner calm and casual, shattering the oppressive quiet.

Curse them, the Witch fumed inwardly. The typical ploy—two fiends and one angel.

She grasped their scheme perfectly. The Atlantis trio of Marshals staged this act, making her out to be an idiot. Yet despite seeing through it, she forced down her ego. The oppression was unbearable.

"Third Marshal," she wheezed, regaining her poise as the force eased. "I agree... you're correct. It's just a misunderstanding."

She adjusted her garments, her adaptive nature surging. She was cunning, tough. "Amid the ongoing battle, my phrasing might have cut too deep. I seek your forgiveness."

"Heh. Since it's a misunderstanding, everything's fine," Kraken replied with a courteous incline of his head.

Orion and Leonidas pulled back their murderous aura, reverting to unmoving figures of stone. The Witch let out a sigh she'd unconsciously held. She looked over the three leaders, bracing herself to continue.

"My regrets. The Pontiff's demands weigh heavily; I shouldn't have shifted that load to you," she stated, delivering a rehearsed regret before diving into the core. "Pontiff Valerius instructed me to inquire: When do the Marshals plan to offer their aid to the Cult of Four? Should you lack plans to join the fight, we need to alert the three Pontiffs for proper arrangements."

The opening line showed submission; the follow-up delivered a deadline.

Orion and Leonidas stayed quiet, lids shut, pretending boredom.

"Divine Envoy," Kraken grinned, his face radiating genuineness. "Have you come across that proverb? To make the horse run fast, feed it well first."

Should the Cult desire their sacrifices, payment came upfront. The siblings had settled this ages back: without gains, no involvement. Even a symbolic move demanded the Cult of Four unlock their vaults.

The analogy hit hard. The Witch caught on right away.

"Third Marshal," she responded, pulling out a dimensional sphere and presenting it palms up. "These resources for battle come from Pontiff Valerius as a gift to the Atlantis aid unit. Kindly don't view it as insufficient."

She stressed the phrase insufficient.

The Cult of Four arrived ready. They stood prepared to meet whatever fee Orion and his allies demanded, as long as it stayed reasonable. Facing a formidable foe ahead, they couldn't risk an uncertain ally behind. Sacrificing some of their resources proved essential for security.

The Witch's prior warnings were just routine—her go-to negotiation style. Yet facing types like Orion and Leonidas, who'd schemed against her since the beginning, her typical seductions and scares fell flat. In typical dealings, she could've skimmed some of these goods for personal gain. Not in this case.

Kraken accepted the sphere, probed it with his mind, and gave an approving nod.

"Pontiff Valerius shows real bounty," Kraken declared. "I'll take charge of the front lines to support you myself."

He dipped his head to the Witch, then shared looks with Leonidas and Orion.

Kraken entering the battle fulfilled dual roles: it provided the overt commitment the Cult sought, and let him collect direct insights from the front. This formed a key element of their strategy. Lacking grasp of the actual combat situation, they could get lost in the haze of battle and commit a deadly mistake.

"Depart," Leonidas growled, his tone low and conclusive. "We'll keep our eyes on you."

Titanion Realm, Blackstone City.

The magnificent Bonfire Festival passed swiftly, leaving newcomers to Blackstone City craving additional experiences. The special foods and lively traditions stayed etched in their thoughts well past the fading flames.

By the next day, as the Horde Hall settled into calm, Demigod Seraphina made her entrance into Blackstone City.

"This serves as the birthplace of the Stoneheart Horde," she declared, her speech holding a noble cadence. "I suppose you have a spot ready for me?"

She ignored Orion entirely. Her eyes locked onto Lilith, positioned next to him.

Around company, Seraphina embodied the haughty Demigod fully, revealing none of the softness or reliance she saved for intimate times with Orion. Speaking straight to Lilith—requesting instead of commanding—marked a notable sign of courtesy from someone of her rank.

On the surface, anyway, she regarded Lilith as a peer.

"Naturally," Lilith answered with an elegant grin. "Marina's rooms stand ready and cleaned each day."

Lilith proved astute. By invoking "Marina"—Seraphina's hidden identity—she narrowed the divide. It offered a gentle means to warm the connection.

The divide truly existed. To Lilith, still short of Archlord rank, Seraphina dwelled in another realm of being. Though Seraphina might stoop to casual talk, Lilith couldn't overlook the immense burden of the Demigod label. Acting as if it didn't matter would only heighten the unease.