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

After fifteen minutes had passed, Orion retracted his divine projection. In Aina's grip, the Titan statuette lost its sinister radiance, fading back into a piece of cold, lifeless stone.

"Heh... he he... I can feel it... the power."

"It’s real. I’m stronger now than the dog who murdered my parents. I'm going to track him down... and rip him limb from limb..."

These manic laughs belonged to a man whose torso had split open to make room for a second set of arms. Previously, he had been a nobody, a mere Hero-level combatant. Now, fueled by the corruption of divine blood, he had forcibly broken through to the Alpha-level, his newly sprouted limbs twitching with a grotesque and independent precision.

"I feel it too!"

"I feel as though I could..."

CRACK-BOOM!

Another man attempted to speak, but instead of a voice, a bolt of lightning as thick as a human forearm surged from his throat, obliterating a nearby wall.

"Lightning? Is that actual lightning?"

"Hahaha!"

To this desperate assembly of outcasts and fugitives, obtaining powers usually reserved for noble-born mages was a miraculous revelation. It represented more than just raw strength; it was their ticket to survival. No longer were they the rabbits fleeing from the hounds.

They had been transformed into wolves. Vicious, hateful wolves.

"Listen to me!" Aina screamed, seizing the moment. "As of today, Grimm shall serve as the headquarters for Hellscream!"

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

"These six thrones of authority are not gifts. They must be paid for with the weight of your sacrifices!"

"The God himself will be the one to choose!"

Aina was playing a clever game, borrowed prestige used to intimidate the masses. But her tactics were effective. By invoking Orion’s name and the undeniable power he had just granted them, she forged a bond of loyalty in the heat of their transformation.

"Saintess! we submit to the God's will! We await your orders!"

The initial shout came from a plant Aina had hidden within the throng.

However, the roar that followed was genuine. The extras in her play had been converted into true believers, their sanity warped by the corruption flowing through their veins. Having tasted the power to claim revenge and take what they desired, they were hooked.

"Saintess! We follow the God’s will!"

"Saintess! Give us your commands!"

The bandits and butchers bellowed, their eyes alight with a fanatical, drug-like euphoria. They craved more. They craved a future.

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

"The restless souls are screaming! Hell must find its voice!"

Amidst blood and insanity, Hellscream was born.

Silverwood Realm, Current's Bend

The massive dreadnought of the Cult of Four breached the surface once more at the Atlantean border. The Witch, manifested in her Marilith Naga avatar, Nym'zarith, had returned.

Waiting for her, as always, was Kraken.

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

"Within the Cult of Four, we have a saying: three strikes and you are out."

"Today, I will have a definitive answer."

Inside the palace, the Witch had played the diplomat, trading barbs and wits with the giant octopus. But the second Kraken led her to the city's edge, her pretenses vanished. She became sharp, icy, and aggressive.

"Envoy Nym'zarith, did we not reach an understanding?" Kraken answered smoothly. "Atlantis simply requires a bit more time."

These repeated delays were a calculated risk orchestrated by Leonidas. He was fishing for a Demigod from the Cult to appear. If Atlantis intended to switch sides, they had to demonstrate they were a heavyweight power worth the investment.

"I fear our patience has been exhausted," the Witch said, shaking her head in frustration. Three trips, and she had seen nothing but the octopus. The other two Grand Marshals remained elusive ghosts, shadows she couldn't corner.

"The time has come for Atlantis to choose."

As she spoke, a terrifying pressure exploded from the dreadnought behind her. A wave of Demigod-level aura slammed into the defenses of Atlantis, causing the very ocean to vibrate.

Deep inside the Atlantean palace, Orion and Leonidas opened their eyes at the same time.

"Brother, the fish took the bait!"

Leonidas smirked, his eyes flashing with excitement. "Finally, a big one. I truly hope it’s the Clown."

If the Clown had arrived, Leonidas intended to enjoy himself.

"You or me?"

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

"Brother, let me take this. I haven't had a proper battle since I ascended to Demigod."

"I need to test my boundaries against a genuine foe. It’s necessary."

Orion was dead serious. Training was useful, but only a life-or-death struggle against a hostile enemy could truly measure his new power.

"Fine. He's yours," Leonidas relented. "But listen... if it really is the Clown? Grind him into the dirt. Show the Cult exactly who they are messing with."

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

At the city entrance, Kraken was faltering. The Demigod aura was overwhelming. Had he not been a powerhouse himself, he would have been crushed into paste by the sheer weight of it.

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

ROAR—!

A sound tore through the deep—a cry that was part dragon, part whale, and entirely horrific.

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

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

The dreadnought groaned as its hull buckled. Metal shrieked, tearing apart like soggy paper.

The elite Cultists on board didn't even have a chance to cry out before they were sucked from the ruins and into the Dreadfin’s stomach.

Once the wreckage cleared, only a single figure remained.

A gentleman wearing a tailored suit, a top hat, and spectacles floated in the water. Cloaked in divine power, he struggled to hold his ground against the Dreadfin's pull.

It was a puppet. It was the Clown.

"Envoy Nym'zarith," Kraken said, straightening his back as the crushing weight evaporated. "The ocean is vast and the world is wide. Do not mistake Atlantis for an easy mark."

He stepped up beside the Witch, watching the standoff between the Clown and the gargantuan beast.

"I am merely the Third Marshal of Atlantis. My presence was a courtesy, not a lack of strength."

"But your little performance? That was an insult."

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

"Meet the Second Marshal of Atlantis. And a word of advice... he isn't nearly as patient as I am."