Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1376 Bait

All sense of time faded away. At last, Orion's eyes fluttered open once more.

"I understand."

Via the quiet pulse of his bloodline, Orion had absorbed the full backstory about Kaelen.

He gave his nod of approval.

The urge Kaelen felt to pursue Arch Lord Emeric went beyond mere comprehension; it was essential. This echoed Orion's fierce grudge toward Reynard following the slaying of his sibling, Clymene.

Certain blemishes demanded cleansing through bloodshed alone. Certain degradations required a direct confrontation.

When Kaelen eliminates Emeric, the moment will arrive to return him and his mother to their rightful place, Orion resolved.

Should Kaelen prevail, he would validate his worth. He would temper his spirit amid harsh trials unlike what Kronos and Pallas ever endured. While Caelus embodied the genius that Orion esteemed, Kaelen represented the resilient fighter that Orion held in high regard.

"He merits a grander arena," Orion whispered softly, shutting his eyes amid a pleased grin. "He merits the supplies to expend and the room to expand."

Orion sank once again into the profound rest of godhood, his thoughts now serene.

Silverwood Realm, Current's Bend

Tension hung heavily in the atmosphere.

Beyond the independent haven of Atlantis, scores of war vessels floated on the swells, their platforms swarming with plated soldiers and Sea Race fighters. Yet the fleet posed no true danger. Trailing the fleet, a colossal entity hid under the waves, now and then surfacing to emit a deep, rumbling snarl that rattled the frames of close ships.

This was the Sacred Beast belonging to the Cult of Four—Pontiff Valerius's cherished companion.

Within Atlantis's submerged stronghold, rival groups faced off across from one another.

The hosts occupied the left side: Leonidas, the Prime Grand Marshal, clad in splendid attire topped with dragon-like protrusions on his brow; the Abyssal Dreadfin Orion, manifesting in his hybrid man-beast shape; and Kraken, bearing a huge cephalopod perched on his skull as if it were a vital headdress.

As a group, they resembled a vivid scene of ancient terrors—three beasts hardly restrained by mortal seating.

The visitors claimed the right: The Clown, Valerius, Yriel, the Witch, and the Enigmatic Demigod.

The quintet commanding the Cult of Four showed up in mortal guise, emitting no obvious pressure. Still, every dweller in Atlantis sensed the burden of their arrival. The Cult had come, carrying the tempest in their wake.

In spite of the lopsided balance, Leonidas pounded the surface with his fist, locking gazes with Valerius squarely.

"We may yield. We may align with the Cult of Four," Leonidas proclaimed, his tone thundering. "Yet these are our conditions: We claim rule over all the Moon Sea. And we insist on a rank surpassing the High Priestess."

He bent closer, flashing fangs in a savage smile. "We seek true authority. Don't attempt to placate us with hollow honors."

It resembled a beast's bold claim. Devouring the whole Moon Sea? Pure insanity. Should the Cult consent, the siblings would surge to dominant forces overnight.

Yet the Pontiffs held no illusions.

"Grand Marshal, your ambitions stretch too far," Pontiff Valerius responded calmly, his manner composed. "Granting you the full Moon Sea leaves the Cult with zero reward from this conflict. I can't accept that. My partners won't accept. My followers won't accept."

Valerius fronted the talks. The Clown and his companions remained quiet, echoing the stillness of Orion and Kraken. This unfolded as a clash of rulers and commanders.

"Hand over the Moon Sea, and Atlantis shall offer tribute," Leonidas shot back. "However, the Sea Race will rule these depths. We refuse to serve as mere fodder you summon for your battles."

This followed a time-honored bargaining ploy: request the unattainable to set the baseline, then bargain toward your true goal. Leonidas wielded the "purity" of Atlantis's independence as leverage to probe the Cult's boundaries.

"One quarter," Valerius stated, lifting four digits. At last, he marked his boundary. "Autonomy over one quarter of the waters is yours, as long as tribute flows."

"One quarter?" Leonidas tilted his head skyward and bellowed with laughter. "Pontiff Valerius, is this a jest? Do you view Atlantis as feeble?"

"Current's Bend by itself nearly equals a third of the Moon Sea!" Leonidas bellowed.

Naturally, he exaggerated. Current's Bend formed a vast inlet, yet it spanned less than one percent of the Moon Sea's expanse. Still, Leonidas blended terrain with influence— alluding to the ongoing threefold power split in the area.

"Current's Bend holds beauty, and Atlantis commands strength," Valerius admitted, undisturbed by the drama. "That's precisely our purpose here. But one third marks our firm ceiling."

Valerius observed the three with sincere regard. Leonidas exuded the clear essence of a Demigod. Orion, appearing now as an Arch Lord, had shattered the Clown's Demigod illusion, confirming his actual form as Divine. Moreover, the Witch praised Kraken lavishly.

By binding the loyalty of the three Grand Marshals, Valerius would deliver to the Cult two warriors at Demigod tier right away. And crucially, they would owe him their gratitude.

"Grand Marshal, prior to your next denial," Valerius cut in while Leonidas parted his lips to dispute.

"One third sets the territorial cap. The assets and forces invested in the Moon Sea effort are immense; splitting the gains proves intricate."

Valerius halted, allowing the quiet to intensify. Then he revealed his trump card.

"That said, considering Atlantis's might... we stand ready to grant a unique concession. The five of us together will endorse to His Grace your elevation, Grand Marshal Leonidas, to the ranks of the Twelve Pontiffs in the Cult of Four."

Valerius grinned. "A genuine Pontiff. Holding a true place among us. Exactly as I do."

Silence engulfed the chamber.

This marked the pivotal shift. Leonidas, Orion, and Kraken stiffened. They traded looks, their gazes sharpening as if sharing thoughts without words.

Valerius and the Clown reclined, patient in their vigil. They grasped the gravity of their proposal. They allowed the astonishment to linger.

The lure had been seized. All that remained was for the trap to close.