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

[Hulk]: Dude, never underestimate the Cult of Four. And don't overlook the Clown.

[Hulk]: They've parked an entire fleet right at your gates. Should these discussions fail, they won't simply pack up and go. No, they'll raze everything to the ground.

That grim reality lingered silently above the whole exchange.

Which side held the fangs, and which was the victim?

The Champions Alliance aimed to devour the entire Cult. In turn, 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 encircled.

Such tangled stakes demanded 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 razor-thin edge he balanced upon.

[Edward]: It's settled. Let them believe they've triumphed.

[Edward]: Should they pick the option we dread most... fine. We'll show our cards sooner. But right now, keep up the charade.

Silverwood Realm, Atlantis

As Leonidas, Orion, and Kraken blinked awake, the haze from their "trance" faded away. Pontiff Valerius observed them intently, certain the decision was final.

"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 embodied the reformed conqueror flawlessly, giving a courteous bow to the group.

"That said," Leonidas went on, shifting ahead, "we need to nail down the details."

He wasn't pleading; he was hashing out surrender clauses. Valerius and his team showed no surprise. They anticipated resistance. Actually, had Leonidas caved too fast, alarms would have rung about a ploy right away. They'd readied backups—intimidation, spell-based pressure, and outright destruction if pushed—but favored a cooperative prize.

"Our demand stays straightforward," Leonidas stated, eyes like steel. "We're partners, not disposable pawns. No suicide missions for us."

"Atlantis will spill blood for Moon Sea unity," he pressed on, "yet we refuse to lead the charge into the slaughter."

18:02

The request made perfect sense. At present, the Sea Race and Cult clashed as main foes. Leonidas's wisest play involved claiming a safe spot on the edges, dodging the brutal work.

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

"Joining us secures Atlantis's tomorrow," Valerius added, his grin sharpening subtly. "Have no doubt, when loyalty's tested... the challenge probably won't unfold in this realm."

The warning hid beneath smooth words. Valerius vowed protection locally, while alluding to the coming "review" elsewhere, in a domain the Cult ruled completely.

"Done deal!" Leonidas bellowed, pounding the table—this round in triumph. "Family it is! Guards! Fetch the wine! Time to celebrate!"

Valerius inclined his head, content. The room's strain shattered, giving way to dish clinks and liquor flows. The urgent threat passed. Next came planning the Sea Race pursuit.

The Northern Waste, Unknown Underground Caverns

These shadowy, twisting passages weren't just rock formations. They formed the ancient birthplace of the Insect line—the original hatching site for the Insectoids.

To the surviving thinking insectoids, the cross-world conflict wasn't disaster; it was salvation. The twist in planar rules, the merge of worlds, sparked a vital rebirth. Their growth sped up, shattering hereditary barriers that confined them for ages.

"My son," a gravelly tone bounced from the wet rock surfaces. "Here it all started. This is the cradle of the First Generation."

Far inside the cave, a huge, commanding Insectoid called Kar'Sheen faced 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, jaws snapping in scorn. "Their greed surpassed their brains. They dragged us to doom."

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

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

The youth, Eryndor, bore no resemblance to his sire. He seemed a teen, mostly human in look. He gazed into the old shell's void, quiet and resolute.

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

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 drawing the Clown away from the Hive. Kar'Sheen and Eryndor endured in hiding.

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

Yet the era shifted.

The foreign law influx stirred a hidden spark in Eryndor's genes. The bug ancestry stirred, not clashing with Skybond flow, but blending seamlessly.

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

Eryndor dipped his head once. Wordlessly, he crossed the ancient cocoon's edge and settled into its empty core.

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

With the youth's eyes shutting, a quake shook the cavern.