Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1408 Cetus Giants

Silverwood Realm, The Sunless Depths.

For Orion, this vast, mysterious ocean stretched out as nothing more than the "Sunless Depths"—a realm dominated by intense pressure and endless dimness.

As thousands of fighting forces gathered in this place, plunging into the profoundest abysses, the sight proved utterly awe-inspiring. Within the total darkness of the watery domain, a massive conflict between races was quietly taking shape.

Bioluminescent plants and creatures provided the sole light. Without deliberately stretching out one's senses, the bare eyes would only glimpse quick shadows slipping past in the murk.

"Bro, are we really not gonna tell the Deputy Commander?"

Aboard a Sea-Devouring Warship's deck, the vibe stood out as oddly relaxed. Orion, Leonidas, and Kraken reclined like they were on a leisurely voyage. Beer, grilled meats, and fresh sashimi slices were arrayed in front of them.

"Chill out, brother. No need to hurry," Orion answered, nibbling on a skewer. "We'll hold off until the Cult of Four and the Sea Race are locked in fierce battle. That's when we pass the message. Besides, if neither group shows their hidden strengths, do you want our troops to lead the charge into the slaughter?"

Leonidas understood that Orion wasn't truly suggesting they ditch their comrades, yet the Spartan always voiced his blunt opinions, particularly among his close companions.

"Boss, I've gotta say... the Sea Race seems off," Kraken remarked. He slipped a piece of uncooked fish between his lips and casually spun a silver fork between his digits, showing off a skill that felt almost like a show.

"If you've got an idea, just say it," Leonidas grumbled, grabbing a bottle of his homemade brew. "Before the clash begins and it's too late."

He gulped down a deep, noisy pull. That "beer" was a strong, tangy concoction that clashed boldly with the fatty barbecue, striking the skull like a mighty hammer blow.

"I'm part of the Sea Race, though not from these exact seas," Kraken started, his gaze sharpening. "I understand my people's mindset. This overconfidence—disregarding foes, turning down partnerships—it's not normal. The elite Sea Race hold a sharpness of mind that matches top human tacticians or thinkers."

Kraken brought his unique view to the undersea schemes. In his eyes, the Silverwood locals' actions appeared more like a trap than true assurance.

"Three issues trouble me," Kraken went on, ticking them off with his fingers. "First, their 'Esteemed Patrons' haven't tried reaching out to us, much less building a bond. For a smart race staring down doom, that's pure folly."

"Second, no news has come of the Sea Race hitting first with attacks or ambushes on the Cult of Four. It seems they're just biding time for us to approach their doorstep."

Kraken placed his fork aside, his face growing serious.

"Third... the waters stay too still. Down in the profound depths, total quiet signals the start of disaster—tidal waves, outbursts, tremors. Boss, we must stay alert. Charging ahead blindly won't do."

Their task appeared to be aiding the Cult of Four in assaulting the Sea Race's stronghold. Right now, they headed toward the conflict zone.

"Kraken's got a point, brother," Leonidas concurred, brushing suds from his facial hair. "The Cult of Four still owes us big. We hold back our troops till they settle the debt. Least we can do is grab some gains before spilling blood."

This matched Orion's approach perfectly. He refused to act as the Cult's faithful servant. The scheme involved allowing both sides to wear themselves down in combat, then moving in as the top hunter to seize the rewards. Precision in timing mattered most.

"We'll stick to the plan," Orion resolved. "Once we're at the fight site, we surround but stay out of it. We'll hold until the Cult's scum come pleading. The greater their panic, the stranger this whole setup feels."

Far off in the profound blackness, the Cult of Four's front lines smashed into the guardians.

The Sea Race guarded an age-old submerged city: Azurehold.

Far from wild barbarians, they boasted a sophisticated arcane society and robust bodies. As lineage fighters, they wielded the water-based powers of the sea.

Commanding the resistance stood the immense Cetus Giants.

Such giants held two separate shapes. When in human-like mode, adults towered beyond five hundred feet, skilled in intricate fighting techniques. In their wild shape—the Leviathan State—they shifted into enormous, whale-resembling monsters, dwarfing real whales, covered in scaly armor like a dragon's that rendered them almost immune to bodily damage.

Supporting the giants came a horde of terrors: Merfolk, Serpentfolk, Crab-men, Sea-Drakes, and Shark-kin. They built a barrier of life encircling their domain, keeping attackers distant.

"The foe has broken through the outer line!"

"The Sea of the Dead will soon be released. Keep them from the Azurehold entrances no matter what!"

Azurehold served as their core strength. A powerful call thundered from within the city, echoing across the waters and shaking the hearing of all Sea Race fighters over vast distances.

Conflict operated like a device, and now somebody had thrown the switch to maximum speed.

Titanion Realm, Stoneheart City.

Protected by a Demigod, this urban hub buzzed endlessly with clamor and trade. Crowds jammed the primary entrances and paths.

But to Ariselle, the Blood Elf Princess, the throngs mattered little. The true surprise hit her from the atmosphere. Mana's thickness here overwhelmed with its abundance—way denser than any she'd encountered before.

"Aunt Delphine, do you sense it?" Ariselle murmured, her eyes broadening. "It's an Elemental Tide!"

She shut her lids, breathing in deeply with eagerness. The arcane power flowing along the avenues surged at minimum tenfold stronger than in her homeland, the City of Blessings.

"Whispers claim the Lord's spouse has sown endless exotic magical plants in the palace grounds," High Princess Delphine answered softly, eyeing the masses. "Folks say she nurtures Aetherial Elves in there, and one person swore they spotted a plump Fae dozing on a devilish bloom."

"Word also spreads of a Saintess from the Verdant Tribe in the Giant King's companions," Delphine added. "They claim she cares for the earth each day, turning the Stoneheart Horde's lands more fertile and livable with each dawn."

All this stayed public knowledge. At Orion's rise to Archlord festivities, numerous officials toured the fortress, and tales spilled forth freely like liquid from a cracked barrier.

"Wow," Ariselle sighed. "Aunt Delphine... to be real? This place seems like it belongs to us. Elves would thrive here."

Her words carried no ill intent, just an open, envious musing.

At once, High Princess Delphine's palm pressed firmly over Ariselle's lips. Her gaze flicked about the opulent coach, inspecting the panes.

Luckily, the din from the road beyond masked the young one's disloyal remark. In Stoneheart City, lavish vehicles hauling "esteemed patrons" appeared so often that nobody spared them a glance.

Following a fraught pause, Delphine eased her hold bit by bit, bending close to deliver a sharp hushed admonition.