Titan King: Ascension of the Giant Chapter 1463 Aerial Execution

Kaelen invoked the Serpent-Demon's Grasp, that relic gifted to him by Orion, charging directly into confrontation with the adversary.

Thwip!

Azhur flung his trident forth. The spear howled as it sliced across the sky, ripping open a void in its path.

Kaelen's wings burst wide, launching him along an erratic, serrated trajectory that caused the trident to miss entirely, hitting empty space. Next, Kaelen veered sharply and plunged downward, descending like a celestial raptor in pursuit of its quarry.

Down below, Azhur, the warlord of the Insectoids, propelled himself skyward from atop a colossal beetle's head. In mid-air, his chitinous shell twisted horrifically; bony spikes burst out from his limbs and back. Azhur broke them free in swift motions, hurling them skyward. These bone spears created a deadly formation, aimed at lacerating the swooping Kaelen to shreds.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Metal clashing against bone echoed loudly as the Serpent-Demon's Grasp—taking shape as six ghostly dragon talons—batted away the incoming threats. Azhur's volley failed to breach the protective barrier formed by Kaelen's artifact.

Yet Azhur had more in store. The repelled bone spears halted abruptly, looping back in sharp curves to target Kaelen's vulnerable rear.

Kaelen spared not a single look over his shoulder.

Surrounded by the six dragon claws that circled him like intelligent guardians, he placed absolute faith in his protection and concentrated solely on Azhur.

Their collision was over in an instant.

Kaelen descended; Azhur stabbed his trident skyward in a frantic assault.

Within moments, the troops of the Second Legion, positioned beyond Soaring Bird City, watched as Kaelen grabbed Azhur and hauled him up into the lofty skies.

Blood then poured down like a storm.

Azhur, ruler of the Myriapex Race, got ripped apart. Kaelen, combining his personal might with the devastating force of the draconic claws, tore the bug-man into pieces.

The execution proved savage. Kaelen's overwhelming superiority stunned the Second Legion completely.

Truth be told, Azhur was just a naturally developed Insect King, hardly touching the edges of genuine Lord-level might. Kaelen's display was mostly for show.

For one, Kaelen occupied the utmost height of Legend rank; with sufficient faith accumulated and lands claimed, he teetered on the brink of becoming an Archlord. Also, the Serpent-Demon's Grasp ranked as a Legend artifact—a tool usually only dropped by a deceased Archlord. Employing it against Azhur resembled smashing a gnat with a massive hammer.

"Incredible power..."

"Gods above, what strength..."

Thundar uttered the initial comment. Being a Legend too, he sensed the immense, fearsome aura emanating from Kaelen's lineage.

The knight Godfrey whispered the second line.

In Stoneheart, Legend-rank savage fighters weren't unknown, and Godfrey had observed their combats. However, those fights dragged on as grueling endurance tests. None concluded a battle with the horrifying swiftness Kaelen had just shown.

ROAR!

Azhur slain, Kaelen floated amid the clouds and unleashed a thunderous bellow, declaring his status as the swarm's fresh dominant force.

Hiss!

Hiss! Hiss!

Within Soaring Bird City, a thick quiet shattered as chittering swelled up. Insect by insect, the horde added their voices. This noise signaled surrender, a hideous cheer for their emerging sovereign.

Kaelen bellowed again. At once, the myriad millipedes and beetles wheeled around, tunneling into the soil or darting into darkness, disappearing with the same speed they had arrived.

"It... it's over? Just like that?"

Aldwyn gaped at the deserted avenues of Soaring Bird City. He scrubbed at his eyes, struggling to comprehend what unfolded. The Insect King who once drove him to run in panic lay dead? And that swarm—the infinite, nightmarish flood that froze him in dread—now fought for them?

Such a bizarre shift would have seemed impossible had he not seen it himself.

"Hail the Commander!"

From the forefront of the Second Legion, Thundar, astride his dragon mount, lifted his massive sword aloft to honor the triumphant return.

"Hail the Commander!"

Trailing Thundar, the giants recovered from their daze and added their shouts.

"Hail the Commander!"

In the end, the whole Second Legion exploded in cheers, their cries surging like an ocean swell.

Power invariably earned admiration.

Besides, the greater Kaelen's prowess as Vice-Commander, the more triumphs and honors the Legion would gather beneath his leadership. Above all, he had subdued the swarm.

The keenest observers grasped right away that this would mark the Second Legion's hallmark. Backed by an endless insect horde as their frontline, their campaign of expansion would unfold smoothly.

World of Eldoria.

Within a makeshift command pavilion, Tangere, Caesar, and Scarecrow lingered in anticipation.

Together with their individual squads, they fell under Elara's oversight. As the allied army gathered fully, the Archlords hashed out the assault plans, forcing the trio of leaders to pass the time idly.

"Branric, that form of yours... you're basically immortal, right?"

Caesar failed to conceal his intrigue. He had figured "Scarecrow" served as a pseudonym or a label for Branric's kind.

Yet upon meeting the entity face-to-face, Caesar understood the straightforward reality: Branric truly resembled a scarecrow.

At present, Branric seemed forged from pure gold. His kind resisted curses, shrugged off harmful conditions, and required no sustenance or rest.

"Heh... it's not quite the honor you imagine," Branric replied, wagging his gilded head.

In a way, he mirrored the undead. Still, the Scarecrow species faced constraints Caesar overlooked.

Typical races, reaching Lord rank, could wield higher energies to soar or weave magic. Scarecrows couldn't. Any superior energy Branric tried to harness got sucked right into his form to preserve its solidity.

Put simply, the Scarecrow race proved unable to perform even one spell.

Branric depended solely on his body's toughness and brute strength. He functioned as a dedicated physical fighter out of compulsion. That said, thanks to his extreme compactness, his velocity and striking power terrified.

"The directives won't take much longer," Tangere cut in, redirecting talk to strategy. "Let's go over how our forces mesh."

"My group features Plague Zombies," Tangere went on. "They're disposable and bold, yet I require steady organic matter to restore their ranks."

"My Sword and Shield troops excel in defense," Caesar pointed out. "Although they can unleash crushing close-quarters rushes."

"And Branric's Scarecrow unit resists nearly all sorcery and hexes, acting as heavy-hitting melee breakers," Tangere concluded.

These formed their assets. Orion included them in this venture both to guide their growth and because he counted on them to bear serious loads in combat.

As part of the Champions Alliance, Tangere understood the risks. Numerous mighty groups joined this conflict. To safeguard his dignity and their modest group's reputation, they couldn't become the frailest part.

"This is our setup during battle," Tangere suggested. "I'll manage horde suppression and terrain shifts. Caesar, you concentrate on cutting down foe lines. Branric, you're the fortress—protection and quick aid for any under threat."

"Does that suit you all?"

It represented a solid split of roles drawing from their distinct skills. Tangere held the Death's Threshold domain, excelling in zone lockdown and dominance. Caesar's blade work proved deadly, ideal for harvesting foes. Branric, boasting unbreakable build, stood as the supreme guard versus surprises and killers.

"No issues," Caesar agreed. "I'll trail your guidance, Tangere."

"Likewise," Branric affirmed with a nod. "We advance at your signal."