Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1379: The Vulture’s Pact

[Hulk]: Bro, do not underestimate the Cult of Four. And do not sleep on the Clown.

[Hulk]: They brought an armada to your doorstep. If this talk goes south, they aren’t just going to leave. They’re going to level the place.

It was the unspoken truth hanging over the entire conversation.

Who was the predator, and who was the prey?

The Champions Alliance wanted to swallow the Cult whole. The Cult, conversely, wanted to decapitate the Atlantis leadership or subjugate them entirely. If Leonidas aligned with the Sea Race, the Cult would bleed. If Leonidas aligned with the mainland forces of the Champions Alliance, the Cult would be surrounded.

Complexity bred negotiation. The Cult’s Pontiffs were pragmatic; a powerful servant was always preferable to a dead enemy.

[Leonidas]: Vultures. The lot of them.

Leonidas cursed, fully aware of the precarious ledge he was standing on.

[Edward]: It is decided. Let them think they’ve won.

[Edward]: If they choose the path we want least... so be it. We reveal our hand early. But for now, play the game.

Silverwood Realm, Atlantis

When Leonidas, Orion, and Kraken opened their eyes, the glaze of their "trance" evaporated. Pontiff Valerius watched them closely, knowing the verdict had been reached.

"Pontiff Valerius," Leonidas began, his voice losing its previous edge of manic aggression. "I must admit, your terms are... persuasive. We accept. Atlantis will pledge its allegiance to the Cult of Four."

The transition was seamless. Leonidas played the part of the converted warlord to perfection, offering a respectful nod to the delegation.

"However," Leonidas added, leaning forward, "let us be clear on the fine print."

He wasn’t begging; he was negotiating terms of surrender. Valerius and his entourage didn’t flinch. They expected pushback. In fact, if Leonidas had rolled over too easily, they would have suspected a trap immediately. They had prepared contingencies—threats, magical coercion, and if necessary, total annihilation—but they preferred a willing asset.

"Our condition is simple," Leonidas said, his gaze hard. "We are allies, not cannon fodder. We are not suicide troops."

"Atlantis will bleed for the unification of the Moon Sea," he continued, "but we will not be the first ones thrown into the meat grinder."

It was a reasonable demand. Currently, the Sea Race and the Cult were the primary belligerents. The smartest move for Leonidas was to secure his position on the sidelines and avoid the heavy lifting.

"Grand Marshal, please," Valerius said, placing a hand over his heart with practiced sincerity. "Do not mistake us for tyrants. The Cult of Four cherishes its own. We are a family."

"By standing with us, Atlantis ensures its future," Valerius said, his smile tightening just a fraction. "Rest assured, when the time comes to prove your loyalty... the trial grounds will likely not even be in this world."

The threat was subtle, wrapped in velvet. Valerius was promising safety here, while hinting at the inevitable "audit" that would take place later, likely in a realm where the Cult held absolute dominion.

"Then it is settled!" Leonidas roared, slamming the table—this time in celebration. "We are family! Guards! Bring the wine! We feast!"

Valerius nodded, satisfied. The tension in the room broke, replaced by the clatter of plates and the pouring of spirits. The immediate crisis was averted. Now, they would discuss the logistics of hunting down the Sea Race.

The Northern Waste, Unknown Underground Caverns

These dark, winding tunnels were not merely a geological feature. They were the primordial cradle of the Insect lineage—the ancestral birthing grounds of the Insectoids.

For the remnants of the sentient insectoid population, the inter-world war was not a catastrophe; it was a miracle. The shift in the planar laws, the bleeding of realities, had triggered a biological renaissance. Their evolution was accelerating, breaking past genetic ceilings that had held them down for centuries.

"My son," a raspy voice echoed off the damp stone walls. "This is where it began. This is the womb of the First Generation."

Deep within the cavern, a massive, imposing Insectoid named Kar’Sheen stood before a pulsating, ancient structure. It was a fossilized chrysalis, a relic left behind by the first Hive Lord when it ascended to sentience.

"The last two generations of Lords were fools," Kar’Sheen spat, his mandibles clicking in disgust. "Their ambition outstripped their intellect. They led us into ruin."

He turned his multi-faceted eyes toward the boy standing beside him.

"But the past is dead, Eryndor. We are forging a new branch of the evolutionary tree. And it begins with your blood."

The boy, Eryndor, looked nothing like his father. He was a teenager, appearing almost entirely human. He stared into the abyss of the ancient cocoon, silent and stoic.

He was the son of Kar’Sheen, yes. But he was also the son of Rowena.

He was the half-brother of Lokiviria, the tragic figure who had sacrificed herself. But unlike her, Eryndor was a survivor.

Years ago, when the Clown had come hunting for Rowena, she had anticipated the danger. She had swapped her newborn son, hiding him away before leading the Clown on a chase that separated her from the Hive. Kar’Sheen and Eryndor had survived in the shadows.

For a long time, Kar’Sheen had looked at the boy with disdain. The human blood from Rowena was potent; it suppressed the insectoid traits. Eryndor displayed the characteristics of the Skybond lineage—he looked human and possessed an innate, telepathic affinity with the giant Thunderhawks of the northern cliffs. To Kar’Sheen, the boy had been a failure, a dilution of the pure strain.

But the world had changed.

The invasion of the foreign laws had unlocked something dormant in Eryndor’s genetic code. The insectoid heritage was waking up, not fighting the Skybond blood, but fusing with it.

"We start again in this new world," Kar’Sheen whispered, a rare tenderness in his voice.

Eryndor nodded once. Without a word, he stepped over the rim of the ancient chrysalis and lay down inside the hollow chamber.

"Sleep, my child," Kar’Sheen murmured. "Sleep and become what we were always meant to be. I will watch over you."

As the boy closed his eyes, a tremor ran through the cavern.