Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1408: Cetus Giants

Silverwood Realm, The Sunless Depths.

To Orion, this unknown expanse of ocean was simply the "Sunless Depths"—a world of crushing pressure and eternal twilight.

When thousands of combat units converged here, descending toward the deepest trenches, the spectacle was nothing short of magnificent. In the pitch-black void of the hydro-sphere, a race war of unprecedented scale was silently brewing.

The only illumination came from bioluminescent flora and fauna. Unless one actively extended their sensory perception, the naked eye caught nothing but fleeting shadows darting through the gloom.

"Bro, are we seriously not going to notify the Deputy Commander?"

On the deck of a Sea-Devouring Warship, the atmosphere was jarringly casual. Orion, Leonidas, and Kraken were lounging as if on a holiday cruise. A spread of beer, barbecue, and freshly sliced sashimi lay before them.

"Relax, brother. There is no rush," Orion replied, picking at a skewer. "We wait until the Cult of Four and the Sea Race are at each other’s throats. Only then do we send word. besides, if neither side reveals their trump cards, do you really want our boys to be the first ones into the meat grinder?"

Leonidas knew Orion didn’t literally mean to abandon their allies, but the Spartan had a habit of speaking his mind, especially when surrounded by his own kin.

"Boss, I have to admit... the Sea Race is acting strange," Kraken said. He popped a slice of raw fish into his mouth and idly twirled a silver fork in his fingers, displaying a dexterity bordering on performance art.

"You have a thought, spit it out," Leonidas grunted, lifting a bottle of his own homebrew. "Before the fighting starts and it’s too late."

He took a long, glugging swig. The "beer" was a potent, sour mash that paired aggressively well with the greasy barbecue, hitting the head with the force of a warhammer.

"I am of the Sea Race, even if I am not native to these specific waters," Kraken began, his eyes narrowing. "I know how my kind thinks. This arrogance—ignoring the enemy, refusing to seek allies—it is unnatural. The high-caste Sea Race possess an intellect that rivals any human strategist or scholar."

Kraken had his own perspective on aquatic politics. To him, the behavior of the Silverwood natives looked less like confidence and more like bait.

"Three things bother me," Kraken continued, counting off on his fingers. "First, their ’Esteemed Patrons’ have made no attempt to contact us, let alone form an alliance. For an intelligent species facing extinction, that is suicide."

"Second, there have been no reports of the Sea Race launching preemptive strikes or raids against the Cult of Four. It feels like they are waiting for us to knock on their front door."

Kraken set down his fork, his expression hardening.

"Third... the water is too calm. In the deep ocean, absolute stillness is the precursor to a catastrophe—tsunamis, eruptions, quakes. Boss, we need to be careful. We cannot just charge in."

Their mission was ostensibly to support the Cult of Four, joining the siege on the Sea Race’s base of operations. They were currently en route to the front lines.

"Kraken is right, brother," Leonidas agreed, wiping foam from his beard. "The Cult of Four still owes us. We shouldn’t commit our forces until they pay up. At the very least, we need to taste some profit before we bleed."

This aligned with Orion’s strategy. He had no intention of becoming a loyal dog to the Cult. The plan was to let the two factions batter each other into exhaustion, then sweep in like the apex predator to claim the spoils. Timing was everything.

"We will proceed as planned," Orion decided. "When we reach the battlefield, we encircle but do not engage. We wait for the bastards from the Cult to come begging. The more desperate they are, the weirder this situation is."

Miles away, in the abyssal dark, the vanguard of the Cult of Four collided with the defenders.

The Sea Race was protecting an ancient underwater metropolis: Azurehold.

These were not primitive savages. They possessed a highly advanced magical civilization and powerful physical forms. They were bloodline warriors who commanded the hydro-elemental forces of the ocean itself.

Leading the defense were the towering Cetus Giants.

These giants possessed two distinct forms. In their humanoid state, they stood over five hundred feet tall upon reaching adulthood, capable of mastering complex martial arts. In their primal form—the Leviathan State—they transformed into colossal, whale-like behemoths, far larger than any natural whale, armored in dragon-like scales that made them nearly impervious to physical harm.

Flanking the giants was a menagerie of horrors: Merfolk, Serpentfolk, Crab-men, Sea-Drakes, and Shark-kin. They formed a living wall around their territory, holding the invaders at bay.

"The enemy has breached the perimeter!"

"The Sea of the Dead is about to unseal. Hold them at the gates of Azurehold at all costs!"

Azurehold was the heart of their power. A mighty voice boomed from the city, resonating through the water, vibrating against the eardrums of every Sea Race warrior for miles.

War was a machine, and someone had just slammed the lever to ’full throttle.’

Titanion Realm, Stoneheart City.

In this city guarded by a Demigod, the markets were a perpetual riot of noise and commerce. The main gates and thoroughfares were choked with travelers.

Yet, for Ariselle, the Blood Elf Princess, the crowds were secondary. What shocked her was the air itself. The density of mana here was suffocatingly rich—far beyond anything she had ever known.

"Aunt Delphine, can you feel it?" Ariselle whispered, her eyes wide. "It’s an Elemental Tide!"

She closed her eyes, inhaling greedily. The magical energy coursing through the streets was at least ten times more potent than back home in the City of Blessings.

"Rumors say the Lord’s wife has planted countless rare magical flora in the castle gardens," High Princess Delphine replied quietly, scanning the crowd. "They say she raises Aetherial Elves there, and someone even claimed to see a fat Fae sleeping on a demon flower."

"There is also talk of a Saintess from the Verdant Tribe among the Giant King’s consorts," Delphine continued. "They say she tends to the land daily, making the Stoneheart Horde’s territory richer and more habitable with every sunrise."

None of this was secret. During the celebration of Orion’s ascension to Archlord, many dignitaries had visited the castle, and stories had leaked out like water through a sieve.

"Wow," Ariselle breathed. "Aunt Delphine... honestly? This feels like it should be our territory. It’s perfect for Elves."

She spoke without malice, merely voicing an innocent, covetous thought.

Immediately, High Princess Delphine’s hand clamped over Ariselle’s mouth. Her eyes darted around the luxurious carriage, checking the windows.

Fortunately, the roar of the street outside drowned out the girl’s treasonous words. In Stoneheart City, extravagant carriages carrying "esteemed patrons" were common enough that no one paid them any mind.

After a tense moment, Delphine slowly released her grip, leaning in to whisper a stern warning.