Titan King: Ascension of the Giant

Chapter 1463: Aerial Execution

Kaelen activated the Serpent-Demon’s Grasp, the artifact bestowed upon him by Orion, to meet the enemy head-on.

Thwip!

Azhur hurled his trident. The weapon screamed through the air, tearing a vacuum in its wake.

Kaelen’s wings snapped open, propelling him through a bizarre, jagged flight path that left the trident striking nothing but air. Then, Kaelen banked and dove, plummeting like a divine hawk hunting its prey.

On the ground, Azhur, the Insectoid warlord, launched himself from the head of a massive beetle. As he rose, his exoskeleton shifted grotesquely; bone spears erupted from his arms, thighs, and spine. Azhur snapped them off in rapid succession, flinging them upward. The bone spears formed a lethal phalanx, intended to shred the diving Kaelen into ribbons.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sound of metal on bone rang out as the Serpent-Demon’s Grasp—manifesting as six spectral draconic claws—swatted the projectiles aside. Azhur’s barrage couldn’t penetrate the defensive perimeter woven by Kaelen’s artifact.

But Azhur wasn’t finished. The bone spears that had been deflected suddenly arrested their momentum, curving back in tight arcs to strike at Kaelen’s exposed back.

Kaelen didn’t even glance behind him.

With the six draconic claws orbiting him like sentient shields, he trusted his defense implicitly and locked his focus entirely on Azhur.

The clash lasted only a heartbeat.

Kaelen dove; Azhur thrust his trident upward in a desperate charge.

In the blink of an eye, the soldiers of the Second Legion stationed outside Soaring Bird City saw Kaelen seize Azhur and drag him into the high heavens.

Then came the rain of blood.

Azhur, King of the Myriapex Race, was torn asunder. Kaelen, utilizing both his own strength and the crushing power of the draconic claws, ripped the insectoid limb from limb.

It was a brutal execution. The sheer dominance displayed by Kaelen left the Second Legion awestruck.

In reality, Azhur was merely a naturally evolved Insect King, barely scratching the surface of true Lord-tier power. Kaelen’s performance had been largely theatrical.

First, Kaelen stood at the absolute peak of the Legend rank; with enough gathered faith and territory, he was on the verge of ascending to Archlord. Second, the Serpent-Demon’s Grasp was a weapon of Legend—an artifact typically only yielded by a fallen Archlord. Using it to execute Azhur was like using a sledgehammer to crush an ant.

"Incredible power..."

"Gods above, what strength..."

The first remark came from Thundar. As a Legend himself, he could feel the overwhelming, terrifying pressure radiating from Kaelen’s bloodline.

The second whisper belonged to the knight, Godfrey.

In Stoneheart, wild warriors of Legend rank weren’t unheard of, and Godfrey had seen them fight. But their battles were drawn-out wars of attrition. They never ended a conflict with the terrifying efficiency Kaelen had just displayed.

ROAR!

With Azhur dead, Kaelen hovered in the firmament and let out a deafening roar, proclaiming himself the new apex predator of the swarm.

Hiss!

Hiss! Hiss!

Inside Soaring Bird City, a heavy silence was broken by a rising tide of chittering. One by one, the insectoids joined the chorus. It was the sound of submission, a grotesque ovation for their new king.

Kaelen roared once more. Immediately, the thousands of millipedes and beetles turned, burrowing back into the earth or skittering into the shadows, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared.

"It... it’s over? Just like that?"

Aldwyn stared blankly at the now-empty streets of Soaring Bird City. He rubbed his eyes, unable to process the scene. The Insect King that had once sent him fleeing in terror was dead? And the swarm—that endless, nightmare tide that had paralyzed him with fear—was now... on their side?

It was a turn of events so absurd that had he not witnessed it, he never would have believed it.

"Hail the Commander!"

At the vanguard of the Second Legion, Thundar, mounted atop his dragon beast, raised his greatsword high to salute the returning victor.

"Hail the Commander!"

Behind Thundar, the giants shook off their shock and joined the roar.

"Hail the Commander!"

Finally, the entire Second Legion erupted, their voices crashing like a tidal wave.

Strength always commanded respect.

Moreover, the stronger Kaelen was as their Vice-Commander, the more glory and merit the Legion would accrue under his banner. And most importantly, he had tamed the swarm.

The sharper minds among them realized immediately that this would become the Second Legion’s signature. With a boundless insect swarm acting as their vanguard, their path of conquest would be paved with ease.

World of Eldoria.

Inside a temporary command tent, Tangere, Caesar, and Scarecrow sat in wait.

They, along with their respective battalions, had been assigned to Elara’s command. With the coalition forces fully assembled, the Archlords were currently debating the invasion strategy, leaving the three captains to bide their time.

"Branric, that body of yours... you’re practically unkillable, aren’t you?"

Caesar couldn’t hide his fascination. He had assumed "Scarecrow" was a code name, or perhaps a title for Branric’s specific race.

But seeing the being in person, Caesar realized the literal truth: Branric was, effectively, a scarecrow.

Currently, Branric appeared to be cast from solid gold. His race was impervious to curses, immune to negative status effects, and lacked biological needs like hunger or fatigue.

"Heh... it’s not as glorious as you think," Branric said, shaking his golden head.

In a sense, he was akin to the undead. But the Scarecrow race had limitations Caesar hadn’t considered.

Most species, upon ascending to the rank of Lord, could manipulate transcendent power to fly or cast spells. The Scarecrows could not. Any transcendent power Branric attempted to channel was instantly absorbed by his own body to maintain its structural integrity.

In other words, the Scarecrow race couldn’t cast a single spell.

Branric had to rely entirely on the density of his frame and raw physical force. He was a pure physical cultivator by necessity. However, because his structural density was so high, his speed and impact force were terrifying.

"The orders shouldn’t be long now," Tangere interjected, steering the conversation back to business. "Let’s review our tactical synergy."

"My unit consists of Plague Zombies," Tangere continued. "They are expendable and fearless, but I need constant biomass to replenish their numbers."

"My Sword and Shield warriors are defensive specialists," Caesar noted. "Though they are capable of devastating short-range charges."

"And Branric’s Scarecrow division is immune to most magic and curses, serving as high-impact physical shock troops," Tangere finished.

These were the cards they held. Orion had brought them into this operation partly to mentor them, but also because he needed them to shoulder real weight on the battlefield.

As a member of the Champions Alliance, Tangere knew the stakes. Many powerful factions were involved in this war. For the sake of his own pride, and the standing of their small alliance, they could not afford to be the weak link.

"Here is the formation when we engage," Tangere proposed. "I will handle crowd control and battlefield manipulation. Caesar, you focus on slaughtering the enemy ranks. Branric, you are the bulwark—defense and rapid response for anyone in trouble."

"Does that work for everyone?"

It was a sound distribution of labor based on their unique talents. Tangere possessed the Death’s Threshold domain, making him a master of area denial and control. Caesar’s swordsmanship was lethal, perfect for reaping lives. And Branric, with his indestructible physiology, was the ultimate shield against ambushes and assassins.

"No objections," Caesar said. "I follow your lead, Tangere."

"Same here," Branric nodded. "We move on your command."