Titan King: Ascension of the Giant - Chapter 1343

Capítulo 1343: The Witch and the Vultures

Kraken’s face twisted into a sneer, perfectly mimicking the arrogant disdain the Sea Race typically held for outsiders. He was playing the role to perfection.

“Grand Marshal, let’s cut the theatrics,” the Marilith Naga purred. Her voice was dripping with honey, the kind of tone that suggested promises of dark pleasures. In Kraken’s experience, that specific cadence usually belonged to women who knew exactly how to weaponize their sexuality.

Of course, seduction and genuine intimacy were two very different beasts.

While the Marilith Naga’s voice was soft, her posture was rigid, radiating a sense of icy superiority. She looked at him not as an equal, but as a bug she hadn’t decided whether to crush or keep in a jar.

“I know why you’re here,” Kraken scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Then you know I offer a choice. And having options is a luxury, isn’t it?”

Kraken wasn’t some fresh-off-the-boat rookie. After spending years reincarnated as a massive octopus, his aesthetic preferences had… drifted. To his current sensibilities, this “stunning” Naga held less appeal than a nice, slimy, magnetic cephalopod.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward, after Kraken didn’t immediately take the bait.

He broke the tension with a boisterous, deliberate laugh. “Hah! You haven’t even given me a name, beautiful.”

“Does it matter?” she countered smoothly.

“I suppose not,” Kraken shrugged. “But even if we have choices, we’d need to see the menu first. I assume the Cult of Four has prepared quite the spread of incentives to buy our loyalty?”

Before the Marilith Naga could retort, Kraken stepped aside, sweeping his arm in an exaggerated gesture of welcome. “After you.”

The woman shot him a look that was equal parts amusement and calculation, then flashed a sultry smile. She slithered forward, leading her retinue of Temple Knights into the heart of Atlantis.

…

Deep within the city, concealed behind high-level cloaking wards, Leonidas and Orion watched the procession.

“Bro, stop guessing. That’s the Witch. 100%,” Leonidas whispered, his voice dripping with absolute certainty.

“You sure?” Orion shot him a skeptical look. “You giving me that look because you slept with her or something?”

Leonidas rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “Please. Bodies can change, forms can be polymorphed, but a woman’s subconscious habits? Those are damn near permanent.”

He narrowed his eyes, a glint of sharp, predatory intelligence flickering in them—a look Orion rarely saw on the usually brash warrior. “The Witch doesn’t realize she’s doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Look at the footwear. It’s a dead giveaway.” Leonidas pointed a gloved finger. “High heels. Combat stilettos, specifically. Have you ever seen a standard Naga wear high heels? And look at the corset—she ties the sash in a double butterfly knot. Those are tells. They don’t fool me. I happen to be one of the few people who knows her little quirks.”

Orion blinked, realization dawning on him. When he had scanned the envoy earlier, something had felt off, but he couldn’t place it. The high heels had looked like armored greaves integrated into her lower half, so he hadn’t thought twice about it. But now that Leonidas mentioned it, the silhouette was unmistakable.

“Damn,” Orion muttered. “So, bro, if the Witch is here in the flesh… think she’s bringing us a surprise?”

Penetrating the Cult of Four’s inner circle had been their plan for a while. It was a high-risk, high-reward play. The most direct path was to feign allegiance, help them crush the Sea Race coalition guarding the abyssal depths, and secure a position of power.

But that strategy conflicted with the founding principles of Atlantis.

When Orion, Leonidas, and Kraken built this place, the goal was simple: play the Cult of Four and the Sea Race against each other, carve out a third slice of the oceanic pie, and farm faith energy. They wanted a tripartite stalemate.

They had achieved that, barely. But their success had drawn the Eye of Sauron—both major factions were now watching Atlantis closely. The war between the Cult and the Sea Race had stalled, largely because Atlantis had grown too big to ignore.

“Surprise?” Leonidas snorted. “Try ‘catastrophe.’ Hulk, mark my words: The Witch doesn’t bring gifts. She brings schemes.”

Leonidas knew the Witch’s playbook. She was all about leverage and poison—metaphorical and otherwise.

“Dammit. Speaking of idiots, the Sea Race really is brain-dead,” Leonidas grumbled, his thoughts shifting to the other side of the conflict. “I don’t know how those demigods managed to level up with such low INT stats.”

In Leonidas’s eyes, the Sea Race leadership in the Silverwood Realm was hopelessly parochial. They lacked vision.

“Think about it,” Leonidas continued, warming up to his rant. “The Champions Alliance on the Moonlight Continent already kicked the Cult’s ass. If the Sea Race had two brain cells to rub together, they would have marched onto land, bent the knee, and formed a legit coalition with the Alliance.”

“Right,” Orion nodded. “Pincer movement.”

“Exactly! Combine their high-end combat power. Drive the Cult of Four out of the Silverwood Realm entirely. Sure, the Sea Race would have to give up some territory rights, but they’d survive. Instead? It’s been ten years, and they’re still turtling, acting like the Champions Alliance doesn’t exist.”

“If we can’t stall any longer,” Leonidas said, his voice dropping to a ruthless register, “I’d rather join the Cult of Four than help those stubborn fish-heads. Working with smart villains keeps you on your toes. Working with idiots just gets you killed.”

It was a cold calculation. The Sea Race refused to coordinate with the Moonlight Continent or The Demigod of the Moonwell because they were too greedy to share the ocean. That greed was going to be their undoing. They were hoarding a shrinking cake.

“Joining the Cult isn’t the worst play,” Orion mused. “But if we help them unify the ocean, aren’t we just cranking up the game difficulty for ourselves later?”

If the Cult of Four secured the seas, the Moonlight Continent would become an isolated island, besieged on all sides. It would be a slow chokehold.

Leonidas grinned, a wicked expression that promised chaos. “Heh. Hulk, why so honest? We don’t have to be loyal minions.”

“You mean…”

“Why can’t we be the vultures? Let them bleed each other dry in the main battle. We sandbag, do the bare minimum, and call in the Deputy Commander to clean up the mess when everyone is exhausted.”

Orion chuckled. Compared to Leonidas, he still had a lot to learn about being devious.

Kraken and the Witch were still negotiating. The situation hadn’t reached the point of no return yet. They still had room to maneuver.

Titanion Realm, Stoneheart City

Orion stepped through the portal three days after adding Seraphina to his collection.

Seraphina, being a demigod powerhouse in her own right, obviously didn’t tag along to Stoneheart. The idea of her bowing down to Lilith and “paying respects” to the head wife was laughable. If Marina couldn’t be tamed, Seraphina certainly wasn’t going to play the submissive housewife.

Orion didn’t bother trying to force it. With Lilith’s power level, asking her to manage a harem of alpha females was a recipe for a nuclear meltdown. The best strategy was the path of least resistance: let the powerful women ignore each other’s existence.

Besides, he had bigger concerns.

News of Orion’s return had hit Stoneheart like a lightning bolt. The entire city was vibrating with a manic energy.

From the high balcony of his castle, Orion could physically feel it. Waves of fanatical faith energy were rushing toward him, relentless and heavy. It wasn’t just admiration; it was worship. The purity of it was staggering, even to him.