Emerging from the priest's tent, Jarius left the royal encampment and headed toward his clan's settlement.
The war was won, but departure was not yet permitted.
As he departed the royal grounds, a royal eaglefolk warrior informed him that if he couldn't let go of his tribe.
He could return to them for now.
The warrior seemed confident—almost arrogantly so—that Jarius would inevitably return to the royal court.
It wasn't just him; the entire Eaglefolk Royal Court brimmed with such unshakable certainty!
The warrior also mentioned that three days hence, a grand celebration for the Thunder Titan, Yatri, would be held.
Requiring all tribes to attend and sing praises to the mighty Titan.
Reuniting with his clansmen, they returned to the camp originally assigned to the tribal eaglefolks.
Only then did Jarius realize the grim truth: barely one in ten of the tribal eaglefolks remained. Every survivor was steeped in grief, their eyes hollow, moving like the walking dead.
This war had drained the lifeblood of the tribes of the Great Wilderness!
Yet the Royal Court stood aloof, untouchable, and none dared to defy them.
Only then did Jarius inquire about his clan's ordeal.
Soren explained that after Jarius lured away the two-headed wyvern, their group was conscripted by a squad of royal eaglefolk warriors. Thrust into a cannon-fodder unit, they were placed at the forefront to face the griffin swarm of the dragon faction.
Within moments, over a dozen clansmen perished. Were it not for their bronze armor and the war's abrupt end—when the Titan giant tore apart the Blue Dragon King—the losses would have been catastrophic.
"The royal eaglefolk warriors always linger at the rear, commanding the tribal eaglefolks to charge into battle."
"That's why, after every war, the Royal Court's casualties are minimal!" Soren's voice trembled with suppressed rage.
"This is why our tribes are decimated, reduced to one in ten!"
Jarius's fury toward the Eaglefolk Royal Court blazed hotter than ever.
He made up his mind: this time, he would defy the Royal Court's orders.
As for the Gaoman Mountain tribe's current territory, once a better stronghold was found, they would abandon it.
After all, in a year's time.
The ultimate war between Titans and dragons would erupt. Whether the Eaglefolk Royal Court would even survive was anyone's guess.
On the third day.
Jarius and his clansmen sat quietly in their camp, awaiting the arrival of the Titan giant.
At high noon, when the sun blazed fiercest.
Thunderous footsteps rumbled closer.
A Titan giant, towering over two hundred meters, strode step by earth-shaking step into the center of the tribal camps.
His body crackled with apocalyptic lightning, and a massive dragon's head, fashioned into a helmet, adorned his skull.
Still reeking of draconic blood.
Yatri's towering form stood as if piercing the clouds!
He gazed down at the teeming masses below, mere ants in his eyes, a flicker of indifference and boredom in his gaze.
Were it not for the Titan King's revelation that these insignificant creatures held the secret to godhood, he wouldn't spare a thought for their lives.
His voice boomed, shaking the heavens.
"My vassals, rejoice for your master!"
"The mighty Titans shall reign over all of Felander!"
His words exploded like a collapsing sky, a wave of majestic pressure sweeping through the Vast Sea Forest.
Every living being buckled under the weight of his aura, hearts quaking, bodies collapsing to the ground.
Such was the might of a Titan giant!
Every Titan began as a legend.
And a powerhouse like Yatri had long since ascended to demigodhood!
Jarius, struggling under the crushing majesty, dropped to one knee.
But having absorbed the blood of both Titan and dragon, he snapped back to clarity in an instant. Raising his gaze, he beheld the Titan giant—seated as if atop the clouds, a colossus who seemed to hold the world in his grasp. Defiance and burning ambition surged in Jarius's heart.
"If he can stand there, so can I!"