And then…
The command came.
It wasn't words.
It was intention.
Go.
March.
To the Ancient Holy Land, Sanctarith Ultara where other Ancient Titans remained a distance from here.
Her gaze lifted slowly, and she saw the others, hundreds, thousands of Titans, each branded, each bound, each rising as one.
They turned.
Without hesitation.
They began to move, marching from the heart of Thornveil's ruins, silent and overwhelming, like a living tide of ancient power reclaimed.
Toward the Ancient Holy Land still controlled by their brethren.
To conquer not for themselves, but for him.
Zyrethea followed.
She moved with the tide, her obsidian-green form shifting among the gleaming host. And as she did, she turned her gaze once more back to the figure standing at the center of it all.
Achilles Adrastia Maxwell was his name from what his command told them.
A human who radiated like no Titan ever had.
A human who had broken the unbreakable.
