Large sections of the four colossal tentacles had been shredded by Leo's spell, leaving raw, burned flesh in its wake. Their movement slowed to a crawl, then stopped entirely. For a moment, it seemed like the creature might finally be dead. Then the tentacles began to retreat.
They didn't recoil in panic or spasm in pain. They just pulled back with grim, deliberate purpose, sinking into the churning black sea like something returning home.
"It's trying to run again!" Arthur shouted.
"I'm not letting it get away," Selina said sharply.
She moved her scythe to her right, eyes closed in concentration. Her twin giant shadow-hands faded into nothing, dissolving into smoke. In their place, darkness began to envelop her—thick and rippling, like ink bleeding across the air.
From the heart of that darkness, huge thorn-covered vines burst out.
Roses bloomed along the twisting vines as they shot forward with alarming speed, chasing after the retreating tentacles. Four of the largest branches coiled tightly around them, reinforcing the ones already in place. Thorns dug deep into the wounded flesh, anchoring themselves with brutal force—but even so, the massive limbs continued their slow, determined descent into the sea.
Selina's expression hardened. She clenched her teeth, forcing more energy into the spell. Dozens more vines erupted from the shadow behind her, rushing into the water with growing force. The ocean hissed where they entered, sending up clouds of steam. She wasn't just trying to stop the tentacles anymore—she was digging deeper, hunting for the creature's core.
Arthur stepped forward, drawing a new sword. With a flick of his wrist, it split into four gleaming chains of golden light. He lashed them around the tentacles like harpoons, and pulled back with all his strength. Muscles tensed. Magic sparked at his heels. He didn't expect to stop it completely, but he could buy Selina some time.
Behind them, Leo was barely standing. His shoulders slumped, breath shallow. His skin had gone paler, almost gray, and he gripped his sword like a crutch more than a weapon. The blood loss, the spell overload, the strain of sustaining the Domain's mana—it was taking its toll.
Still, he kept his eyes on the water. Seconds passed. The tentacles kept pulling, but slower now, restrained by Selina's vines and Arthur's chains.
Then Selina's eyes snapped open. "I found it," she said, her voice low but sharp.
The temperature dropped. A wave of mana erupted from her like a pulse, rippling outward. The very air seemed to hold its breath.
Her vines exploded outward in every direction. They grew thicker, longer, multiplying. In a matter of minutes, the ocean surface was a chaotic tangle of massive, thorn-wrapped branches. Roses bloomed along them, glowing faintly with deep violet light. Then, high above the sea, the largest rose opened—wide enough to blot out the sky. Its dark petals unfurled like a blooming eclipse, casting a deep shadow over the battlefield.
At that moment something moved. The branches that had disappeared into the water began to rise, but this time they weren't just dragging tentacles. They were bringing something else with them.
A shriek erupted from beneath the surface. It wasn't a sound—it was a weapon. A psychic blast so loud it made the sea tremble. The frequency could shatter glass, rupture eardrums, splinter bone. Everyone braced themselves, shields flaring to life in desperation. Leo didn't have his up—but Arthur reached over just in time, casting a barrier around him that shimmered against the invisible force.
The scream distorted the air itself. And then… it rose.
A shape began to emerge from the depths. At first, it was only a shadow beneath the waves. But as it climbed toward the surface, that shadow grew—and grew—until it seemed to swallow the ocean.
The sea churned like a living thing. Currents reversed. Waves crashed in unnatural patterns. It was as if the ocean had taken a breath—and held it.
Then the surface broke. From beneath the black waves rose a creature that defied understanding.
Tendrils, each as thick as a ship and covered in glistening brine, emerged first—dozens of them. They writhed upward with terrifying patience, unfolding into the sky like ancient limbs stirring from hibernation. Lightning cracked overhead, casting brief flashes of pale light across the slick, shifting mass.
The ocean spiraled around it, sucked toward its center. Vortices formed—massive whirlpools dragging the ships sideways like toys in a bath. Some of the ghost ships were already splintering from the force.
Then the main body emerged. It broke the surface like a mountain being born—an impossibly large, grotesque form, half-flesh, half-armor. Its surface was covered in pulsating sinew, plated ridges, and thick layers of translucent mucus as arcs of lightning crackled around its body, as if born from the mana it was releasing. Glowing veins the size of tree trunks pulsed rhythmically, green and blue light throbbing beneath its surface like a heartbeat made of nightmares.
It moved with terrifying slowness, but every motion carried weight. Waves rolled away from it like aftershocks from a quake.
At its center, something even worse appeared. Grown into the creature's body—not built, but fused—was a fortress-like structure. It was made of blackened, organic metal, spiraled and twisted like bone and steel had merged into one impossible shape. Symbols writhed across its surface, constantly shifting, as if the structure itself were alive and thinking.
And at its highest point, embedded in a socket of living tissue, was a single massive eye. It glowed with cold, blue fire. It didn't blink. It didn't even twitch. It just watched.
That gaze crushed thought. It bypassed fear and went straight to despair. Anyone who met it, even for a second, felt their will begin to fracture. It wasn't just an eye, it was a reminder that whatever this thing was, it was not meant to be fought. It was something that simply was. A force. A presence. An inevitability.
Lightning crackled across the surface of the water, rotate around the creature. The very currents seemed to twist away from it, as if the sea itself refused to come closer.
Selina's branches were still attached, wrapped tightly around parts of the creature's upper body and several of its tentacles. The four massive limbs they had damaged earlier were revealed to be connected to its back—mere extensions of a much larger organism.
It had no arms. Or if it did, they were still submerged—waiting.
Leo stared at it in silence. His vision blurred at the edges. Blood roared in his ears. In that moment, he could barely register what he was seeing—but one thought surfaced clearly. It looked like an octopus… if the ocean itself had dreamed of one, and filled it with hate.
With the enormous rose garden blooming above the Kraken, the scene below looked even more surreal—almost nightmarish. A monstrous entity rising from the ocean, its grotesque form framed by thorn-covered vines and towering blossoms. The contrast between beauty and horror made it difficult to tell if they were in a battlefield or a vision from a fever dream.
The Kraken didn't move its main body, but a wave of blue energy pulsed out from it in every direction. It swept over the sea like a shockwave, striking everything within range.
As the wave passed through the fleet, magical barriers flared to life across the ships. They hissed and cracked under the pressure but managed to hold.
"This must be its mind control attack," Arthur said, his voice sharp.
A moment later, the Kraken shifted. Its massive body tilted upward, and its single glowing eye fixed on Selina. Then, at the very center of its body, a wide, vertical mouth slowly opened. Blue mana began to gather there, spiraling inward in a concentrated mass.
Arthur's eyes widened. "Damn it."
He dashed toward Selina, who was still deeply focused on maintaining her spell, she didn't even seem to notice the attack forming.
Arthur drew his fiftieth sword. In an instant, it transformed into a massive shield, humming with defensive magic. Just as he reached her, the Kraken released its attack—a high-intensity beam of concentrated blue energy, like a laser cutting through reality itself.
The beam slammed into Arthur's shield. It split and scattered along its surface, but the sheer force of it pushed Arthur back. He dug in, gritting his teeth as the beam intensified.
For nearly a full minute, he held the line. Then the beam finally ceased—but not without a price. A massive explosion followed, triggered by the discharge of unstable mana. The shockwave tore through the air and water, blasting debris and sea spray in every direction.
Leo was caught in it. The force flung him backward like a ragdoll. This time, Arthur was too busy to shield him. Leo braced for impact—but instead of crashing into the surface of the water or the rail of a ship, he collided with someone solid.
Strong arms caught him mid-air. He looked up and saw Yevlan standing behind him, one arm wrapped firmly around his chest to break the fall.
"You alright?" Yevlan asked, his voice steady.
"Yeah... just a little tired," Leo muttered, still dazed.
"I can help with that," Yevlan replied.
As he carried Leo toward their ship, a golden orb of light formed around them. Warmth spread through Leo's body almost instantly. The ache in his limbs faded, his breathing steadied, and color returned to his skin. His energy began to return—faster than he expected.
Nearly ten massive tentacles surged after the retreating ship. The Kraken knew exactly who had wounded it so severely—and it wasn't about to let him escape. The beast's focus had shifted entirely to Leo, and its intent was clear, kill him.
But before the tentacles could reach their target, a storm erupted. A torrent of lightning crashed down from the sky, striking the ocean with violent intensity. Blinding arcs of electricity surged into the approaching limbs, forcing them back. The sudden assault forced the Kraken to recoil—if only for a moment.
"Did you really think all we made was steam?" Miriam's voice rang out from the deck of the Red Rose, her laughter cutting through the chaos like a spark in the dark.
The steam from earlier had condensed into thick clouds, now swirling high above the battlefield. She stood tall near the bow, hand raised high as wind whipped around her. At her gesture, the storm above intensified. Clouds churned, lightning spiraled, and bolts began raining down in rapid succession, each one slamming into the Kraken's upper body and appendages like divine retribution.
The Kraken let out a deep, guttural groan—a sound that reverberated through the sea like underwater thunder. More of its tentacles responded, now lashing toward the Red Rose in retaliation.
But the ship's crew was ready. Spells lit up the sky in a dazzling display of magical defense. Barriers flared, weapons roared, and elemental blasts met the creature's assault head-on. Leading the defense was Yevlan, his shield glowing with a holy aura. Both warrior and priest, he stood as a bulwark between the ship and the creature's fury. His personal shield, combined with the ship's own magical defenses, absorbed much of the impact. Behind his protection, the crew struck back with everything they had.
Still, the Kraken wasn't done. Realizing brute force alone wasn't working, it shifted tactics. Another pulse of mana burst from its core—a sinister ripple of dark energy—and moments later, the remaining ghost ships stirred. Swarms of spectral insects followed, drawn from the depths like an unholy tide.
The assault came fast. Within minutes, the Red Rose was nearly overwhelmed. Flames and arrows met the charge. Swords clashed against chitin. The air filled with smoke, wings, and shrieks.
Then—an explosion. A flaming arrow tore through one of the ghost ships, igniting its hull before it crumbled into the sea. A second blast followed as a glass vial exploded midair, releasing a greenish flame that scorched hundreds of the approaching insect swarms.
Leo turned toward the source, already smiling. On the horizon, the second ship approached. The Avalon crew had reached the Red Rose.
The Kraken roared—more a vibration than a sound—and its body began to shift. It's four massive tentacles started to shrink, the flesh compacting and retreating. It had the ability to redistribute its mass, and it was doing just that—compressing its form to free up power elsewhere.
The result appeared seconds later. From beneath the ocean, a new tentacle rose—twice the size of any they'd seen so far. A monstrous limb, glistening with seawater and covered in armored segments. It lifted high into the sky, then slashed downward with terrifying force.
In a single motion, it cleared the clouds from above. The storm vanished. Lightning stopped.
Silence fell for a heartbeat. Then the tentacle turned—its sights now locked on both the Red Rose and the Avalon flagship.
It began its descent. Before it could strike, a thousand swords rained down from the sky—blades of light, steel, and mana all at once, each one hitting with pinpoint accuracy. The giant tentacle halted mid-swing, reeling back under the barrage.
A voice rang out above the chaos.
"Didn't you Forget someone, beast?"
Arthur stood in mid-air above the Kraken's enormous body, a new sword gleaming in his hand. Mana flared around him like a second skin, his hair blown back by the sheer force of energy radiating from the creature below.
The Kraken's eye snapped toward him, its gaze sharp and crushing.
But Arthur didn't flinch. He met that gaze without hesitation—unblinking, unafraid.