The Kraken's single massive eye remained locked on Arthur. It didn't blink. It didn't waver. For several long seconds, the air between them was thick with tension, as if time itself had stopped. Then, with a low, reverberating sound, the creature's vertical mouth began to open again.

Mana surged into the space behind its jaws, condensing with alarming speed into a swirling orb of glowing blue energy.

Arthur tightened his grip on his sword, preparing to counter—but before he could move, a familiar voice rang out behind him.

"Leave that to me," Selina said calmly. Her focus had returned, and this time she wasn't holding back.

Around her, rose-covered branches twisted and stretched across the battlefield like living conduits of magic. They were everywhere now—threaded through broken ship rails, wrapping around masts, weaving a net of thorns across the sea's surface. Then, just behind her, a new rose bloomed. It wasn't just large—it was massive, easily the size of a house. Its petals opened slowly, glowing red like embers, and pointed toward the Kraken like the barrel of a cannon.

As the Kraken unleashed its beam—a blinding torrent of concentrated blue mana—Selina's rose fired back.

A brilliant red beam burst from the heart of the rose, tearing across the sky. It met the opposing force midair—so fast that, for a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then came the sound. A deafening crack split the heavens, louder than thunder, sharp enough to rattle bones.

At the collision point, reality itself seemed to buckle. The air warped and shimmered as mana peeled away in jagged threads, scattering like shards of broken glass. Colors bled into one another—reds, blues, purples, greens—flashing with each unstable pulse. Bolts of wild energy ripped across the surface of the sea, detonating on impact, while the clouds above glowed with unnatural light. Each beam pressed against the other, locked in a struggle to erase its twin. The pressure mounted—too fast, too violent.

Then came the explosion.

The blast tore outward in all directions, a shockwave that made the ocean convulse as if struck by a falling star. Waves surged from the epicenter in towering rings, while the sky itself cracked open with red and blue lightning. Each bolt lanced across the heavens, scorching the air. The atmosphere screamed with residual magic—unstable, wild, and searing, like fire straining against shattered glass.

The Kraken, now visibly agitated, let out another sound—somewhere between a growl and a groan—and changed tactics.

This time, it moved its limbs. Dozens of tentacles, long and glistening with seawater and ichor, surged upward. Some coiled in the air like whips, others extended in long sweeping arcs, aiming for Selina and Arthur.

Selina didn't flinch. She smiled faintly, and the vines around her responded immediately. The battlefield bloomed with movement. Dozens of thick, thorn-covered rose branches lashed forward, moving faster than the eye could follow. They met the Kraken's tentacles head-on. The impact was brutal—thorns punctured, wrapped, and dragged limbs sideways. The sky above the sea became a tangled mess of plant and monster, magic and muscle.

Meanwhile, Arthur faced off against the largest tentacle—a monstrosity in its own right, as wide as an island and long enough to stretch across the ocean. It loomed like a twisted mountain, blotting out the horizon behind it.

Arthur's strikes were rapid but calculated, yet even his precision barely slowed the thing down. Every slash left a wound, but the Kraken's flesh writhed and mended within seconds.

With a scowl, he threw the sword in his hand. It glowed in midair and split into dozens of big blazing spears, raining down on the tentacle in a blinding barrage. Each one detonated on impact, leaving rows of deep, smoking punctures in the creature's hide.

He didn't stop to watch. From his side, he drew another weapon.

"Seventy-One," he whispered.

The moment his hand closed around it, the blade transformed. It expanded outward in a brilliant flash, becoming a massive greatsword nearly ten times the size of his body. Its edge radiated heat and mana, a crimson aura bleeding off its surface like smoke from molten steel.

He raised it with both hands, his stance low, and swung. The slash cut through the Kraken's tentacle with explosive force, sending a wave of blood and water high into the air. The wound was deep—deeper than anything so far. But even that wasn't enough. The flesh writhed, twitched, and sealed itself again within seconds, like time itself was undoing the damage.

Still, Arthur didn't hesitate. He raised the next blade and so the battle continued.

For nearly half an hour, Arthur and Selina fought relentlessly. Their attacks were unending, their stamina pushed to the brink. Each time the Kraken adjusted, they adapted. Where one tentacle was cut down, another rose. Where a beam was deflected, a new threat emerged. The pressure never eased.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crews were locked in their own war. Swarms of insects poured across the deck, buzzing and biting, their movements erratic and feral. Ghost ships circled like vultures, launching boarding parties of warped creatures that hissed and screamed as they fought.

The sea around them had become a battleground in every sense—a collision of a god and mortals, nature and corruption.

Arthur was reaching for his Ninetieth sword when the Kraken's movement suddenly paused. It only lasted a heartbeat—but to Arthur, it was enough. Something was wrong.

His instincts screamed. Then Along the surface of one of the colossal tentacles, hundreds of small, circular orifices began to open. Like blinking eyes or gaping mouths, they pulsed grotesquely—and inside each, blue mana began to gather in glowing, unstable orbs.

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Arthur's eyes widened.

He immediately transformed his sword into a wide, shimmering shield. Two currents of wind surged out from behind him, propelling him upward as a golden barrier wrapped tightly around his body. He spun midair, projecting his voice with every ounce of strength he had left.

"Incoming!"

Selina, several dozen meters below and still wrapped in the core of her rose construct, turned sharply at the cry.

And then—chaos.

Hundreds of beams burst from the tentacle, spraying across the battlefield in all directions. They didn't target—they scattered like a storm of uncontrolled rage. The sky lit up in blinding streaks of blue and white, each beam leaving burning trails through the air.

There was no time to dodge them all. Arthur grunted as one struck his side, the impact staggering even through his shield. Selina gasped as another hit the edge of her shoulder, knocking her from her footing on the vines. The beams weren't as powerful as the Kraken's primary attack—but there were too many. And their randomness made them harder to predict, harder to guard against.

The real threat, however, was behind them.

The ships. Selina's eyes widened in horror as she saw where several beams were headed. With no time to think, she spun around and raised both hands.

All around her, the rose branches responded. Dozens of them twisted together, thickening and rising like a blooming fortress. Giant petals snapped into place, layer after layer forming a massive wall. Thorns bristled outward. In seconds, a towering barricade of roses stood between the Kraken and the Red Rose and Avalon's Wrath.

The beams struck the wall in relentless pulses. Each impact made the entire construct shake. Petals were vaporized. Branches cracked. Selina's hands trembled, her breath coming harder. Sweat streamed down her temple as she pushed more mana into the roses, reinforcing the wall with everything she had.

And still—it wasn't enough. Because the Kraken wasn't done.

The monstrous mouth on its main body began to open again—wider this time. A deep, resonant hum filled the air as mana gathered in the hollow behind its teeth. The glow was brighter than before. Denser. More dangerous.

Arthur saw it and knew that, this beam was going to be far worse than the last.

He burst forward, crossing the sky like a golden comet. With the shield in his hand and his two golden wings, he dodged beams, cut through streaks of mana, and flew directly at the Kraken's main body. He poured everything he had into one charge.

In seconds, he closed the distance and with a thunderous cry, he landed on top of the Kraken's main body causing a massive spurt of blackish-blue blood to erupt from the wound.

The creature recoiled—the attack hurt it.

But it was already too late. The energy in its mouth reached critical mass, and the beam launched downward with terrifying force—straight toward the ships clustered together below.

Arthur's eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.

…

Leo's gaze was fixed on the towering wall of thorns and branches. Beyond it, the Kraken was stirring again, its monstrous form looming over the battlefield. Its great mouth widened, and a pulse of mana began to gather in its gullet—more condensed than before, more deadly.

Without hesitation, Leo sprinted to the ship's edge and leapt. Sea spray and wind tore at his cloak midair as he landed hard on the Avalon's Wrath, the deck trembling beneath him.

"Get ready! A big one's coming!" he yelled, his voice barely cutting through the crashing waves and distant shrieks of battle.

Lightning flashed above—one last storm summoned by Miriam. Her remaining power burst forth in a jagged, silver arc, obliterating the sky-crawling swarm of insects in one final defiant blast. The clouds split and shimmered, revealing the dark shape of the Kraken, its attack nearly ready.

Yevlan's voice rang out from the helm. "Everyone! Channel your mana into the shield device! Now!"

Crew members rushed to glowing conduits lining the deck, placing their hands against runes etched in silver and crystal. Energy poured into the defensive field, a aura humming into place around both ships. But Leo could already feel it—the pressure in the air, the weight of the coming strike. It wouldn't be enough.

His heart pounded. He reached into his Domain, pulling out every ounce of mana he could muster. Then he cut across his own palm, his blood sizzling with magical potency as it left his body and arced around both ships. A shimmering dome sprang into being around them.

The Kraken's beam roared forward. The dome met it head-on, flaring bright as the impact hit like a falling star. For a moment it held… but then the shield shattered, unable to withstand the force. The beam crashed into the ship's own defenses, and spiderweb cracks raced across the golden shield.

Leo's stomach dropped. The shields wouldn't hold. And he had nothing left to give.

Then came a light. Yevlan rose into the sky, wrapped in a radiant gold aura. The priest drew a black crystal from his robe, whispered something too quiet to hear, and crushed it.

The air shifted. His summoned Domain enveloped him, light cascading in waves. From within it, a phoenix of brilliant light burst into being, its wings spanning the sky. It let out a cry that cut through the storm like sunlight breaking through winter.

The phoenix hurled itself into the beam. For seconds that felt like eternity, light battled light—until both disappeared in a final shockwave.

Yevlan fell. Leo didn't think—he just moved. Wind and mana surged beneath his feet as he leapt into the air, caught Yevlan mid-fall, and landed hard on the Red Rose. Smoke rose from the priest's scorched robes and body. His skin was pale. His chest still.

Leo pressed two fingers to his neck.

Nothing.

His breath caught. "No… no no no…"

Miriam ran toward them, grinning. "Yevlan! That was incredible, you—" She stopped.

Her eyes flicked from Leo's face to Yevlan's. Her expression collapsed.

"…Why isn't he moving?"

She knelt beside him, shook his shoulder. "Hey… wake up. You're not—this isn't funny." Her voice trembled as she patted his cheek. No response.

Panic gripped her. She shook him harder. "Come on. Get up. Please get up."

Tears spilled over her cheeks. "Get up, Yevlan! You idiot, you can't die here!"

The rest of the crew gathered in silence, forming a solemn circle around the fallen priest. No one spoke. They didn't have to. The looks on their faces—shock, grief, disbelief—said everything.

Yevlan had forcibly summoned his Domain, something no one below A1 rank should have been able to do without severe cost. He'd poured every last drop of mana into that one desperate act, burning through his life force to protect them all.

And now… he was still.

Miriam bowed her head, her fingers curling into Yevlan's cloak. "You saved everyone," she whispered through sobs.

Above them, high in the air, Selina turned her head and looked toward her ship. She saw the motionless body, the mourning crew, and Miriam shaking with grief. Her lips pressed into a grim line.

She turned back to the Kraken.

"You'll pay for this," she growled.

Her branches surged, dozens of them whipping toward the Kraken's limbs. They twisted and locked into place, forming a cage around the creature, binding it. The rose above—massive, bloomed in full—glowed with raw, burning mana.

The Kraken roared, raising its own head. Mana gathered in its gaping mouth once again.

But Selina didn't wait. The rose fired first. A pillar of deep crimson energy burst downward like divine judgment. The Kraken's own beam met it—just for a second. Then Selina's mana overwhelmed it.

The Kraken screamed—a horrible, echoing wail that made the sea tremble. The energy burned into its body from above, driving it downward toward the deep.

Smoke, steam, and light consumed the battlefield once more.

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