The sea still trembled with the memory of the shattered Kraken. The blood had already disappeared, consumed by the ocean itself, but the aura of fear still permeated the waves like an eternal echo.
Strax didn't stand still to contemplate victory.
His wings beat once, and the air around him ruptured in bursts of pressure. He took flight, cutting through the storm, his colossal silhouette ripping the sky like a black tear. Each beat made the sea below shudder, and the clouds curled, fleeing his path.
His gaze burned, fixed on the horizon.
There were still four to go.
Frieren. Kali. Rogue. Xyn.
The next island awaited—and with it, another piece of the game that someone, somewhere, believed they could control.
Cassandra and Monica flew north, away from the destruction zone. Their bodies still ached, their wings heavy as lead, but nothing was worse than the weight in their hearts.
