The Kraken shuddered violently, its massive frame quaking as pain coursed through its body. Blackened scorch marks, raw and smoking, were spread across its limbs and torso—evidence of the devastating impact from Selina's final attack. Huge columns of steam poured off its slick skin as the seawater boiled around it. The air turned thick with heat and salt. Overhead, the sky darkened again, cloud banks swelling into shape as the ocean exhaled more steam into the atmosphere.
The creature's natural healing, which had once repaired damage in moments, was slowing noticeably. The wounds remained open longer. The flesh pulsed sluggishly. It was clear now, the Kraken was weakening.
Then, without warning, the creature surged again. The enormous tentacle—the same one Arthur had been battling—lurched toward Selina. It moved like an island tearing free from the sea, a wall of writhing flesh and bone, churning the ocean into chaos beneath it. The size and speed were impossible. Selina had no time to reposition or react.
But standing between her and the attack, suspended high in the air, was Arthur.
He didn't move at first. Then, with measured calm, he raised his hand. From the empty air, a golden sword formed in his grip—gleaming, weightless, blazing with focused power.
"Ninety-one," he whispered.
The blade ignited with light. Its glow radiated outward, turning the air golden around him. Shadows vanished. The battlefield, still trembling from the Kraken's lurch, paused in eerie stillness as all eyes turned upward.
Arthur brought the sword down. The slash sent out a wide arc of pure energy that collided directly with the advancing tentacle. The hit didn't slice the limb off—but it stopped it. The entire mass of the appendage halted midair, jerking under the force, its momentum broken.
Arthur reached for another sword.
"Ninety-two."
As he drew it, the radiance around him grew, intensifying into a sphere of luminous gold. Light poured from his armor, his wings flared wider, and his next strike hit the same spot with a thunderous crack. The tentacle flinched. Its flesh tore deeper.
"Ninety-three."
The golden wings on his back expanded again—now three times their original span, swirling with currents of wind and energy.
"Ninety-four."
A warm pulse of light rippled outward from his position. It moved through the air like a silent wave, reaching the ships and bathing the crew. Wherever it touched, wounds closed. Burnt skin mended. Shattered bones realigned. The injured stirred, strength returning.
"Ninety-five."
The next pulse came stronger. It washed across the battlefield and touched the ghost ships. One by one, they ignited—not in flame, but in cleansing light. Their twisted hulls began to break apart, unraveling into dust and ash.
"Ninety-six."
The glow around Arthur was growing thicker, more radiant. To those watching, it seemed as if he had doubled in size, or perhaps it was the sheer force of the light distorting their vision.
"Ninety-seven."
Below, the chittering swarm of insects turned to sparks. No screams. No remains. They simply burned away into the air, eradicated in a flash.
"Ninety-eight."
The sea beneath them began to tremble. Waves lost their rhythm, as if the very ocean was struggling to contain the weight of what was building.
"Ninety-nine."
Silence. Everything stopped.
No sound. No movement. Even the wind obeyed the stillness. The only thing left was Arthur—glowing like a miniature sun above the sea. The light around him had turned absolute. Even the Kraken had frozen in place, its eye locked on him.
Then came the final whisper.
"One hundred."
Leo stared in awe. In that moment, Arthur didn't look like a man. He looked like a star given form—an overwhelming force that could split the very world. And in Leo's mind, a single thought echoed: With this kind of power… he could bring light to all of the Shadowland.
Arthur swung the sword down. A blade of light—clean, massive, and absolute—sliced downward in a single, straight motion. It hit the Kraken directly.
The ocean split. For a full minute, the battlefield was divided. A glowing scar ran across the surface of the sea, a chasm that had no visible bottom. The clouds above were parted too, forming a jagged line of clear sky that stretched far out of sight. It was as if the world itself had been cut open—sky and sea both—by a single, perfect strike.
The Kraken didn't move. The slash had cleaved through its body in a clean line. Its massive frame began to fall apart in silence. Golden fire burned from within, radiating from the wound. No final roar. No last attack. Only stillness and smoke.
The light faded. Arthur's wings dimmed. The golden sphere vanished. His body faltered in the air, his strength gone—but before he could fall, Selina appeared, catching his arm. She steadied him, then carried him gently back toward the ships.
Leo, still on the deck, watched in silence. Only one sentence came to him—something the old powerful pirate had once said.
"His last sword really can't be stopped." He said. "How did that man survived his attack."
Selina flew toward her ship with Arthur in her arms. Leo was waiting, and the moment she landed on the deck, he rushed to Arthur's side.
"Arthur, are you still alive?"
Arthur gave a weak grin. "Of course I am."
Leo exhaled with relief.
Once Selina was sure he was stable, she walked past the others without a word. The crew instinctively stepped aside as she made her way toward Yevlan's body.
Miriam was kneeling beside him, her face streaked with tears. She looked up at Selina. "Captain…"
Selina slowly knelt, her movements heavy. She reached down and gently caressed Yevlan's cold face, brushing strands of hair from his forehead.
"Thank you," she said quietly, voice low and steady. "For protecting the crew. For protecting us all."
Arthur and Leo stood nearby, silent, watching. After a few minutes, Selina stood again and walked back to them. Leo helped support Arthur, who was still struggling to keep his balance.
"What's your plan now?" Arthur asked, his voice hoarse.
"We'll go to Aclisa," Selina replied, her gaze distant. "It's Yevlan's hometown. He should be buried there."
Arthur nodded.
"And you?" Selina asked him.
"We—" Arthur began, but he was cut off by a sudden tremor, followed by a sharp, unnatural sound coming from behind them.
They turned as one toward the source.
The Kraken. It was still alive. Despite being sliced clean in two, both halves of the monstrous creature were moving—writhing and pulsing as if they were trying to reconnect.
Arthur's eyes widened. "How is this possible?"
The creature's mangled halves began to sink slowly into the water, retreating beneath the surface.
Selina raised a hand. "I'm not letting you run, you piece of shit."
The rose-covered branches still spread across the battlefield responded to her command, shooting forward at high speed. They wrapped tightly around both halves of the Kraken, trying to bind them in place. Two massive new roses bloomed on either side of the beast, and beams of red mana fired toward the Kraken's severed sections.
But the Kraken wasn't done. Two new mouths tore open—one on each half—and simultaneously fired beams of blue mana. They collided with Selina's attacks, neutralizing them in a violent flash of light and heat.
Selina's eyes went wide. "Where is it getting this kind of power…?"
Then the true horror began. Small, round holes began opening all over the Kraken's grotesque flesh. Mouths—dozens, maybe hundreds—each one began to glow with mana.
A moment later, beams of concentrated energy shot out in every direction.
The branches holding the Kraken burst into flames, disintegrating under the relentless barrage.
Arthur stared, jaw clenched. "It knows it's in danger. It's trying to escape."
Selina gritted her teeth, straining to maintain control of the few remaining branches. "I can't hold it anymore."
The crew around them had gone quiet—shocked, exhausted, terrified. One of the sailors finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
"So… it really needs an S-rank?"
Despair began to ripple through them all.
Even after everything, even after they had given everything—this thing still wasn't finished.
"There is still a way," Leo said, his voice steady.
All eyes turned toward him.
"What?" Arthur asked, his brows furrowed.
"A god can kill it."
Arthur stared at him. "You're going to ask for his help?"
Leo gave a faint, tired smile. "Something like that."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass vial filled with dark crimson liquid—werewolf blood.
"I need time," he said.
"How much?" Selina asked without hesitation.
"A few minutes."
Without another word, Selina launched herself into the sky, her body trailing streaks of mana that pulsed. The air flow outward from her ascent in a concussive shockwave that sent ripples across the ocean's surface. Below her, the sprawling field of roses responded instantly—roots twisted, stems elongated, and a fresh surge of thorned branches erupted upward in a chaotic bloom. They didn't grow—they lunged, spiraling like living spears, their barbs glinting with residual mana. From every direction they converged on the Kraken, ensnaring both halves of its split body. The vines snapped taut, their tips burying deep into thick hide, thorns anchoring themselves like teeth, refusing to let go.
The Kraken suddenly froze. The two massive sections of its body shifted, drawing closer together. Between them, a deep core of blue mana began to swirl, pulsing violently.
Selina's eyes narrowed. She knew what was coming. On a thick stem near her, a new rose began to bloom. It was unlike any that had appeared before—larger, darker, and far more menacing. A Hundred-Leaf Black Rose.
And just as the Kraken released its strongest beam yet—a torrent of churning, condensed mana aimed to obliterate everything—Selina's rose opened wide and fired a deep black beam in return.
The two beams met in a devastating clash. The battlefield lit up in pulsing red and blue. The beams didn't explode or cancel out—they held each other, pushing, dragging, refusing to yield.
Back on the deck, Leo prepared for the final step. To use the Obscurae, he needed a direct connection to the Kraken. And that meant blood—his own wasn't enough anymore. He quickly explained, and one by one, the crew from both ships stepped forward, cutting their palms or fingertips and offering a few precious drops.
With their help, Leo got what he needed. He shoved his sword into the wooden deck, channeling the combined blood into the blade. Slowly, the blood began to rise—shaping itself into a large, clawed hand, suspended midair. It floated for a moment, then gently reached out and took the vial from Leo's hand.
Above them, Selina and the Kraken remained locked in battle. The power radiating from both beams was immense, shaking the air and sea alike. No one could hear anything over the pressure. No one dared move.
Leo focused. He closed his eyes, forcing everything out of his mind but the spell.
The blood hand rose higher, carrying the vial toward the Kraken. Inch by inch, it pushed forward—through wind, heat, and pressure—until it was near the beast.
"I'm ready!" Leo called out.
Selina heard him. With one last, thunderous push, she summoned every ounce of mana left in her body and poured it into the rose. The black beam surged in size and force, finally overpowering the Kraken's attack and slamming directly into its core.
The Kraken convulsed, stunned for the first time. Its body pulsed and twitched, blue mana leaking out in irregular waves. On each side of the split creature, new eyes began to form—dozens of them—like it was evolving, splitting, adapting.
But then, just in front of the shifting beast, the hand of blood hovered in the air. Its fingers slowly opened, revealing the vial.
He shattered the vial and dark liquid poured out.
Leo's voice was low but absolute.
"Obscurae."