Chapter 586: Kraken (Part.I)
Strax shook the water from his wings, gaining altitude with difficulty. Each beat seemed to sap his energy, but he had to get away from that spot. The feeling of being watched, of being hunted, didn’t diminish; on the contrary, it grew.
The deep blue around him seemed alive, breathing beneath the surface, pulsing as if self-aware. Strange ripples appeared and disappeared for no apparent reason, and Strax began to realize that his every movement provoked rapid responses—reflexes that went beyond any ordinary sea.
He moved away slowly, measuring each wingbeat, trying not to attract attention. Then, without warning, the surface ruptured violently. A colossal tentacle rose from the water, dark as coal and covered in glistening suckers. Strax narrowly dodged it, feeling the wind of the passage cut through his scales.
“This… this isn’t natural,” he murmured, flapping his wings frantically. Tentacles were emerging from all sides now, tearing through the sea and sending up waves that threatened to overthrow him. Each attempt at flight seemed anticipated, as if the water had eyes.
He dove sideways, dodging another tentacle that exploded from the ocean, throwing up a furious wall of liquid. But it was useless. The creature was too fast. Strax felt a suction cup slam into his thigh, knocking him off balance and spinning him in the air. He roared and flapped his wings, springing back upward, but another suction cup struck him, this time on his tail, nearly pulling him into the black sea.
“Damn you…” Strax growled. He had no time for fear—only instinct and strength. Each wingbeat required superhuman effort, but he began to see the pattern: the tentacles didn’t move randomly. They responded to his every move, anticipating, blocking, attacking in coordination.
He dodged once more, spiraling upward to gain height. The sea below seemed to seethe, and dozens of tentacles suddenly appeared, swirling and dancing, like giant serpents. One nearly hit his left wing; he sliced through the air with his right, feeling the tension in the membrane tear slightly, but he resisted.
The wind was saturated with the smell of salt and something else… something rotten, ancient. The smell penetrated his nostrils, and Strax realized that the creature he faced wasn’t just large—it was monstrous at its core, something ancient, far older than any legend he’d ever heard.
He began to back away in circles, twisting his body, trying to confuse the creature. Each time he moved, the Kraken seemed to calculate its next attack, as if tactically aware. Strax felt fear for a moment—not the fear of death, but awe at the monstrosity before him.
Another tentacle appeared out of nowhere, fast, strong, and solid as steel. Strax tried to dodge to the left, but the impact was inevitable. He was struck in the right shoulder, and the force threw him forward, scraping his scales against the waves. The pain was intense, but not debilitating; it was merely a warning, a reminder of the opposing force.
He rolled in the air, dodging a second attack, feeling the suction cups scraping through the air, seeking to grab him. Strax took a deep breath, bracing himself. If he were to attack, it would have to be quick, precise, and unexpected. He couldn’t simply strike or use brute force; the creature was too large for that.
“So this is it…” Strax muttered to himself, “a Kraken.”
The name came to him like an ancient whisper of stories, tales of sailors and monsters that devoured ships whole. But now, the creature before him was no legend. It was real. And he was alone against it.
Strax began to observe the Kraken’s movements. Each tentacle had its own rhythm, but they all moved in a coordinated manner. He noticed a pattern: some tentacles served only as distraction, while others aimed to capture or crush. The creature’s body remained submerged, but the surface churned constantly, suggesting something colossal lurked below.
He decided to test it. He slammed his wings hard against the surface, kicking up a wave that struck an approaching tentacle. The creature retreated instantly, but another soon appeared in its place, showing it wouldn’t be easy to fool.
Strax took a deep breath, feeling every muscle working in perfect harmony. He couldn’t afford to tire, so he began using strategic movements: quick wing beats to dodge, short dives to fool the creature’s perception, abrupt ascents and emergency drops to test his reflexes.
A tentacle appeared unexpectedly, trying to grab him by the tail. Strax twisted to the side, dodging by millimeters. He felt the suction cup slide across his tail shield, scraping his skin and leaving marks, but not trapping him. He reacted quickly, slamming his body back and raising his claws, shallowly tearing the suction cup that still clung.
The Kraken recoiled, as if it had sensed pain, but it was undeterred. Another tentacle emerged, even faster and stronger. Strax dodged, but realized something crucial: each time he struck a sucker, the creature recoiled momentarily, revealing a reaction pattern. He could exploit this.
Then Strax began to attack. Not with brute force, but with precision. Every wing stroke, every dive and spin, every strike with claws or tail, targeted the nearest suckers. He aimed to break or wound, provoking the creature but without exposing himself too much.
The Kraken fought back, but each of Strax’s attacks created small openings in its defenses. He realized he could be defeated, or at least escaped, if he could manipulate these patterns. The fight became a deadly ballet: Strax dodging, attacking, rising, diving, calculating each movement.
During a brief pause, as he soared high, Strax could see part of the creature’s head emerging from the water. The body was gigantic, covered in black scales, tentacles sprouting from multiple points, its eyes enormous and opaque as pearls. Its mouth opened briefly, revealing rows of curved, razor-sharp teeth.
The Kraken was ancient, older than any of Strax’s memories, and its intelligence was evident. It didn’t attack blindly; it studied, calculated, and reacted. And Strax understood that to survive, he couldn’t just fight—he would have to become unpredictable, almost as cunning as the creature itself.
He swooped down, diving toward a tentacle reaching down from above. When he was nearly hit, he spun quickly and scrambled up the side, ripping its claws free of the suction cup that was trying to grab him. The creature roared—not a sound of water, but a deep roar that reverberated through the water and air, echoing like underwater thunder.
Strax took a deep breath, feeling adrenaline and hunting instincts take over his mind. He realized he couldn’t win in a direct confrontation; he would have to use the environment, the water, the height, and the speed to his advantage. Each dive and climb was calculated to confuse the Kraken, each well-aimed attack momentarily weakening the creature, creating opportunities.
And then, finally, after minutes that felt like hours, Strax saw the opening: a momentary gap between two giant tentacles, large enough for him to launch upward and gain height, escaping the surface of the water. He knew he couldn’t continue fighting indefinitely; he needed to pull away, observe, recover.
He flapped his wings vigorously, spiraling upward, and finally managed to gain meters of distance from the central point of the attack. The creature continued to pursue him, but its reactions were no longer as quick; he had learned its patterns, at least enough to maintain an advantage.