Chapter 587: Kraken (Part. II)
Strax felt each wingbeat burning his muscles, but he couldn’t slow down. The Kraken, though retreated by several meters, hadn’t given up. The water around him continued to bubble, as if breathing. The dragon’s every movement sent vibrations through the sea, and he knew the creature felt every pulse. There was no room for error.
Suddenly, a tentacle erupted from his right side, kicking up a wave so high that Strax had to lean forward and dive to avoid it. The tip of the sucker grazed his left wing, tearing away a layer of scales and leaving a red trail across the membrane. He roared in pain, but this only increased his adrenaline. The creature was testing its limits, probing for weaknesses.
He rolled in the air, spinning on his axis and flailing hard, dodging the next attack. But the Kraken didn’t retreat; instead, its tentacles began to emerge in more complex patterns, swirling, crossing, and retreating in almost military synchrony. Strax realized he couldn’t rely on pure instinct—he needed to predict, anticipate, and use the creature’s every move against it.
A second tentacle rose from the bottom, rising almost invisibly until its massive tip sliced through the water. Strax dove, but this time not to escape. He passed under the tip, scraping the tentacle with his tail, which scraped the suction cup. The creature roared, the water boiling around it, and Strax seized the moment: with a rapid flap of his wings, he spiraled upward, attacking another advancing tentacle. Each swipe of his claws opened small gaps, creating space, but the Kraken didn’t retreat completely. He learned, adjusted, and began to block attacks more effectively.
The dragon took a deep breath, calculating his next move. He needed a bigger distraction, something to break the creature’s pattern. He spotted a bank of giant submerged kelp and a mound of rocks protruding from the seabed, forming a small archipelago. If he could guide the creature onto this uneven terrain, he could gain an advantage, using natural obstacles to limit the tentacles’ movement.
With this in mind, Strax began a risky sequence. He descended in a near-vertical dive, ripping the water with the tip of his tail, dodging a sucker that emerged from his left side. When he nearly touched the kelp bank, he turned abruptly and shot upward, taunting the creature. The Kraken lunged after him, and a tentacle wrapped itself around a rock, momentarily catching it.
Strax seized the opening: with a powerful flap of his wings, he dove again and ripped open another sucker with his claws, while another tentacle writhed, trying to reach him. The creature roared, a deep sound that reverberated underwater and rose to the heavens like liquid thunder. Strax felt each wave reverberating in his chest, but he didn’t hesitate. Every movement was now measured, every attack calculated.
A massive tentacle emerged from in front of him, trying to grab him by the chest. Strax leaned back and rose, scraping the tentacle with his front claws. He felt the suction cup release with a snap and dove sideways, scraping the water with his tail and leaping back with a perfect curve. The creature, now partially distracted, left a gap between the tentacles that had previously been closed like a grate.
Strax took advantage. He spiraled upward and dove again, but this time with more precision. He aimed for a suction cup closest to the Kraken’s torso, tearing hard, feeling the metallic resistance of the creature’s fibers. The Kraken roared again, violently, and partially submerged, creating waves that nearly knocked him off balance. Strax flapped his wings hard, stabilizing himself in the air, feeling the wind cut through his scales and the water splash against his body.
Then he realized something that would change his strategy. The Kraken didn’t attack blindly; It reacted to Strax’s movements, but there were moments of hesitation, when a tentacle emerged more slowly, as if the creature were recalculating. Strax began to use this to his advantage. Instead of attacking directly, he began to tease, dancing on the water, flapping his wings in specific spots to test the Kraken’s reflexes, creating false patterns and watching for responses.
A tentacle emerged quickly and unexpectedly from the right side. Strax dove abruptly, scraping his arm against the tentacle and propelling himself upward. Another tentacle tried to strike him from below; he twisted his body, scraping his tail, and lunged to the right, slicing the water with claws and flapping wings. Each maneuver seemed like a deadly ballet, a test of reflexes and wits between two predators.
The Kraken reacted, changing tactics. Tentacles began to emerge in more complex combinations, some suckers simply trying to block, others seeking to grab him. Strax dodged one attack, but realized the creature was trying to isolate his movements, to create traps in the water. The dragon took a deep breath, understanding that the battle wasn’t just physical—it was mental. He needed to think two steps ahead.
And then came his chance. One tentacle shot forward too quickly and wrapped itself around a submerged rock. Another extended too far, creating a gap between the tentacles that had previously been closed. Strax seized it. With a powerful flap of his wings, he soared, spun, and dove into the open space, scraping two tentacles with his claws and tail, opening even more space. The Kraken roared in anger, partially submerging.
Strax sensed an opportunity to escape, but he couldn’t just fly away—he needed to ensure he wouldn’t be immediately pursued. He aimed at the water, swiped with his tail, kicking up a wave and creating a liquid curtain, confusing the Kraken’s perception. Then he spun and fired sideways, utilizing the height and the uneven terrain around him.
The creature reacted, but not with the same precision as before. Strax realized he had found the right rhythm: alternating between provocative attacks, strategic evasion, and exploitation of the environment. Each dive, each spin, each attack was calculated to drain the creature’s energy and exploit momentary weaknesses.
The combat continued like this for endless minutes. Strax dodged, attacked, taunted, rose, and dove with almost surgical precision. The Kraken, though monstrous and powerful, was beginning to show signs of fatigue. Some tentacles moved more slowly, others hesitated before advancing. Strax seized every opening, scraping suckers, inflicting localized pain, and studying patterns.
Then, at a critical moment, he saw his final chance. Two giant tentacles crossed at a perfect angle, creating a narrow corridor, but one free from immediate attack. Strax took a deep breath, adjusted the angle of his wings, and fired with all his remaining strength. The creature tried to react, but the maneuver was too quick. He sliced through the air, gaining altitude, his tail scraping two smaller tentacles in the process, and opening the distance.
From above, Strax observed the Kraken below. The creature stood there, immense and menacing, but he had been manipulated, provoked into mistakes, and exposed to the dragon’s strategy. He took a deep breath, feeling the muscle pain, the adrenaline still pumping, but also a sense of momentary triumph. He had survived—but he knew this battle was only part of something larger.
As he backed away, Strax kept his eyes on the Kraken, noticing every ripple, every underwater movement. He hadn’t completely won, but now he knew the beast: its patterns, intelligence, and strength. And with this knowledge, he could face the creature again, more prepared and more cunning.
The dragon circled, regaining energy, observing the dark ocean. The Kraken remained below, silent for a moment, studying, recalculating. Strax knew this confrontation had no end in sight; it was a test of patience, skill, and intelligence. But for now, he had survived.
“I need to find my wives… What the hell happened in the middle of that storm?”