As night descends, casting a blanket of darkness over the turbulent sea, the Serpent’s Kiss creaks and groans beneath the onslaught of the storm. The wind howls through the rigging, a mournful symphony that underscores the growing unease among the crew. The wild magic that permeates Ludere Online intensifies at night, twisting the very fabric of reality, warping perceptions, and amplifying existing dangers. An unsettling silence falls over the deck as the crew, still recovering from the battle with Ilhemith, senses a shift in the atmosphere, a palpable tension that hangs heavy in the salt-laden air.

Suddenly, a monstrous shape rises from the depths, its colossal form dwarfing the Serpent's Kiss. Tentacles, thick as ancient trees and studded with razor-sharp barbs, lash out from the churning water, their movements swift and deadly, defying the creature’s immense size. The kraken, a creature of myth and legend, its existence a testament to Zedite’s power and wrath, has emerged from the depths, summoned by the god of the oceans to claim the Heart of the Abyss.

Panic erupts among the crew as the kraken’s tentacles slam against the hull of the ship, the force of the impact shaking the timbers to their core. Altacian sailors, their faces pale with fear, scramble for safety, their voices lost in the roar of the storm and the creature's deafening bellows. Cannons roar, their thunderous reports momentarily drowning out the chaos, as the gunners, their faces illuminated by the fiery blasts, attempt to drive back the monstrous creature. Cannonballs, trailing plumes of black smoke, arc through the air, striking the kraken’s glistening hide, but the creature seems unfazed, its thick hide impervious to their attacks.

Pag, his heart pounding in his chest, the Heart of the Abyss heavy in his bag, watches the unfolding chaos with a mix of awe and terror. He can feel the wild magic swirling around him, amplifying his senses, sharpening his reflexes, urging him to unleash his obsidian flames against the monstrous creature. The countdown timer on his character sheet, a constant reminder of his quest to reach Kyrbane and confront Dedisco, fades into the background as a primal instinct for survival takes hold.

Aviva, her face grim, her hand resting on her rapier, moves to stand beside Pag, her presence a reassuring anchor amidst the storm. "We have to do something," she shouts, her voice barely audible above the roar of the wind and the creature’s bellows. "Those cannons won’t stop it!"

Pag nods, his resolve hardening. He can feel Dedisco’s power surging within him, a dark undercurrent to the wild magic that crackles around them. He remembers his encounter with the Patala warriors, the grotesque creatures they faced in the submerged city, the corrupted guardian who guarded the Heart of the Abyss. He knows what it takes to survive in this world, knows that sometimes, the only way to overcome a challenge is to meet it head-on.

"I’ll distract it," Pag shouts back, his voice laced with determination. "You get the crew to safety!"

He raises his hand, the crimson and gold runes on his skin glowing with an intense, otherworldly light. He summons his obsidian flames, channeling the wild magic that surges through him, focusing it into a torrent of fire that erupts from his fingertips. The flames, black as night yet streaked with veins of molten gold and ghostly green, lash out towards the kraken, a searing beacon against the storm-tossed sky.

The battle for the Serpent's Kiss has begun.

The kraken, momentarily surprised by the onslaught of Pag's obsidian flames, recoils, its tentacles thrashing wildly as it seeks the source of the searing heat. The flames, fueled by Pag's pyroclasm and the chaotic energy of the wild magic, cling to the creature's glistening hide, burning with an intensity that scorches the surrounding water, sending plumes of steam into the storm-tossed sky.

Aviva, seeing her opportunity, rallies the crew. "Get to the lifeboats!" she shouts, her voice ringing with authority. "Now!"

The Altacian sailors, spurred by Aviva's command and the terrifying sight of the kraken battling Pag's flames, scramble towards the lifeboats, their movements swift and desperate. They know the Serpent's Kiss is no match for the monstrous creature and that their only hope of survival lies in abandoning ship.

Pag, meanwhile, presses his attack, pushing his pyroclasm to its limits. He weaves intricate patterns with his flames, trapping the kraken's tentacles, forcing it to defend itself, keeping it distracted from the fleeing crew. He can feel the strain on his mana reserves, the pull of exhaustion, but he pushes through the pain, driven by the desperate need to protect his friends, to buy them time to escape.

The Heart of the Abyss, secured in his bag, pulses with a dark energy, a reminder of the power it holds, the power that could tip the scales of this battle, but Pag hesitates. He knows that unleashing the artifact's full potential could have unforeseen consequences, that it might draw the attention of other gods, that it might even corrupt him, as it had corrupted the Patala guardian. He needs to find another way, a way to defeat the kraken without succumbing to the whispers of chaos that echo in his mind.

As he battles the kraken, he remembers the lessons he learned in the Patala tunnels. He remembers the importance of control, of precision, of channeling the wild magic, not letting it control him. He remembers the Patala guardian's words, his warning about the Heart of the Abyss, the price of its power.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

He takes a deep breath, focusing his mind, drawing on the lessons of the Patala, seeking a way to blend his pyroclasm with the wild magic, not to dominate it, but to guide it, to shape it, to use its chaotic energy to his advantage. He visualizes the kraken's anatomy, its weak points, the vulnerable areas beneath its thick hide. He focuses his flames, concentrating their heat, directing their power, not as a chaotic torrent, but as a precise, focused weapon.

The kraken roars, its bellow echoing across the storm-tossed waves, as Pag's flames find their mark. He strikes at the base of the creature's tentacles, targeting the vulnerable areas where they connect to its massive body. The flames burn with a searing intensity, severing the tentacles, sending them writhing and thrashing into the sea.

The creature, wounded and enraged, turns its attention to Pag, its remaining tentacles lashing out, seeking to crush him beneath their immense weight. Pag leaps back, narrowly avoiding the attack, his heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.

He knows he can't win this fight through brute force alone. He has to be smarter, faster, more resourceful. He scans the deck of the Serpent's Kiss, his eyes searching for something, anything, that he can use to his advantage. He spots a coil of thick rope, abandoned by the fleeing crew. An idea sparks in his mind, a risky plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He gathers his remaining strength, summoning a wave of obsidian flames to drive back the kraken’s tentacles, creating a temporary barrier of fire between him and the monstrous creature. He then dives towards the rope, securing it around his waist, his movements swift and precise, despite the rocking deck and the spray of seawater.

He glances up, meeting Aviva's gaze. She understands his plan, a mix of admiration and terror in her eyes as she tosses him a set of daggers.

He nods, a silent promise to survive, to find her again.

He takes a deep breath, then leaps over the railing, the rope trailing behind him, plunging into the churning sea, towards the waiting kraken. The crew, safe in the lifeboats, watches in stunned silence as Pag disappears beneath the waves, his obsidian flames momentarily illuminating the depths, a beacon of defiance against the monstrous creature that awaits him.

The icy water shocks Pag's system, stealing his breath as he plunges into the churning depths. Disoriented, he fights the urge to surface, the rope tethered to the Serpent's Kiss biting into his waist, reminding him of his purpose. Above, the storm rages, the silhouette of the Serpent’s Kiss a fleeting shadow against the tempestuous sky. But down here, beneath the waves, a different battle is unfolding.

The bioluminescent plants that illuminate the submerged city cast an eerie green glow, revealing the kraken in all its monstrous glory. Its massive body, larger than any ship Pag has ever seen, moves with a surprising grace, its tentacles, still regenerating from the wounds inflicted by his flames, rippling through the water, creating swirling currents that tug at him. He can feel the pressure building in his ears as he descends deeper, the water growing colder, the light dimming.

He focuses on the rope, using it to guide his descent, positioning himself beneath the kraken, its massive bulk blocking out the faint light from above. The creature, distracted by the burning remnants of its severed tentacles and the chaos on the surface, doesn’t notice him, giving Pag the element of surprise.

He draws his daggers, the obsidian blades gleaming in the ethereal light. The Heart of the Abyss, nestled securely in his bag, thrums against his chest, a reminder of the power at his disposal, the power he hesitates to unleash.

He remembers Aviva’s warning about the wild magic’s unpredictable effects at night, the potential for chaos and corruption. He remembers the Patala guardian’s cautionary words about the Heart of the Abyss, the price of its power. He knows he needs to be careful, to use his skills and cunning, not brute force.

He studies the kraken, its movements, its anatomy, searching for a weakness, an opportunity. The creature’s underbelly, a vast expanse of pale flesh, seems the most vulnerable. But how to get there?

He glances up, the faint silhouette of the Serpent's Kiss a beacon in the darkness. An idea forms in his mind, a reckless gamble, but a gamble he’s willing to take.

He channels his pyroclasm, summoning a swirling vortex of obsidian flames. He focuses the flames, not on the kraken itself, but on the rope that binds him to the ship. He needs to sever the connection, to free himself, to become a weapon.

The rope, singed by the intense heat, snaps. Pag, propelled by the force of the flames and the current, shoots upwards, a human projectile hurtling towards the kraken’s vulnerable underbelly.

The kraken, sensing the movement, the sudden shift in the water, reacts too late. Pag, daggers in hand, slams into the creature’s soft flesh, the impact driving the air from his lungs, the obsidian blades sinking deep.

The creature roars, a sound that reverberates through the water, through Pag’s very bones. It thrashes wildly, its massive body churning the water, creating a whirlpool that threatens to drag Pag down into the abyss.

He clings to the creature, his daggers lodged deep, his body battered by the force of the kraken's movements. He can feel the creature's blood, hot and thick, pulsing around him, the smell of brine and decay filling his senses.

He knows he can’t hold on much longer. He needs to strike a decisive blow, to end this fight before the kraken drags him down into the depths.

He gathers his remaining strength, channeling his pyroclasm, focusing it on the daggers embedded in the creature’s flesh.

He unleashes a final, devastating blast of obsidian flames, a supernova of scorching heat that explodes within the kraken’s body.

The creature convulses, its movements becoming erratic, desperate.

Then, silence.

The kraken, its body riddled with wounds, its life force extinguished, slowly sinks towards the ocean floor, a fallen titan returning to the abyss from which it came.

Pag, exhausted, his mana reserves depleted, releases his grip, watching as the creature disappears into the darkness.

He looks up, searching for the faint silhouette of the Serpent's Kiss, but the ship is gone.

He’s alone.