Blood poured freely now, staining the surrounding sea red. The water churned, carrying the scent of death far and wide. In the distance, I could already sense movement—sharks gathering, drawn by instinct to the spreading blood. Mortivex's sheer size made the scene even more horrifying. He was vast enough to be mistaken for an island, and yet he bled like any other living thing.
I steadied myself and spoke carefully.
"Mortivex," I said, my voice lower now. "How did you come to this world? And how did you gain the ability to speak?"
He did not react to the question.
Instead, his gaze remained locked on mine.
"Where… is… my prince…"
It became clear then that he did not understand what I was asking. Or perhaps he simply did not care. The answer he sought was the only thing keeping him focused, the only thing anchoring his broken mind.
I rubbed my chin slowly, my thoughts racing.
Prince…
Was he referring to Zareth's son, who had died long ago? Or worse—had that child been reincarnated into this world? The possibility alone made my stomach tighten.
Another thought followed, darker than the last.
Elena.
In the past, silent creatures had attacked her repeatedly, as if drawn to something within her. The Atlantis Kingdom had barely managed to keep her alive during those early years.
And now Mortivex was here.
If he did not know Elena was a girl, or if gender meant nothing in his world, then—
This calamity may have come for her.
I lifted my gaze back to Mortivex, the weight of the realization settling heavily in my chest.
If he was asking for a prince…
Then this encounter was no coincidence.
And whatever answer Mortivex was searching for—
It threatened to drag this world into catastrophe.
(Narrator POV)
Mortivex continued to stare at Grandpa, fully aware of what stood before him.
He knew this was an Atlantis dragon—one of the old blood. Any rational creature, even a calamity, would have retreated immediately. Yet Mortivex did not step back.
Despite his weakened state and the pain tearing through his shattered jaw, he remained where he was.
The desire burned stronger than fear.
He wanted to see the Prince.
That longing alone had dragged him across worlds, forcing his broken body into a realm that rejected his existence. It was reckless. It was suicidal. And it was dangerous.
The timing could not have been worse.
Erza had exhausted herself healing Yuuta, and her senses were only beginning to recover. If Grandpa had not felt this monstrous presence when he did—if his instincts had not screamed—
This beast would have already entered Lebius unnoticed.
Grandpa did not hesitate.
He raised his arm, forming an ice needle in the air. It was so small it looked harmless, barely larger than a shard of glass. For a brief moment, it hung there, suspended.
Then it fell.
As it descended, the needle expanded violently, drawing moisture and mana from the atmosphere. In an instant, it grew into an enormous mass of ice—an iceberg tearing itself free from the sky.
It slammed into Mortivex's back with catastrophic force.
The ocean erupted.
Massive waves rose like walls as Mortivex was driven beneath the surface, trapped under the crushing weight of the iceberg. Even a calamity could not ignore such power.
Grandpa watched carefully.
Because Mortivex was not finished.
The water exploded outward as Mortivex surged forward, abandoning all defense. Like a shark trained for ambush, he burst out of the ocean, his massive body slicing through the air as he charged straight at Grandpa, jaws wide open.
Grandpa did not retreat.
Instead, he bit into his own hand.
Blood flowed freely.
The moment his blood touched the air, it ignited.
A violent transformation tore through him as violet shadows swallowed the sky. His aura erupted outward like a volcanic explosion, crushing the atmosphere beneath its pressure.
Mortivex froze mid-flight.
Before him stood a colossal dragon, scales ancient and eyes glowing with overwhelming authority. The dragon reached out, claws closing around Mortivex's body with absolute dominance.
There was no struggle.
Grandpa carried him upward.
Higher and higher they flew, until the ground vanished from sight and the ocean became nothing more than a dark blur below. The air thinned rapidly as the sky darkened.
At the edge of the ozone layer, the world beneath them disappeared completely.
And only the reckoning remained.
Grandpa carried Mortivex to the highest point of the world—far beyond the clouds, to the edge of the ozone layer itself.
The air there was thin, merciless, and deadly.
He inhaled once.
Then exhaled.
A breath colder than death washed over Mortivex, freezing his massive body in an instant. Ice spread across his scales like a curse, sealing his limbs, his jaws, even the hatred burning in his eyes.
Still, Mortivex struggled.
"Prince…"
The word escaped his frozen mouth as he twisted violently, snapping his jaws toward the dragon's neck. His teeth clashed against ancient scales, but it was pointless. Grandpa's body was too hard, too old, too absolute to be broken by a weakened calamity.
Grandpa did not respond.
He simply froze Mortivex completely.
Then he released him.
Mortivex began to fall.
Slowly at first—like the fallen star of Lucifer cast from heaven, or an asteroid abandoned by the sky. Gravity claimed him, dragging his frozen body downward as pressure and velocity tore at him without mercy.
The ice began to crack.
Chunks shattered away, tearing scales with them and exposing raw flesh beneath. As Mortivex descended, the sudden change in temperature turned against him. Cold gave way to searing heat, and the atmosphere itself became his executioner.
His body ignited.
Mortivex screamed.
The sound echoed for miles, a roar filled with agony and desperation. When his massive form finally struck the ocean, the impact was catastrophic. Towering waves exploded outward, and for a brief moment, the sea itself turned to steam beneath the burning heat of his fall.
Then, slowly—
Very slowly—
Mortivex disappeared beneath the water.
The ocean swallowed him whole.
Grandpa hovered above the clouds, watching the surface return to silence. His expression remained calm, but his thoughts were not.
How did he cross worlds?
And more importantly…
What did he mean by "Prince"?
Then Grandpa saw that, Mortivex was still alive.
Grandpa realized it too late.
Beneath the surface of the ocean, the calamity moved again. Its body was half-destroyed—scales melted, flesh burned black, blood boiling from the sudden temperature shift. Any normal creature would have sunk into death long ago. Yet Mortivex did not stop.
It surged forward through the depths, faster than reason allowed, cutting through the sea like a living spear.
"Prince…!"
The scream echoed through the water, distorted but unmistakable.
"PRINCE!"
Grandpa's expression hardened as he launched himself after it, wings tearing the sky apart. He had not expected this. He had believed the creature broken beyond pursuit. Mortivex moved faster than a swordfish, faster than anything born of this world.
Ice magic erupted from Grandpa's hands. Spears formed instantly, compressed to deadly density, and rained down upon the ocean and sky alike. Chains of frozen mana followed, wrapping around Mortivex's massive body in an attempt to bind it.
They shattered.
The calamity did not slow. It smashed through every attack, its ruined body tearing itself apart just to move forward. Pain meant nothing anymore. Only one instinct remained.
The destination.
Nyro City emerged on the horizon.
The shoreline was close.
Too close.
"Prince… PRINCE…!"
The scream grew louder, filled with agony and obsession.
Grandpa pushed himself harder, forcing more power from his core than his body could safely handle. Crystal walls rose from the sea, ice storms detonated midair, and layered restraints crashed down one after another.
None of them held.
Mortivex tore through everything, burning the last remnants of its life to gain speed. It was already dying—but it intended to reach its goal first.
Then Grandpa saw her.
On the beach, where the waves were already beginning to rise into a tsunami, a single woman stood unmoving. She did not run. She did not hide. She did not even brace herself.
She simply stood there, holding a sword.
Her calm presence clashed violently with the chaos around her. The wind screamed, the sea roared, and a monster large enough to devour a city charged straight toward her—and still, she did not step back.
Grandpa stopped in midair.
Her aura pressed against the world itself, demanding acknowledgment.
This woman was no ordinary being.
Slowly, deliberately, she drew her blade, her posture steady and absolute. There was no hesitation in her movement—only certainty. She was not preparing to defend.
She was preparing to end it.
The sky darkened.
The ocean rose.
And Mortivex rushed toward his final mistake.
To be continued.