The violet mist radiating from the Kraken's body thickened and grew heavier the closer one came to its center. At the same time, lightning from the farthest reaches of the heavens fell in ever greater numbers.
Countless bolts struck the body of the giant beast of the northern seas, blazing with a molten, magma-like fury, as though determined to melt it entirely away.
"ROAR!"
Perhaps sensing the familiar aura of runes suddenly flaring from the human who had appeared, the monster let out a bellow unlike any it had made before.
And as if in answer to those runes, the Kraken's vast body gave a shudder.
Sweeping aside any assumption that such a massive creature must be slow, the northern sea monster began to leap. Though its movements might appear sluggish compared to a human's, its true speed was extraordinary.
"Kill it! Damn stinking octopus, this fog is disgusting—I'm going to hack it to pieces! Human, bring my body out right now! I'll take its head clean off!"
"That would be far too flashy… and Typhon, could you lower your voice?"
Bounding across the storm-lashed North Sea on the strength of the runes, Avia answered the battle-hungry Typhon while rushing straight for the monster. He nimbly scaled the beast's knee and chest, climbing swiftly to its head, where he stood.
"Dragon Furnace—ignite."
The silver-haired young man's voice rang out, bold and resolute, over the North Sea.
At that instant, far away, Mount Etna stirred once again—like some great source of magical power had been tapped.
"Dragon Path—open."
The power sealing Typhon surged into him, gathering fast. His body, traced all over with glowing patterns, pressed both hands against the Kraken's head.
With a great thunderclap, the monster's neck was severed in an instant, its massive head spinning away through the air.
Only a few meters into its flight, the head began to desiccate as if time itself had sped up, shriveling and weathering in moments.
But the wound healed with staggering speed, a new head forming before their eyes.
The Kraken, an ancient phantasmal species, was a being meant to endure into the modern day—a creature that had surpassed the bounds of natural life.
After the end of the Age of Gods, ancient species with their own self-contained life systems could no longer sustain themselves. The Kraken survived by fusing with small, dying nature spirits of the North Sea, allowing it to persist in Norse history. Its regeneration was no surprise.
After all, even the Grand Puppeteer, Aozaki Tōko, had once encountered and fought it.
She had also witnessed the Mystic Eyes Collection Train racing through Nordic forests, the triangular passage to the otherworldly Bermuda—the Sea of No Return—and the God Age Alliance among the Dead Apostles.
"Dragon Prison—materialize: Ashen Scorch Armor."
Unleashing the full power of Mount Etna, Avia's magical energy flared violently. Wings sprouted from the crimson armor upon his back.
Seconds later, from those wings burst a torrent of scarlet substance, tens of thousands of times more massive than the surrounding seawater.
Like molten feathers of crimson, brimming with vitality beyond the norm of the mystical, they did not burn the Kraken's flesh on contact—they carbonized it to white ash instead.
Dragon-wing feathers that could rend all things; fire-red plumes that could burn the world to nothing.
A beautiful pair of wings, stirring a storm of despair and a world of flame—this was the might of the Progenitor Dragon, Typhon.
Sensing mortal danger, the northern sea monster tried to dive into the ocean with all speed. To escape, it severed all of its own tentacles, leaving only its body and head to flee. Yet—
"Thou art—thunder that rends the cosmos."
Avia didn't particularly want to shout it aloud, but with Typhon nagging incessantly in his mind, he gave in and roared the words. Power surged in answer to that cry.
The Holy Verse, declaring a unique authority, thundered forth. From Avia's hands erupted torrents of crimson and black.
Perhaps the world itself noticed the mystery descending from the heavens—for when Typhon's power was unleashed in full, auroras danced in the far-off sky.
For a fleeting instant, the sky of the Age of Gods and the sky of the present world were swapped.
Alien lightning spewed from the storm winds and rain, lancing toward the Kraken shrouded in violet mist. This was the destructive weapon Typhon had remade entirely anew after deciphering Zeus's original schematics.
It burned every molecule of air away—a scorching double helix that swallowed the Kraken whole in a single breath.
"Magnificent!"
Typhon's voice was alight with excitement. If she had been in human form instead of armor, she would no doubt have clenched both fists in glee.
And thus, the ancient species thought to be undying met true death, here and now.
The storm clouds broke. The mist dissolved. Sunlight fell once more upon the North Sea, the dazzling golden waters heralding the arrival of a new dawn.
"That… really took it out of me…"
Sweating all over and gasping for breath, Beowulf quickly pulled out a waterskin, gulped a mouthful, then poured some over his head to steady himself and push back the exhaustion. Rowing his battered little boat, he came alongside the one where Avia and Siegfried sat.
"I don't suppose I could get your names—?"
The blond giant smiled broadly. After all, the two before him had just slain the Kraken—gratitude demanded a bit of courtesy.
Especially the younger man, who was surely a messenger sent by the great god Odin himself—how else could he wield such pure runes? And he had done the lion's share of the work. As for the other man, who looked just as worn out as himself—well…
Coming back to his senses, Beowulf noticed the emblem he disliked most on the man's chest: the cross of the Church.
"My name is Avia. This is Siegfried."
The silver-haired youth's lips curved into a slight smile.
"Fine names! Excellent names!"
Even if he wasn't fond of Church folk, Beowulf quickly adjusted his attitude. They had, after all, slain the Kraken together—he owed them proper respect.
"Hahaha! I nearly forgot—my name's Beowulf! A pleasure to meet you both!"
The blond man rolled his shoulders and swung his arm.
"Beowulf… I've heard that name. Weren't you the king of Geatland…?"
Siegfried's voice was calm and steady—his usual manner.
"Hahaha, king or not, it makes no difference. I was a warrior before I was a king."
Then Beowulf turned to Avia, his gaze steady and intent.
"Avia—you must be a messenger sent by the great god Odin, right?"
"…Well, I suppose you could say that. I do wield some runes."
"I know it's rude to ask right after meeting you, but… could I beg your aid in slaying the water demon—Grendel?"
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