I planted my staff into the ground.
Once.
The impact sent a controlled pulse through the stone beneath my feet—not a spell meant for destruction, but authority. The kind that summoned obedience from creatures born to follow strength.
"Come," I said softly.
The ground cracked open.
From the fissure rose heat, pressure, and the distant sound of something vast shifting through layers of reality. Lava light bled through the fracture, followed by a towering silhouette dragging itself upward from a summoned rift.
Lord Krakenskull emerged.
His form was immense—obsidian armor fused with bone, deep-sea sigils etched into his frame, and a skull shaped like some ancient leviathan looming where a face should have been. Molten energy pulsed between the cracks of his armor like a heartbeat. This was not a brute.
This was a general.
He lowered one massive knee, not in submission—but in acknowledgment.
The sound he made next was not meant for human ears.
A rolling, layered speech echoed from him, syllables folding over each other like waves crashing against stone. The ancient tongue of the Krakens, old even by Monstrox's standards.
Once, that language would have been impossible for me.
Now—
I understood every word.
Not because I had studied it.
Because he had.
Monstrox.
Or rather… what he had become inside me.
The memories surfaced smoothly—ritual chambers beneath drowned kingdoms, negotiations with abyssal warlords, centuries spent learning the dialects of creatures older than continents. There was no separation anymore. Not truly.
We weren't two minds.
We were a continuation.
I replied in the same ancient language, my voice steady, precise.
"Rise, Lord Krakenskull. I require your counsel."
His head tilted slightly—interest, not surprise.
We spoke at length.
Not of emotion.Not of loyalty.
Of strategy.
I explained the situation: the ongoing conflict, the weakening state of the Overlord, the First Spinjitzu Master's eventual sacrifice, and the fragile balance that would follow. Krakenskull listened without interruption, occasionally interjecting with observations that confirmed why he had survived and thrived where other generals had failed.
He understood power dynamics.He understood timing.He understood betrayal.
We debated openly.
Would direct intervention now draw too much attention?Yes.
Would revealing our full army shift the balance prematurely?Also yes.
Would the Overlord accept aid without attempting domination?
Krakenskull's answer was immediate.
"He will attempt to bind you."
I already knew that.
The question was how to prevent it.
Together, we refined the solution.
Not a show of force.
Not submission.
An envoy.
A controlled offer of alliance—structured, conditional, and backed by just enough proof of power to demand respect without provoking fear-driven aggression.
Krakenskull straightened fully, magma light flaring faintly behind his armor.
"An emissary carries risk," he warned."But it also tests intent."
I nodded.
"Exactly."
If the Overlord destroyed or enslaved the envoy, I would know negotiation was impossible.
If he listened—
Then the game would begin.
I raised my staff once more.
"Prepare a representative," I said. "One who can speak without weakness—and without revealing everything."
Krakenskull inclined his head.
"It will be done."
The fissure reopened beneath him, and with a final echo of ancient sound, the general descended back into the depths from which he came.
I stood alone again, staff resting at my side.
An envoy would be sent.
And soon, the Overlord would learn that he was no longer the only darkness preparing for the future of Ninjago.