Eater of Worlds

The ocean which separated Tor and Fleecia had become an economically vital passage in the last 500 years. Due to its cold climate, the southernmost power of the world historically suffered from poor crop yields, instead relying on the flesh and fat of its large, sedentary mammals to sustain its population. With the establishment of the Holy Alliance, Tor quickly funded the construction of ships and dockyards on both sides of the channel, eager to exchange their surplus of crops for Fleecia's reserves of high-quality metal. Now partially dependent on the support of humankind to sustain its growing population, Fleecia's industry of naval trade had become one of incredible national importance.

However, as of late, the crucial trade route--known as Onaffor-Hen, had become disrupted by the presence of a nesting Kraken. Having laid its eggs somewhere beneath the waves of the channel, it was liable to fiercely attack any passing ships in order to defend them. Even armed with iron and magic, a fully-grown Kraken was not a foe easily dispatched. As such, it had been the way of sailors around the world to simply work around their territories in an effort to evade the beasts, but with trading vessels carrying perishables across that naval route, it was imperative to have them delivered as quickly as possible, especially with Tor's recent reliance on Fleecia's high-quality metal to smelt the alloyed weapons and armour used by the Anti-Demon Leagues.

In short, there was no other way--the Kraken had to die, or at least be driven from its territory. Tor was in no position to be sending ships to attack it, as their naval strength was relatively underwhelming, but the hardy Fleecians, known for their mastery of the seas, were more than prepared to send an armoured ship towards the beast. Staffed by some of the country's finest warriors and shaman, that boat--the Curtail Zraffa, departed from a northernmost dock in the late hours of the night, intending to enter the Kraken's territory at sunrise to improve visibility. Master archers, armed with barbed arrows to cause bleeding, travelled alongside a Fleecian Siltla--a kind of sorcerer specialising in weather control, to ensure smooth sailing and clear skies.

It was not a particularly honourable mission--to kill a Kraken. The Onda had worshipped such creatures as living Gods in ancient times, believing them to be manifestations of the sea's cruel wrath. Not to mention, the creature was not attacking ships indiscriminately, but to protect its cluster of eggs, inadvertently interfering with the world's fragile economic treaties. Even so, the beasts were not invincible--far from it, in fact. An armoured ship could easily withstand the crushing force of its many tentacles battering the hull, and an array of harpoon guns proved effective at preventing the creature from escaping once mortally wounded.

At the crack of dawn, the Curtail Zraffa's tremendous bulk carved effortlessly through the foaming waves of the open sea, and in the lantern-lit confines of its captain's quarters, a spectacled Onda traced his finger over the grainy parchment of a naval chart.

"It's likely we'll be getting attacked in a matter of moments." He reported, "We've already been sailing through the Kraken's territory for the last half hour."

"The topmen are keeping a close eye out for any activity." Another voice replied, "The soldiers on this vessel are some of Fleecia's finest, so even a surprise attack won't result in too many casualties."

"If I may, Captain Pillaie…" The scholar paused, "What are your opinions on having this beast killed?"

"You want to know if I care?" The vessel's captain asked, "Our days of worshipping are long gone. Armed with arrows and harpoons of iron, what point is there in praying to a creature that can be killed as easily as a whale? Perhaps once, they seemed invincible, but this ever-changing world of ours is seeming less unconquerable by the day."

"Even so-" Adjusting his glasses, the scholar replied, "It's unlikely that her eggs will hatch if we proceed. Too many predators will move to fill the gap this Kraken will create."

"Tor needs iron, and Fleecia needs crops. It's either this, or the trade between our countries grinds to a halt. Can't risk having fresh ships attacked even if they skirt around Onaffor-Hen."

"Of course. I wasn't opposing the rationality of the situation."

"Not like we have much of a chance. Considering how it's--"

Their conversation was interrupted. The metallic clanging of a bell, followed by footsteps surging on the deck above their heads, brought them to the realisation that the ship's topmen had most likely spotted the Kraken. Standing to his feet, Captain Pillaie quickly departed from his cabin, emerging from the wall of the quarterdeck onto the water-slick deck. As he wandered to the Curtail Zraffa's bow, a sailor descended from the midden mast shrouds with a spyglass in hand, following after the captain and quickly reporting the situation.

"Captain, there's-" Pausing, the sailor looked upon the surface of the water, "Well…"

"What is it, boy?"

"The Kraken is…" Breathing in, he relented, "Well, it appears to be dead in the water, Captain."

"Dead?"

Grabbing the spyglass from that young sailor, Pillaie was quick to step up and focus his vision towards the horizon, looking for anything in particular. It didn't take long for him to spot a strange colour mixing with the blue-and-white waves--pure black, as if a shadow had overtaken some stretch of the surface, and beyond it, the salmon-pink flesh of some gargantuan creature, soft body undulating as the waves battered its hide. Krakens weren't known for their dispositions to sunbathe, or for expelling ink without a good reason. Most certainly, as his crewman had just informed, it appeared lifeless.

"We'll get closer." He muttered, "Best to make sure it's been slain."

"I'll speak to the helmsman right away!"

As the commotion aboard the ship died down and Pillaie wandered back to the aft, the scholar--Imdra, emerged from the captain's cabin with a perplexed expression.

"Are we under attack?" He wondered.

"Seems as if the Kraken's met its end already." The Captain replied, "We're moving upon it now to see if it's truly dead."

"Dead!?" Imdra exclaimed, "A Kraken!?"

"You've never heard of such a thing before?"

"Well, of course, there was a record of one such creature washing up on the jagged rocks of the southern coastline, but it was terribly old." He explained, "Krakens have no natural predators. It's unlikely that even an entire pod of killer whales would stand a chance against one."

"How's this happened, then?"

"Well…" Frowning, Imdra paused for a moment, "I'm not sure, to be honest."

Forebodingly, the Curtail Zraffa sailed towards the apparent corpse of that leviathan, which appeared more convincing by the moment as sailors and soldiers both scrambled to the deck to witness the gargantuan creature with their own eyes. Only, as they drew close enough for the Kraken to be seen clearly at a naked glance, it didn't appear like any sort of squid-like creature at all. In fact, what was floating on that ink-stained stretch of water seemed more like a deflated bag of ripped-up skin than a beast. Shreds of fatty, flabby flesh dispersing like organic mines in the water flopped up against the ship's hull as it approached, and schools of fish could be seen collecting near the darkened waterline, feeding on the clouds of dead skin bobbing on the surface.

"Unbelievable…" Imdra remarked, staring over the edge of the deck, "Look at the state of its body. Ripped apart like a doll."

"You think something ate it?" Pillaie wondered.

"Not 'ate', as it were…" He answered, "It's more like… something bumped into it."

"There isn't a creature in all the world's oceans that could do this kind of damage to a Kraken by just 'bumping into' it."

"But look at the injuries beneath the skin-" Imdra insisted, pointing a finger towards the Kraken's corpse, "Not bitten, but torn--and not by claws, or teeth, but by… friction. Rather than 'bumping', it might be more correct to say that it was 'scraped' against something. Something sharp and incredibly durable, large enough to rip its entire body to pieces."

"I don't suppose you've got an idea of what that 'something' was, do you?"

"If I must be honest with you, Captain…" Imdra paused, "I think I would rather not-"

It was strange, but all of a sudden, Pillaie couldn't hear a thing.

No, that wasn't entirely correct. Up until a few instants prior, his hearing was perfect. Only, his eardrums had been assaulted by a sound so grand and piercing as to temporarily deafen him. A low, peaceful ringing was all that he heard. Then, a number of things happened. Firstly, Imdra covered both of his ears with a pained expression, only to have his attention diverted by the presence of something--something which had appeared at exactly that moment.

If it could be compared to anything, Pillaeie would perhaps use an occasion from his youth as an example; staring up from a saltwater cave to an opening in its ceiling, through which purest sunlight filtered down. Around him, there was nothing but darkness. That experience, falling through a loose carpet of stone into a cavern, had instilled him with a kind of reluctance to enter tight spaces. He felt trapped, as if cornered, or consumed, by something. Indeed, that moment--it was an almost perfect imitation of his childhood fear…

The fear of being trapped,

in the cavernous maw,

of a gargantuan sea monster.