Wrath of the Deep

Martin looked down in confusion.

"When the hell does this damn ocean end?" he muttered.

Ever since he had grown wings, he had been searching for the Bank of Bloodstone and Bloodstone City. Days had passed, yet he hadn't found a single trace of them—only water, endless water stretching as far as the eye could see.

"Did I get the directions wrong?" he thought, frustration building inside him. His anger boiled over, and with a snarl, he opened his mouth and unleashed a massive fireball toward the sea.

The fireball, the size of a mountain, crashed into the water with a deafening explosion. Massive waves erupted, surging outward in every direction.

"Where the hell am I?" Martin grumbled. He had been flying in the same direction for days, yet Bloodstone City was nowhere to be found.

He was powerful—powerful enough to destroy cities with a few fireballs, to carve through mountains and forests with a swing of his claws. But when it came to directions… he was completely hopeless.

"Damn it! Where am I?! Where's that damn Bloodstone Bank?!"

Enraged, he unleashed fireball after fireball, his fury burning hotter with every blast.

The sea churned beneath the onslaught, boiling from the sheer intensity of his attacks. Countless fish, both great and small, perished instantly. The sky above twisted into chaos, tornadoes forming from the sheer disturbance of the atmosphere.

"WHERE IS IT?!" the demon roared. Once, long ago, he had been human—Martin. Now, he was a being of destruction. And right now, he was lost.

His keen demonic vision, capable of seeing hundreds of miles on a clear day, found nothing but endless ocean. No land. No Bloodstone City. 

RUMBLE!

Just as the sea boiled beneath his wrath, a deep, earth-shaking roar erupted from below. The waters convulsed, the air quivered—it was as if the very ocean had turned upside down.

Then—massive tentacles burst from the depths.

The head of an unimaginably colossal creature emerged, towering over the waves. Its sheer size was beyond comprehension, its form resembling an ancient, legendary beast—a kraken.

But not just any kraken.

Even the weakest krakens were considered Legendary-rank creatures. But this one…

This one was far beyond that.

This one was Ultra-rank.

The monstrous kraken gazed at the tiny insect causing havoc in its domain. A single, enormous tentacle stretched out, moving with terrifying speed, aiming to swat the nuisance from the sky.

Martin noticed.

He was strong, overwhelmingly so. But even he knew when to back down.

Yet, before he could even twitch his wings—before he could react—the kraken's colossal limb was already upon him.

He hadn't had the chance to dodge.

The tentacle struck Martin.

In an instant, he was reduced to nothing but a smear of blood and crushed flesh.

He felt nothing. No pain. No fear. Just instant death.

The demise of a Legendary-ranked demon—one who was connected to a powerful Demon King, the Demon of Weirdness—unleashed an overwhelming surge of chaotic energy. The sheer force of it erupted into a massive explosion, forming a towering mushroom cloud. Even a Mythic-ranked being, if caught off guard, would have suffered injuries from the blast.

But in front of the Ultra-ranked kraken's might?

It was nothing.

Not even as threatening as a mosquito bite.

Demons were strong—terrifying, even. But their influence in this world was limited. Monsters, on the other hand, especially those of the ocean, had unrestrained power.

This was why the seas were feared.

Ultra-ranked creatures rarely surfaced. They slumbered in the depths, far from human civilization. But when provoked, they would strike. Even Mythic-ranked ships—constructed with the strongest defenses for long voyages—weren't built to withstand an attack from the horrors lurking below.

After all, deep beneath the waves, there existed not only Super-ranked monsters but even Extreme-ranked abominations. No ship could possibly stand against them. Not unless the Flicker Empire devoted its full military strength to the task.

Thus, concealment was the key to survival.

The safest way to traverse the seas wasn't through force but through silence. Mythic ships were designed not for battle, but for stealth, slipping through the waters unnoticed, avoiding the attention of ancient predators.

At first glance, one might think flying would be the safest method—soaring high above the waves, untouched by the ocean's dangers.

They would be wrong.

The sky had its own perils.

Sea dragons. Lightning storms. Giant sky eagles.

Flying ships did exist, but centuries of voyages had proven that the safest passage across the sea was to move quietly across its surface.

The ocean's surface was like a thin border—a line between two domains. Many sea creatures hesitated to attack above it, while skyborne beasts rarely descended into the depths.

After erasing the foolish insect that had disturbed its slumber, the kraken let out a low, guttural rumble.

Then, slowly, it descended back into the abyss.

The water grew still once more.

The beast vanished, swallowed by the depths.

As if it had never been there at all.

...

The Flicker Empire was vast beyond imagination.

It stood as one of the most powerful human nations in the world, a protector of humanity itself.

Because humans were not the only intelligent race in existence.

Orcs, elves, beastmen, and even goblins had their own mighty empires, each ruling over vast territories. Yet, even when compared to the greatest kingdoms of other species, the Flicker Empire remained one of the strongest.

In the grand balance of power, sovereign empires were divided into three levels. This was not an official classification, but a truth universally recognized across the world.

Top-Level Empires: These were the true rulers of the world, each boasting at least one Extreme-ranked powerhouse. The Flicker Empire was one of them, alongside the Great Orc Empire, the Elven Federal Republic, and a few others. These empires were the main chess players, the ones who dictated the fate of nations. Second-Grade Empires: These nations possessed at least one Super-ranked powerhouse. While they were not among the true rulers, they were still forces to be reckoned with, holding enough strength to deter all but the mightiest adversaries. Third-Grade Empires: These had at least one Ultra-ranked powerhouse. While they still carried the title of empire, their influence was far more limited, their reach confined to local territories.

Any force without an Ultra-ranked powerhouse, regardless of what they called themselves, was not truly sovereign. Their survival depended entirely on luck—whether they could avoid the gaze of stronger empires or not.

Nations that only had Mythic-ranked and lower powerhouses were considered kingdoms, subordinate to sovereign empires. For instance, the Elowen Kingdom and Bloodstone Kingdom were both vassal states of the Flicker Empire.

Kingdoms under an empire were not independent. They were bound by the empire's laws and had to obey its will.

In this world, demons had no place.

Every intelligent race—humans, elves, orcs, goblins, and beastmen—stood united in their hatred against demonic forces. While some orc tribes worshiped demons, they were considered anomalies, outcasts among their own kind.

The reason for this universal enmity was simple:

The world could never hope to resist the horrors of the Abyss.

Any connection with demons would weaken the barrier between realms, making it easier for demonic entities to cross over. If that happened, destruction would be inevitable.

The power gap between this world and the Endless Abyss was beyond comprehension.

While there were no Supreme-ranked beings in the Abyss, it didn't matter—because lurking within its infinite depths were countless Absolute-ranked Demon Kings.

The Abyss was a nightmare given form, consisting of innumerable floors, each ruled by a Demon King.

And each and every one of these Demon Kings was at the Absolute-ranked—and terrifyingly powerful at that.

Below them were Extreme-ranked Demon Princes, Super-ranked Demon Dukes, Ultra-ranked Demon Earls, and countless lower-ranking demons.

Simply put, if not for the immense natural suppression restricting demons in this world, and the extreme difficulty of crossing between realms, this world would have been conquered and annihilated long ago.

Even with the barrier and all the difficulty, demon outbreaks are not uncommon. There have been many occasions where demons infiltrate, laying eggs and hatching countless minions. The ultimate goal of a demon is to expand the abyss by corrupting the entire world, which is why everyone is united against them.

Because of this ever-present threat, all empires—human, goblin, elven, or otherwise—hunted demonic cults without mercy.

No matter where they arose, they would be crushed before they could take root.

Fortunately for the inhabitants of this world, demons could not advance in power easily outside the Abyss. No demon had ever reached Extreme rank in this world.

Without an Extreme-ranked powerhouse to establish a foothold, demons could never form a true base or construct large-scale demonic formations to ease their passage into this realm.

To ensure this never changed, the sovereign empires had long-standing treaties to eradicate any trace of demonic corruption before it could spread.

Thus, when reports of a demonic outbreak on Silver Flower Island reached the Flicker Empire, they did not hesitate.

Without delay, they dispatched two Super-ranked knights—ready to burn every last remnant of the corruption to ash.

...

The two Super-ranked knights sent by the Flicker Empire arrived at Silver Flower Island and carefully examined the aftermath of the demonic outbreak.

But despite their efforts, they failed to locate the demonic source.

They did, however, find traces of a Legendary-ranked demonized human.

It was a concerning discovery, but without solid proof of an ongoing threat, there was little they could do.

The standard protocol for sealing off an area was clear—if a Super-ranked demonic item was found, the land may be completely quarantined.

But since they found nothing of that level, they chose not to seal the island.

Instead, they took a more measured approach.

Before leaving, the knights booked an Ultra-ranked mage to visit the island and reinforce the existing demon suppression formations.

With that arrangement in place, their duty was done.

As the Super knights departed, three figures finally allowed themselves to breathe:

King Bloodstone, Georgia, and King.Edward.

They all felt a wave of relief wash over them.

Things could have gone far worse.

Had the knights found even a single Super-ranked demonic artifact, the entire island might have been sealed off—perhaps forever.

Yet, despite their relief, one question lingered in their minds:

Where did the item go?

Was it truly gone?

Or was the danger simply waiting to resurface?

Unfortunately, as Legendary-ranked knights, they lacked the strength and knowledge to investigate further.

Even two Super-ranked knights had failed to uncover the truth—what hope did they have?

Understanding their limits, they set the matter aside.

Georgia and Edward returned to Elowen Kingdom, resuming their duties.

Meanwhile, King Bloodstone turned his focus to the devastation left behind.

Though he usually avoided direct involvement in such affairs, this time, he made an exception.

For now, his priority was rebuilding what had been lost.