The boy swung through the air on the rope, releasing his grip only when positioned directly above the deeper wound in the tentacle. Only then did Wally Laren Ctiton realize that if the boy was mad, perhaps he himself was too. This youth had executed precisely the plan Wally had just conceived—only with greater decisiveness, superior skill, and vastly more efficiency. In mid-flight, he drew his dagger, raised it high, and in a lightning flash of motion, brought it down upon the scarred source of their terror.

  His strike wasn't perfect. The sound of blade slicing into flesh revealed the slight miss. But then came the satisfying tearing sound as the tentacle split, proving that small error utterly irrelevant in the face of victory. The monstrous limb split in two; the portion still coiled around the mast went slack and lifeless, while the remainder slid into the bloodied sea with a spray of dark crimson.

  Wally descended the mast with slow, careful movements. Meanwhile, jubilant sailors surrounded the boy in celebration. "What's your name?" the prince pushed through the crowd. "Jerry Patt," the boy replied with a broad, triumphant grin. "Sixteen, from Flag Isle."

  (A Flag Isle kid.) Wally was jealous and angry that the boy had done what he should have. (No wonder he climbed so fast. Those monkeys.) "You're brave, Jerry from Flag Isle," he said, "brave like a madman."

  "Your Highness," Henris Weber Ian sheathed his scimitar. "We've lost too many ships already. We mustn't linger here." Around the great sea beasts, corpses and wreckage littered the crimson waves, the Seagull's banner still caught on the Megalodon's ragged fin. People in the water were trying to grab anything that floated. "Henris, tell them to lower more boats and get as many Shahanins on the Narwhal as we can."

  "We can't save them." The old man gripped the prince's shoulder firmly. "We're barely staying afloat ourselves. To be buried at sea is every islander's destined fate, and the blue deep our final resting place."

  "It's crimson now, Henris. I am their king." Wally lifted his chin with regal pride. "I will not abandon my people to die."

  "No one would blame you, neither as prince nor commander, Your Highness. You've made the right judgment—we need to retreat at once."

  "Shahanins aren't cowards." He looked away. "Lower the boats!"

  The men adrift in the sea, desperate and frantic, swarmed toward the newly launched boats as if drawn by powerful magnets. Shahanins fought Godmans, Shahanins struggled against other Shahanins, Godmans battled Godmans—all scrambling for survival. "Fools," Wally sneered from his vantage point. "Those Godmans know full well we'll execute them if they board." He added coldly, "Or simply throw them back to the sharks."

  The Megalodon's movements had grown sluggish, five massive wooden stakes protruding from its battered body. The tentacles of the Larodo Colossal Octopus, too, had lost their earlier ferocity; the severed limb now lay limp and useless. "The battle nears its end," Henris declared, hauling an exhausted islander aboard while kicking a Godman back into the churning sea. "The shark has shredded the octopus's mouth, though it's gravely wounded itself." The old man marveled. "Who would have thought I'd live to witness such an extraordinary spectacle..."

  His words ended with a gulp of seawater as a massive wave suddenly loomed over the Narwhal—a towering wall of water poised to swallow the warship whole. At its crest gleamed a pale yellow horn, exquisitely spiraled and patterned, belonging to a male Spiral Narwhal nearly two hundred feet in length. As the water cascaded away, its eyes—matching the ivory-yellow hue of its horn—became visible above its enormous head. The leviathan fixed its ancient gaze upon the Megalodon and octopus, unleashing a deep, resonant bellow that shook the very air. The sound resembled a whale's song yet carried within it the most primal, overwhelming force imaginable. Its haunting call continued until another massive wave rose beside it—revealing a slightly smaller female Spiral Narwhal. She was distinguished not only by her lesser size but by her shorter horn, which jutted vertically from her skull rather than at the battle-ready angle of the male's fearsome weapon.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  The two colossal whales spouted towering plumes, creating a brief, localized downpour. "This may be the most fortunate day of my entire life," Henris Weber Ian whispered, allowing the saltwater spray to wash over his weathered face. Wally Laren Ctiton stood transfixed, having never before witnessed such supreme oceanic rulers—these titans beyond apex predators—at such close proximity. Throughout the Seven Seas Kingdoms, the white Spiral Narwhal was considered an omen of doom; legend held that these magnificent beasts rivaled even Kidolian, the god of the sea himself, in raw power. No ship from the Seven Kingdoms would willingly enter their domain unless faced with the direst necessity.

  The Megalodon released its prey, circling the nearby waters warily as if, in a single heartbeat, it had reassessed its situation and chosen a new adversary. The Larodo Colossal Octopus retracted its remaining tentacles close to its body, adopting a defensive posture. Before the might of the Spiral Narwhals, these former combatants were reduced to mere prey.

  What strange courage possessed the battered Megalodon to issue its challenge? It burst upward from the depths, massive jaws gaping wide to display countless rows of serrated teeth in a threatening display toward the narwhal. "Down! Get down!" Henris shouted at the transfixed prince. "They're about to engage!"

  The male Spiral Narwhal gave no warning, no preliminary gesture. It surged forward with explosive power, its enormous body vanishing beneath the bloody surface while only its lethal horn sliced through the water with terrifying, impossible speed. Before the Megalodon could close its massive jaws, the narwhal's spiraling weapon pierced clean through its upper palate. The narwhal breached magnificently, twisting its body in mid-air before crashing back down with earth-shattering force. The impact sent Wally Laren Ctiton tumbling across the deck, though he somehow maintained his footing.

  "Foolish creature." The old man stepped forward to steady the prince. "It was a battle between entirely different classes—not unlike our conflict with Godma."

  "That's how nature fights," he said.

  The yellow, baleful eyes of the Larodo Colossal Octopus had witnessed everything, the horrific fate of its former adversary now burned into its primitive consciousness. The octopus carefully curled its remaining tentacles beneath its mantle and began a slow, cautious retreat into the depths, hoping to make an inconspicuous exit. But it failed to account for the female Spiral Narwhal positioning herself behind it—her cavernous maw, twice the octopus's size, closed around the cephalopod in one swift motion, leaving only a few tentacles weakly wriggling between her massive lips.

  "That's quite enough spectating, prince." Henris was forced to slip his arms under Wally's armpits to physically drag him away. "If we don't get below deck immediately, we'll join those creatures in the deep."

  "They are... truly magnificent."

  "And lethally dangerous," Henris Weber Ian conceded, releasing his grip. "Creatures that transcend even apex predators—they could obliterate us all without effort."

  "...Spiral Narwhals rarely harm humans deliberately." Wally shook free of the old man's grasp, struggling to maintain his balance on the pitching deck.

  "Only because we wisely avoid their territories," Henris replied pragmatically. "And because they rarely take notice of our insignificance. But today is markedly different," his face darkened. "Those two are near-frenzied Spiral Narwhals."

  The male surfaced once more, its horn now clean of any trace of the Megalodon, which had vanished completely—undoubtedly already being digested. "Our fleet is in pitiful condition," the old man observed grimly, gazing astern where only two Sea Serpent Class ships struggled to maintain formation. "Now that the fog has lifted, we must withdraw immediately, regroup our forces, and then assess the full extent of our losses."