Reborn In A Perverse Monster World! My System Adapts To Everything!

Chapter 139: The Shrine Island [FIXED!][12/07!]

The sea turned red and Thalion was still no closer to finding out what had happened.

Thalion watched as the blood spread beneath his men, swirling through the water in dark, sickening ribbons. The crimson stain expanded with each passing moment, carried by the violent waves. His men screamed, their voices swallowed by the roar of the sea, their bodies thrashing against the relentless current. Some of them had already disappeared beneath the surface, never to resurface.

The creature that had devoured them rose slowly from the depths.

Its massive form broke the surface with terrifying grace, its body emerging like a mountain rising from the abyss. It was a kraken—an ancient beast of legend, feared by sailors and adventurers alike. Its body was enormous, its tentacles thick as ancient trees, covered in barnacles and scars from countless battles. Its skin was dark and slick, glistening with sea water. Its eyes—dozens of them, scattered across its massive head—glowed with a cold, predatory light that seemed to pierce through the chaos of the storm. Its maw was lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth that could shred steel and bone with equal ease.

Everyone was panicked. His men scrambled, their voices rising in desperate screams that were swallowed by the crashing waves. The kraken’s tentacles lashed through the water, sending sprays of salt and blood into the air.

Thalion’s jaw tightened. His fists clenched at his sides. He had faced monsters before, but this was different. This was a creature that had been hunting for centuries, its instincts honed by countless kills.

"Scramble behind me!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

His men obeyed, huddling behind him as the kraken’s tentacles lashed through the water. Thalion raised his hand, ready to strike—but he knew he could not fight this creature in its natural habitat. The water was its domain, and he was at a disadvantage. His magic would be weakened, his movements slowed, his attacks less effective.

The kraken descended.

Its maw opened wide, revealing a cavern of darkness lined with jagged teeth. Thalion managed to push a few of his men out of harm’s way, using his magic to propel them toward the distant surface. But he was not fast enough. The creature’s jaws closed around him, swallowing him whole.

Darkness engulfed Thalion. The heat was suffocating, the pressure immense. He could feel the creature’s digestive acids beginning to eat away at his armor. But he did not panic.

He remembered his ability—size manipulation.

Closing his eyes, Thalion focused, drawing on the power of Maldred’s body. He felt his form begin to expand, his bones stretching, his muscles swelling. The creature’s stomach groaned and stretched, straining against the growing pressure.

With a final, violent surge, Thalion reverted to his giant form.

The kraken’s body exploded from within. Guts and ichor sprayed across the crimson sea, painting the waves in shades of black and red. The creature let out a deafening roar of agony—then fell silent.

Thalion emerged from the wreckage, covered in gore, his body battered and bruised. But he was alive.

He floated in the blood-soaked water, breathing heavily.

The sea was quiet once more.

Thalion floated in the blood-soaked water, his chest heaving, his body battered and bruised. The kraken’s remains drifted around him, chunks of flesh and ichor bobbing on the crimson waves. He allowed himself a moment of relief. A moment of peace. The battle had been brutal, but he had survived. He had emerged victorious.

Then the sea began to stir.

He felt it before he saw it—the vibration in the water, the shift in pressure, the sudden, ominous stillness that preceded an attack. His instincts screamed at him, warning of danger. He turned slowly, his eyes scanning the horizon.

A dozen krakens emerged from the depths around him.

Their massive forms broke the surface in a circle, surrounding him from all directions. Their tentacles rose high into the air, casting long, menacing shadows across the water. Their dozens of eyes fixed on him with cold, ancient hunger. The air grew thick with tension, heavy with the weight of impending doom.

Thalion’s blood ran cold. Even he knew this was beyond his scope. He could not fight all of them at once. His body was not as strong as it could be—he had refused to consume souls to strengthen himself, clinging to the last shreds of his morality. A choice that now felt like a fatal mistake. His muscles ached, his mana reserves were depleted, and his body screamed for rest.

He kissed his teeth in irritation. He would have to hold his own. He had no other choice.

But the krakens did not attack.

They simply stood there, surrounding him, waiting. It was as if they were holding him in place for something else. Their tentacles swayed gently in the water, their eyes fixed on him with unnerving patience.

Thalion’s eyes narrowed. His hand drifted to the hilt of his blade. Something was wrong. Something was coming.

Then something grabbed him from beneath.

A massive hand—cold, scaled, powerful—wrapped around his ankle and yanked him under the water. The force was immense, dragging him down at impossible speed. He saw his men being pulled under as well, one by one, their bodies disappearing into the darkness below. Their screams were swallowed by the water, silenced by the crushing pressure.

Thalion tried to fight, tried to summon his magic, but the water was too deep, the pressure too great. His body felt heavy, his limbs sluggish. He could not move. He could not breathe.

He saw them then.

Creatures almost as large as he was. Human-like features—arms, torsos, faces—but with tails that belonged to fish. Their eyes were large and dark, their skin pale and slick, their mouths filled with needle-sharp teeth. They moved through the water with effortless grace, their bodies shimmering in the faint light.

They surrounded him, their hands gripping his arms, his legs, his neck. Their grip was unbreakable, their strength immense. They pulled him deeper into the abyss, into a world of endless darkness.

Thalion’s eyes widened.

What are they? he thought. Why can they breathe underwater?

Then the darkness swallowed him whole.

Suddenly, the crushing pressure was gone as he no longer felt the crushing weight of the sea pushing against his entire being.

Thalion gasped as his lungs filled with air—air that should not have been there. He was deep underwater moments ago at the mercy of these sea creatures, being dragged into the abyss by creatures that he had no idea existed despite his very long life. Yet now, he could breathe. He could see. He could feel solid ground beneath his hands.

He crawled out of the water, coughing violently, his body trembling with exhaustion. His men emerged beside him, one by one, their faces pale, their bodies shaking. But not all of them made it.

Out of the many men who had entered this realm, only five remained. His right hand, Garrick, was among them, his massive frame slumped on the shore, gasping for breath.

Thalion looked up.

The creatures—whatever they were called—simply watched them. They did not speak. They did not attack. They simply observed with their dark, unblinking eyes before diving back into the water, disappearing into the depths without a sound.

But they had no doubt saved them or rather, it was safe to say that they had transported them to this world.

Thalion forced himself to his feet and surveyed his surroundings. The island was small, barely more than a patch of land surrounded by endless water. But at its center stood something that made his blood run cold.

A shrine. Ancient, weathered, covered in symbols he did not recognize because the moment he saw that, he knew instantly he wasn’t making it out of here.

"What is this place?" Thalion muttered to himself. He couldn’t show his fear but truth be told, he was terrified and no one could blame him for feeling this way.

This was clearly no longer the world he knew. This was a completely different scenario—something he had never experienced in his long life.

-

The creature that had been imprisoned within the Marrow for eons was nowhere to be seen.

It had made no move. It had done nothing apart from simply existing. Yet its presence had been felt—a subtle tremor beneath the surface of reality, a faint pulse that resonated through the fabric of the world. The natural disasters that had ravaged the lands, the sudden emergence of dungeons, the tears between realms—all of it had begun the moment it stirred.

But now, it was gone.

The question lingered in the minds of those who knew of its existence: what was it? Was it a force of destruction, a being of chaos that had been sealed away to protect the world? Or was it the single thing keeping everything in order?

If it had been a prison, then its awakening meant the chains had broken. But if it had been a anchor, then its absence meant the world was unmoored.

The creature had not acted. It had simply vanished. And the chaos it had left behind whispered a terrible truth—perhaps it had never been the threat. Perhaps it had been the only thing holding the world together. And now that it was gone, the realms were unraveling.

No one knew where it had gone or what it was.

But the world was changing, and the imbalance it left behind was a wound that could not heal until it was imprisoned once again.