(Book 2 Complete!) Tales of the Endless Empire [LitRPG Apocalypse]

Its front resembled that of a prehistoric armored fish, plated in thick, ridged bone like the ancient dunkleosteus. The body then narrowed into a long, sinuous tail—powerful and sleek—designed for speed and agility in open water. Along its back, multiple jagged fins jutted like the spines of a monstrous sea dragon, the largest rising over three meters high and ending in a vicious-looking thorn.

But what unsettled Thalion most were its many eyes—cold, unblinking orbs of pitch black that conjured the eerie stillness of a spider's gaze. From the creature's bloated midsection extended dozens of tentacles, each easily over thirty meters in length, currently aligned tightly with the beast's flanks like drawn weapons waiting to strike. Its speed, despite its enormous size, was staggering—far greater than Thalion had anticipated.

The fishfolk hunters cried out in alarm as the targeted warrior bolted through the water, desperate to escape. He wasn't a moment too soon. As the leviathan surged forward, its jaws opened impossibly wide, creating a violent suction that tore at the surrounding water. Thousands of liters were pulled toward the monster in a whirlpool of force, likely magnified by some active skill. The fleeing hunter retaliated by commanding the water around him to launch himself away from the oncoming maw. Even with all his strength, he only narrowly escaped, twisting into a sharp turn that forced the leviathan to glide past, unable to match the maneuver.

Too massive and too fast, the leviathan couldn't pivot with that kind of agility. It lashed out with its tail in frustration, but the hunter anticipated the strike and darted out of range. The rest of the hunting party had not been idle. Harpoons flew through the water in a coordinated barrage. Thalion noted with interest that the hunters threw their real weapons without hesitation, relying on a technique that recalled them instantly—much like the trick Percy Jackson used with his enchanted sword. It likely had something to do with the glowing rings they all wore. Each time the spear disappeared, it reappeared back in the wielder's grasp.

To the leviathan, however, the attacks were insignificant. The weapons clanged harmlessly against its armored hide, leaving no visible damage. Thalion suspected the tentacles were the only real weak point, but the beast ignored the other hunters entirely, obsessed with the one who had slipped from its jaws. There was something unsettling in its demeanor. As its mouth curled ever so slightly, Thalion sensed amusement. His Title let him feel the creature's cruel satisfaction. And then he understood.

The leviathan was too large to leave the chamber. The winding tunnels that led to this place were far too narrow to allow its hulking form passage. The hunter, now circling near the very seaweed the leviathan had emerged from, was trapped. The only exit lay through those tunnels—and the beast had already sealed that path with its bulk.

Realization dawned on Thalion. This chamber was a prison. That explained the absence of marine life and the strangely desolate tunnels leading here. The leviathan had likely used its suction ability to pull prey into its lair, draining the tunnels of fish and other creatures until nothing remained. It had grown far too large, and now it was trapped in the very place that had fed its ascent. A beast that had devoured everything near it, only to be left alone, unable to continue evolving.

The hunter, now the focus of the leviathan's hunger, made no attempt to fight back. Instead, he sped toward the center of the chamber, hovering just meters above the dense, swaying sea grass. The leviathan surged after him powered by only two beats of its colossal tail. Then something unexpected happened.

Five of the fishfolk flanking the chamber extended lines of water—threads woven from pure magic. They lashed around the endangered hunter and began to pull. These weren't the empowering support spells Thalion had seen from Jim's blessed. These were tactical repositioning tools, forged for mobility and survival. With each close pass of the leviathan's jaws, one of the lines would tug violently, yanking the hunter away in the nick of time.

It was like watching a deadly game of cat and mouse.The hunters coordinated perfectly, shifting position constantly so they could redirect their comrade in every direction. Each time the leviathan lunged, a new tether would snap tight, pulling the hunter just out of reach. The margins were razor thin. Thalion found himself holding his breath as the creature's fangs came within meters of the hunter's legs.

He began to consider how he himself might face such a beast. Realistically, he admitted he probably wouldn't. Not here. He lacked any sure way to deal damage to it. His attacks were powerful, but not specialized for piercing heavy armor. The harpoon-like spears the fishfolk wielded were nearly equal to his own strikes in terms of force, and even those barely scratched the leviathan. His other skills would be almost useless against such thick plating.

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It was likely a level one hundred beast, if not higher, and clearly of a rare lineage. That alone made it formidable. Combined with its enormous size and the confined terrain, it was a predator built for ambush, not pursuit. Out in the open ocean, one could maneuver. But here? Thalion doubted he would survive without drawing on his bloodline skill.

That was his only true advantage. The teleportation it granted came at great cost, draining his mana rapidly. And unleashing a full-powered bloodline attack could only be done sparingly. Even then, it was the only strike he had that might slice through those scales.

For now he would let the hunters test the monster's limits. And perhaps, when the time was right, he would move.

It might have been enough to blast off a few scales, but it was nowhere near sufficient to cause any real damage. Thalion felt a twinge of disappointment. The leviathan, for all its terrifying presence, possessed few traits that held value for him. Its massive armored hide would only slow him down, and his own scales had already been significantly enhanced by the absorption of the blue crystals he had recently consumed. Those were still being metabolized within him, refining his form into something far sleeker—built for speed, agility, and devastating skill-based strikes. The leviathan, by contrast, was a brute. A submerged juggernaut fueled by raw force.

Still, Thalion couldn't help but wonder how such a creature had reached this size in such an isolated environment. It couldn't have been through sheer consumption alone—there simply wasn't enough prey in this hollowed basin to sustain a beast of that magnitude. It must have had access to other sources of growth—perhaps ambient mana, or buried relics lost to time.

Below him, the battle raged on. The hunter continued to dive and weave, narrowly avoiding the leviathan's lunges, but the creature's mood shifted the moment a harpoon struck one of its tentacles. It wasn't a deep wound, just a clean puncture where the weapon had phased out—teleported away instead of being ripped free. Still, the damage left a gaping hole in the tentacle, thick as an ancient tree trunk. That was enough.

The leviathan halted its pursuit. For a moment, the entire cavern seemed to still. Power began to hum through the water as the beast inhaled—massive and slow, drawing in pressure with such force that the seagrass trembled and nearby currents reversed. Then, with a sudden, terrifying exhale, it unleashed a shockwave of compressed water that tore outward in a circular burst. The force sent a violent ripple through the chamber, flattening nearby plants and threatening to unmoor the hunters.

Caught off-guard, the fishfolk had no choice but to abandon their entanglement strategy. They summoned shields of swirling water, erecting barriers in front of themselves just in time to absorb the brunt of the blast. Thalion raised an eyebrow, impressed by the technique but still unimpressed by the overall outcome.

This wasn't going anywhere.

The fishpeople looked close to defeat. The leviathan had yet to employ even half of its potential—its tentacles remained unused, still hovering close to its flanks like loaded weapons. Meanwhile, the hunters had failed to land a single critical blow. Their harpoons glanced off the armor, their skills lacked the necessary impact, and their formation was starting to fray.

To Thalion, the entire skirmish was beginning to feel like a waste of time. He remained only out of academic curiosity—to observe the rhythm of underwater combat and catalogue the leviathan's abilities. It was a rare chance to study a high-rarity monster in action, and that alone had value.

But then, something caught his eye.

Amid the seagrass—partially flattened by the shockwave—he noticed a glint. A dark blue shimmer, hidden among the green, refracting light like polished sapphire. A crystal. Larger than any he had seen before. Far larger. It pulsed faintly, humming with condensed power, as if calling to him.

And just like that, the game changed. He would get that crystal and that beasts form.

His eyes narrowed. Every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation.

"Alright," Thalion murmured to himself, voice barely more than a ripple.
"It's on."