My Taming System Makes Me Overpowered

Before the colossal horror rising from the trench, zephros, the Calm of the sea, floated in the open water like a speck of dust against a mountain.

His body was battered, his gills dripping dark blue blood into the stagnant sea, but his face was illuminated by a blinding, religious ecstasy. He swam forward, gliding directly into the abyssal shadow of The Sleeper.

”Awaken, Lord of the Deep!” Zephros cried, his gravelly voice rising above the low, vibrating hum of the ocean floor. He spread his arms wide, holding his bloody leviathan-bone blades high in reverence. ”The eight chains are shattered! The false kingdom is dust! I, zephros of the Trench, have returned your realm to you!”

He waited, his slit eyes wide with fanatic expectation, anticipating a roar of recognition or a sign of divine favor from the ancient god he had spent his time and energy seeking to liberate.

The thousands of violet, slitless eyes covering the titan’s translucent form opened in unison. They did not focus on zephros with gratitude, nor with anger. To an entity that had rested beneath the tectonic plates since the birth of the world, the rogue merman was not a savior, a revolutionary, or a champion.

He was nothing.

A single, chitinous tendril—a saw-toothed mass of black plates thicker than a palace spire—swept lazily through the water. It was not a calculated strike; it was the indifferent flick of a titan clearing minor debris from its path.

THRU-SHHH.

The kinetic weight of the movement shattered the fluid pressure in an instant. The saw-toothed edge swept straight through zephros’s torso before he could even register the motion.

There was no explosion of magic, no final declaration. The sheer physical density of the tendril severed zephros cleanly in two at the waist.

Up on the ridge, Vetra and Lyrielle gasped in horror as zephros’s upper and lower halves separated, drifting weightlessly in the dark, churning water.

Yet, as his life faded into the cold abyss, zephros face did not contort in shock or betrayal. His pale lips curved into a final, bloody smile. In his warped, fanatic mind, his brutal execution was not a betrayal—it was simply the ultimate, necessary sacrifice required to set the ocean free. His dead eyes remained fixed on the sky as his remains sank into the black rift.

”He died for a monster that didn’t even notice him,” Vetra muttered, her knuckles white around her daggers.

Vince turned away from the gruesome sight, his gaze landing squarely on General Nerissa.

”Would you look at that, General,” Vince said, his voice an unshakeable, heavy anchor amidst the rising tempest. ”That is what total fanaticism gets you. He worshipped a force that crushed him like a bug because he wanted to feel part of something ancient. Is that how you intend to go out? Sitting in the ocean floor waiting for a falling rock?”

Nerissa slowly looked up. The sight of zephros’s effortless destruction seemed to spark something in her hollowed golden eyes. The paralyzing shock of her failed duty began to burn away, replaced by the raw, stubborn pride of a military commander who refused to die as a bystander.

”You are a General, Nerissa,” Vince pressed, stepping closer, his presence towering over her. ”Nethros may have collapsed, but the flesh and blood living in it aren’t. You can lie here and let this thing swallow what’s left, or you can take your spear and command. A General fights and dies on the field only cowards lay helpless.”

Nerissa stared at Vince’s flat, calculating face. There was no pity in his dark eyes—only an absolute, terrifying expectation of strength. He was a stranger from another sky, completely unburdened by her kingdom’s ancient fears, standing tall against a god.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Her jaw set tight.

”I am the Supreme General of the Nethros,” Nerissa whispered, her voice regaining its sharp, metallic edge. She pushed herself up from the rock face, standing tall in her battered sapphire armor. ”I am no coward.”

She raised her right hand to her mouth, biting her palm until royal blue blood welled up. She slammed her bloodied palm directly onto the central crest of her chest plate, activating the ancient, dormant military emergency array.

FWHOOSH!

A blinding, golden-blue beacon of hydro-kinetic light erupted from her armor, shooting upward through the dark water like a pillar of fire.

Across the ruined districts, nearly two hundred fleeing, scattered Vanguard troops saw the supreme signal flare against the black void. The sight of their general’s unbroken beacon cut through the mass panic. From every direction, battered platoons changed course, swimming furiously toward the high ridge to rally around their commander.

Within minutes, a defensive wall of two hundred elite spears formed along the basalt outcrop, their eyes fixed on Nerissa with renewed, desperate hope.

”Hold the ridge!” Nerissa commanded, her voice ringing out like a iron bell over the roaring seabed. ”Establish a defensive perimeter! Clear the civilian evacuation lanes toward the northern trench!”

”General!” a captain shouted, pointing a trembling spear toward the center of the bay. ”The entity... it’s turning!”

The Sleeper shifted its colossal mass. The thousands of violet eyes across its mountain-sized frame rotated slowly, turning away from the ruined palace to lock directly onto the glowing golden beacon pulsing from Nerissa’s ridge.

It had registered the concentration of life force.

A towering, saw-toothed tendril rose out of the abyssal rift, casting a shadow that stretched over the entire ridge, blocking out what little light remained in the ocean. The air-water pressure dropped dangerously as the colossal limb prepared to crush the ridge and everyone on it into fine powder.

The surviving soldiers raised their hydro-shields, their faces pale, knowing their magic could not stop a blow of that magnitude.

Nerissa reached down, snatching a heavy spear from a fallen guard. She didn’t look at the sky, nor did she look at her trembling soldiers. She turned her head, her sharp golden eyes locking onto Vince, who stood at the very front edge of the cliff, completely unbothered by the mountain of flesh descending upon them.

Nerissa let out a short, resolute breath, a faint, sharp smirk cutting through her blood-stained cheek.

”Hey human, whatever your name is...” Nerissa said, raising her spear beside him. ”I could really use Your help right now.”

Vince’s eyes flashed dark with satisfaction. He stepped past the line of spears, his boots grinding against the edge of the precipice.

”I wouldn’t be a man if I’m not able to help a beauty like you,” Vince grunted, a dangerous smile spreading across his face as his muscles began to swell with dark, un-magical power. ”C’mon girls...”