The Kraken and His World of the Abyss

The vast ocean was endless, boundless, and immense. The depths of the ocean hid not only mysterious creatures but also ancient stories forgotten by the worlds above. In these dark waters lived the Kraken — a gigantic sea monster that had been part of myths and legends since time immemorial. Its body was so enormous that even the largest ships would not notice it until it was too late. Huge tentacles, covered with rough, spiky skin, rose from the depths, surrounding entire vessels and crushing them in their mighty embrace.

However, despite the horrors the Kraken caused, its soul was different, hidden from the eyes of humans. It was not evil, not a conscious monster bent on destroying all life. It was part of the ocean, part of the world itself, embodying its power and the mysteries yet to be uncovered. The Kraken was a living being, full of thoughts, desires, and burdens. Its life was not defined by rage and violence. It was ancient, much older than any creature on the surface, and its knowledge of the world was as vast as the bottomless abyss in which it lived.

Every day it swam in its depths, watching the world from above. It didn’t feel the same as humans or other creatures. The world, in its eyes, was not so much a goal as it was the greatest of mysteries. For many years, immersed in the dark waters, it studied all it could see and feel: the small underwater movements that left traces on the sea surface, the occasional ships attempting to pass through its territory. For the Kraken, there was no interest in conquest or death. It was an ancient being with no place for greed. It simply observed. It knew more about the seas than anyone else and understood their fragility and strength at the same time.

But over time, the Kraken began to feel something new. Its world was changing. On the horizon, not just ships, but fleets—large and numerous, full of people—began to appear. They tore into the ocean, extracting its resources and polluting its waters. The humans, with their iron ships, began cutting down forests, building cities, and the ocean, which had been the Kraken’s home, grew deader with each passing year. It felt this, as though its world, its life, was beginning to unravel. But what could it do to stop this process? It was a creature of the deep, incapable of affecting life on the surface, and its despair grew more evident.

When a ship carrying a crew of fishermen approached its domain, the Kraken felt a growing unease. It didn’t know how to react to these changes. Its tentacles were ready for action, but it stopped again. It no longer wanted to be the monster that frightened humans, but its nature was such that it could not simply stand by while this ship crossed its boundaries. But at some point, instead of attacking, it felt a strange weakness in its actions. With every lash of its tentacles against the waves, it felt less like it was destroying and more like it was protecting.

And then, when the ship was almost under the Kraken’s control, when its tentacles began to pull the ship into the dark waters, something changed. The Kraken felt a shift on the surface. It slowed its movements and looked at the people, who seemed not to know how to deal with what was happening. This moment became a turning point for the Kraken. It realized that it could not be the creature they thought it was. It could not be this terror. It knew its place was in the deep sea, but at the same time, it couldn’t harm those who were as connected to this world as it was.

It stopped. The tentacles released the ship, and those on board felt a sense of relief, though they didn’t understand what had just happened. The Kraken drifted back into the abyss, and at that moment, it realized that perhaps its true power did not lie in destruction. Perhaps it could be part of this world it had been trying to understand for so long. It was not just a monster. It was a part of nature itself, and its place was among the waters, among those who also protected life.

So the Kraken continued its journey in the dark waters of the ocean, no longer interfering with human affairs, but also not allowing their actions to destroy its world. It became the watcher and guardian, but no longer the one to strike. It accepted its role as part of the ocean, as a protector of that which it held dear. And its greatness was not in its power, but in its wisdom, in how it learned to maintain balance in a world full of chaos.

Moral: True strength lies not in destruction, but in the ability to preserve harmony and protect the worlds that are dear to us.