What Happens At The End Of Kraken Rider Z?

Man, that ending wrecked me in the best way possible. Z spends the whole series struggling with the Kraken’s influence, and just when you think he’s got control, the final volume pulls the rug out. The Kraken isn’t some mindless beast—it’s pissed. Like, rightfully pissed. Humans have been dumping toxins and plastic into its home for decades, and Z’s final realization is that he’s been fighting for the wrong side all along. The climax has this surreal sequence where the Kraken shows him visions of dying coral reefs and whales choked in nets, and suddenly, Z’s quest for vengeance feels petty. The resolution is messy and imperfect; he doesn’t 'win' so much as surrender to a greater purpose. The last chapter jumps forward five years, showing glimpses of Z’s new role as a mediator between humans and sea creatures. There’s this haunting panel of him standing knee-deep in waves, his body half-transformed, staring at a distant oil rig. No dialogue, just the wind and seagulls. It’s heavy stuff, but it sticks with you.

What’s cool is how the manga plays with body horror in those final scenes. Z’s mutations escalate until he’s barely recognizable, and the Kraken’s voice starts overlapping with his own speech bubbles. The sound design in the anime adaptation (which cuts some subplots but nails the ending) makes the fusion scene downright eerie, with this distorted choir soundtrack. Critics called it 'environmental horror,' and I get that—it leaves you uneasy about real-world ocean exploitation.

The finale of 'Kraken Rider Z' is one of those endings that lingers in your mind long after you’ve turned the last page. It starts with Z, the protagonist, finally confronting the ancient Kraken god that’s been both his curse and his power source. The battle isn’t just physical—it’s a clash of wills, with Z realizing that the Kraken’s rage stems from centuries of human exploitation of the seas. The art here is breathtaking, with these sweeping panels of the ocean churning like a living thing. In the end, Z doesn’t defeat the Kraken in the traditional sense. Instead, he brokers a fragile peace, merging his consciousness with the creature to become its voice in the human world. The last few pages show him wandering coastal towns, a lone figure with glowing tattoos, whispering warnings to fishermen about overfishing. It’s bittersweet—he saves the world but loses his humanity in the process. The series has this recurring theme of sacrifice, and the ending drives it home hard.

What I love about it is how it subverts expectations. Most stories would’ve had a flashy final fight where the hero slays the monster, but 'Kraken Rider Z' opts for something more introspective. The epilogue hints at a new generation of riders emerging, inspired by Z’s legend, which leaves the door open for spin-offs while still feeling like a satisfying conclusion. The author’s notes mention they drew inspiration from indigenous sea myths, and you can really feel that cultural depth in how the Kraken isn’t just a villain—it’s a force of nature demanding respect.

The ending of 'Kraken Rider Z' surprised me by how quietly political it got. After volumes of brutal fights, the story shifts into almost a folkloric tone for its conclusion. Z’s final battle isn’t against the Kraken—it’s against his own ignorance. When the Kraken drags him into the deep, he doesn’t see monsters; he sees the consequences of human greed. The artwork shifts to these ethereal watercolor spreads of dying ecosystems, which hit harder than any punch could. In the end, Z becomes something new: not a rider controlling the Kraken, but a bridge between species. The last page mirrors the first chapter’s framing, but instead of Z glaring at the horizon with fists clenched, he’s sitting on a pier, sharing fish with a group of kids. The Kraken’s tentacles coil peacefully beneath the waves. It’s hopeful, but in a way that acknowledges the fight isn’t over.