The Anaconda king seemed to be winning, but that was just a false upfront, It was exhausted both mentally and physically.
The Anaconda King had become a shadow of its former self. Its once imposing, titan-like form now moved with a sluggish, almost faltering gait. The scales that once shimmered with an otherworldly sheen now appeared dull, each movement dragging the creature deeper into exhaustion. Earth spikes, once a precise and devastating tool, came slower, less accurate. The beast's breathing was labored, its body heavy with the weight of a thousand injuries.
The Beta Team descended like a precision instrument of destruction. Unlike the brute force of Alpha Team, they moved with the methodical precision of trained experts.
The team's specialty wasn't just assault; they were the containment specialists, the ones who could turn an impossible situation into a controlled one. The battlefield, however, was a picture of chaos.
The Anaconda King, bloodied and weary, had already taken a toll on Alpha Team, and now Beta Team was moving in with an entire arsenal of heavy artillery.
"Containment protocol initiated," Corporal Heathmen ordered, his voice steady amidst the storm of violence around them.
The four defensive specialists immediately formed a tactical perimeter, securing all angles. The hum of M2 Browning machine guns reverberated through the air. The high-caliber rounds tore into the lesser Anacondas, their scales not nearly as resilient as the King's. Each shot was a guarantee of death for the weaker kin.
The rapid, rhythmic thud of grenades being launched added to the infernal noise. Explosions sent ripples through the dense forest as the common ranked Anacondas were caught in the crossfire, their bodies shredded by the power of the attack.
But the King still stood. Its massive body, once near invulnerable, now faltering under the onslaught. Its once-glimmering emerald scales had dulled, dented from countless impacts. The earth spikes it sent forth were becoming erratic, less precise. The Anaconda King's energy reserves were draining rapidly. It had used its manipulation skills continuously, each earth spike and fortification a measured expenditure, but it could feel its mana slipping away. It was no longer the terrifying creature that had shredded Gamma Squad and Alpha Team. Now, it was exhausted—physically and mentally.
The King's attacks grew slower, more desperate. The earth it controlled began to feel heavy, sluggish beneath its massive form, as if even the terrain itself was rejecting its dwindling power. A glance from its reptilian eyes told it everything it needed to know: The humans were overwhelming. The world around it had shifted from one of dominance to one of survival.
It had already learned that fighting in a group was a valuable strategy. The lesser Anacondas had provided a distraction, but now they were being eradicated. The few remaining kin had already fallen—some captured, others torn apart by the firepower the Beta Team brought to bear.
In the midst of it all, the King's mind raced. It could fight, but it wouldn't survive much longer. The humans had something its kind could not match: precision, relentless pressure, and most importantly, resources that its biological evolution had no way of countering.
Its body shifted with a final, desperate movement, trying to raise the earth beneath it in one last effort to defend itself. But it wasn't enough. A direct hit from a grenade launcher slammed into its side, creating a deep gash in its hardened scales. The sound of cracking bone beneath the scales was unmistakable.
But that was not the worst of it. It could feel the mana slipping from its reserves, the last remnants of its power fading with every failed attempt to fortify or strike.
The King recoiled, feeling the change in the air. This was not victory, nor was it a continued battle. It could not win. Not against these humans. It had calculated its chances, and they were slim to none.
The decision was made in an instant, as if a switch had been flipped in its mind: Retreat.
The Anaconda King began to dissolve into the earth, its massive body sinking into the ground with unnatural fluidity. Its once indomitable form melted away like water, merging with the terrain, leaving behind only a faint tremor in the soil. The earth around it shifted, creating temporary barriers to buy it precious moments.
Beta Team responded immediately, guns trained, but the creature was gone—vanished into the depths of the forest.
It fled, no longer the unstoppable force of nature it had been. Its survival instincts kicked in, but it could only run. Its eyes, once filled with defiance, now reflected a primal recognition: it was no longer the predator. It was the prey.
And with that, the battlefield went silent. The Anaconda King had retreated, leaving behind only the carcasses of its fallen kin and the echoes of a battle that would not be forgotten.
It attempted to retreat to the Black Caiman's territory.
The humans were still following it, but were lagging behind it, as it created obstacles for them.
They also did not know the forest well enough.
It wanted to take the humans to the Black Caiman king's territory, it knew of the Black Caiman King due to having fought it before.
It lost to it, but not overwhelmingly. It still had power to retreat when it wanted to.
It wanted to borrow the power of the Black Caiman King to kill of the humans, while he escaped.
Even if the humans killed the Black Caiman King, it still won.
It was better if those bastards both killed each other, it thought evilly while escaping.
The forest itself seemed to shift, the ground bending to the King's will, he created temporary barriers, using earth spikes to slow the humans' pursuit.
The King's mana ran out soon, it was forced to appear above ground.
It started moving, it could not use any of its skills no more.
As it neared the edge of the battlefield, its territory. It saw something blocking its path, an insect that it had spared.