Corporal Martin stood at the edge of the battlefield, panting heavily, his body battered and bruised. His vision blurred from the onslaught of the battle. His blood was still warm from the wounds he had taken. But beneath it all, there was an unyielding, primal fire in his chest. Rage. His teeth gritted, fists clenched, and his heart pulsed with the desperate desire to end it all. To finish what had been started.
Martin's fingers gripped the stock of his M107 Sniper Rifle, now turned into little more than a club. He had fired every shot he had, every bullet filled with uranium, each one penetrating the creature's thick hide. But those wounds hadn't been enough. The Anaconda King had survived. Survived everything.
But not this.
As the Anaconda's massive form loomed before him, Martin's mind clicked into overdrive. His muscles screamed in protest, but the surge of adrenaline drowned them out. This was the moment—the moment of reckoning.
The creature's eyes flickered toward him, understanding dawning in them, a recognition of its own mortality.
If it was before, it could have crushed with a simple earth spike, but now it would have to use its exhausted body, and give a 100% to kill the human.
The human was also looked quite determined thought the Anaconda king, when it met him the first time, he was shaking in fear, but now he was not.
Was he being underestimated due to his injured state? this thought filled him with rage.
The Anaconda King's body coiled like a spring, ready to lash out one final time. Martin's fear was palpable, a wave of pure primal terror that rippled through the air.
Martin started firing his sniper rifle with depleted uranium bullets, further damaging the Anaconda Kings side.
But it was too late, the Anaconda king was already upon him. As the King lunged toward him, Martin reacted with lightning speed, a blinding flash of rage and desperation filling his veins, he throwed a grenade.
Boom!
A massive explosion rocked the earth as Martin fired, his shot catching the Anaconda King in the side. But the explosion was only a brief pause. The snake's movements didn't stop. It struck, and in a blur of motion, Martin found himself slammed into the ground. Its massive coils coiled around him, and its weight crushed down with suffocating pressure.
He could barely breathe. Blood poured from his wounds, the metallic taste filling his mouth. The creature's maw opened wide, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth, closing in on him like a death sentence. The fear—the fear of dying, of not making it out of this—roared in Martin's mind.
For a brief moment, he felt himself slipping. The darkness of unconsciousness threatened to pull him in. But then he remembered his comrades, whom he spent life and death battles, his brothers dying against the same creature before him, rage filled him.
Uncontrollable rage, he never felt rage like this.
Then it happened, as the Anaconda King's blood splashed into his mouth.
In that flicker of time, the world seemed to snap into clarity.
Something deep within Martin, something ancient and untapped, surged forward. A power that had been dormant, hidden beneath the layers of his training and the relentless grind of survival. The ground beneath him trembled as he reached within himself.
With a guttural scream, his body surged forward, and his right hand glowed with a sickly, shimmering light.
Crystal.
The power of the earth itself, bound within his flesh, erupted as jagged crystalline structures burst from his skin. Sharp, pointed shards of living crystal extended from his body, encasing his limbs, erupting from his back in jagged spikes. The pain was unbearable—his bones screamed in agony—but it was nothing compared to the rage, the desire to survive, to destroy.
He stood, a towering figure of blood and crystal, his eyes burning with a fury the Anaconda King could never understand. The serpent recoiled in instinctive fear as Martin's crystal-encrusted fist crashed into its massive side, sending a shockwave of earth and stone ripping through the battlefield.
Crack!
The Anaconda King let out a guttural, rattling hiss, its form faltering as the crystals tore into its flesh. Its massive coils thrashed in panic, but it was no longer in control. The creature's movements were slower now, more erratic. Fear, real fear, poured from it.
These Humans were scary.
The creature understood that the battle was lost.
But Martin didn't stop.
He moved with precision, the crystal spikes from his body now pulsing with a deadly energy. His rage fueled him, his every step calculated, his mind fully consumed with the desire to bring the creature to its knees.
He lunged forward, his body blurring with speed as he drove a crystal-covered elbow into the Anaconda King's massive head, cracking its skull open. Blood—a strange, emerald fluid—sprayed across the battlefield, and with a sickening crunch, the snake's massive body spasmed.
But Martin didn't stop there.
His hand shot forward, driving a massive crystal spike directly through the creature's throat. Blood gushed out, splattering across the terrain in an explosion of gore and entering into Martin's body, strengthening him again.
The Anaconda King let out one final, desperate scream. The sound was raw, a mixture of rage and terror, and then it went quiet.
The ground trembled as the creature's body began to collapse, its massive coils unraveling with an almost mournful groan. The earth seemed to weep as the life drained from the once-feared serpent.
Martin stood above it, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. Blood streamed down his body, mixing with the crystal protruding from his skin. The rage that had driven him to this point still burned, but now it was quiet, smoldering, a fire that had spent itself in the annihilation of the beast.
He looked down at the dead Anaconda King, the once-mighty creature reduced to nothing more than a corpse.
"It's over," he whispered to the lifeless body.
His adrenaline faded, and crystals slowly receded as if they never existed. He fell on top of the creature exhausted, the darkness claimed him.
All of this witnessed by a Flying Eagle.