The flower‑patterned giant serpent stretched over thirty ters long, its girth as high as a single‑story house, at least three ters thick. Its weight was impossible to guess. After making sure the surviving won were settled, Magnus Specter had the small crane lift each half of the serpent’s corpse in turn. Then he called in six heavy trucks to haul the thing back to the underground parking lot.
Once they reached the lot, the cargo beds proved too tall to drive straight in. They had to switch to dragging. The trucks pulled the serpent across the concrete, its charred scales grinding against the ground, sparking in wild bursts. The won around them stopped what they were doing and watched in silence.
No one cheered. No one was excited. They all understood—this kind of monster never appeared alone. One day, they would face another.
Half a serpent’s body jamd up the entrance like so grotesque barricade. Truck headlights poured white light over the scene. The won stood on both sides of the massive corpse, saying nothing.
Magnus jumped down from the truck, dusted his hands, and forced himself to sound casual despite the heaviness clinging to him. “Alright. It’s done. The snake’s dead. Get so barrels—its blood should be even better than the chickens and ducks we’ve used before. Co on, let’s get to work.”
The won quietly dispersed to fetch containers. Magnus pulled out his military dagger. When one woman set down a large white barrel, he stepped to the scorched cut at the serpent’s midpoint and gently drove the blade inward.
Snake blood spilled imdiately, running down the hilt in a dark, steady stream.
“Captain, let us handle this. You just killed the thing... go rest a bit,” one woman said softly, understanding in her voice.
“Alright. I’ll leave it to you.”
Magnus let out a long breath. His gaze drifted to the serpent’s head. Bullet holes riddled both its eyes, and dark, almost black liquid still leaked out. Even dead, the sight was unsettling.
He found a pillar and slid down beside it, lighting a cigarette. He took a slow drag and let the smoke roll out of him.
“Killed it, huh...”
Charlotte Renard ca over and sat beside him. She lit a cigarette of her own. She no longer bothered with the gentler won’s tobacco, choosing the harsh stuff. The sll on her mixed despair with sothing naless, sothing neither of them could put into words.
Magnus glanced at her. Her eyes were narrowed, focus lost sowhere on the ground. Charlotte murmured, “It’s alright. We’ve survived this long. We’ll figure the rest out.”
“That snake...” Magnus drew on his cigarette again, gathering his thoughts. “Its scales are razor‑sharp. Weak points were the eyes and the underside—places without armor. If we et another one... twenty won using super Fire Crystals, or a vehicle‑mounted cannon, should be enough.”
“The underside?” Charlotte’s brows lifted. Sothing clicked in her mind. “But I saw you cut it in half.”
“I used a grenade. Threw it under its belly. Blew the body apart. Everywhere else—aside from the eyes and underside—nothing penetrates. We tried.”
“If it’s really the underside...” Charlotte tapped ash off her cigarette, thinking aloud. “Then it’s easy.”
“Easy?” Magnus looked at her, surprised. She t his eyes and said, “You rember we still have those military landmines, right?”
Magnus Specter gave a brief nod. “Yeah. I rember.”
Charlotte Renard kept on, her voice low but firm. “If its weak point really is the underbelly, then things get simple. We can plant military mines around the periter of our base. A single grenade blew half its gut open—one mine should do the sa.”
Mines...
Magnus felt his thoughts flare awake. He quickly asked, “But how do you make sure the beast actually steps on one? What if so rat triggers it first?”
“That’s easy!” Charlotte’s eyes lit up. She suddenly turned and grabbed Magnus’s arm. “You said its weak point is the belly, and its scales are razor‑sharp, right?”
“Yeah... sharp as hell.” Magnus stiffened a little. Her grip pulled him closer, his elbow brushing against her chest—she didn’t seem to notice at all.
Charlotte, still buzzing with excitent, said, “Then we rip all its scales off. We bury them halfway in the dirt around our convoy. Not just the serpent—even chickens, geese, whatever—none of them will dare co near our place!”
“Bury the scales?” Magnus frowned, thinking. “Why not just bury actual daggers?”
“That works too!” Charlotte’s big eyes widened, shining with even more excitent. She tugged his arm again—harder this ti—pressing against him enough that her chest visibly flattened, still completely unaware. “Good idea! Daggers are fine! We set up a dagger formation around the base!”
“A dagger formation... yeah, that doesn’t sound bad...”
Magnus subtly tried to pull his arm free. Charlotte instantly picked up on it. She shoved him away, lifted one long leg, and kicked him—not hard, but right between the thighs.
“You little creep,” she snapped. “What were you trying to do?”
The kick landed true. Magnus sucked in a cold breath, bending over and stumbling a few steps away. Irritated, he said, “Co on, Charlotte, you can’t bla . You were dragging my arm into your chest the whole ti. I pull away and you kick ? Hell... right there, too...”
“Serves you right.” Charlotte felt the soft impact from her earlier kick and knew exactly where she’d struck. She couldn’t help but smirk. “Stop whining. Want to bring Emily Ward over to check on you?”
Damn it.
They were talking about dagger formations, and sohow it turned into this ss. Good thing she wasn’t wearing wooden‑soled boots...
The spotted serpent stretched over thirty ters long, every bit of it valuable. Its blood resisted the mutations of the apocalypse. The Ice Regint won filled more than twenty barrels, stacked them on a cargo truck, and packed teor‑soil between them for freshness.
The palm‑sized scales—over four thousand in total—were sharp along the edges but safe to grip where they still had flesh attached. Perfect for a dagger array, maybe even better than actual forged blades, and far cheaper to prepare.
And beyond the scales and blood, the won dug out a massive serpent gall from its belly—over half a ter thick, faint steam rising off it...
“Captain!” Kristina Jarvis jogged over, cradling the enormous gallbladder in both arms. Her eyes glead with a hungry sort of curiosity. “What do we do with this? Can we eat it?”
Magnus stared at the thing. He’d heard serpent gall could be used in dicine, sure—but what eating a monster like this would do to a person, he had no clue.
He looked at the steaming organ in her arms, and his thoughts began to churn...
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