The cavern walls trembled as the first wave of serpents arrived.
Not the mighty ones.
Not the deadly ones.
These were the infants. He had encountered them in the cavern, even managed to kill one without any prior experience of combat, their scales still soft, their fangs undeveloped. They hissed weakly, their slow and huge body slithering forward on pure instinct, unaware that they had just entered hell.
And in seconds, they were slaughtered.
A Great Taratect loomed over a cluster of infant serpents, its multiple red eyes gleaming. The tiny creatures coiled defensively, trying to look bigger. It was pathetic.
The Taratect struck.
Its bladed limb came down in a blur—slicing three serpents in half instantly. Their bodies twitched, heads rolling away while their severed tails writhed uselessly.
Another infant tried to flee.
It never got the chance.
A Weaver Taratect above dropped a single strand of silk, catching the serpent by its throat. The silk tightened instantly, suspending the struggling creature in the air.
Then—the weaver pulled.
CRACK.
The serpent's neck snapped, its body dangling limply before the weaver reeled it up into the darkness.
Shwet hung from his silk prison, watching as dozens of infant serpents were torn apart. Some squirmed helplessly as the taratects sank their fangs into them, injecting venom that dissolved their insides. Others were crushed under massive legs, their fragile bones shattering like twigs.
One infant managed to coil around a taratect's leg, biting desperately.
The taratect didn't even react.
With one sharp jerk, it ripped the snake clean off, flinging it against the cavern wall. The impact splattered its tiny body, leaving behind nothing but a wet smear of flesh and blood.
This wasn't a battle.
It was an extermination.
The infant serpents were nothing but fodder, sent in first like mindless sacrifices. The real war hadn't even begun.
And then—
A deafening hiss filled the cavern.
The lesser Nethrite Serpents had arrived.
And they were not so helpless.
Unlike the infants, the lesser serpents were fast, agile, and armed with deadly venom. Their black-scaled bodies slithered like living shadows, fangs glinting as they rushed into the nest.
The first Great Taratect to react was a mistake.
It reared up, preparing to strike down the newcomers like it had the infants—
But the lesser serpents were not infants.
Three of them lunged at once.
One coiled around the Taratect's leg, tightening like a vice. Another sank its fangs into the soft joint behind its blade-like limb. The third darted underneath, biting deep into the underbelly.
The Great Taratect shrieked.
It thrashed wildly, trying to shake them off, but the lesser serpents held firm. The venom was already spreading through its system, muscles stiffening, movements slowing.
Another Taratect tried to help, stabbing downward with its bladed limbs.
It missed.
A lesser serpent struck its exposed face, fangs piercing deep into one of its many eyes. The spider reeled back, screeching, as the venom burned through its skull.
Shwet watched as more Great Taratects fell.
The lesser serpents were dying, yes—but they were killing as well.
But before the serpents could overwhelm the nest—
The Assassins and Weavers joined the war.
From the darkness, the Assassin Taratects emerged.
They were smaller than the Great Taratects, but faster, sharper, and merciless.
A lesser serpent coiled around a wounded taratect, its fangs bared for a killing strike—
It never got the chance.
SLASH.
An Assassin Taratect appeared behind it, its bladed forelimbs slicing through the serpent's spine. The snake convulsed, its body falling limp as black ichor poured from the wound.
Another serpent struck at an Assassin.
The taratect vanished.
It reappeared behind the serpent, stabbing its bladed limb into its throat. With a twist, it ripped the head clean off.
Above, the Weavers were at work.
Silken threads descended from the ceiling, wrapping around serpents mid-strike.
One serpent tried to lunge at a wounded taratect—
Silk shot down, binding its jaws shut.
It thrashed wildly, hissing in panic—
Until a Weaver Taratect descended, injecting venom straight into its skull.
Within seconds, the serpent froze—then collapsed, lifeless.
Shwet saw it all—the battle raging, bodies piling up, the cavern drowning in blood.
But this was not the final war.
Because the Great Serpents had arrived.
The ground trembled.
The corpses of lesser serpents and taratects alike lay scattered across the battlefield. But as the dust settled, shadows moved.
From the cavern's depths, the Great Nethrite Serpents slithered forward.
These were not lesser beings.
They were armored fortresses.
Their scales were black steel, reinforced by magic. Their fangs could pierce through mountains.
And they were hungry.
A Great Taratect screeched, charging forward to strike—
The Great Serpent barely moved.
It lunged faster than the eye could see.
CRUNCH.
Its fangs sank through the Taratect's skull, piercing straight through the armored exoskeleton. The spider spasmed violently, its legs twitching, before falling silent.
Another Great Serpent coiled around a Taratect, squeezing.
CRACK.
The Taratect imploded, ichor bursting from every joint.
The Taratects were losing.
The Assassins fell. The Weavers fell.
But —
A monstrous screech filled the cavern.
The Titans had awakened.
From the corner, the Titan Taratects were forced to act, and they did.
These were not ordinary taratects.
Their legs were the size of trees. Their bodies were walking fortresses.
And unlike the Great Taratects—they did not fall so easily.
A Great Serpent lunged at the first Titan.
The Titan moved like a blur, dodging the strike.
WHAM!
Its bladed limb slammed into the serpent's skull, denting the armored scales.
The serpent reeled, stunned.
The Titan pressed forward.
SLASH.
A second limb tore deep into the serpent's side, severing thick muscle.
The serpent screeched in agony.
And then—the final blow.
CRACK!
The Titan brought its full weight down, crushing the serpent's head into the ground.
Blood sprayed.
The Great Serpents had met their match.
But the war was far from over.