The air was still heavy with the acrid stench of blood and smoke as the survivors of Newscar huddled in the den’s depths. Outside, the muffled crunching of bones and metal reverberated like thunder. The Ancient Noble Crocodile, a primordial beast from the deep wilderness, was feasting upon the remnants of the human army, swallowing soldier and sword alike as if they were no more than insects. The once formidable invaders, who had threatened to wipe out Newscar, were reduced to scattered corpses and broken armor.

Jannet’s massive frame blocked the entrance to the den, his obsidian-black scales dull from exhaustion and injuries. His health bar flickered in his mind’s eye, still hovering dangerously low after the brutal battle. The faint trickle of regeneration provided little solace. He knew he couldn’t stop the beast if it turned its ire on them, but his sovereign instincts demanded he act—this was his home, his family, and his duty.

The ground trembled with every movement of the crocodile, its bulk crushing the eastern wall and leaving deep furrows in the earth. Despite the fear coursing through his mind, Jannet rose slowly, lowering his massive body into a posture of deference. His tongue flicked nervously as he stepped from the shadows of the den, his golden eyes locking onto the beast’s massive, slitted pupil.

The crocodile paused its feast, a grotesque mix of human flesh and shattered armor dripping from its jaws. Its gaze fixed on Jannet, and for a terrifying moment, time seemed to freeze. Then, a cold, foreign voice rasped into Jannet’s mind—a voice ancient and steeped in the wisdom of countless ages.

“Back, little one,” the voice hissed. “This meager snack is mine and mine alone. I see no qualm in adding you to it as well. My hunting grounds grow barren to the north, and my hunger drives me south.”

Jannet suppressed the instinct to recoil, instead projecting his thoughts with a calmness he didn’t entirely feel.

“The feast is yours, great one. I only ask that you leave our humble den untouched. The humans have already taken much from us today.”

The crocodile’s eyes narrowed, the massive creature leaning in closer until its head filled Jannet’s vision. The air around it reeked of decay and power. Its voice rasped again, amused yet curious.

“Interestinggggggg. This is not what I had expected to hear from one so young, sovereign. In all my years, I have not encountered one of your kind.”

Its colossal bulk shifted, crushing debris beneath it as it returned to its meal, swallowing a mangled knight whole.

“I found this meal pleasing and you... intriguing. I have decided not to eat you. But now, we must talk.”

The creature’s words carried the weight of untold years, and Jannet felt an odd mix of terror and fascination. He had no choice but to listen. The crocodile’s voice continued as it devoured the battlefield.

“I had grown tired of the goblin flesh scraps to the north. These humans are far more filling, though their numbers here are too few. I will need to eat more before the creatures flee too far.”

Seizing the opportunity, Jannet projected an image into the creature’s mind—a vivid memory of the human nest he had scouted months ago. The bustling streets, the towering walls, and the vast numbers of humans within. His thoughts were steady, though his heart raced.

“Your largeness, are you aware of the human nest to the south of us? It would surely provide sustenance worthy of a creature such as yourself.”

The crocodile paused, a deep chuckle rumbling through the jungle like distant thunder.

“A human nest, you say? Intriguing. You have given me much to consider, little sovereign. I will visit this nest. Thank you.”

The beast’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous amusement as it lifted its massive body. The ground trembled as it began to move, crushing trees and debris in its path. Its voice echoed in Jannet’s mind one final time.

“You must grow, sovereign. What comes from the north eats everything. I have been moving south to find new hunting grounds, and these humans… I had forgotten how satisfying they are. Use the system, young one. Seek adventure, danger. Gain levels. It is the only way you will survive.”

As the crocodile lumbered away, its colossal form disappearing into the jungle, the ground quaked with its every step. The human scent trail was its guide, and the beast moved with an ancient purpose, following the path of the retreating soldiers.

For a moment, the jungle was eerily silent, save for the fading tremors of the crocodile’s departure. Slowly, the survivors of Newscar emerged from the den, their movements tentative and their eyes scanning the battlefield for any remaining threats. The eastern wall was a shattered ruin, its defensive integrity reduced to splinters and rubble. The smell of blood and death was overwhelming, and carrion birds circled above, their cries harsh against the oppressive silence.

Jannet stood at the breach, his massive frame silhouetted against the wreckage. His golden eyes flicked across the battlefield, taking in the carnage. Around him, 30 lizards and 7 goblins lay dead, their lifeless bodies now mere scraps mingled with the remains of the human army. The sight sent a pang of sorrow through him, but he pushed it aside. This was war, and the fallen deserved more than grief—they deserved remembrance.

With a deep, resonant hiss, Jannet called the survivors to him. The lizards and goblins gathered in a solemn circle, their scales and faces marked with dirt, blood, and exhaustion. Jannet projected a wave of memetic energy, his thoughts heavy with loss and resolve.

“We honor the fallen,” he conveyed, his voice steady despite the weight in his chest. “Their sacrifice has allowed us to stand here today. Let us hold a moment of silence for those who gave everything for Newscar.”

The group fell silent, their collective mourning palpable. Even the youngest among them seemed to understand the gravity of the moment. Jannet bowed his head, his massive body lowering slightly as he stood in reverence. The lizards’ tails flicked in unison, a silent gesture of respect, while the goblins placed small tokens near the bodies of their fallen comrades.

When the moment passed, Jannet raised his head, his golden eyes burning with determination.

“The jungle is not yet done with us,” he conveyed. “The great crocodile has gone south, but we must remain vigilant. What lies to the north is coming, and we must be ready. We will rebuild, we will grow, and we will honor the memory of those we lost by surviving.”

The survivors hissed their agreement, their resolve solidifying in the face of the uncertain future. As they began to clear the battlefield, salvaging what they could and preparing for the challenges ahead, Jannet stood guard at the breach. His body ached, his health bar still far from full, but his mind was clear.

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The Ancient Noble Crocodile lumbered through the dense jungle, each step shaking the ground and crushing vegetation beneath her immense bulk. Her massive tail dragged through the underbrush, leaving a path of destruction in her wake. Her yellowed eyes gleamed with a cold intelligence, the flickers of memories surfacing like ripples across still waters.

It had been a thousand years since she had ventured this far south, a thousand years since humans had fled before her as they were doing now, scattering like frightened insects into the jungle’s depths. The faint scent of their sweat and terror filled the air, a seasoning she had almost forgotten. She let out a low, guttural rumble, her fanged maw curling into something resembling a smile.

Primal Devourer.

That’s what they had called her the last time she came to these lands. A name whispered in reverence and fear, shouted by doomed soldiers as they tried and failed to halt her rampage. She had outlasted their empires, their kingdoms, their fleeting moments of glory. She remembered their screams as if they were yesterday’s hunt, and now, she would remind these humans why they had given her that name.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The crocodile moved with deliberate slowness, her ancient mind savoring the moment. She had grown since her last visit to this region, her form even more massive, her scales harder, and her hunger deeper. The deep north had been her hunting ground for centuries, a wild expanse where prey was plentiful, and rivals were few. But even in her vast experience, nothing had prepared her for the plague beasts.

Her reptilian mind churned with fragmented images of the swarm-like creatures that had driven her south. They had come like a tide of death, consuming everything in their path—plants, animals, even the land itself. Tiny beetle-like creatures with glowing, chitinous shells that seemed to shimmer in and out of existence. She had encountered them first at the edges of her domain, devouring an ancient forest that had stood for centuries.

At first, she had thought them no threat. A single sweep of her massive tail had crushed thousands of the tiny invaders into dust. But the relief was short-lived. The dust reformed almost instantly, coalescing into new swarms that surged forward with relentless hunger. When they reached her, she had learned what true pain was.

The memory made her shudder involuntarily, her massive body rippling with the motion. The swarm had attacked her scales, their tiny mouths seeking out gaps that didn’t exist, gnawing at her as if they could consume the very essence of her being. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, not physical but something deeper, a searing agony that struck at her very core.

It was a new kind of predator, one she couldn’t fight in the traditional sense. Her only choice had been to leave, to abandon the hunting grounds she had ruled for centuries and move south in search of safety and sustenance.

Adapt or die.

It was the lesson she had learned over countless centuries, and it was the reason she had survived when so many others had not. The swarm had taken her home, but it would not take her life.

Now, as she neared the human nest, the scents and sounds of the jungle gave way to something more artificial. Smoke and sweat, steel and leather, the clinking of armor, and the hurried, panicked movements of men. Her keen eyes caught sight of the wooden palisades and stone walls rising in the distance.

Prey.

The word echoed in her mind, a simple and primal truth. The humans had built their nest here, filling it with food, noise, and fear. Her vast hunger gnawed at her insides, and her tongue flicked out to taste the air. The scent of blood still lingered, a reminder of the battle she had left behind at Newscar.

The humans in this nest wouldn’t know what was coming for them. The memory of their kind fleeing before her so long ago filled her with a grim satisfaction. These new humans would scream just as sweetly, their fear just as intoxicating.

She moved closer, her bulk causing the trees to creak and snap as she passed. Her sharp mind calculated her approach, assessing the fortifications with a cold, predatory intelligence. The walls would fall, just as they had before. The humans could scream and fight all they wanted, but it wouldn’t matter.

“Snacks,” she thought with a reptilian chuckle, her maw curling once more. “Plenty of snacks to keep me moving south.”

Her focus sharpened as she neared the nest. She could hear the frantic shouts of humans on the walls, their voices rising in alarm as they spotted her massive form. Torches flared to life, and arrows began to fly, their tiny points bouncing harmlessly off her armored hide.

“Delicious seasoning,” she mused, relishing the panic in their voices.

The vibrations of her movements shook the ground, and she felt the prey within the nest scurrying like ants. This was her purpose, her place in the world. She was the apex predator, the devourer of civilizations, and these humans would learn that lesson anew.

As she reached the outskirts of the nest, the Primal Devourer paused, her ancient eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. The humans had gathered their forces, a pathetic but determined line of soldiers and mages standing ready to defend their home. It was laughable, almost endearing in its futility.

With a low, rumbling growl, she surged forward, her massive body crashing into the walls like a living battering ram. Wood splintered, stone cracked, and screams filled the air. The feast had begun.

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The chaos was overwhelming. The jungle erupted with the sounds of snapping branches and guttural roars as the Ancient Noble Crocodile barreled through the army. Men screamed in terror, some fleeing in disorganized panic while others stood frozen, transfixed by the monstrous creature's sheer size and ferocity. Horses bucked and reared, their terrified cries mingling with the cacophony as the beast snapped them up in its massive jaws, armor and flesh alike vanishing into its maw.

Duke Fayeron spurred his horse onward, his heart pounding with adrenaline. His commanders flanked him, their expressions grim as they struggled to maintain order amid the chaos. The jungle canopy provided little cover, the creature’s immense form crashing through trees and brush with terrifying ease. Every rumble of its movements felt like an earthquake, shaking the ground and throwing men and horses off balance.

"Faster!" the duke bellowed, his voice cutting through the din. "Keep moving, or we’re all dead!"

Behind him, the beast let out a deafening roar, its massive tail whipping through the undergrowth and flattening everything in its path. Soldiers screamed as they were caught in its wake, their bodies crushed beneath the enormous weight. Even the horses, normally swift and sure-footed, were no match for the crocodile's relentless pace within the dense jungle.

One of the duke’s commanders, a grizzled veteran named Commander Elwin, shouted over the noise, his voice tinged with desperation. “Sire! It’s not just the beast—the traps! The jungle is riddled with them! We’ll lose more men trying to escape than staying put!”

The duke shot him a glare, his face pale but resolute. “Then we must choose the lesser death! This thing will devour us all if we stop. Keep moving, Elwin!”

The group pressed on, forging their way through the tangled undergrowth. The traps left by the defenders of Newscar—spike pits, swinging logs, and concealed snares—claimed more lives as the fleeing soldiers stumbled blindly into them. The jungle itself seemed to conspire against their escape, its dense foliage slowing their progress and offering no clear path.

After what felt like an eternity, the relentless sounds of the crocodile’s pursuit began to fade. The ground ceased its trembling, and the distant echoes of its guttural roars grew fainter. The duke slowed his horse, his breath ragged as he looked around.

The men who had managed to keep pace gathered in a ragged circle, their faces pale and their eyes wide with fear. Many were bloodied and bruised, their armor dented and their weapons clutched tightly in trembling hands. The commanders joined him, their expressions grim as they surveyed the scattered remnants of the once-proud army.

It was Commander Elwin who spoke first, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Sire… the creature…” He paused, his face pale as realization dawned. “It’s headed directly for Oldscar.”

A heavy silence fell over the group as the weight of his words sank in. The duke’s jaw tightened, his mind racing. Oldscar—his city, his people. If the beast reached it, the destruction would be unimaginable.

“We can’t stop it,” another commander said, his voice shaking. “Not with what’s left of our forces. We need reinforcements—heroes, adventurers, someone who can fight this thing.”

The duke’s face hardened, his resolve unshaken despite the mounting despair around him. “Then we must warn the south,” he said firmly. “We ride for the ducal palace. From there, we will summon the king and call for aid. We need every hero, every blade, every spellcaster this kingdom can muster if we are to stop this creature.”

He turned to his men, his voice rising above the fearful murmurs. “Bring forth our fastest runners. They must carry word to the palace and beyond. The kingdom must be warned—this is no ordinary threat. If we fail to act, our kingdom may fall.”

The commanders exchanged uneasy glances but nodded, their faces grim as they set about rallying the scattered troops.

The duke surveyed the remnants of his army, his heart sinking at the sight. What had begun as a force of hundreds was now reduced to a fraction of its size, the survivors battered and demoralized. Yet they were still soldiers, and their duty was clear.

“Men!” the duke called out, his voice strong and commanding. “This is not the end! The jungle has tested us, but we are not beaten. We will return to the palace, regroup, and bring the full might of our kingdom to bear against this monster.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the weary faces before him. “You are not just soldiers—you are defenders of this land, protectors of its people. Do not let fear rule you. Stand tall, and let the world know that we will not falter in the face of this beast.”

The men straightened, some finding renewed determination in his words. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep them moving. The commanders began organizing the troops, forming smaller groups to navigate the treacherous jungle more effectively.

As the group forged their way through the jungle, the duke couldn’t shake the weight of the realization that this creature was beyond anything they could handle. The scars it had left on the land were a testament to its destructive power, and the thought of it reaching Oldscar was a nightmare he couldn’t afford to dwell on.

But one thought lingered in his mind, gnawing at him like a festering wound. This creature, this Primal Devourer, was not the only threat. The defenders of that fortress had proven to be far more formidable than anticipated, their walls and tactics a stark contrast to the chaotic, disorganized goblins he had expected. What other dangers lurked in this jungle, waiting to strike?

"We will survive this," he thought grimly, clenching the reins of his horse. "But this jungle holds more than just one monster. We must be ready for whatever comes next."

The march southward continued, the men’s spirits bolstered only by the hope of reaching safety. But in the back of his mind, the duke worried.