446: Yamata no Orochi

The snake's body slithered rapidly against the scorched earth, its rough, rotting scales scraping against the ground with a "rustling" sound.

Every movement caused the ground to collapse with a thunderous roar.

Bottomless ravines split open in dense patterns, with pitch-black mist pouring out from the cracks. The stench was nauseating; a single breath made one dizzy and weak-kneed, unable to even stand steady.

Eight heads lowered in unison, their blood-red eyes locked onto the chaotic crowd below. Viscous saliva dripped from their maws, sizzling as it hit the ground and burned smoking craters, a sound that made one's scalp tingle.

Only then did the survivors truly panic, realizing that this apocalyptic disaster was unavoidable.

When they saw the gargantuan monster with eight heads and eight tails, terrified screams erupted instantly, piercing their eardrums.

"It's Yamata no Orochi! The monster from mythology actually exists."

"Run! It's going to eat us all!"

The viciousness they had shown earlier while fighting over supplies was gone, leaving only the most primal instinct for survival.

The crowd scattered like headless flies, pushing and shoving, everyone desperate to rush forward without a care for whether others lived or died.

A burly man kicked the old man in front of him to the ground, spittle flying, as he squeezed through the gaps to a seemingly safe corner.

The old man fell to the ground, his back hitting the rubble, causing his whole body to convulse in pain. As he braced himself on his arms and struggled to lift his head, he trembled and pleaded with the crowded masses: "Please, please don't trample me. I'm old, please spare my life, I really can't walk anymore."

The burly man glanced back at him with eyes full of disgust, sneering as he cursed: "Who has time to care about others when we can barely save ourselves?"

"Useless trash blocking the way should just stay here and wait for death. Burdens deserve to be abandoned; that's the rule after the Spiritual Energy Revival."

No sooner had he spoken than the crowd surging from behind ran directly over the old man's back and arms, the crunch of breaking bones audible and sharp.

The shrill wails lasted less than two seconds before being completely drowned out by the chaotic footsteps; not even a faint sound remained.

Not far away, a few young men were tangled in a brawl, fighting over a Honda that could still start. A man with short hair clutched the keys tightly, while the others pulled his hair and tore at his clothes, hitting him with intent to kill.

"Hand over the keys! My driving skills are better than yours. Only I can break through the obstacles ahead and escape. If you follow me, you might still survive."

"Nonsense! I found this car first! Why should I give it to you? If anyone escapes, it'll be me. Scum like you don't deserve to live."

The short-haired man's forehead bulged with veins in his anxiety. He slammed his fist into the other's cheek and roared through gritted teeth: "Quit the chatter! If you don't hand over the keys, I'll break your arm right now. We're going to die anyway, so it's worth it to take you down with me."

The man clutching the keys gritted his teeth in pain but kept them hidden in his palm. He kicked the short-haired man's stomach and cursed angrily: "You bastard!"

"You dare hit me? Even if I die here, I will never give you the keys. At worst, we'll both feed the giant snake."

A lanky man nearby tried to snatch the keys, shouting anxiously: "Stop fighting! Hurry and stop! The giant snake is almost here. If we keep arguing, we're all going to be eaten. Getting the keys and escaping is the only thing that matters."

But no one was willing to let go, and they remained locked in a brawl, the dull thuds of fists hitting flesh and ugly curses mixing together.

No one looked up to see a spike-covered snake head slowly approaching, getting closer and closer.

Yamata no Orochi looked down coldly at the ants below scrambling in vain. In its eyes, these living people, filled with fear and malice, were nothing more than nutrients to replenish its strength.

The main snake head opened its mouth slightly, and a massive suction force instantly engulfed half the block.

Hundreds of survivors hadn't even reacted before they were lifted off the ground, flailing their limbs as they flew toward the snake's maw, unable to break free no matter how they struggled.

"No, save me!"

The screams rose one after another, but it was useless.

In the blink of an eye, everyone on the entire street was swallowed clean.

The other snake heads were not idle either.

One spike-covered head slammed directly into a precarious high-rise building. The concrete and steel shattered like paper, and the survivors hiding inside were swallowed along with the ruins, their screams cut off abruptly.

Another head sprayed thick black mist. Those who touched the mist immediately began to shriek in agony; their flesh dissolved at a visible speed, quickly turning into pools of black water that seeped into the scorched earth and vanished.

"Go to the air-raid shelter! There's an air-raid shelter over there, hurry and run that way!" Someone pointed to a partially buried building in the distance and roared. The remaining people rushed toward it like madmen.

The iron gate of the air-raid shelter had long been deformed. Everyone used their shoulders to ram it and their fists to pound it, their fingernails scratching against the metal with a harsh "screeching" sound that made people panic.

"Open the door! Hurry and open it, let us in!"

The people inside responded with sobbing voices: "It's full! It's really full! There isn't even a place to stand inside. Stop hitting the door, you can't squeeze in!"

But the desperate people didn't listen at all, ramming the door with all their might, just wanting to live one more second.

Three minutes later, the iron gate was completely twisted and a gap split open. The crowd surged in like a breached flood, and not long after they entered, even more intense fighting broke out inside.

Someone was being squeezed so hard they couldn't breathe. They reached out and shoved the woman next to them, shouting urgently: "Move aside! Don't keep crowding here, I'm suffocating, move away!"

The woman was pushed until her legs went weak, and she immediately grabbed his collar in return. "Why should I move? I squeezed in first, if anyone should move, it's you."

"Don't touch me! Useless things should just stay outside."

In the corner, someone holding an iron rod roared to mediate the fight, but their voice was quickly drowned out: "What time do you think it is to be arguing about this? The calamity god outside is coming soon. If we keep causing trouble, we're all going to die here. Can't you just be quiet?"

But no one was listening. To snatch a tiny bit of survival space, everyone was grabbing each other's collars and beating each other to death, throwing punches and kicks at vital points.

Others picked up bricks and iron rods from the ground to smash at others, and blood flowed all over the floor.

Someone was hit in the arm and screamed in pain, "You want to steal my spot? You're not worthy! Today, either you get out, or we both die."

No one cared about the life or death of others.

Yamata no Orochi moved its body. Everywhere it crawled was dead silent, and even the wind carried a thick smell of blood.

It could feel its strength slowly recovering. Every time it swallowed a batch of people, the new flesh under its rotting skin grew faster, a ticklish sensation spreading along its scales.

But at the same time, the sense of emptiness from not finding its enemy was becoming increasingly intense, and the snake's heads felt stiflingly restless.

Suddenly, the third snake head turned sharply toward the direction of the air-raid shelter. Its vertical pupils narrowed slightly; the scent of living people there was exceptionally rich—it was an excellent target for predation.