The jungle is thick with humidity, and the muddy water comes up to your thighs. You push aside a hanging vine when the silence hits you—dead quiet. No frogs. No birds. Just your breathing… and then—SPLASH.

You whip around.

From the dark tangle of roots and reeds, something massive surges forward. A green anaconda—its body like a living tree trunk—lunges through the water, sending waves crashing against your legs. Its jaws are slightly parted, tongue flicking the air as it charges, not slithers.

You take a step back—too slow.

The beast whips its muscular coils through the water and closes the distance. You barely get your arms up before it slams into you, water exploding around you both. It wraps part of its body around your leg, tightening like a vice. You feel the pressure build as it hisses, its head rearing back for another strike.

Its eyes are cold. Calculating. It’s not testing you—it’s coming for you.