Chapter: The Man Who Watched the Jungle Breathe
Daniel — the boss of the Main Base, North Amazon
Daniel did not believe in ghosts.
He believed in guns, money, leverage—and fear, preferably in others.
He stood inside his cabin, boots resting on a steel desk, cigar burning slowly between his fingers.
Multiple surveillance monitors covered the far wall—feeds from drones, thermal cameras, motion sensors, and perimeter towers. The hum of generators filled the background like a reassuring heartbeat.
Outside, the base buzzed with activity.
Men loading crates.
Guards joking.
Engines idling.
Control.
That's what Daniel liked.
He was the boss, the spine of this entire operation. Poaching rings, illegal gene trade, black-market animal weapons—he'd built it all with patience and blood. The Amazon wasn't sacred to him.
It was inventory.
He exhaled smoke slowly.
"Sector patrol should've checked in by now," he muttered.
One of the technicians shifted nervously. "Sir… we lost contact with the north scouting unit ten minutes ago."
Daniel frowned.
Ten minutes was nothing.
But something in the air—something primal—itched at the back of his skull.
"Pull their feeds," he said.
The technician nodded and switched screens.
Static.
Then—
Video.
The First Outpost — Live Feed
The outpost sat on elevated ground, floodlights cutting through the trees, sandbags stacked, fifty armed men patrolling confidently. Thermal scanners swept the forest.
For a moment, everything looked normal.
Then the forest blinked.
Daniel leaned forward.
"What the hell is that?"
The thermal feed distorted. Heat signatures warped—not disappearing, but changing shape.
The guard on screen frowned, raising his rifle.
The jungle behind him… moved.
Not wind.
Movement.
A shape peeled itself off a tree trunk—no, not peeled—
Unfolded.
A massive silhouette emerged, skin shifting colors like living camouflage. Before the guard could shout, a claw pierced his chest and yanked him backward into the shadows.
The alarm screamed.
Gunfire erupted.
Daniel's cigar slipped from his fingers.
Annihilation Begins
The camera shook violently as something slammed into the watchtower. The feed spun wildly, catching glimpses of monsters—apes, but not animals.
They were too tall.
Too intelligent.
Too fast.
Bullets struck their bodies and fell uselessly to the ground.
One ape—twice the height of a man—ripped open a reinforced gate with bare hands, metal screeching like a dying animal.
Men screamed.
Some tried to run.
The ground betrayed them.
Roots exploded upward, wrapping legs, snapping spines, dragging bodies screaming into the soil.
Others fired wildly, panic flooding their movements.
A Howler Priest climbed atop a tower and roared.
The sound shattered glass.
Men dropped clutching their heads, blood pouring from ears and noses. Some convulsed. Others simply… stopped moving.
Daniel stared.
His mouth was open, but no sound came out.
"What… what the f—"
A Shadow Stalker appeared behind a fleeing guard and removed his head in a single smooth motion.
The camera feed cut.
Then switched to another angle.
Fire.
Green-blue flames clung to barricades, burning unnaturally bright. Resin fire. Alive.
A Mystic Vanguard ape lifted a man and tore him in half like cloth.
Another punched the ground.
A shockwave flattened three soldiers instantly.
Within three minutes, the outpost was no longer a military structure.
It was a grave.
The final camera showed a single ape standing amidst the carnage, blood dripping from its arms, eyes glowing faint green.
The feed went black.
Daniel's Cabin — Silence
The room was dead quiet.
No one spoke.
Daniel's heart pounded violently. Sweat soaked his back.
"That was… that was fifty men," someone whispered.
Daniel slammed his fist into the desk.
"Shut up."
His mind raced.
Animals don't do this.
Animals don't coordinate.
Animals don't plan.
"This isn't a tribe," Daniel said slowly, dread creeping into his voice. "This is an army."
The lights flickered.
One monitor came back online—this time a deep forest cam, far from the base.
The image sharpened.
And Daniel saw him.
The Ape King Reveals Himself
A colossal figure stood beneath an ancient tree—its bark silver-veined, its roots glowing faintly.
The Ape King.
Golden crown resting lightly upon his head.
Half-gold armor across his chest, engraved with symbols older than language.
Eyes burning with calm, terrifying intelligence.
He placed one massive hand against the tree.
Green light spread from his palm.
His flesh merged with the bark.
Daniel watched in disbelief as the tree changed.
Wood hardened into glowing metal-veined mass. Branches twisted, compacted, sharpened. Blue and green energy surged through its form.
In seconds—
The tree became an axe.
A colossal weapon, its blade glowing with primal energy, thorned vines coiling around the handle and wrapping around the Ape King's arm like living armor.
Daniel felt something ancient awaken in his blood.
Fear.
True fear.
The Ape King lifted the axe.
And roared.
The War Cry
The roar was not sound alone.
It was authority.
It rippled through the jungle, through the soil, through bone and nerve. Every ape within miles responded instantly—howls, roars, chest-beating thunder rolling like an earthquake.
Daniel's monitors lit up one by one.
Movement everywhere.
Apes emerging from trees.
From the ground.
From shadows.
Tunnel entrances opening.
Roots shifting.
The forest rearranging itself.
The Ape King raised his axe toward the sky.
"BEGIN."
Blood in the Atmosphere
The next outpost fell faster.
Daniel watched helplessly as cameras captured slaughter.
No mercy.
No hesitation.
Men tried explosives—apes threw them back.
Drones launched—Howler Priests screamed them out of the sky.
One elite ape caught a fleeing soldier, lifted him by the neck, and crushed his skull with one hand.
Blood soaked the soil.
The jungle drank deeply.
Daniel staggered backward, knocking over his chair.
"This isn't possible…" he whispered.
One of his lieutenants turned to him, eyes wild. "Sir—we need to evacuate. Call for air support! Military—anyone!"
Daniel laughed.
A broken, hollow sound.
"Do you think… do you really think anyone can stop this?"
On the screen, the Ape King stepped into view again—this time closer.
Too close.
He looked directly at the camera.
At Daniel.
And smiled.
The Jungle Claims Its Due
Outside the base, the earth shifted.
Alarm sirens wailed.
Men scrambled, shouting orders that no longer mattered.
Roots cracked concrete.
Vines climbed towers.
Shadows moved with purpose.
Daniel collapsed into his chair.
For the first time in his life, he understood a simple truth:
They were never the hunters.
They were trespassers.
The Ape King's roar echoed again—closer now.
And the forest answered with blood.
TO BE CONTINUED.....