The moment these newly born spider-like monsters emerged, their bodies radiated a twisted aura even thicker and more suffocating than the green mist. They moved incredibly fast, and all eight emerald-glowing compound eyes snapped in unison toward Steve and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who were struggling to push into the mycelium defense line!
"New monsters! Watch the ground!" Natasha's sharp warning cut through the chaos as she shattered several of one spider creature's eyes with a Widow's Bite blast. But the monster merely shook its grotesque head and, without the slightest pause, continued its charge!
The situation instantly deteriorated to the worst possible point. The hardened, nearly indestructible defensive barrier, the constant pressure of the psychic assault, and now this swarm of ominous arachnid creatures suddenly joining the siege like lightning—together they erased the hard-won breach in an instant. Everyone found themselves trapped at the very center of an even more desperate, more complex killing net.
Behind the hardened mycelium wall, beneath the pulsing purple glow of the core, the colossal main body seemed to let out a silent sneer, overflowing with malice.
Two bizarre armies overlapped into one nightmare—
In the sky, a bat swarm as dense as thunderclouds, blocking out the light as they screamed and dove.
On the ground, a silent tide of spider monsters, surging forward like a flood of metallic carrion, each one exuding deadly intent.
Together they formed a three-dimensional strangling net, boxing in the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Captain America's team, and Saitama, who was still pushing forward at high speed, layer by layer into the center.
Screee—!
The spider monsters struck first. Their twisted mouthparts opened and closed, and what they spat wasn't venom, but a ghastly, pale, sticky web fluid that reeked of stinging acid. These corrosive webs lashed out like whips, or spread as massive nets falling from above.
The stench of burning air and the terrifying "zzzz" of corrosion instantly spread through the battlefield.
One agent was a step too slow. A splash of web fluid brushed across his tactical glove, and it immediately began to smoke. The reinforced fibers dissolved at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"Dammit! Watch those webs—they're super corrosive!" he shouted in pain, flinging the glove off as fast as he could. The skin on the back of his hand was already red, swollen, and beginning to ulcerate.
The ground battle plunged into a brutal slog. Steve practically couldn't let go of his vibranium shield for even a second. He had to use it to block the raking claws of the diving bats while also batting away and deflecting the whip-like streams and flying globs of corrosive spider web.
"Hold the formation! Back to back! Don't get split up!" he roared. His voice came out hoarse, half-drowned by the acidic smoke and the shrieking all around him.
The shield swept out, smashing in the head of a spider that leapt at his face. He then spun with the momentum and hurled the corpse upward, bowling through several bats mid-dive and barely easing the pressure on his line…
Natasha darted through the chaos with feline grace, her Widow's Bite releasing precise bursts of energy, each shot aimed at a spider's compound eyes or leg joints to slow its assault. The agents had split into small squads, standing back to back and using whatever cover they could find—mainly the mycelium walls and chunks of shattered hardened mycelium—to lay down suppressive fire, desperately trying to hold back this dual onslaught from sky and ground.
At the very heart of their defensive ring, Saitama had become the monsters' primary target. Whether bat or spider, they all seemed to instinctively sense that the bald man was the true threat to the main body, and so they gave him… special attention.
Faced with the rainstorm of corrosive webs shooting toward him, Saitama's figure moved within a tiny area at a speed that defied logic. Those sticky nets, potent enough to melt metal and pin down giant creatures, couldn't touch even the corner of his cape.
Sometimes he only tilted his body a fraction, letting a web skim past his cheek. Sometimes he took a light step forward, and the massive net would slam down exactly where he'd been standing one second before.
His movement pattern looked relaxed, almost casual—but hidden within it was micro-level precision and absolute control over his speed.
(End of Chapter)
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