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CoinbaseNFT Avatar: #00094 Venom – The Rise of the Serpent King
The world was not ready for him. In the heart of an ancient jungle, where sunlight barely pierced the twisted canopy and the air hummed with unseen predators, a sin against nature was committed. Deep within a concealed research facility, hidden beneath layers of vines and secrecy, Project Naga was born.
A syndicate of power-hungry elites sought to create the perfect predator a living weapon, blending human resilience with the predatory instincts of a serpent. The scientists, blinded by ambition, spliced human DNA with the genetic code of a primordial viper said to have ruled the world before time had a name. The creature they birthed was not a warrior. It was a nightmare.
The Monster in the Dark
At first, the creature known as Va’thar was little more than a feral beast a seething mass of scales, muscle and venom. It clawed at the walls of its containment chamber, eyes burning with primitive rage. The scientists thought themselves gods, prodding and torturing the abomination to study its limits. They treated him like a lab rat. But they didn’t know he could
Va’thar’s mind sharpened with each day. Memories that did not belong to him surfaced fractured visions of blood-soaked battlefields, of empires crumbling beneath his coils. Whether these recollections were echoes of ancestral memory or the soul of something far older didn’t matter. He remembered what he had been: a king. And kings do not wear chains.
The Night of the Serpent
The breakout came on a moonless night. A malfunction, a flicker in the facility’s security grid, was all he needed. The guards never had a chance. Va’thar’s tail crushed spines like twigs, and his venom melted flesh before screams could leave torn throats.
The scientists, faces pale with horror, activated every failsafe gas, electrical surges, automated turrets. But nothing could stop him. He slithered through the facility like death itself, extinguishing life with clinical brutality. When the last researcher collapsed, choking on his own blood, Va’thar tasted the night air for the first time. The jungle welcomed him like a forgotten son.
The Serpent King Rises
Years passed, and the jungle transformed. Villagers whispered of a demon ruling the wilds a colossal snake with human cunning, a shadow that devoured entire hunting parties. The trees themselves seemed to twist in reverence, and the once-teeming predators vanished, leaving the forest eerily silent.
And then the disappearances began. The syndicate, desperate to reclaim their lost “asset,” sent mercenaries, each more ruthless than the last. None returned. Their remains were discovered days later, laid out in ritualistic patterns, their lifeless faces frozen in terror.
Va’thar had no intention of hiding. He was not a failed experiment or a broken monster. He was reborn the living incarnation of nature’s wrath, a relic of an era when serpents ruled the world. He was no longer content to reign over the jungle. His venom demanded more. It demanded kingdoms. It demanded gods. And this time, there would be no cage strong enough to contain him.
A syndicate of power-hungry elites sought to create the perfect predator a living weapon, blending human resilience with the predatory instincts of a serpent. The scientists, blinded by ambition, spliced human DNA with the genetic code of a primordial viper said to have ruled the world before time had a name. The creature they birthed was not a warrior. It was a nightmare.
The Monster in the Dark
At first, the creature known as Va’thar was little more than a feral beast a seething mass of scales, muscle and venom. It clawed at the walls of its containment chamber, eyes burning with primitive rage. The scientists thought themselves gods, prodding and torturing the abomination to study its limits. They treated him like a lab rat. But they didn’t know he could
Va’thar’s mind sharpened with each day. Memories that did not belong to him surfaced fractured visions of blood-soaked battlefields, of empires crumbling beneath his coils. Whether these recollections were echoes of ancestral memory or the soul of something far older didn’t matter. He remembered what he had been: a king. And kings do not wear chains.
The Night of the Serpent
The breakout came on a moonless night. A malfunction, a flicker in the facility’s security grid, was all he needed. The guards never had a chance. Va’thar’s tail crushed spines like twigs, and his venom melted flesh before screams could leave torn throats.
The scientists, faces pale with horror, activated every failsafe gas, electrical surges, automated turrets. But nothing could stop him. He slithered through the facility like death itself, extinguishing life with clinical brutality. When the last researcher collapsed, choking on his own blood, Va’thar tasted the night air for the first time. The jungle welcomed him like a forgotten son.
The Serpent King Rises
Years passed, and the jungle transformed. Villagers whispered of a demon ruling the wilds a colossal snake with human cunning, a shadow that devoured entire hunting parties. The trees themselves seemed to twist in reverence, and the once-teeming predators vanished, leaving the forest eerily silent.
And then the disappearances began. The syndicate, desperate to reclaim their lost “asset,” sent mercenaries, each more ruthless than the last. None returned. Their remains were discovered days later, laid out in ritualistic patterns, their lifeless faces frozen in terror.
Va’thar had no intention of hiding. He was not a failed experiment or a broken monster. He was reborn the living incarnation of nature’s wrath, a relic of an era when serpents ruled the world. He was no longer content to reign over the jungle. His venom demanded more. It demanded kingdoms. It demanded gods. And this time, there would be no cage strong enough to contain him.