Sergeant Anthony Grant stood at attention, listening intently as the captain addressed the assembled Marines.

Standing at 6'5" and built with the kind of strength that only years of rigorous training could produce, Anthony was an imposing figure, even among the ranks of his fellow Marines. His Trinidadian heritage was evident in his accent, and his thick cornrows, tucked neatly under his helmet, marked him as someone who took full advantage of the Marine Corps' recent loosening on hair restrictions. He kept his braids trimmed close to the scalp and within regulation, mindful of the need to fit both helmet and gas mask. A man of discipline and pragmatism, Anthony knew the rules inside out, and he respected them.

Today, though, he felt the usual intensity of his focus amplified by a mix of nerves and anticipation. This wasn't just another deployment. Today, they were heading toward something unknown, and every Marine here knew it.

The captain, a seasoned officer with years of deployments under his belt, stood at the front of the room, his voice calm but clear as he briefed the Marines on their mission.

"Listen up, Marines!" the captain's voice cut through the chatter, bringing everyone to attention. "You've all heard the rumors, but I'm here to give you the facts. We're about to deploy to a landmass identified as," He looks at the satellite photos. "'Menagerie.' This isn't your average operation. This land appeared out of nowhere just weeks ago, and based on initial reports, we're dealing with an environment and potential threats that could be outside anything we've seen before."

Anthony exchanged a glance with the Marine next to him, a lean corporal named Morales. Like everyone else, they had heard stories filtering down from higher-ups, stories that defied belief—new continents, strange creatures immune to standard weaponry, and even whispers of intelligent inhabitants with capabilities they couldn't begin to understand. For Anthony, it was almost surreal. But as always, he kept his expression neutral, his mind absorbing every word.

"Our objectives are clear," the captain continued, pacing the room, his tone commanding. "First, reconnaissance. We're not here to conquer or take territory; we're here to observe and report. You'll be documenting everything—terrain, flora, fauna, any sign of inhabitants. Second, and most important, is maintaining strict non-engagement unless absolutely necessary. This is a first contact situation. If we encounter hostiles, we protect ourselves, but our mission is to learn, not escalate."

The captain paused, his gaze sweeping over the Marines. "We'll be supported by elements from the Japanese and Australian forces, as well as air support from the USS Missouri and other ships of the 7th Fleet. But make no mistake—once we're on the ground, it'll be just us. Our mission will take us inland, and we'll be exposed. We're here to gather intel and show restraint, which means we treat any life form, be it animal or humanoid, with respect."

Anthony nodded along with the rest, though he couldn't ignore the tension in his gut. He'd been through rough deployments, seen combat and hardship, but the unknown—this was different. He was used to knowing his enemy, his terrain, and the general parameters of his mission. Now, he was venturing into a land that no one knew, a land that simply shouldn't exist.

"We're expecting difficult terrain," the captain continued, "including dense forests, mountainous regions, and possibly even desert-like environments. Menagerie is known to have diverse topography, and there's no telling what we'll encounter. We'll move as a cohesive unit, following standard reconnaissance protocols. Squad leaders, make sure your Marines understand the importance of formation discipline and silent movement. Any questions?"

Anthony cleared his throat. "Sir, do we have any intel on potential hostiles? We've heard some... strange things filtering down."

The captain met his gaze, his expression serious. "That's correct, Sergeant Grant. Initial scouting reports have identified large, armored creatures—referred to as 'Grim'—in areas close to the coastline. They seem to be drawn to areas of fear and panic, and our weapons had limited effectiveness against them in initial encounters. Air support was successful in neutralizing them, but on the ground, you'll need to prioritize avoidance. These creatures are highly resilient, so engage only if absolutely necessary. Our goal is to avoid stirring up trouble."

Anthony nodded, absorbing the information. Large, armored creatures that could withstand direct fire from Marines—that wasn't the kind of threat he was used to facing. But he was ready, and he trusted his team to adapt to any situation.

The captain continued, "The good news is that these creatures don't seem to roam in large packs and tend to stay on the peripheries. However, they have been known to close in on settlements. If we encounter them, I expect every Marine to stay calm and collected. If we see signs of intelligent inhabitants, we observe from a distance unless otherwise ordered. This is a first contact mission; we're not here to make enemies or allies—just to assess."

As the captain wrapped up, he took a moment to let the gravity of the situation sink in. "This mission will be challenging, and the unknowns are significant. But you're United States Marines. You've been trained for the unexpected, and I have full confidence in each one of you to execute this operation with the professionalism, courage, and discipline that's expected of you."

With that, he dismissed the briefing. Anthony and his squadmates gathered their gear, each man falling into the rhythm of preparation. Anthony's mind raced, but his body was steady, every motion practiced, every piece of equipment checked and rechecked. He didn't let himself dwell on the strangeness of the mission; he was focused on readiness, on leading his men through whatever awaited them on that distant shore.

As the company boarded the waiting helicopters that would take them to the landing vessels, Anthony took one last look at the familiar sight of the USS Ronald Reagan behind them, a reminder of the world they knew, a world they were leaving behind, if only for a time. Once they touched down, it would be just them—Marines against the unknown, a land no human had set foot on before.

The chopper's engines roared to life, lifting off from the deck and taking them toward the horizon, where the distant landmass of Menagerie lay shrouded in mist. Anthony's thoughts drifted as he looked out over the ocean, feeling the weight of responsibility settle over him.

They were about to land in a world unlike any other, and as Sergeant Grant prepared himself for the mission, one thought lingered in his mind.

Welcome to Menagerie.

As the helicopter touched down on the deck of the USS America, Sergeant Grant jumped off, feeling the thrum of activity that permeated the assault ship. Around him, Marines moved with a purpose, preparing for the amphibious operation that would take them onto Menagerie's unknown shores. The scent of salt and jet fuel filled the air as machinery and equipment were readied for launch.

The well deck below was bustling with preparation, as crews worked with the Amphibious Combat Vehicles (ACV-Ps), LAV-25A4s, and an LCAC that would carry the vehicles and Marines onto the shore. Anthony paused to take in the sight of his surroundings, grounding himself before the mission began in earnest.

He made his way up to the flight deck, his boots clanking on the metal surface as he looked out over the horizon. The distant outline of Menagerie was barely visible, but the sight of it sent a thrill through him—a reminder of the sheer magnitude of what lay ahead. His eyes scanned the deck, and there, standing a few feet away, was a familiar face: Sergeant David Fernandes.

Fernandes, a compact and muscular Marine standing at 5'5", looked just as Anthony remembered. The two of them had been through thick and thin together, having first met during their initial tour in the Second Korean War five years ago. Despite his size, Fernandes was known for his scrappiness and fierce loyalty. With a grin, he approached Anthony, slapping him on the shoulder in greeting.

"Well, if it isn't Big Man Grant, ready to tackle a whole new world," Fernandes chuckled, his New Yorker accent sharp as ever. "I figured they'd bring out the big guns for a mission like this."

Anthony grinned back, happy to see his old friend before heading out. "Yeah, they figured I'd need someone to babysit. How'd you manage to tag along, shrimp?"

Fernandes laughed. "They needed a professional to keep you giants in line." He shrugged, glancing out toward the sea where Menagerie loomed. "Crazy, though, huh? I mean, new continents popping up like something out of a sci-fi movie... and we're the ones who get to play explorers."

Anthony nodded, his expression growing serious. "Yeah, it's surreal. But we've faced strange things before. Just gotta treat this one like any other mission." He hesitated, glancing at the distant USS Ronald Reagan, where jets were beginning to take off from the deck. "Still, it makes you wonder what we're walking into."

As the jets thundered into the sky, their engines roaring, Fernandes followed his gaze. "Air support's getting an early start, huh? You think they're just scouting, or...?"

"Clearing the skies, probably," Anthony replied, watching as the jets disappeared into the clouds. "Intel was saying the wildlife—or whatever you want to call those things—is unpredictable. Those 'Grim' sound like bad news if they're anywhere near as resilient as we've heard."

Fernandes whistled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I've heard the stories too. Huge creatures, black as night, armored to hell. They sound like they're from a nightmare."

The two men stood in silence for a moment, watching as more aircraft prepared to launch. The jets from the USS Ronald Reagan were likely there to scout for aerial threats or provide cover if things went south. The weight of the mission settled between them, a reminder of the risks they were about to take.

"So," Fernandes said, breaking the silence, "think we'll be the first ones to make friendly contact, or you think these folks have some sort of 'shoot first, ask questions later' policy?"

Anthony smirked. "If I had to guess, they're just as in the dark as we are. Hell, they probably don't even know we exist. Hopefully, that means they'll want to talk things out."

He knew the briefing had been clear—observe, report, and avoid any unnecessary conflict. But Anthony also knew that missions rarely went according to plan. If these inhabitants were as unfamiliar with Earth's forces as he suspected, there was no telling how they might react to heavily armed strangers landing on their shores.

Over the intercom, a voice crackled to life, announcing the deployment schedule for the amphibious vehicles. It was nearly time.

"Well, guess that's our cue," Fernandes said, straightening his gear and offering a quick grin. "You ready to be the next Neil Armstrong, Big Man?"

Anthony chuckled, nodding as they headed toward the well deck. "Let's just hope we don't meet any 'monsters' out there."

They made their way down to the well deck, joining their respective squads as the final checks on the ACV-Ps and LAV-25A4s were completed. The massive LCAC, its engines humming as it idled, would carry them and the other armored vehicles onto the unknown coastline of Menagerie. As he settled into the ACV with his squad, Anthony took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself.

The bay doors of the USS America opened, revealing the choppy ocean and the distant, mist-shrouded shore of Menagerie. The LCAC roared to life, propelling itself into the water, carrying the ACVs and LAVs with it. The Marines held tight, their eyes fixed on the strange new land ahead.

Anthony glanced over at Fernandes one last time before they hit the shore. His friend flashed him a quick, reassuring nod. They were both aware that they were about to enter the unknown, but that was part of the job.

As the LCAC neared the beach, the Marines steeled themselves, weapons ready, eyes alert. The roar of the waves and the hum of machinery blended into a tense silence as they made their approach. Anthony felt his heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline mixing with an intense focus.

The LCAC touched down, its ramp lowering onto the sand, and Anthony and his squad surged forward, fanning out onto the alien landscape of Menagerie. The air was heavy with humidity and filled with unfamiliar sounds—the calls of strange birds, the rustle of foliage in the dense jungle that bordered the beach. Around them, the Marines moved with discipline and precision, each step calculated as they took in their surroundings.

Anthony raised his rifle, scanning the treeline as he led his squad further inland. The landscape was lush and tropical, the thick canopy casting shadows over the forest floor. Here and there, he saw plants and trees unlike anything he'd encountered before—some with colors so vibrant they seemed almost surreal.

"Alright, keep it tight," he murmured to his squad, his voice low and steady. "Eyes on the trees. We don't know what's out there, so stay sharp."

The Marines spread out, advancing cautiously as they secured a perimeter. Anthony's senses were on high alert, every sound amplified as he listened for any sign of movement. They had only just begun to explore Menagerie, but the weight of the unknown pressed down on him, filling the air with a sense of anticipation.

As they moved deeper into the forest, Anthony couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He glanced at Fernandes, who gave him a quick, uneasy nod, as if he felt it too. Whatever lay in the heart of this strange land, they were about to find out. And Anthony knew, deep down, that this mission would test them in ways they could never have anticipated.

As Anthony and his squad pressed deeper into the dense jungle of Menagerie, the thick silence weighed heavily on them, every crackle of a leaf underfoot or distant call of an unseen creature making nerves fray and tempers short. The Marines moved carefully, each one scanning the shadows between the trees, gripping their rifles as if expecting an attack at any moment.

Suddenly, Anthony caught sight of movement just beyond a thick cluster of trees. He raised his fist, signaling for his squad to halt, and peered through the underbrush. The silhouettes of other figures moved silently, crouching and shifting just out of view. He couldn't see enough to identify them, but they were moving with practiced caution. Whoever they were, they were well-trained.

Just as Anthony raised his rifle, a voice hissed from the other side of the foliage.

"日本の部隊です!"

Anthony's mind struggled to process the words before he realized who they were facing. The Japanese Special Boarding Unit—Japanese forces who'd been deployed with them on this mission. He lowered his weapon slowly, realizing the Japanese soldiers were just as tense as his own men, their weapons aimed directly at him.

"Hold fire!" Anthony called out, his voice calm but loud enough to carry. He saw the recognition in the eyes of one of the Japanese soldiers as the Marine's presence registered, and they quickly lowered their rifles, muttering orders in Japanese to stand down.

One of the Japanese soldiers—a lean man with intense eyes—nodded to Anthony, his expression one of relief. "American Marines?" he asked, his English clear but accented.

Anthony gave a nod, his gaze still flicking cautiously over the treeline. "Yeah. Sergeant A. Grant. Glad we didn't shoot each other."

The Japanese soldier, likely a squad leader, gave a thin smile. "Captain Hayato Tanaka. We had the same thought." He glanced at his own men, who had lowered their weapons but were still scanning the area, tension thick among them.

The two groups took a moment to recalibrate, their nerves settling as they absorbed the near-miss. Anthony nodded to Fernandes, who exchanged relieved glances with the rest of his squad. The quiet was unsettling, but there was something else too—a deep, instinctive dread that felt like more than just nerves. The silence in the jungle had become absolute.

It was Fernandes who first noticed it. "You guys hear that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Anthony listened, every muscle in his body tense. The air had shifted, and the usual sounds of wildlife were gone. It was as if the entire jungle had fallen silent, as though every creature had hidden itself away.

And then, from the darkness between the trees, they came.

A low growl echoed through the jungle, followed by the heavy crunch of something large moving through the underbrush. Shapes emerged, black as night, their eyes glowing a deep, sinister red. Anthony's breath caught as he recognized them from the briefing: Grimm. More than he'd expected, far more. Dozens of Beowolves, their bony armor gleaming dully in the faint light, emerged from the shadows, their teeth bared, snarling with an otherworldly rage.

"Shit, we've got company!" Anthony shouted, raising his rifle.

The Marines and Japanese soldiers braced, forming a defensive line as the Grimm advanced, their growls filling the air like the rumble of an oncoming storm. A few Marines with M1014 shotguns stepped forward, readying their weapons for close combat.

The first wave of Beowolves lunged forward, and the Marines opened fire. Shotgun blasts ripped through the closest Grimm, the 12-gauge buckshot slowing them down but not stopping them entirely. A few of the beasts stumbled, their thick skull armor cracking but holding. They were tougher than anticipated.

Fernandes, crouching beside Anthony, pulled a magazine from his vest and slapped it into his rifle. "Hey, remember those little care packages we brought along?" he muttered, a glint of mischief in his eye.

Anthony glanced down at the magazine, immediately recognizing the glint of the illegal armor-piercing rounds. It was technically a breach of protocol—a little war crime in a magazine—but right now, he wasn't about to complain. "Load 'em up," he ordered, sliding in his own magazine of armor-piercing rounds. They didn't have time to worry about the fine print.

As the next wave of Grimm charged, Anthony took aim, firing a burst into the closest Beowolf's armored skull. The 5.56mm rounds, hardened with tungsten tips, punched through the creature's skull like a hot knife through butter. The Beowolf staggered, black ichor spraying from the wound, and crumpled to the ground.

"Hell yeah!" Fernandes shouted, following Anthony's lead and taking down another Grimm with a clean shot through the head. The armor-piercing rounds cut through the Grimm's skulls with brutal efficiency, and within moments, the tide of the battle began to shift. Each shot was a calculated kill, dropping the creatures one by one.

Captain Tanaka and his squad, seeing the effectiveness of the Marines' fire, adjusted their tactics, targeting the Grimm with precision shots and falling back in a coordinated retreat. A few of the Japanese soldiers moved in close with blades, expertly slicing through the less-armored sections of the Grimm to slow them down.

Anthony's shotgun-wielding Marines stepped forward, blasting the creatures that got too close, while others continued to lay down suppressing fire. The ground was soon littered with the bodies of fallen Grimm, their blackened forms disintegrating into ash and smoke.

Just as they seemed to be gaining control, a new wave of Grimm surged forward, larger and more ferocious—an Ursa, its massive, armored form tearing through the trees like paper. Its claws glinted with deadly intent, and its blood-red eyes locked onto Anthony.

"Grenade out!" he shouted, pulling a fragmentation grenade from his vest and hurling it directly at the Ursa's feet. The grenade exploded, sending shrapnel flying, and the Ursa staggered, its armor cracked but not fully broken.

"Fernandes, now!" Anthony barked, stepping aside as Fernandes stepped forward, aiming his rifle at the Ursa's weakened armor.

With a short burst of AP rounds, Fernandes tore into the Ursa's exposed flesh, his shots ripping through the beast's skull and finally bringing it crashing to the ground.

The Marines and Japanese forces held their line, taking down Grimm after Grimm in brutal, close-quarters combat. By the time the last creature fell, the jungle around them was littered with disintegrating remains, the air thick with the acrid smell of burnt ichor.

Anthony lowered his rifle, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He looked around, checking on his squad and the Japanese soldiers. They were bloodied, exhausted, but alive. Fernandes gave him a tired grin, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Hell of a welcoming party," he muttered.

Anthony chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'd say so. Guess the intel was right—these things don't go down easy."

Captain Tanaka approached, his face streaked with dirt and ash. "Your armor-piercing rounds... very effective. I suggest we keep close for the time being. There may be more of them."

Anthony nodded, gripping Tanaka's hand in a firm shake. "Agreed. We'll stick together until we get back to the perimeter."

As they regrouped and reloaded, Anthony couldn't shake the realization that these creatures were unlike any enemy he'd ever faced. Ruthless, relentless, and seemingly endless, the Grimm were a new kind of terror—a force that didn't care about borders, allegiances, or rules of engagement.

But he was a Marine, and he would face it head-on.

With a final nod to his men and the Japanese forces, Anthony led them forward, deeper into the unknown, ready for whatever else Menagerie had in store.

The four squads advanced cautiously through the dense jungle, every step deliberate, every shadow scanned with wary eyes. The adrenaline was still pumping, the encounter with the Grimm leaving nerves raw and instincts on edge. Anthony led his squad at the front, with Captain Tanaka's Japanese Special Boarding Unit covering the rear. Despite the fresh memories of near-death moments and the blood still drying on their gear, they moved with practiced precision.

After what felt like hours of navigating the thick jungle terrain, they reached a clearing. The space opened up unexpectedly, the canopy above parting to allow the faint glow of sunlight to filter down onto a stretch of lush grass dotted with strange, vibrantly colored plants and twisted trees. Anthony signaled for his squad to hold position, glancing around the clearing to ensure it was secure.

As they took in the relative calm of their surroundings, the distant echo of explosions and gunfire reached their ears. Anthony's brow furrowed as he strained to listen. The sounds were unmistakable: a steady rhythm of gunfire mixed with the occasional heavy boom, likely from naval ordnance. Other squads from the landing force were clearly encountering Grimm as well, and it seemed the Navy was providing close air support where possible.

"Sounds like we're not the only ones having a hell of a time," Fernandes muttered, adjusting his rifle as he glanced back in the direction they'd come.

Anthony nodded grimly, scanning the tree line once more. "Yeah. Let's hope they're holding their own. Those Grim weren't pulling any punches."

He turned to Captain Tanaka, who was busy directing two of his medics to check the Marines and Japanese soldiers who'd sustained injuries during the initial attack. The medics moved with quiet efficiency, tending to cuts, bruises, and even some deeper claw wounds left by the Grimm. The wounded sat in silence, their faces a mixture of pain and stoic resolve, as the medics cleaned and dressed their injuries.

One of the Japanese medics, a young woman with a focused expression, reached for a pack of gauze, then gently wrapped it around a Marine's bleeding forearm. She looked up at Anthony, giving him a quick nod. "Most injuries are minor, Sergeant. Nothing that'll keep anyone out of the fight."

Anthony appreciated her assessment and nodded in return. "Good to hear. We'll need everyone if we keep running into more of those creatures."

Captain Tanaka joined him, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "The Grim are relentless. I've never seen anything like them. They attack without hesitation, without fear... almost as if they exist solely to destroy."

Anthony met his eyes, a grim understanding passing between them. "That's what makes them dangerous. They're not like anything we've faced before—they don't just fight to win. They're hunting us."

The two men stood in silence, letting the weight of that realization sink in. Around them, the Marines and Japanese soldiers took a much-needed moment to catch their breath, hydrating and checking their gear. Even in the brief lull, Anthony could feel the tension in the air, an unspoken understanding that this respite wouldn't last.

The eerie quiet of the jungle was unsettling, made worse by the occasional distant booms of naval fire and gunfire crackling through the trees. It was both a reassurance and a reminder: they weren't alone, but they were also part of a larger, unknown battlefield.

One of the Marines, Corporal Jensen, looked up from his spot on the ground, wiping sweat from his brow. "Sergeant, you think the Navy's hitting those things hard enough back there?"

Anthony gave a small nod. "If they're dropping ordnance, they're doing it for a reason. Command isn't taking any chances. But it means we're in deep if they're going all-out this early."

Fernandes, sitting beside Jensen, added, "Gotta say, Big Man, this place doesn't feel like Earth. These plants, the animals we haven't seen yet... and those Grim..." He trailed off, shaking his head as if trying to shake off a bad dream.

Anthony understood exactly what he meant. The environment felt wrong, foreign in ways he couldn't fully describe. Despite the sunshine, there was a weight to the air, an undercurrent of hostility that made every step feel like it could lead to something worse.

Captain Tanaka's voice broke the silence. "We've lost comms with our command. The Navy can cover us from above, but we can't coordinate with the other squads. If we keep advancing, we may be on our own."

Anthony nodded. "Then we'll stick close. Move as a unit, and no one breaks formation. If we hit resistance, we regroup and hold. The Navy's above us, but on the ground, we're the only backup we have."

As they gathered themselves, Tanaka exchanged a few words in Japanese with his squad, and the soldiers responded with determined nods. Despite the uncertainty, despite the wounds, both squads were ready. This was no longer just a reconnaissance mission—it was survival.

The medics finished up, and Anthony gave the signal to move out. They advanced cautiously, the clearing behind them disappearing as the dense jungle closed in once again. The ambient noise had returned, filled with the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of alien birds, but the Marines and Japanese soldiers moved in silence, hyper-alert.

They hadn't gone far when Fernandes held up a fist, signaling a stop. Anthony moved up beside him, noticing the look of concentration on his friend's face as he pointed ahead. Through a break in the trees, they could make out a faint shimmer of movement—something large, skulking through the underbrush.

Anthony's grip on his rifle tightened as he whispered, "Eyes up. We've got movement, ten o'clock."

Captain Tanaka's men were already in position, crouched low and aiming at the shadowed figures slipping between the trees. Anthony squinted, focusing on the shapes, and his stomach tightened as he recognized them.

More Grimm. And not just a few—he could see at least a dozen Beowolves in the shadows, each one prowling with a terrifying focus, red eyes trained in their direction.

He glanced at Tanaka, who gave a quick nod, his own weapon raised and ready. They would have to fight their way through again, and this time, they were even deeper in the jungle, with no guarantee of air support.

"Alright," Anthony whispered to his squad and the Japanese unit. "Same as before. Short, controlled bursts. Go for the head if you can. Tanaka, let's keep our squads close—if we get separated, regroup back here."

With that, he took aim, letting his breath steady as he squeezed the trigger. The first shots rang out, shattering the quiet of the jungle as they tore into the approaching Grimm. Anthony watched as a Beowolf dropped, the armor-piercing rounds slicing through its skull. Around him, his fellow Marines and the Japanese soldiers joined in, the staccato bursts of rifle fire intermingling with the roars of the Grimm.

The Beowolves surged forward, undeterred by the gunfire, their bony armor glinting in the scattered sunlight. The first wave of Grimm fell under the assault, but more kept coming, their growls reverberating through the jungle as they charged.

Corporal Jensen fired a burst, shouting as he emptied his magazine into one of the Beowolves that got too close. Fernandes dropped another Grimm with a clean headshot, his rifle steady despite the chaos around him.

But the Grimm kept advancing, their relentless nature pushing the Marines and Japanese soldiers to the limit. Anthony could feel the strain, his own arms aching as he reloaded and fired again, each shot carefully placed.

Just as it seemed they were about to be overwhelmed, a heavy, distant rumble shook the ground. The sky above them lit up as a jet roared overhead, followed by a flash of explosions in the trees just ahead. The Navy had seen their distress signal.

The bombs tore through the Grimm, sending shockwaves through the jungle. Anthony held his ground, shielding his eyes from the flying debris as the creatures finally began to retreat, their numbers dwindling under the relentless air assault.

When the dust settled, the remaining Grimm had fled, leaving only the smoldering remains of the jungle around them. The Marines and Japanese soldiers took a moment to regroup, catching their breath as they surveyed the scene.

Anthony turned to Captain Tanaka, who looked equally exhausted but nodded in approval. "We held."

Anthony gave a nod in return, his respect for the Japanese soldiers solidified in the heat of battle. "We did. But I have a feeling this won't be the last time."

With the jungle smoldering and the last echoes of gunfire fading, the combined squads gathered themselves, bracing for whatever lay deeper in the heart of Menagerie.