Kong Battles Millions of Metal-Eating Sharks in the Ocean

The world had never seen a storm like this. From the depths of the Pacific, a new terror emerged—millions of sharks, each with jaws of gleaming titanium and a hunger not for flesh, but for metal. Ships vanished overnight. Oil rigs were torn apart as if made of paper. The world’s navies tried everything: torpedoes, sonar, even underwater mines. Nothing stopped the metal-eating swarm.

Far across Skull Island, Kong watched the horizon darken with dread. The island’s ancient guardians sensed a change in the ocean’s song. The great ape, protector of the land, knew the world beyond was calling for him once more.

It began when a battered submarine washed ashore, hull shredded and crew missing. Only one survivor, a trembling engineer named Marlowe, could speak. “They’re coming,” he whispered, “millions of them—sharks, but not like any animal. They eat metal. They destroyed everything.”

Kong listened, his deep eyes filled with concern. The island’s own cliffs and fortifications were made of iron and steel, relics from past battles. If the sharks reached Skull Island, nothing would remain.

That night, the ocean glowed with an unnatural light. The sharks were approaching, drawn by the magnetic pulse of Kong’s home. Their bodies, armored and glistening, churned the water into a froth of steel and teeth. Kong roared, the sound echoing across the sea, a challenge and a warning.

He plunged into the waves, the water swirling around his massive frame. The sharks sensed him instantly, swarming in a cyclone of metal. Their jaws snapped at Kong’s golden bracelets and the chains he wore from ancient times. But Kong was not prey—he was a force of nature.

He fought with fists and fury, smashing sharks aside. The ocean became a battlefield, Kong’s roars mixing with the screech of grinding metal. He grabbed a shark by the tail and hurled it into the sky; another latched onto his arm, but Kong tore it away, scattering metal shards into the deep.

For hours, the battle raged. The sharks were relentless, their numbers endless. They gnawed at shipwrecks and Kong’s own armor, growing stronger with every bite. Kong realized brute strength would not be enough. He needed a plan.

Diving deeper, Kong found the heart of the swarm—a colossal shark, twice the size of the others, its body bristling with the remains of battleships and submarines. Its eyes glowed red with intelligence and malice. Kong swam toward it, dodging smaller sharks, and faced the leviathan.

The giant shark lunged, jaws wide. Kong caught its mouth with both hands, straining against its crushing force. With a mighty heave, Kong twisted the shark’s head, snapping its metal spine. The creature shuddered, then sank into the abyss. The swarm paused, leaderless and confused.

Kong seized the moment. He slammed his fists against the ocean floor, sending shockwaves through the water. The vibrations confused the sharks’ magnetic senses, scattering them in all directions. Some fled into the trenches, others drifted away, their hunger for metal fading.

The world’s ships and oil rigs, battered but standing, sent out signals of relief. Kong climbed back onto Skull Island, exhausted but victorious. Marlowe knelt before him, awe in his eyes. “You saved us all,” he whispered.

The story spread across the globe: Kong, the giant ape, had battled millions of metal-eating sharks and won. The oceans were safe again—at least for now.

But Kong knew that the world was changing. New threats would come, and when they did, he would be ready. For Kong was not just a king of Skull Island—he was the guardian of a world that needed heroes.

And somewhere, deep beneath the waves, the remnants of the metal swarm waited, dreaming of the day they might rise again.