Chapter 8
Name: Godzilla (Second Generation Form)
Height: 50 meters
Weight: 20,000 tons
Attack Methods: Radiation heat, white-hot light, melee, flight
"Are you kidding me? Flight?"
Godzilla sighed as he stared at the final entry on the system panel.
"Why do they always bring up that flight mode?"
Second Generation Godzilla was one of the few iterations that could technically fly—but the way it looked doing it was so embarrassing that Godzilla had sworn never to use it again. A stain on his legacy.
In terms of power, the upgrade from the first generation to the second wasn't dramatic. The nuclear organs in his body were more efficient, and his radiation attacks—especially his iconic breath weapon—were much more potent.
Whenever you saw a beam of blue, white, or bluish-white energy erupt from Godzilla's mouth, that was radiation heat. Even the so-called "atomic breath" from Legendary Godzilla was the same thing, just translated differently.
Other unique powers, like the high-temperature particle stream from Shin Godzilla or the planetary-scale electromagnetic pulse from Planet Godzilla, were rare, special-case abilities.
Back to the present—Godzilla surveyed the land around him. What was once a dead, barren world had become a lush, living planet. Towering rainforests stretched from horizon to horizon.
"Okay, now it's starting to feel like Planet Godzilla. Where'd those blue elves go? They run off?"
Now the planet's crawling with lizardfolk two to three meters tall. The stronger ones can rip Space Marines in half. Of course they ran.
"Man, Space Marines used to be elite forces. Now it's like every weird xeno race wants to take a swing at the Imperium. What the hell is going on?"
Godzilla began to walk through the jungle. In the dense undergrowth, reptilian eyes peered out at him. When they saw who it was, they dropped to their knees, bowing in reverence.
These weren't artificial creations. Godzilla had pulled them from the mists of deep time, manipulating the past with Singularity Godzilla's power. To the lizardmen, Godzilla wasn't their maker—he was their god. Always had been.
And no matter how terrifying their enemies might be, none could compare to Godzilla. Under his guidance, they lived a peaceful life, filled with battle rites and strength-worship, all bound by an ancient, spiritual code.
The lizardmen didn't start fights—but they never spared anyone who picked one.
They had no gender. Each was born fully grown from the red incubation lakes scattered across the planet. They never aged, never grew old. The population stayed small, but every single individual was built for war.
Occasionally, though, unique ones would appear. Bigger dorsal fins. Massive tail structures. Internal organs that could spew flame hot enough to melt tank armor. These were rare, but they existed.
Their culture valued personal combat. Like the Orks, they believed in duels. Winners got stronger. Tougher. Bigger. The cycle had no ceiling—some grew until their size rivaled Imperial Titans.
But even among these warriors, there were outliers.
The priests.
They looked different. Born with high intelligence and powerful psychic abilities, they were gifted in ways others weren't. And they could grow—not just in strength, but in wisdom and influence.
They were signs. Symbols. The birth of a priest meant Godzilla had returned. And with his return, a divine mission would begin.
Planet Godzilla likes you.
Godzilla's forms had always reflected something more than just a monster. He was fear, rage, vengeance, mutation, divinity. A weapon. A god. A storm.
Even the system admitted—this version of Godzilla felt like the real deal.
"Why do I care so much about making a race, huh?"
Because without followers, how do you show divinity? Sure, the image of Godzilla as a nuclear horror or natural titan fits the Warhammer vibe. But without something *divine*, he'll get eaten alive by the Chaos Four.
"Oh, so now it's my fault I want a cute monster girl or two?"
I thought you just liked lizard girls.
"That's only part of it. I need a mouthpiece. I can't go negotiate with other races looking like this. Someone's gotta do the talking. Hey, what time period are we in again? There are Tyranids, so it's definitely 40K."
Early Battle of Macragge.
The Battle of Macragge. The Ultramarines' homeworld under siege. The Tyranid Hive Fleet Leviathan descended, bringing one of the bloodiest conflicts in Imperial history. Calgar nearly died in that fight.
"Wait, early? Don't tell me I blew up the entire vanguard and saved the Smurfs by accident?"
Yup. You wiped out the Tyranids in this sector. They were about to hit the Ultramarines, but you vaporized them.
"Okay, look—I'm human, but I'm not a fan of the Imperium in 40K. I liked them better in 30K. If I helped the Ultramarines, it was an accident. Don't get it twisted."
Godzilla had always stood against humanity's arrogance and hubris. He wasn't their savior. He was a force of nature. Pollution, war, greed—he punished all of it.
Helping humans wasn't part of the script.
Relax. All you did was give the Ultramar sector a bit of breathing room. The Hive Fleets are still coming. But if you smack the Great Devourer a few more times, maybe they'll rethink their route.
"Good. I don't want to miss out on all the action."
He looked around again and nodded. His world was coming together nicely.
"All right. Who's going to show up and misinterpret my intentions next?"
The Tau.
"What?"
The Tau. Your planet's on the edge of their territory, and a mid-level Ork WAAAGH is headed this way too.
"You're telling me the next guys I fight aren't demons, Eldar, or Necrons—it's the Tau? That feels like bullying."
Compared to the Imperium, which has 40,000 years of history, the Tau are basically infants. Five, maybe six thousand years old.
Way too young for this galaxy.
Don't worry. Mr. Greater Good is already en route to knock on your front door. You'll find out what real ideological warfare looks like.
"Fine. I'll fight the Tau."
In the distance, Godzilla spotted something—an enormous lizardman temple, a massive structure in the style of ancient Mayan pyramids. He began walking toward it, speaking aloud.
"The prototype of Titanium Lord... I don't care. Godzilla will fight Titanium Lord. He has to."
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