Chapter 22:
The Dark Eldar had come hunting.
They never expected to become the prey.
After the Tormentor-class cruiser crashed in the rainforest, the Drukhari were quick to rally. Equipment was salvaged, wargear was distributed, and plans were drawn. Their goal: capture some Tau survivors. Add a few exotic slaves to their pens. Simple, clean, cruel.
Then Godzilla arrived.
He didn't match the size of a battleship.
But landing craft? Compared to him, they looked like chickens.
The forest thundered with every step. The air pulsed with a primal weight. Trees bent. Birds scattered. The rain hissed off his back like acid on metal.
The Archon of the fallen cruiser stared from his command dais, his voice tight.
"By Khaine… what is that? A monster the size of a Star God shard..."
He wasn't speaking metaphorically.
This Archon had once seen a C'tan fragment in battle—a terrible encounter where three Drukhari fleets were annihilated by the Necron's abyssal weapons. That memory came flooding back now.
Godzilla felt like that again.
A weight too vast. A presence too ancient.
Even the ever-smirking, pain-loving Drukhari felt their grins falter.
"We didn't sign up to fight this!"
"Damn it, I'd rather fight in the arenas of Commorragh than take on that thing!"
If their warship had remained intact, maybe they would have stood a chance. Godzilla might not even be as big as the main cannon of the Tormentor-class… but that wasn't the point.
The point was: they had no ship.
And the Drukhari don't have Titans.
[Dark Eldar field no Titan-class units.]
Still, one kabalite warrior sneered, trying to rally his comrades.
"Stop whining. We've seen bigger beasts on death worlds. If we capture him, the Haemonculi will kill each other bidding for him in the arenas of Commorragh!"
That sparked something in the others.
Soon, squadrons of Raider and Ravager skimmers lifted off, mag-lev engines humming. At the prow of each sleek craft, darklight lances locked on target. These weapons could vaporize a Space Marine's lower half in a single shot.
One particularly unstable warrior stood atop his Raider, cackling.
"HAHAHA! DIE! DIE! DIE!"
He charged.
The darklight lance on his Raider fired—blue energy slamming into Godzilla's snout.
It barely singed.
The beam dissipated with a pitiful hiss, flying off uselessly into the jungle. Godzilla blinked, turned to look at the vehicle buzzing near his eye like a gnat.
The Dark Eldar howled with laughter, delusional and blood-mad.
"Blood for Khaine!!"
He wheeled around for another pass.
He didn't get far.
A tail—thick as a starship support beam—swung from below with the speed of a railgun round. It caught the Raider mid-dash. The craft shattered in midair—parts, pilot, and energy cells exploded across the canopy like fireworks.
"Still offering sacrifices to your god, huh?"
Those who worship Khaine—the Bloody-Handed God—often overlap with Khorne's own: obsessed with slaughter, fearless, unthinking.
But even they paused when Godzilla turned his full weight and attention toward them.
The Archon, ever poised, issued orders.
"Don't cluster. Avoid close contact. Use harpoons to immobilize it. Target its joints with vibroblades. Dismember it piece by piece."
In theory, it was a sound plan.
If the target were anything less than a primordial death-god.
But the Drukhari weren't running.
Not yet.
Raider squadrons rose into formation—dozens of them. Some swept low to draw Godzilla's attention; others hovered at range, armed with grapnel claws the size of speeder bikes.
Dozens of high-tensile hooks launched.
They latched onto Godzilla's shoulders, arms, back—trying to haul him down like a cornered beast.
Raider engines roared at max capacity.
The lines pulled taut.
Godzilla didn't move.
The Archon's brow furrowed.
"How much does this beast weigh?! Even the Ork squiggoths aren't this heavy. By now he should be dangling!"
A creature 50 meters tall would typically weigh several thousand tons—even less if engineered like a Tervigon or Tyranid beast. But this… this was something else.
Godzilla glanced over his shoulder, nonplussed.
"What are they doing?"
[They're trying to capture you. Sell you to the arenas of Commorragh.]
Tch. They could've just asked. I'd have gone myself.
With a huff, Godzilla reached over.
He plucked the hook on his left side with his right claw. Then the one on the right with his left.
All hooks gathered in his palm.
"My turn."
He swung.
The force behind it was monstrous.
Several Drukhari had already bailed mid-air. The rest weren't so lucky. Raider gunships were flung across the sky, pinwheeling like toys. Some spun for hundreds of meters before crashing through the jungle canopy.
Some survived with shattered limbs. Others didn't survive at all.
Godzilla rumbled with mild amusement.
The Archon was no longer amused.
"Khaine, what is this thing?"
The name formed in his thoughts for the first time.
"…Godzilla."
It tasted sour.
The Archon didn't care that his men had died. Drukhari leaders never did. But their deaths in public?
That threatened his reputation.
And in Commorragh, reputation is everything.
The Archon stood, readying himself for another attempt at redemption, when—
A thorn fired from the shadows.
He sensed the shift in air pressure a second too late. His reflexes were sharp—blade raised in defense.
Too slow.
The projectile tore through his blade. Slowed time stretched the moment into agony. He watched his elegant Eldar scimitar split down the middle, powerless to stop the thorn as it struck his shield—
—and pierced it.
"This is impossible—"
The last words of a proud warrior.
The thorn punched through his helmet, through his skull, and out the back in a fine mist of red.
Assassinated.
The killer?
Oxolius.
The Lizardman who once assassinated a Daemon Prince of Tzeentch.
He'd waited patiently, masking his presence even from the Mandrakes—stealth-assassins bred from darkness itself. He only allowed the faintest flicker of his power in the moment of attack.
If the Archon had dodged instead of parrying, he might have lived.
"Hmph. You thought to challenge Lord Godzilla?"
Isis spoke, eyes glowing.
She had orchestrated the death of the Archon from afar. Her voice echoed from the temple as her gaze turned toward the darkened cruiser.
"Commorragh... if my god truly comes to your webway city, it will burn. There will be no arena left to scream in."
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