Chapter 30:
Damn it. Something's stuck in my back.
Godzilla twisted slightly, muscles tensing as he felt the foreign object lodged in his hide.
What the hell just broke through my defense?
He knew his own resilience better than anyone. In theory, he could walk through the heart of a nuclear explosion without flinching. Human weaponry from the ancient 2K era wouldn't even scratch him. But there it was—a sword, something massive and wicked, jammed halfway into his spine.
An alert flared across his internal system:
[Warning: A bloodletting sword with anti-armor enchantments has penetrated your dorsal plating.]
Where did this guy get penetration-grade relic gear?!
[From the Warp, obviously. It's a Khorne daemon weapon. Of course it has armor sundering. Welcome to 40K. Don't try to make sense of it.]
The system had a point. Warp logic was not for mortal minds—or atomic dinosaurs.
The blade itched. Godzilla grunted and began to roll his shoulder, swinging his tail like a wrecking ball in irritation. But the attacker clung fast. The Bloodletter Lord—one of Khorne's elite—gripped the hilt with both clawed hands, his feet dug into Godzilla's scales as he resisted being flung like a rag doll.
"Hmm?"
Isis glanced up from the battle below and narrowed her glowing eyes. She had sensed the disturbance.
The lithe Lizard Priestess didn't call for reinforcements or wait for her warriors to intervene. She moved. Gracefully. Decisively.
"I haven't stretched my limbs in a while," she murmured.
With a flick of her tail, she snagged a fallen chainsword from a dead guardsman. The blade was crude, Imperial Guard-issue—nothing like the sacred wargear of the Astartes—but it would suffice. Her tail curled again and picked up something far more brutal: a bloodstained Chaos axe, bristling with hooked spikes. Now armed with both weapons, she started walking, hips swaying, tail undulating like a serpent.
Her stride had the poise of a noble, the allure of a temptress, the menace of a serpent coiled to strike. If Slaanesh were watching, he'd probably start composing poetry. Unfortunately for him, Khorne got there first.
With a sudden burst of speed, Isis sprinted up Godzilla's tail and bounded along his armored spine like a dancer crossing a stage. She moved with supernatural grace, faster than even the most agile of lizardmen. Even the daemon clinging to Godzilla's back looked up—just in time to see a buzzing chainsword aimed straight for his head.
The weapon screamed, and the Bloodletter Lord's instincts kicked in. Finally, whether by Warp blessing or dumb luck, he wrenched his sword free and raised it to block.
Sparks exploded as the daemon blade met the spinning teeth of the chainsword. Steel screeched against steel.
The Bloodletter snarled, pushed forward, and tried to overpower her. That was his second mistake.
Isis pivoted mid-swing, dancing like a ghost. Her tail snapped around and drove the Chaos axe into the daemon's skull. The blow would have decapitated anything mortal. As it was, the daemon reeled back, helm cracked, ichor dripping from his face.
Isis twirled the axe and flicked the blood off like paint from a brush. She approached the stunned daemon with a teasing smile.
"What's wrong?" she purred. "Keep going. I'm just getting warmed up."
The Bloodletter Lord took several faltering steps back, disoriented. He didn't understand. This thing—this "priestess"—was too strong, too fast.
The biggest mistake was assuming Isis couldn't fight just because she was a priest. In Warhammer 40K, priests were often more violent than soldiers. Bolters and chainswords were considered sacred tools of worship.
But Isis was something else entirely. Her willpower burned. Her body moved like a choreographed blade dance. Slim, elegant, terrifying. She was the high priestess of the Lizardmen—and apparently their version of Saint Celestine... if Celestine had claws and a tail.
The daemon steadied himself, snarled, and charged with the bloodletting sword.
Bad move.
Psionic energy flared around Isis. Her chainsword surged with Warp-charged power, glowing blue with crackling psychic flame.
"That's more like it," she said.
She didn't dodge. She stepped forward and swung.
With a horrible tearing sound, the daemon was bisected from head to groin. The chainsword roared through his body like a saw through meat, leaving behind a spray of blood and Warp-flesh. His shriek died as his upper torso fell apart from his legs.
His massive sword clattered to the ground in two broken halves.
"Nice," Isis muttered.
She wiped the blood from her cheek with the back of her hand. It only smeared it into war paint.
"Khorne's daemons are okay, I guess. But next time, I want a Greater Daemon."
To challenge one of the Blood God's lieutenants, she would need to be far more than just strong. She'd need to be divine.
—
Back on the ground, Godzilla flexed his shoulder and rumbled contentedly.
Ahh. It's not itching anymore.
With his back clear, he turned and resumed the brawl. His tail whipped out like a scythe, sending a dozen more daemons flying into walls and across shattered streets. Then he stepped forward, crushing a blood-soaked ritual site beneath his feet.
The ceremonial circle, built from the skulls of hive citizens, shattered into dust and bone fragments.
Shame. These Chaos Temples are more fun when they fight back.
Godzilla stomped forward, reducing the second summoning site to rubble. At another site deeper within the hive, something stirred.
Within the Chaos stronghold, a Chaos Sorcerer in jagged red armor froze mid-incantation.
"The second gate is closed," he whispered.
Judging by their wargear, these were not common heretics. They bore the iconography of the World Eaters, the Twelfth Legion of the original Emperor's Astartes. Once noble, now utterly consumed by bloodlust.
The legion had long since fractured. Angron had lost his mind. Karn's rebellion had turned them into nothing more than warbands—scattered madmen drifting through the stars in endless slaughter.
Still, even madmen can be dangerous.
"That damn beast!" one of them snarled. "Has the armor been summoned yet?!"
"It's on the move."
Vehicles rumbled into position—hellish mockeries of Imperial armor, twisted by the Warp into infernal machines. Daemon engines roared, wreathed in fire and smoke, some resembling dragons, others like mobile altars of brass and bone. Towering thirty meters tall, they rivaled the Thunderhawk gunships of the loyalist Astartes.
"Good," the commander growled. "Let those lizard beasts and that abominable monster feel the wrath of the World Eaters."
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!!"
*******
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