Chapter 31: Wrath of the King
The second ritual site had fallen. Khorne's daemonic host lay obliterated, scattered across the ruins like broken toys.
The lizardmen had suffered losses, but nothing compared to the slaughter inflicted upon the Blood God's minions. No one could fight Khorne without bleeding, after all—war without bloodshed would never earn the favor of the Butcher's patrons.
But Godzilla wasn't thinking about divine favor.
Next.
The living mountain turned his colossal frame toward the third ritual site.
High above the sprawl of the hive city, three streaks of fire tore through the polluted skies. The shrieking roar of engines—metal, hellfire, and Warp-fury—echoed across the urban canyon.
Descending from the heavens like vultures, three massive shapes took form. Their wings were forged of steel and sinew, their hollow frames burning with Warpflame. Each bore the head of a snarling dragon, jaws gaping, scanning the lizardmen below with daemonic intent.
These were Hell Drakes—daemon engines bred in the bowels of the Eye of Terror. Once, they had been Thunderhawk gunships of the Adeptus Astartes. Now, they were warped mockeries of their former selves, corrupted by Chaos and fused with the tormented souls of their former pilots. The machines screamed—not with mechanical fury, but with the raw psychic agony of trapped spirits.
Godzilla looked up.
Big toys, he thought, amused.
Compared to the disposable transports used by mortal cultists, these daemon engines were a rare sight. Their manufacture was slow, and daemons loathed being imprisoned in mechanical shells. Every Hell Drake was a reluctant horror.
One of them screamed and dove. Godzilla roared back.
It was not a call. It was a challenge.
And his roar—primal, ancient, seismic—dwarfed theirs. To the Hell Drakes, it was like shouting at a hurricane.
The first beast streaked toward him like a falling star, Warpflame trailing in its wake. It struck Godzilla in the face, claws raking across his armored hide, its hellfire breath washing over his eyes.
The daemon shrieked in triumph.
It shouldn't have.
Godzilla's hand snapped upward like a coiled thunderbolt. He seized the Hell Drake by its spine and ripped it from his snout, hurling the screaming machine into the ferrocrete below.
BOOM.
The impact shook the ground. A crater formed beneath the broken daemon engine, its frame sparking and twitching. It began to rise—
Too late.
Godzilla's foot came down like divine judgment, flattening it. Metal screeched. Hellfire guttered. The daemon's scream ended with a sickening crunch.
The first Hell Drake was dead.
Godzilla turned to the others.
His burning gaze swept over them, daring them.
They came.
Two remaining Hell Drakes streaked in from opposite angles, claws extended, jets flaring, Warpflame trailing behind them like the breath of dragons. The air screamed with their velocity.
Godzilla pivoted.
His tail lashed through the air—a whip of mass and muscle moving faster than the speed of sound. It struck the first daemon engine mid-flight and slammed it into the path of the second.
CRACK!
The impact sent both Hell Drakes tumbling through the air, entangled in a chaotic spiral, before crashing into a towering spire. The hive's already-crippled skyline took another hit, collapsing under the force.
Still, they didn't die. Twisted and battered, they struggled to rise from the wreckage.
Godzilla had had enough.
The air behind him shimmered. His dorsal plates began to glow with a cold blue fire, brighter and brighter until his entire spine pulsed with energy. Radioactive light bled from between his fangs.
Then—he opened his mouth.
A concentrated lance of atomic fury roared out. The atomic breath cut through the smog like a divine lance, annihilating everything in its path.
The first Hell Drake—already wounded—was cored instantly, its molten chest screaming as its soul was shredded. The second barely had time to react as the beam burned through its twin, the Warpflames inside flickering blue as radiation flooded its shell.
Both exploded.
The building beneath them vanished in the blast. Fire, steel, and daemonic flesh became light and ash. From miles away, even the Ultramarines could see the azure beam lancing the sky.
"…What in the Emperor's name was that?"
One of the Astartes stared through his visor, stunned.
"Did we… just witness a Titan-grade beam weapon?"
"That wasn't any standard armament," another murmured. "Even a Warhound Titan would struggle with that output."
"Shall we fall back, Captain?"
The Space Marine captain stood silent for a moment.
"No."
His voice was resolute. "We stand. The order is to hold this world, no matter the cost. The civilians depend on us. Retreat, and they die."
He looked at the heavens, then back at the ash-choked battlefield.
"Maybe that was an enemy weapon… or something else. Either way, if this is where we fall, then we fall with honor."
He raised his chainsword.
"For Macragge!"
"For Macragge!" the others echoed, the name of their homeworld a cry of defiance in the face of annihilation.
Their morale rallied.
But in another corner of the hive, Chaos did not share their resolve.
"What did you just say?" a Chaos Lord growled, lifting a cultist one-handed.
"Th-three daemon engines… gone, my lord. They didn't even last three minutes…"
Crunch.
The cultist's head burst like a grape. The Chaos Lord let the corpse fall, howling toward the sky in unrestrained fury.
"GODZILLAAAA!"
He didn't know why he knew the name—but it echoed in his skull, burned into his rage-maddened mind.
Behind him, the Chaos Space Marines stood in grim silence, giving their commander a wide berth. No one wanted to be next.
"Advance the warbands! Delay him at the third site!" he shouted.
Wordless, the corrupted Astartes obeyed. They too had heard the name—Godzilla—and not one of them questioned it.
No matter what the beast was called… they would tear it down.
If they could.
Columns of Chaos Space Marines began their advance. Super-heavy tanks rolled forward—machines of war over twenty meters tall, their cannons thicker than Godzilla's arms.
And the third gate awaited.
********
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