Chapter 42 – The Second Priestess
The choice wasn't easy.
Both Godzilla forms—War Dragon and New Age—boasted near-identical attributes. From a statistical standpoint, there was no obvious superior. But Godzilla knew numbers alone didn't define power.
War Dragon Godzilla, a design from the early 2000s, had always enjoyed a stronger cult following. His adversary had been the infamous Mecha-Kaiser Ghidorah—a triple-fusion machine-dragon that had left an indelible mark on kaiju lore. Its influence had even rippled into Warhammer 40K, inspiring entire generations of Adeptus Mechanicus war constructs.
Compared to his second-generation self, War Dragon was slightly upgraded—subtly stronger, faster, more refined. But the real distinction was aesthetic: his silhouette was sleeker, his face sharper, bearing a lupine nobility that made him, to put it plainly, look cooler.
New Age Godzilla, by contrast, was brutalist. Powerful, yes—but he carried a more feral, saurian aura. His angular, aggressive design drew comparisons to the Lizardmen themselves. Fewer fans resonated with him, and his chief rival—Super Xianglong—hadn't left a lasting legacy. Godzilla could appreciate the New Age form's raw aggression, but it lacked the regal menace he preferred.
'Let's be honest,' he thought, 'Godzilla's been an IP for seventy years. Only a handful of people even remember the gap between 2004 and the 2014 reboot. Most only know Legendary's take.'
He made his decision.
'Go with War Dragon. Better lines, better head sculpt. That early-2000s suit still hits different.'
The system confirmed his selection.
[Reward confirmed. War Dragon Godzilla acquired. New Age Godzilla may be unlocked in future missions.]
There were no drastic physical changes—no thunderous transformation, no blinding surge of energy. But the enhancements were there, subtle but significant.
[Designation: Godzilla (War Dragon Form)]
[Height: 55 meters]
[Weight: 25,000 tons]
[Primary Combat Methods: White-hot atomic breath, radiation burst, close-quarters destruction.]
'Marginal upgrades, but they'll do.'
He didn't need grandeur. A single roar—long, deep, and bone-shaking—echoed across the hive world. Even the mutants skulking in the underhive flinched at the sound, terror rippling through Imperial citizens and Chaos cultists alike.
From their fortified perch, Sergeant Carrion of the Ultramarines dared to ask, "Is… is your god leaving this planet?"
Isis nodded. "Yes. For now. But the grand design is only beginning."
She cast a slow glance over the city's broken skyline. Khorne's demon legions had been annihilated, but that only meant others would soon arrive. The vacuum wouldn't last.
Sure enough, moments later, an Imperial transmission came through:
"This is Cato Sicarius, Captain of the Ultramarines Second Company. To any surviving Imperial forces on Holder's World—respond. Acknowledge immediately. If no signal is received within the next planetary cycle, we are authorized to initiate Exterminatus."
The expected order. Standard protocol. Chaos corruption meant planetary-scale cleansing. Burn the rot, even if loyal citizens were caught in the flame.
"Commander, reply to the Second Company immediately! Let them know we still draw breath!"
"We've sent the signal. They're dispatching a shuttle to the starport."
Cheers broke out among the remaining PDF and mortal auxiliaries. There was still a chance—however slim—that the Imperium would reclaim this world.
But the commander hesitated. "Sergeant Carrion, have the xenos departed?"
Carrion glanced toward Isis, who was still standing nearby, arms crossed.
"Not yet," he muttered.
"I'm leaving, don't worry," she said, overhearing. "Frankly, I dislike this city. It's polluted, decadent, and altogether unhygienic. You may want to consider basic sanitation protocols."
Carrion flushed. Her words weren't meant to offend, but they still stung. "Your concern is noted."
As she walked away, he realized his palms were slick with sweat. She seemed harmless on the surface—soft-spoken, even polite—but his instincts screamed otherwise. She was no frail Eldar seer. Whatever race Isis belonged to, she was a predator.
Thunderhawk gunships pierced the clouds, descending toward the starport. The pilots caught sight of Godzilla below—and immediately swerved, avoiding any direct flight path overhead.
"That's the Titan-class lifeform. Godzilla. Confirmed visual!"
"Captain, orders? We're flying above an extinction-level creature!"
In orbit, Sicarius stared grimly at the holoscreen. "Do not engage. I repeat, do not fire upon the entity. The Emperor's Tarot warned us: provoke it, and we doom the sector."
"Understood, Captain."
Godzilla lifted his head and watched the Thunderhawks pass. His reptilian gaze tracked them lazily, contemplatively. He had no interest in attacking—not now. His mission was complete.
'The Ultramarines can deal with the Tyranids. That's their problem, not mine.'
[Reminder: Tyranid forces have re-entered the galaxy. Ultramarines are expected to clash with Hive Fleets in future deployments.]
'Not my concern. Not yet. I've already done enough radioactive breathing for one war.'
Without another word, Godzilla turned and marched toward the horizon. As his colossal form disappeared into the wilderness, the hive breathed a collective sigh of relief.
He had returned with his people—the Lizardmen—to their hidden sanctuary on this world.
The prologue was complete.
Now, the real war would begin.
In the heart of their temple, Isis entered the inner sanctum. Lizardfolk bowed as she passed. Something sacred was stirring in the incubation pools.
A new priestess was about to be born.
From the steaming biotic waters, a lithe form emerged—smaller than Isis, more serpentine than reptilian. She stood just under 1.8 meters tall, her body bare, tail long and whip-thin, scales glistening like dark jade. Unlike Isis, this one had no psychic signature. There was no flare of warp energy. No divine aura.
She simply walked, silent and dazed.
The other Lizardmen fell to one knee, recognizing something divine in her bloodline—even if she herself didn't understand it yet.
She wandered the temple corridors, her expression distant, eyes unfocused. She didn't speak. She didn't seem to know why she existed at all—until something caught her eye.
A broken piece of Tau tech sat on a merchant's stall—discarded scrap, worthless to most. But to her, it was revelation. As she reached out and touched the gleaming metal fragment, a spark ignited in her mind.
A name surfaced.
[Katata]
Godzilla's second priestess had awakened.
*********
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