Chapter 86
The Word Bearers split into two groups.
One group moved to finish off the surviving Chaos cultists, slaughtering them to use as blood sacrifices.
That was normal. Cultists were tools—disposable. If they died, they died. And since this was Erebus' order, none dared hesitate.
After all, no one would be surprised if Erebus someday stabbed even Abaddon in the back.
The other group of Word Bearers advanced to stop Godzilla.
Well… stop Godzilla.
"How are we supposed to do that?" a Word Bearer recruit muttered nervously.
"I'm wondering the same thing," a veteran replied.
Even the veterans had no idea how to deal with the monster. Normally, this was work for Titans—God-Machines. Only Titans could meet Godzilla head-on.
But the Word Bearers had brought no Titan support. This was supposed to be a stealth operation, not a drawn-out war. Who would bring Titan engines to a covert strike? The Iron Warriors? The Imperial Fists? Absurd.
Godzilla turned his head toward the Word Bearers. At the mere sight of his gaze, the traitor Astartes scrambled into cover behind bunkers.
"This is bad—he's coming for us!"
Godzilla's thunderous footsteps grew louder, closer… until they stopped right above them.
The Marines felt the light vanish as his shadow swallowed their cover. None of them dared look up.
Except for one recruit—too inexperienced to sense the danger. He raised his eyes… and locked gazes with Godzilla.
"!!!"
So much for the ostrich tactic.
Godzilla raised one massive foot and brought it down. The bunker and everything beneath it vanished under his weight. Even with Astartes reflexes, not all of them escaped in time. One Marine was crushed instantly, his armor and body bursting like pulp underfoot.
The survivors scattered, bolters raised, firing as they fell back. But their light firepower couldn't even scratch Godzilla's hide. He could have stood still and ignored them entirely.
Meanwhile, the other Word Bearers finished their grisly ritual. The cultists' souls were harvested, their blood fueling the opening of a Warp portal.
From it emerged a massive, bloated figure.
Boom.
A Great Unclean One of Nurgle lumbered into realspace, a Greater Daemon of the Plague God himself.
Its body was a grotesque mountain of rot and sores, intestines spilling freely from its split belly. Its skull bore massive, twisted antlers. In one hand it gripped a plague-rusted greatsword, in the other an inverted plague bell. As the bell tolled, swarms of daemon-flies poured from the portal, flooding reality with Nurgle's pestilence.
"Excellent," Erebus whispered with satisfaction.
Godzilla's eyes narrowed as he studied the hulking daemon. The Great Unclean One strode forward, swinging the plague bell, plague sword ready in its other hand.
He didn't yet know what Godzilla was. But it didn't matter. To Nurgle, all life belonged in his "family."
"Welcome into the arms of the Loving Father," the daemon bellowed, spreading its putrid arms wide as if to embrace Godzilla.
Now only a Greater Daemon of Tzeentch is missing, Godzilla thought dryly, sizing up the creature.
The Great Unclean One's bulk expanded unnaturally as it advanced, swelling until it matched Godzilla's height.
That's more like it, Godzilla mused. A behemoth should fight another behemoth. Otherwise it's like the legendary Godzilla fighting a Male MUTO—more like a father spanking a child than a real fight.
The two giants closed in on each other. From a distance, Cadia's scouts watched in disbelief through their magnoculars.
"Emperor's Throne… this sight is unbelievable."
They had seen Imperial Knights before—fifteen-meter walking war engines—but Knights were nothing compared to the towering forms now facing off.
"Is that beast really about to fight that… that daemon?"
It was almost poetic. Once, Imperial Knights had stood against monsters. Now, a monster stood against Chaos itself.
The Great Unclean One advanced with arms outstretched, plague bell tolling, plague sword gleaming with toxins.
It embraced Godzilla—only for white light to burst from Godzilla's body as his internal radiation flared.
The shockwave blasted the daemon's arms aside, and Godzilla followed with a crushing shoulder charge that drove the monster back several paces.
"Do you refuse my embrace? Do you refuse the Father's gift?" the daemon gurgled, mouth spilling maggots as it spoke. The sight would have shattered any mortal mind, but Godzilla simply swung his massive tail and slammed it across the daemon's face.
What are you, Whitebeard? Trying to make me your 'son'? Wrong world. If anyone dares call me their son, I'll smash their face flat!
The blow left a deep wound across the daemon's face, but it began to heal almost instantly.
Nurgle's Greater Daemons carried the Plague God's blessings. They were notoriously difficult to kill. But Godzilla was no ordinary foe.
The daemon roared and swung its plague sword. The blade dripped with corruption, each cut spreading plagues that could rot worlds. Any living creature would wither at its touch.
Godzilla took the blow—yet no infection spread. Instead, he countered with a crushing punch to the daemon's face.
G-cell defense, baby!
Godzilla's unique cells resisted corruption. The only drawback: they required vast amounts of energy to stay active. Without power, they would weaken. (See: SpaceGodzilla. Not really Godzilla, but still carried the name.)
Frustrated, the daemon rang its plague bell again. Across the battlefield, clouds of plague flies swarmed, blotting out the air with their endless buzzing.
The swarm descended on Godzilla, biting at his hide.
Oh, so we're playing dirty, huh?
It reminded Godzilla of a fight in another world—when he had been swarmed by an ancient insect-like kaiju. But these daemon-flies were nothing compared to that.
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