Chapter 102
Godzilla's presence here felt a little muted—but that couldn't be helped.
Unless his size exceeded a hundred kilometers, there was no way he could steal attention away from the clash between the two colossal war machines: the Phalanx and the Blackstone Fortress, colliding head-on in the Cadian star system.
The moment they slammed into each other, the shock was apocalyptic.
The Phalanx lost a section of its structure, while a corner of the Blackstone Fortress was shattered. The impact was so violent that even Isis struggled to keep her footing. Godzilla himself staggered, his massive tail sweeping back and forth just to keep his balance.
'They actually rammed?!'
[Yes. They really rammed.]
What kind of 40K "bump-into-each-other" tactic is this?!
What Godzilla didn't realize was that the collision had triggered a vicious boarding action.
To the veterans of this galaxy, it was standard Warhammer 40K brutality—but to outsiders, it might have looked more like something out of One Piece.
Imperial assault squads with jump shields stormed into the Blackstone Fortress. The Cursed Legion counterattacked. The battle quickly descended into savage, close-quarters chaos.
Despite the collision, both fortress-ships kept their engines burning at full power—one forcing the Phalanx toward Cadia, the other straining to push the Blackstone Fortress away. The grinding clash continued, a titanic contest of willpower and mass.
For the fortresses themselves, this was just a scratch. For the soldiers within—and for Godzilla—the tremors were nothing short of catastrophic.
'Ignore them. I'm nearly at the core. My goal isn't to blow the whole fortress apart.'
Destroying a Blackstone Fortress outright would be difficult—even for him. But crippling its engines? That, he could manage.
'I'd like to see Abaddon stop me now—oh, crap!'
The sudden tilt of the ground nearly toppled him. Godzilla had to advance like a mountaineer now, claws sinking into the shifting surface to keep from falling.
This is supposed to be space, right? Why is gravity actually holding me down?!
[You could always try flying.]
'Don't even start. Flying is not an option.'
Godzilla cannot fly.
SpaceGodzilla is not Godzilla.
Though hindered, he eventually reached the core area. Situated at the center of the fortress's eight-pointed star structure, the "core" was still vast—kilometers wide even here.
Scattered throughout were small clusters of Chaos cultists and the Dark Mechanicus.
The Dark Mechanicus—once loyal adepts of Mars—had long since abandoned the Omnissiah, swearing themselves to Horus and the Dark Gods. They now obsessed over warp-twisted sciences and heretek devices. It was through them that Abaddon had seized control of the Blackstone Fortress.
Yet in the face of Godzilla, even these arrogant tech-heretics turned and fled.
Behind him came the Lizardmen, and trailing them, the towering figure of Mechagodzilla.
"Katata, you're a little late," Godzilla rumbled.
"Not late—just in time."
Katata guided Mechagodzilla toward the core's control platform. Through its massive viewport, she could see Dark Tech-priests grafted into the machinery by tubes and cables, their bodies little more than components.
One such priest stirred, opening his eyes—only to find the metallic visage of Mechagodzilla filling his vision. Even his augmented nerves twitched at the sight.
"What is happening…?" he muttered. He was merely a cog in the fortress's machine-spirit, with no awareness of the battle outside.
Katata didn't answer.
Mechagodzilla's arm swept through the platform, tearing it apart in one motion. The priests were gone. In their place, space opened for Katata to work.
Its claws sank deep into the systems, and from them spread living Godzilla-cells, fusing with the corrupted machinery. At the moment of connection, Mechagodzilla seized control of a small portion of the fortress.
A fraction only—the Blackstone Fortress was simply too massive to dominate outright.
"Let's see…" Katata muttered. Ancient glyphs—words older than the Imperium itself, incomprehensible even to the Tech-Priests of Mars or the Eldar—floated across the panel before her.
"How do I crash your engines…"
It would take time.
Meanwhile, Godzilla stood before the engine chamber.
He craned his neck back, gazing up at the towering structure, and finally let out a sigh.
'Nah. Even I can't break this thing.'
The engines were cylindrical, sheathed in layers of thick blackstone armor. Armor so dense that even a battleship's main gun would struggle to crack it.
Godzilla wasn't underselling himself—after all, he'd once blasted through the Earth's core.
But he could admit this much:
At his current 55-meter scale, it would take him an entire day of continuous atomic breath just to make a dent.
[Your instincts are right. To break this, you'd need at least a 100-meter Godzilla, firing nonstop for thirty minutes. And don't forget—it has its own void shield system.]
'See? My intuition's perfect.'
The only thing that could withstand such punishment was Demon Star Glass.
'I didn't try because I didn't want to embarrass myself failing. That's Katata's job. I didn't bring her just for show, you know.'
[You totally brought her for show.]
Does Godzilla do things just for show?!
Despite the raging battle outside—the four Ruinous Powers hurling their armies at the Lizardmen, the Imperial Fists locked in desperate struggle with daemons—Godzilla's calm presence gave the illusion that the fight was already won.
An illusion only ever felt in the presence of the Emperor Himself.
Soon, Katata's efforts bore fruit.
Godzilla watched as swarms of corrupted servitors and daemon engines poured into the core chamber.
The servitors, long since consumed by Chaos, were reduced to killing-machines. The daemon engines—twisted fusions of warp-spawn and steel—were worse still.
Each contained a bound daemon, screaming in torment. Even the most wretched fiend dreaded being sealed into such a fate.
'Well… good job, Abaddon. You've really panicked—throwing everything you've got at me.'
[He's been cornered for a while. This is just desperation now.]
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