GTAG Chapter 89: Purple Mist
The quickest way to replenish the energy his body needed was to take a direct hit from a nuclear bomb.
That would absolutely fill him to the brim with energy.
But where was he supposed to get a nuke right now?
Compared to that unreliable method, just sitting inside a volcanic crater seemed more practical.
Fortunately, his internal reactor still had a few days before hitting empty. Those days would be enough to find a suitable place.
After several days of searching, Godzilla discovered an undersea volcanic vent.
Expanding the entrance with his massive strength, he dove inside, burying himself deep in molten magma.
Only then did he rest easy and slip back into slumber.
The energy drawn from the magma was enough to fuel his evolution.
And this time, Godzilla slept for four years.
In those four years, the outside world didn't change much.
It was already an apocalyptic wasteland—what more surprises could it produce?
But within Godzilla's body, earth-shaking transformations were underway.
First, the activity of his G-cells surged to a level so extreme it even startled him.
It felt like true immortality.
Next was the matter of the "Red Dust."
The reason his energy reserves had been draining so quickly was because of this.
As he suspected, Singularity Godzilla did indeed possess the ability to generate Red Dust.
The problem was, Godzilla had no way to perfectly replicate that power.
Just as he expected, with his current conditions, creating Red Dust was simply impossible.
But even if he couldn't forge Red Dust, it didn't mean he came away empty-handed.
After years of evolution, though he could not create Red Dust, he developed something of his own—a new substance condensed from spacetime energy: the Purple Mist.
Like Red Dust, the Purple Mist was a crystalline particulate matter. True to its name, it appeared as violet-hued crystalline motes, a direct product of spacetime's power.
This evolution granted Godzilla a greater ability to manipulate spacetime itself.
By generating Purple Mist, he could perform feats previously beyond him—accelerating his own time, teleporting across space, or even weaponizing spatial distortion as an attack.
Now, the Purple Mist had become one of Godzilla's primary weapons.
In many ways, it had become his trump card—his ultimate kill technique.
After all, who could withstand the devastation of space itself being sliced apart?
Yet, despite its terrifying potential, producing Purple Mist demanded tremendous energy and time.
Creating even a cluster the size of one of his claws consumed nearly forty percent of his reserves and required years of accumulation.
This starkly reminded him of the gap between himself and Singularity Godzilla.
Wherever Singularity Godzilla went, Red Dust filled the skies as though it were conjured without cost. Compared to that, Godzilla felt a headache building.
If he ever had to face Singularity Godzilla again, he knew the path ahead would be long and arduous. He needed to push harder.
Upon waking, Godzilla didn't swim up from the magma. Instead, he burrowed deeper.
He resolved not to emerge until he had forged enough Purple Mist to feel safe.
Without it, he felt naked and vulnerable.
After all, who carries a gun without loading the bullets?
Now, Godzilla would forge his own "ammunition."
Meanwhile, the residents of the Resident Evil world remained utterly unaware that such a titan lay hidden beneath them.
Even the creatures infected with the G-Virus had no idea.
Over the years, those infected had gradually evolved into a unique species.
Though few in number, every single one possessed immense combat power.
In this apocalyptic wasteland, they were unstoppable predators—overlords feared by all.
Zombies, beasts, and humans alike were nothing more than prey to them, aside from a handful of humans who had transformed into their kind.
It was worth noting that because Godzilla had assaulted Umbrella's base, seizing large amounts of the T-Virus and other strains—including even the T-Virus serum hidden beneath Raccoon City—the world had been plunged into unending chaos.
Zombies still swarmed everywhere, far beyond what Umbrella ever predicted.
Even now, Umbrella was struggling somewhere, desperately trying to manufacture a new serum.
Not because they lacked backups, but because those backups had also been sniffed out and stolen by Godzilla's Watchers.
With their noses so keen, there was no hiding anything from them.
The T-Virus serum was notoriously difficult to produce. Even after so many years, Umbrella had failed to reproduce it.
Perhaps in a few more years, they might succeed—if they lived long enough.
But thanks to the Watchers' relentless destruction, many Umbrella bases had been overrun by zombies.
With most strongholds located in cities, they became impossible to defend, forcing abandonment.
Only the most remote bases still clung to survival.
This left Umbrella with dwindling resources.
Even if they eventually cracked the serum, their supplies might not last long enough to see that day.
In short, Umbrella had been living a nightmare.
And to make matters worse, a G-Virus-infected man was actively hunting them across the globe.
Once he realized zombies posed no threat to him, he acted without restraint, leveling several more Umbrella bases.
Except for their most secret sites, every Umbrella base that could be located had been destroyed by Hank.
After years without finding another target, he had nearly given up.
He even began considering settling down somewhere, since he had a child to care for.
Then he met a woman calling herself Alice.
At first, Alice thought Hank was a monster, while Hank caught the scent of T-Virus from her, sparking a brutal fight.
It was only Claire who broke them apart, or else Hank would have torn Alice to pieces.
After fighting, they reluctantly respected each other and decided to travel together to Raccoon City.
Though Claire, for some reason, harbored intense hostility toward Alice.
But why? Wasn't she just an ordinary woman?
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