Chapter 69
Godzilla was the first to reach the prison world's surface complex.
Although most of the prison was buried deep underground, countless administrative and defensive structures stood above it. A month ago, the inmates had risen in rebellion. The planet's garrison was slaughtered, and the surface facilities fell into the hands of Slaaneshi cultists and corrupted Chaos Space Marines.
The arrival of Godzilla drew their attention immediately. It also caught the eye of another group—the hidden Imperial kill-teams stationed nearby.
For the first time, the Inquisition saw Godzilla with their own eyes. Yet the moment he appeared, they all knew who he was. They remembered the incident nearly a year ago, when the Emperor Himself had briefly manifested upon the mortal plane.
And His psychic warning echoed again in every loyal servant's heart:
Do not provoke Godzilla.
The words rang like a command across the vox of their very souls. Space Marines, Inquisitors, and Tech-Priests alike froze as if struck.
"Is that… Godzilla?" one whispered.
"Yes," another replied. "The name came to me the moment I saw him."
"Then it's true—the God-Emperor warned us. None may oppose this creature."
Even among veterans used to towering engines of war, their hearts faltered. It was one thing to fight Tyranid bio-titans, but another to stand before a beast larger than a god-machine of the Legio Titanicus. Godzilla loomed taller than a Warlord-class Titan—an impossible sight to ignore.
"The gates are breached," muttered one Inquisitorial judge. "Have the Death Cult assassins returned?"
His aide shook his head. "Do not concern yourself. The assassin acts alone."
To fret over such operatives was pointless.
But before the Imperials could advance further, a new sound shook the air: the heavy, thunderous tread of another colossus rising from the prison-world's superstructure.
The Tech-Priests stiffened. Red ciphers of warning code flickered in their augmetic eyes as fury overtook them.
"Oh, Divine Omnissiah," one hissed. "Blasphemy incarnate…"
From the dust emerged a god-engine of ancient design—once a Titan of the Imperium, now twisted beyond recognition. Ten thousand years of heresy had remade it into a Chaos Warlord Titan, its form dripping with daemonic corruption.
The corrupted machine strode past the high walls, glaring down at the Imperial forces like a predator eyeing prey. Rage and humiliation burned in the hearts of the commandos. But they were powerless. None among them—not even astartes—could stand against such a monstrosity.
Even among the Primarchs, there were only a few tales of one felling a Titan in single combat. That was in the distant 31st Millennium.
This one was immense—half a head taller than Godzilla, though still not an Emperor-class Titan. Its crew were no longer men; they were daemons welded into the machine's soul, eternally howling their hatred and agony.
Godzilla's eyes narrowed. He had been waiting for this.
At last, he thought. The day has come to tear a Titan apart.
If he could dismantle this corrupted god-engine, he would have the parts needed for Katata's project: Mechagodzilla.
"Yes," a voice rumbled in his mind.
Then let's unwrap this toy and bring the pieces home for my daughter.
The two titans faced each other across the plain. The Chaos Titan roared first—its daemonic machine-soul broadcasting warped static from its corrupted vox-casters. Its chainsword arm revved, and its triple-barreled autocannon spun to life.
Godzilla answered with a low growl, tail sweeping behind him for balance.
The Chaos Titan fired first.
Missiles streaked down from its shoulders in a storm of explosions that would have annihilated a fortress battalion. Fire and shockwaves engulfed the battlefield. But Godzilla pushed forward unflinching, each blast bursting against his hide like fireworks.
The Tech-Priests could only watch in awe. The pyrotechnics turned the plain into a vision of apocalyptic destruction—yet the monster endured.
The Chaos Titan charged. Its chainsword—massive enough to shear through fortress walls—slammed down and carved into Godzilla's flesh. For the first time since his arrival in this galaxy, Godzilla's armored hide was breached. Blood welled from the shallow wound.
Not bad, he thought, clutching the weapon in one claw. Few things can make me bleed. But now it's my turn.
The Titan tried to wrench the chainsword free, but Godzilla held firm. With his other claw, he struck the weapon's joint. Metal screamed. In a single motion, he tore the entire chainsword arm from its housing. The corrupted god-engine staggered, weaponless.
The severed chainsword crashed to the ground.
"Well done!" shouted one Tech-Priest, his vox crackling with static-laced enthusiasm. He quickly coughed out two mechanical coughs when the others glared at him. "Ahem—I mean… praise be to the Omnissiah. The only salvation for a corrupted machine-soul… is destruction."
Indeed, this was true.
The Emperor Himself—wherever His gaze rested—might have smiled, watching His creations do battle like mythic titans.
Godzilla refused to use his atomic breath yet. He wanted the Titan intact, its parts salvageable. One arm down—now for the next.
The Chaos Titan's fury peaked. Its triple-barreled autocannon fired point-blank into Godzilla's face. Boom. Boom. Boom. Each shell thundered like the wrath of artillery gods. The Inquisition and Tech-Priests held their breath.
When the smoke cleared, Godzilla's head rose from the flames, scarred but defiant.
"Behold!" shouted a preacher in the ranks. "The indomitable form of our god!"
Even the Death Cult assassins, hardened killers all, froze in awe. A creature that could fight a Titan as an equal—what manner of beast was this?
Godzilla lunged, ramming his head into the Chaos Titan's torso. The corrupted god-engine reeled, its daemonic machine-soul shrieking in static fury. It staggered back, forced to yield ground.
The duel of monsters.
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