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The heart of Isla Sorna pulsed with new life.
In its central highlands, surrounded by sheer cliffs and thick jungle, lay the nursery, a protected cradle for the future of the Jurassic Alliance.
The air was warm and damp, thick with the earthy scent of fresh soil and the faint heat radiating from thousands of eggs.
The female dinosaurs had worked tirelessly, digging deep, hidden nests shielded from view.
Over these, they built wooden sheds from towering tree trunks, layered with palm fronds to keep the wind and rain at bay.
Each nest was an underground chamber lined with moss, volcanic ash, and soft loam, the ideal conditions for incubation.
Inside, the eggs lay like jewels of stone, each one massive, each one a promise.
Most nests held between ten and thirty eggs, though the numbers varied.
The big herbivores and apex predators laid fewer eggs, as their colossal offspring required more space and energy, while the smaller and mid-sized dinosaurs produced far greater clutches.
Yet even the smallest eggs were beyond the scale of the ancient world's dinosaurs.
A single Tyrannosaurus egg from Rexy herself weighed over 10 tons, like a truck of steel and muscle waiting to hatch.
In another nest, a Compsognathus egg weighed barely a ton, the size of a small car.
And in between were countless other titanic creations: Quetzalcoatlus eggs, Giganotosaurus eggs, Spinosaurus eggs, Mosasaur eggs, Therizinosaur eggs, Allosaurus eggs, Carnotaurus eggs, Velociraptor eggs, Dilophosaurus eggs.
One nest stood apart.
It held only seven eggs, but each was monstrous, over thirty tons apiece, armored shells veined with faint bioluminescent lines.
They radiated heat and a low hum, as if the life within was already aware of the world waiting beyond.
These were Grey's eggs, the future heirs of her lineage.
Each would hatch into a giant with the potential to be a Titan.
All told, the first batch numbered over five thousand eggs.
When they hatched, the ground itself might tremble beneath the feet of the newborn horde.
And this was only the beginning.
With each passing cycle, the clutches would grow stronger, more numerous.
The Dragon Race would not simply endure; they would reclaim dominion over the Earth.
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The Shore of Sorna
Miraluz landed on the black volcanic sands of the western coast, the sea boiling where his talons touched.
He called, his roar echoing over the waves, summoning the five Generals.
The ground quaked as they arrived, Mosasaur sliding from the surf with a spray of saltwater, Giganotosaurus and Tyrannosaurus shaking the earth with each step, Spinosaurus lumbering in with water dripping from its sail, and Quetzalcoatlus descending from the clouds with a wingspan that blotted out the sun.
From within his massive claw, Miraluz revealed five crystalline vials, each glowing faintly red-gold, the blood of Titans.
"Drink," he commanded.
The generals obeyed without hesitation.
The essence burned like liquid fire as it coursed through their veins, rewriting their flesh and bone.
They roared as their bodies swelled, muscles tightening, armor thickening, senses sharpening.
Giganotosaurus, Tyrannosaurus, and Spinosaurus each now stretched beyond fifty meters in length, their frames surpassing three thousand tons.
Quetzalcoatlus's wings spread to an astonishing hundred meters from tip to tip, his shadow casting half the coast in darkness.
Mosasaur's body grew to eighty meters, his mass surpassing five thousand tons, his tail lashing with tidal force.
Their eyes gleamed with new awareness.
They were no longer merely great beasts; they were climbing toward Titanhood itself.
A few more infusions, Miraluz knew, and they would stand as true peers among the giants.
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Bermuda Triangle, Bravo Castle, Monarch Headquarters
Far from the thunder-wracked skies of Sorna, in a fortified research bastion hidden within the shifting waters of the Bermuda Triangle, Monarch was in a state of high alert.
"Dr. Serizawa!" Vivian Graham burst into the command room, tablet in hand.
"We have tracked Godzilla! He's heading toward France!"
The walls were lined with holographic displays, each showing shifting maps, radiation readings, and satellite feeds. In the center, a crimson trace marked the path of their target.
Monarch's tracking array, an integrated network of military-grade satellites and proprietary sensors, had locked onto the unique radioactive signature of Godzilla's body.
Even across oceans, the pattern was unmistakable.
Serizawa's gaze sharpened.
"His destination?"
"The Gravelines nuclear power plant," Vivian replied.
"One of the largest in Europe."
The room fell silent for a moment as the implications settled in.
Since the battle at Isla Nublar, Godzilla had been moving across the Atlantic and through European waters, striking at nuclear power plants with terrifying precision.
Smaller reactors in coastal towns had already fallen, their cores drained of energy.
But each time, it seemed… unsatisfying.
"This time," Vivian continued, "he's going after something bigger."
Serizawa's expression was grim.
"He's feeding. Strengthening. Preparing for something."
Across the table, Admiral Stenz, representing the military liaison team, leaned forward.
"Preparing for what, Doctor?"
Serizawa hesitated, the weight of his thoughts clear in his eyes.
"War."
Vivian pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the frantic thud of her heartbeat.
She had faced crises before, but nothing, nothing, compared to what the world had endured in these last months.
The chain of events was almost too surreal to process.
First, the combined might of America's three armed forces had been obliterated, not by a monster from the deep, not by a nuclear strike, but by the Dinosaur King himself, Miraluz, and his unstoppable legions from Isla Nublar.
The footage of his colossal form leading the charge still haunted her: an ruler reborn, wielding powers beyond any biological precedent.
Then, the unthinkable.
A nuclear detonation in the Pacific had roused Godzilla from the oceanic abyss, and with him, the winged MUTOs.
They had converged on Isla Nublar in a titanic clash that bent the very island to their will.
But when the dust cleared, the MUTOs were… gone.
Monarch's best guess: Miraluz had killed them.
When Godzilla emerged from the island afterward, the King of the Monsters bore wounds unlike any Vivian had ever seen.
Gashes across his hide, shattered dorsal spines, and even sections of armored scales missing.
She didn't need confirmation to suspect the truth: Miraluz had hurt him.
Badly.
And now, as if possessed, Godzilla had been striking nuclear facilities across Europe, one after another, consuming their reactors like a predator devouring prey.
"According to my guess," Serizawa said, his voice steady but heavy with implication, "Godzilla must have been injured in battle with Miraluz. These attacks… they are not random. He is feeding, absorbing nuclear energy to heal his wounds, to prepare for another confrontation. He intends to increase his power… to face Miraluz again."
His words hung in the air like an approaching storm.
Vivian had always respected Serizawa's insight, but this time his theory sent a chill down her spine.
If Godzilla needed this much energy to be ready for the next fight… then what kind of power was Miraluz holding now?
And worse, what would happen if their rematch took place on human soil?
Around the world, the shift in perception had been swift and brutal.
Godzilla was no longer the "guardian" of ecological balance Serizawa had championed.
To most governments, he was now an indiscriminate destroyer, an apex predator turning human infrastructure into fuel for war.
"Dr. Serizawa," Vivian's voice cut into the tense silence, "we just received word, Godzilla has made landfall in France. The French Air Force is mobilizing. They're less than ten kilometers from his position."
Serizawa's head snapped toward her.
"Tell them to fall back immediately. If they interfere, they will only provoke him. Once he absorbs the plant's energy, he will leave. But if they anger him…" His tone hardened.
"He will not show mercy."
Gravelines Nuclear Power Plant, Northern France
The air was already trembling before the locals saw him.
The deep, earth-borne rumble grew into a physical force that rattled windows and set car alarms screaming.
Godzilla's silhouette rose beyond the horizon, a moving mountain of scale and muscle, his jagged spines tearing the grey sky.
He ignored the formation of Rafale fighters closing in from all sides, his glowing eyes fixed solely on the nuclear reactor complex ahead.
With each step, reinforced concrete cracked underfoot.
The plant's defenses were meaningless; the great reactor might as well have been a child's toy before the King's might.
He smashed through it with a single heaving blow, tearing into the containment structure.
A flood of radioactive steam burst forth, and Godzilla inhaled deeply.
The air shimmered around him as he drew the reactor's energy into himself, the glow in his throat and chest intensifying.
"Buzz… buzz…"
The sound was unnatural, a deep vibration in the bones of anyone nearby.
His scales, once a matte obsidian, now pulsed with streaks of blinding blue, the charged fury of ionized atoms coursing through his body.
The wounds from Miraluz's devastating sonic pulse mended before the onlookers' eyes.
Even his dorsal spines, once splintered into jagged ruins, regrew into vicious, coral-like blades.
They were sharper now, each one an executioner's sword.
A legend reborn.
Burning Godzilla.
The air force had its orders.
They came in low, a dozen Rafales splitting into attack runs, missile bays opening.
"Fire!"
Contrails streaked across the sky.
Dozens of warheads slammed into Godzilla's flanks, detonating in fiery blossoms.
Concrete-splitting booms echoed across the coast.
It was like throwing pebbles at a mountain.
The blasts left faint scorch marks, but Godzilla's massive frame didn't slow, didn't falter.
And then, he turned his head toward the sky.
He was angry.
The roar that followed was like the tearing of the Earth itself.
A blinding surge of light built in his throat.
In the next breath, a torrent of atomic energy erupted, the beam so bright it seared the air.
He swept it upward in a deadly arc, slicing through the lead fighter.
The aircraft disintegrated instantly.
Another pass, another cut, like an anti-aircraft gun wielded by a god.
The formation broke, but it was too late.
One after another, the Rafales were carved out of existence, their wreckage raining into the sea.
When the last of them fell, Godzilla gave a final, rumbling bellow, turned toward the ocean, and waded back into the deep.
Within minutes, the waves had swallowed him whole.