GTAG Chapter 30: Dandruff
What was thought to be ordinary backup quickly turned out to be something else—the invaders' strength had far surpassed the knowledge of the so-called Precursors.
After the previous wave of battle, the Precursors concluded that to deal with Godzilla, they would need to deploy a Level-9 Kaiju.
The Level-9 Kaiju was the ultimate weapon of their civilization—second to none.
Only the royal bloodline of their homeworld had the authority to create such a beast. No one else among their kind could.
And because of resource constraints, there were only seven in existence.
Even those seven could not be mobilized on short notice. With that, the Precursors chose to abandon the planet altogether.
The ones who had begged for aid against Godzilla were left stunned by the order.
But they moved quickly.
Leaving their shelters, they mounted flying Kaiju and rushed toward a distant Flesh Factory. Once there, they escaped through its wormholes.
Their movements were smooth, almost rehearsed. Clearly, this wasn't their first retreat.
Of course, not every Precursor was lucky enough to leave cleanly.
Some who were still too close to Godzilla attempted to flee in flying Kaiju.
They might as well have flown right into his jaws.
To take off within Godzilla's radar range?
Did they think his atomic heat rays were harmless toys?
From the moment Godzilla entered the Precursor homeworld, he hadn't let his guard down once.
The instant he detected flight, he fired.
Atomic rays lanced from his mouth or tail, sometimes both in alternating volleys, striking down every airborne unit.
It forced even those who weren't right next to him—but still close—to give up on flying. Instead, they had their Kaiju carry them across the ground.
When all the Precursors were gone, every wormhole shut tight.
Not just the wormholes. At the heart of every Flesh Factory pulsed a massive "heart," the source of each factory's energy.
Once their people had evacuated, the Precursors deliberately overloaded them.
When the cores reached their limit, the factories detonated.
BOOM!
Thunderous blasts swept across the planet.
Even Godzilla shielded his eyes with his claws against the storm of fire and light.
When it finally ended, the surface was pocked with countless craters, as though scoured by a meteor shower.
From space, the planet looked ravaged, scarred beyond repair.
Godzilla was momentarily stunned.
Why had everything just… blown up?
He glanced around. Storms raged across the land, stirred by the chain of explosions. The planet's climate had turned hostile in an instant.
It would take ages to recover.
Not that he cared.
He barely remembered what this place had been like before—only the looming Flesh Factories that had dotted the land.
He had already sensed the wormholes activate before the self-destruction. Now it was clear: the Precursors had fled and abandoned the planet.
A pity.
Godzilla had been curious to see what other strange weapons they could create. It seemed he would never know.
Shaking the dust from his head, he turned back toward his own world.
With the Precursors gone and their factories destroyed, there was no reason to stay. Chasing? It would take too long.
In an instant, his massive form vanished from the planet's surface, leaving behind only two colossal footprints.
Broken Dome.
When Godzilla stepped through the wormhole, the entire base fixed their eyes on its shimmering portal.
Moments later, the reaction winked out.
Cheering erupted throughout the facility.
They believed Godzilla had destroyed the wormhole.
Which was, in truth, not wrong.
Still, people in the Broken Dome continued replaying the footage of Godzilla fighting the Kaiju.
Dr. Newton was among them.
Suddenly, he froze mid-frame, zooming in with trembling hands.
After carefully confirming what he saw, he grabbed the equipment and bolted from the room, nearly slipping in his haste.
"General! General!"
He found General Pentecost and shoved the screen toward him.
"Look here—when Leviathan was struck by the Kaiju's railgun, a piece of its scalp flew off!"
Newton was practically incoherent with excitement.
General Pentecost narrowed his eyes. Enlarged on the screen, the Leviathan's head indeed showed a missing patch. A scrap of flesh—or dandruff, so to speak.
"This is our only chance to study Leviathan! We have to retrieve that fragment!"
"Doctor… a single piece of scalp? Do you realize what you're asking?"
Searching for a scrap of tissue in the endless ocean? He might as well throw in a needle and tell them to find it.
"It's different! Leviathan's body radiates fusion energy. Traces of nuclear fallout have already been detected where it lingered. A chunk that size—its radiation signature will be huge. It can be found!"
The general fell silent, then finally nodded. He dispatched a team to scour the depths of the Pacific.
"Doctor Newton, I must remind you, Broken Dome has no funding left. I can't even guarantee the base will stay operational. Even if the scalp fragment still exists, we may never find it."
"I know. But we have to try."
And so, under the pretense of recovering Kaiju remains and confirming the wormhole's closure, mechs were deployed to the site of the battle.
Only the pilots knew the truth. They were being sent to search for dandruff.
Their emotions were complicated.
To think their final mission as Jaeger pilots might be for something so absurd.
Yet, against all odds, they found it.
Broken Dome kept the discovery secret.
Because this fragment of Godzilla's flesh might well become humanity's next great disaster.
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