GTAG Chapter 32: Training
After the first electromagnetic cannon experiment, Godzilla's premonition came true.
Forget about hitting a target—he nearly crippled himself!
The projectiles hadn't even been launched before the two shells shattered three entire rows of dorsal fins.
Truthfully, the plan was flawed from the start.
Godzilla had intended to use his dorsal plates as the barrels, but those spines could never provide a stable trajectory. How could the projectiles not veer wildly?
Unless he grafted two cylindrical cannons onto his back, this problem was unsolvable.
So was this a dead end?
Perhaps if Godzilla's control over the electricity in his body improved even further, he could perfect the electromagnetic cannon—or even invent other black-tech weapons.
But that would take time. Mastery wasn't something he could seize overnight.
This brought Godzilla's mind back to his original purpose when he had ventured into the Pacific Rim world.
The electromagnetic pulse.
Even if he hadn't hurried, with enough tinkering he could have eventually figured out how to generate EMPs on his own.
But now, after the evolution of his G-Cells, the ability came naturally.
And more than that—because his cells themselves could generate electricity directly, discharging raw power wasn't nearly as weak as he had feared.
G-Cells were incredibly strong. Their output might not match nuclear fusion, but given the sheer scale of his body, the total current was astronomical.
Godzilla suspected that if someone strung a power line from him to a human city, his stored electricity could keep it running for years.
And that didn't even include the regeneration of energy from his reactor-fed G-Cells.
Soon after, satellites from every major nation picked up strange readings.
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, violent storms erupted—flashes of lightning, bursts of magnetic interference, and even unmistakable pulses of EMP.
For a while, governments suspected an ancient undersea civilization or an alien ship.
But after a battery of confirmations, they had to face the truth.
The culprit was their old nemesis—Godzilla.
There was no doubt: he had evolved again.
So soon?
After his failed attempt at flight, he had already mastered electromagnetic pulses. Was he truly a god?
That night, countless people across the world lay sleepless, consumed by dread.
What enraged military planners most was how thoroughly their new anti-Godzilla weapons had been crippled.
Under the indiscriminate sweep of EMP, no matter how powerful their arsenal, nothing could reach him.
Missiles couldn't even get close.
Worse still, he no longer needed to enter a city and fire his atomic breath to send civilization tumbling backward. One walk through the grid, and humanity would collapse to the steam age.
The United States, in particular, fumed.
They had prepared hydrogen bombs—not only for "world peace," but to seize Godzilla's corpse for themselves.
With his atomic breath, it was always hard to approach from the air, but they knew the weapon consumed massive energy and couldn't be sustained for long.
Their strategy was to exhaust him with drone waves, then detonate the warheads at close range.
But that plan was stillborn.
Even though they had pinpointed his approximate location, none dared to act rashly now.
It was humiliating beyond measure.
Godzilla, meanwhile, was oblivious that his electrical discharges and EMP tests had been tracked by satellite, exposing his coordinates.
But even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared.
Before, he had been wary of human weapons. If they went mad and hurled nukes across the globe, even he couldn't guarantee surviving unscathed.
Now…
Heh.
Deep in a sunless trench of the Pacific.
Here, no light should have reached—not even the faintest rays of the sun.
Yet suddenly, the abyss flickered with its own illumination.
Bolts of lightning danced and flashed, tearing through the black waters.
And in that strobing glow, a vast anomaly was revealed—a massive pulsating growth, hundreds of meters wide.
A tumor of flesh, beating like a heart.
Something was inside.
And not far off, safe from the arcs of stray lightning, Godzilla practiced his newly awakened powers.
Discharges. Electromagnetic pulses.
For EMPs, it was simple. He gathered energy into his claws, clapped them together, and loosed a visible ring of electric arcs.
The wave spread outward for dozens of kilometers.
He sensed that wasn't even his limit. With more energy and a longer charge, the blast radius could easily double.
The dramatic hand-clap was really just flair—he could trigger it with thought alone.
A little weaker, perhaps, but style mattered too.
By contrast, controlling raw discharges was far trickier.
At present, all he could do was unleash electricity. Once it left his body, it scattered wildly out of his control.
He tried every vector—mouth, claws, tail, dorsal plates.
Though each succeeded in producing a strike, the current always dispersed chaotically after release.
This puzzled him. How had that Kaiju, the one that once electrocuted him, managed such precision?
Was it some secret technique?
Crackling arcs snapped and hissed in his ears. Fueled by his fusion core, his energy supply was practically endless, letting him experiment without restraint.
Hours of testing left him neither tired nor drained.
But results were meager.
One thing did happen, however. His discharges lashed out so broadly that some stray arcs struck the fleshy tumor nearby.
Yet the bolts never pierced it. The current dispersed across its surface, blocked by meat that looked soft but held firm.
Still, it wasn't unaffected.
The beating from within faltered, losing rhythm—like whatever was inside was afraid.
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