GTAG Chapter 54: Recovery
Of course, there was always another possibility—that Godzilla's G-cells might be devoured by the infected creatures.
If that happened, he would have no choice but to wipe them all out. Not one could be allowed to remain.
Any lifeform capable of threatening him was far too dangerous. Even if it meant destroying an entire planet, he would make sure they were annihilated completely.
In fact, if the universe weren't so vast—so vast that even if he spent a lifetime searching he might never find them again—Godzilla would have flown into space to hunt down every last one of these creatures beyond Earth.
Who knew what endless cycles of infection and mimicry might eventually turn them into? No one could predict it.
If they somehow evolved to break through the barriers between universes and reached his own, that would spell disaster for his world.
Their intelligence was no small matter either.
Combine that intelligence with their unique mimicry ability, and their growth potential was immense.
If given enough time, they might even evolve specifically to counter his powers, becoming harder to deal with.
Then again, the ship that carried these monsters must have contained records of their origin, and the coordinates of their homeworld.
Godzilla glanced down at the iron box pinned under his claws, trembling faintly with each impact. He fell silent.
But… he had already torn that ship apart. How was he supposed to find their planet now?
And even if the ship were intact, it wasn't like he could operate its systems anyway.
That thought alone made him feel better.
Whether the ship was destroyed or not hardly mattered.
If anything, tearing it apart to forge this iron box had been the better choice.
Now, beneath his claws, the box had stopped shaking, as though the creatures inside were dead.
Still, Godzilla didn't relax. He waited another half an hour, just to be sure.
By carefully controlling his cells, he had ensured the G-cells inside multiplied at a rapid pace. In such a short time, the interior of the box should already be crammed full of flesh grown from them.
Of course, cells that proliferated that quickly would become less active in the future, their lifespan shorter than normal G-cells.
That was unavoidable.
Godzilla shook the box, feeling the weight shift like jelly inside. He couldn't be sure whether that was pure G-cells… or infected creatures mimicking them.
He tightened his grip and twisted hard.
The entire box deformed with a groan.
He tore open a crack, and thick scarlet blood seeped out, dripping onto the Antarctic ice.
The blood was still warm enough to melt patches of the frozen ground, though not nearly as powerfully as his own.
Soon, chilled by the cold air, it began to congeal.
Godzilla blasted it with fire.
At first, the blood didn't react much. After a few minutes, it finally began to evaporate.
The surrounding ice had long since melted, and the blood left no trace behind.
That sluggish reaction didn't surprise him. His flames weren't particularly hot compared to his atomic power.
His own blood, on the other hand, could withstand thousands of degrees for extended periods, only breaking down once every ounce of energy was consumed.
That was why it had taken minutes to fully burn away.
But if those had been mimicking organisms, no matter how heat-resistant they were, minutes of searing fire would have forced a reaction.
It was an instinctive response to death they couldn't override.
Since there had been no reaction, it seemed these samples weren't fakes.
Or perhaps… his G-cells had already devoured all the infected tissue.
To be sure, he would need to run more tests.
When his own survival was at stake, he could never be too careful.
This time, instead of squeezing out the contents, Godzilla simply heated the box itself.
He exhaled a jet of fire directly onto it.
His claws held firm, utterly unbothered by the heat.
The same could not be said for the box.
As the flames raged, the iron began to glow red, softening.
Droplets of molten metal hissed as they fell into the icy water below.
Yet still, there was no movement inside.
Only when the box was on the verge of collapsing completely did Godzilla stop. He tossed it into the sea.
A sharp hiss filled the air as it cooled rapidly.
Moments later, he pulled it back out.
What had once been a crude box now looked like an ugly, warped iron cake.
He split it open, revealing charred remains.
The mass inside had been carbonized, yet at the very center, cells still pulsed with faint vitality.
Godzilla carefully stored them away.
Even with their safety proven, he was not entirely willing to use them.
He reforged the warped metal into another box, stuffed another specimen inside, and repeated the process: G-cell proliferation, engulfment, testing.
Again and again, he confirmed the results. Each time, without exception, the G-cells devoured the infected creatures.
For him, this was excellent news. It meant consuming these beings was safe. He no longer had to worry about unforeseen consequences.
Interestingly, not every creature had survived.
He had assumed all of the specimens in the stasis tanks were alive, but when he opened them one by one, he discovered two had died.
Whether it was the endless passage of time, or the aliens' experiments, he couldn't know.
He burned their corpses, then absorbed the G-cells that had already consumed the others back into his body.
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