GTAG Chapter 56: Slumber
On the frozen plain, both monsters and humans watched as the colossal head lowered itself.
To the humans, it seemed as though the titan leaned down toward the infected creatures.
In that instant, countless possibilities flashed through their minds.
Were they allies?
Was this some kind of reunion?
Or was the monster's intent far simpler—merely to destroy the abominations before it?
The infected knew the truth.
This beast was no friend. It was their enemy.
But with its massive jaws hovering above them, capable of swallowing them whole in a single bite, they dared not move.
Godzilla's presence was too overwhelming.
Seeing they hadn't fled, Godzilla showed no mercy. His maw opened wide, unleashing a torrent of blinding blue energy.
His radioactive breath erased the infected instantly, leaving not even time for pain.
With the clawing horrors gone, Godzilla turned his head toward the surviving humans.
Before he had arrived, the humans had already split into opposing camps. What they didn't know was that one among them had secretly been infected.
That creature now froze as Godzilla's eyes fell upon it.
It was right—Godzilla had indeed noticed.
Another burst of radioactive flame incinerated it where it stood.
All the infected were gone.
Just as Godzilla prepared to return to his own world, he hesitated.
Though slain, could he truly be sure none of the infection remained?
He turned back to the surviving humans, startling them with the weight of his gaze.
Perhaps none had yet transformed, but could their bodies still carry dormant tissue?
If so, all his efforts here would be wasted.
To ensure no chance of resurgence, Godzilla destroyed them as well, engulfing the camp in cleansing fire.
Ordinary flames might leave traces behind. His radioactive breath left none.
Only then did he return beneath the Antarctic ice.
There, he carved out a vast subterranean chamber, laying the foundation for another Monster Factory.
Its purpose would be singular: to create hunters capable of exterminating the infected.
It was the most reliable solution Godzilla could conceive.
He could not simply abandon this world, not when hidden nests of infection might yet awaken elsewhere. Cleaning them up later would be far more troublesome.
For several months, Godzilla remained, overseeing the Monster Factory's growth until it matured.
Then he returned to his own world.
Deep within the temple his followers had built for him, Godzilla entered a long slumber.
He needed time. His G-cells were on the cusp of transformation once again.
Whether true evolution would follow, he could not be certain. The cells had already undergone many changes, and perhaps they had not yet gathered enough to advance again.
Still, their strength had undeniably grown.
As his vast body rested, every ounce of energy funneled into the metamorphosis of his cells, accelerating the process many times over.
From the infection, the G-cells had absorbed the ability to mimic.
Even without his control, they could instinctively alter themselves in ways most favorable for survival.
When numbers were low, they might blend seamlessly with their environment.
Or take on the guise of harmless creatures, passing unnoticed.
Perhaps even feign death.
These adaptations were far more sophisticated than the crude mimicry of the infected.
But that was no surprise. Godzilla's G-cells were unique, already extraordinary, and after so many evolutions, their potential was boundless.
This time, their transformation granted him something greater.
Soon after he sank into sleep, the sentinels that had once gathered at the Monster Factory relocated, forming a living shield around him.
Though in truth, Godzilla needed no protection.
In previous slumbers, his body rarely changed, beyond gradual growth or deliberate adjustments.
But this time, the transformation was visible.
His massive frame remained the same size, yet his surface altered dramatically.
The thick, wrinkled skin that once covered him receded, replaced by tightly interlocked scales layered with perfect precision.
These scales provided not only formidable defense but also enhanced camouflage, merging with the mimicry of his cells.
It was a disguise far beyond that of a chameleon, allowing him to become indistinguishable from his surroundings.
From the cellular level outward, the transformation left no trace visible to the naked eye—or perhaps even to machines.
Only one flaw remained: the faint red glow seeping from beneath his scales.
That glow was the heat of his fusion furnace.
When Godzilla awoke, he saw the changes for himself.
The ugly wrinkles were gone. He looked fiercer, more majestic.
Yet strangely, his menace seemed lessened.
The grotesque folds of his old hide had once evoked deeper terror than the clean armor of scales.
But fear was of no concern to him.
With his awakening came the completion of his cells' transformation.
The glow beneath his scales began to fade as the furnace's energy quieted, its heat no longer raging outward.
From the edge of eruption, it subsided into a steady, smoldering light.
Even so, the faint crimson shimmer beneath his armor remained—subtle, but undeniable.
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