Godzilla's Perspective — San Francisco, Early Morning
The city slept beneath the storm, unaware.
Steel and concrete were insignificant to him — fragile barriers against a world older than civilization itself. The skyscrapers gleamed wet in the rain, glass facades reflecting the stormlight, each one trembling with the distant tremors of his approach.
Godzilla felt them before he saw them — the MUTOs converging over the bay. Their wings beat in violent arcs, creating currents that pushed back the fog and churned the water below. He inhaled, drawing in the electric charge in the air. It smelled of ozone and fear, of metal and blood.
They come together. They think numbers will matter.
The first MUTO shrieked, a sound that pierced the storm and echoed off the hillsides. Its claws dug into the bay, scattering fishing vessels like twigs. Godzilla moved forward, each step displacing tons of water, each movement measured, deliberate. He did not roar. He did not signal yet. He observed, waiting for the precise moment.
Initial Clash
The first creature dove toward him with wings tucked, talons extended. Godzilla shifted, coiling his tail beneath him, and lashed upward. The MUTO crashed against it, wings folding in a metallic thud. Water erupted around them, boiling in the impact.
He pivoted, sending a tidal wall crashing into the second MUTO as it approached from the west. Its shriek cut through the storm like a blade. Godzilla's eyes tracked every motion — every beat of wings, every twitch of limbs, every flicker of antennae sensing him.
Predictable. Reckless. Hungry.
A strike from his claw smashed the first MUTO sideways into a skyscraper. Concrete exploded, sending shards into the air like hail. Glass rained down. Godzilla's head lowered, his massive jaws snapping shut midair to crush a reinforced girder that had pierced the creature's wing.
The MUTO screeched, twisting, but Godzilla's tail caught it mid-spin, hurling it into the bay. The water erupted into white waves as the creature disappeared beneath the surface, only to resurface with undiminished fury.
Godzilla's Awareness
From the depths of his consciousness, he sensed another pulse — the semi-Titan he had felt weeks before, the one awake across the equator. It was faint, yet unmistakable, brushing against the edges of his awareness like an echo in a cavern.
Another watches. Another waits.
His mind didn't name it, didn't need to. It existed in the jungle, coiled and patient. Its presence was subtle, a thread of resonance in the planet's network, but undeniable. It did not affect his fight, yet it sharpened his perception. He fought not just with strength, but with the knowledge that his kind were awake elsewhere, watching, waiting.
Urban Destruction
The second MUTO dove from above, swinging massive wings. Godzilla raised his claw in a defensive strike, catching it mid-air. The impact sent him staggering back into the bay, waves lapping at his chest. Steel structures groaned and twisted. He stepped forward, claw smashing a bridge support, sending concrete into the water with deafening crashes.
Every movement was measured. The creatures tried to swarm, but he read their patterns — wings, claws, shrieks, pulses — and adapted. Each strike was a calculated decision: conserve energy, exploit weakness, punish recklessness.
You cannot learn too fast. You cannot fly too recklessly.
The MUTOs converged, circling, trying to flank him. Godzilla's dorsal fins began to glow faintly, electricity dancing along their ridges. The storm above responded — lightning streaking across clouds, thunder vibrating through his chest.
Time to remind them of fire.
The First Nuclear Pulse
He inhaled deeply. Water steamed along his gills. Every fiber of his body tensed like coiled steel. The MUTOs dove again, closing the distance. With a roar that split the storm and rattled every skyscraper, Godzilla unleashed the first nuclear pulse — a brilliant blue arc slicing through the air, striking the first MUTO squarely in the chest.
The creature shrieked and spun backward, crashing through two towers before hitting the bay with a wave that drenched the waterfront. Godzilla advanced steadily, tail lashing, claws tearing, teeth snapping.
The second MUTO shrieked in alarm, circling overhead, but he anticipated its path — his body pivoted, tail whipping with unstoppable force. Bone-crunching impact. The MUTO staggered, nearly losing altitude, and he followed, jaws clamping down on its wing mid-dive.
Concrete, steel, glass, water — nothing could stop him. The storm, the ocean, the city itself all bent beneath his presence.
The MUTOs regrouped, bloodied but alive. Godzilla paused for a heartbeat, scanning the battlefield. He could sense every structural weakness, every human attempt to intervene, every creature trying to flee.
And beneath it all, the faint echo of the other Titan pulsed again in his awareness.
I am not alone.
The fight was far from over.