Author: Tyler Trieschock | Banner: Tyler Trieschock
Table of Contents:
Author’s Note
Chapter 1: The Author of Tragedy
Chapter 2: In Pursuit of Rage
Chapter 3: The Ryuseicho Awakens
Chapter 4: Homeward Bound
Chapter 5: Lovesick
Chapter 6: Gomora vs. The Ryuseicho
Chapter 7: The Dark Elias
Chapter 8: Managing the Apocalypse
Chapter 10: Homecoming
Chapter 11: The Broken Elias
Chapter 12: Ultraseven vs. The Ryuseicho
Chapter 13: No Way Home
Chapter 14: Lovestruck
Chapter 15: Zone Fighter vs. The Ryuseicho
Chapter 16: Last Man Standing
Chapter 17: To Keep Moving Forward
Chapter 19: Tragic Companion
[Continued from Match 436]
Greetings reader of TK,
While normally it’s uncommon to leave a comment for readers with K.W.C. matches, I wanted to make an exception with this match which acts like a mid-series finale for my final set of matches for the K.W.C. – the Cataclysm of the Gods Arc. To those unsure what I’m referring to, check out the K.W.C. Continuity Thread: Subsection Greyshot Series – Matches 387, 416, 421, 422 & 436 specifically. I’ve written plenty of other matches for my timeline, but the stories I just listed are mostly self-contained and give backstory to prominent human characters within this arc including Shinichi Ozaki, Miki Yamane, Tsukuyomi & Captain Douglas Gordon. They also highlight recurring monsters like Gomora or Godzilla (Legendary). The actual match, Cataclysm of the Gods, is still six matches away, but I hope this insight gives you a solid foundation for the craziness about to occur on the precipice of the second half. To those already onboard this journey, all I’ll say is hold on tight and enjoy the ride.
Sincerest regards,
Tyler Trieschock
Chapter 1: The Author of Tragedy
Moneron Island, Sea of Japan
In days just past, Orochi, the Eight-Headed Dragon and primordial destroyer of life across the universe, contested the first of many guardians that plagued the world known as Earth. What should have yielded swift victory instead brought about startling revelations to the tyrant which chipped away his internal pillars of pride and prejudice. Even with the recent victory over Gamera, who was now imprisoned within an arctic sheet of ice, the draconic entity realized he could no longer torture the human vessel shackled upon his being. That emaciated, parasitic shell, the epitome of all that he despised within the universe, could not be starved or gnarled any longer, for doing so only weakened the draconic being’s whole. Tsukuyomi, or at least the human shell which contained Orochi’s truest essence, needed to be nourished and in pursuing this maddening goal, the entity found favorable results.
Tsukuyomi tossed away hardened basaltic earth with a guttural bellow, the boulder plunging thirty feet away from the beach into churning pacific water. Muscles screamed in thousands of unique, pain-filled voices. Sweat poured across pristine skin. A full twenty-four hour cycle of rigorous physical activity had passed and as Tsukuyomi gazed down upon his previously starved vessel, the fallen god felt some twisted sense of admiration.
Just five days prior, what had been nothing more than a withered husk of a human now glowed with dense muscle, only comparable to that of an Olympian. Filth which built up over the course of a half year, was thoroughly scraped off his vessel’s exterior, allowing the pale protective dermis to glisten under the rising sun.
For mere humans, such improvement in a short time would shatter their frail bodies. Their meager regeneration too slow, their nutritional intake too inefficient to facilitate such growth, even for the mutant which claimed he was one above all.
‘Because they lack the will of a god. I… have no such limitation.’
Yet the arrogant thought betrayed Tsukuyomi as he felt the sting of his muscles and the weariness of his nourished body. Even when supplemented with immense calories, vitamins and other nutritional meals; the vessel yearned for rest, and so he began his stroll to a more secluded area to indulge in the sleep his wrought body craved.
Up carved stone Tsukuyomi ascended. Mimicking his spawn which now intermingled with humanities’ cursed ranks, the outcropping of the path which Tsukuyomi strolled curved inward toward the high cliffs. The crew of any vessel that passed by his island would only see insurmountable terrain and move on, unaware of the expertly cut track to the water’s edge, or the cave tucked neatly into the wall of rock. Into that abyss he entered, until torchlight illuminated the shrine constructed by his children, and the throne painstakingly carved for their creator’s use.
Like his refined human vessel, the throne room leading to a series of hallways and rooms within the island was another achievement of his will, but not through his direct means.
Tsukuyomi’s spawn, led by the strength of his first experiment of flesh, had adeptly carved the temporary base for their god’s use. Some creations still lingered at the edges of the room or dwelled within the dark halls, perfecting the draconic iconography that adorned the stone construct, but most, including his first creation, no longer resided upon Moneron. Their use was better served elsewhere, for the cherished day had finally come, and Tsukuyomi delighted in its arrival.
Kumasogami’s incursion on Okinawa, and Kaishin Muba’s assault on Tokyo were essential steps toward his goal of a perfect world, but to the god’s annoyance, only minor footnotes. The scourge known as humanity could absorb the deaths brought about by his kaiju without noticing any substantial loss in population, all the while gathering significant enough forces to wipe out either of his prized champions.
The infection known as life ran too deep within Earth. New antithesis to the living plague were needed and today, those tools would finally be acquired.
‘And other threats eliminated,’ Tsukuyomi mused in malevolent delight.
Upon the sculpted stone the entity descended, allowing his body to gradually relax over soothing rock. While flesh mended in blissful rest, Tsukuyomi extended his mental reach to every corner of the globe, using his numerous creations as conduits from which to siphon knowledge.
If pressed, the god could interact upon the world through hundreds of unique perspectives, but of all that he could choose, draconic interests crept into the interior of military transport. Inside the flying vessel, the supposed one above all flew to protect Ayana Moribe, unaware of the upcoming tragedy that would make him wish he had perished upon the slopes of Nikko’s Mountains.
Thirty-Five Hundred Meters off the ground, Tohoku, Japan
“I need to know if I’m missing something. An angle I’m not seeing.”
The blunt honesty was foreign to Shinichi Ozaki’s tongue, especially as it clearly revealed his own weakness, but recent events upon Nikko’s Mountains overshadowed the great monuments of pride and prowess within the recently hospitalized fighter.
He’d promised to protect Asagi Kusanagi, and against any threat he could conceive up until that point, he knew he could ensure the woman’s safety. Then a living myth crossed his path…
Superhuman physical feats had proven lacking. Even the resurgence of his energy manipulation had served only to demonstrate his inadequacy against the emaciated god. While Ozaki still craved for the full return of his once again dormant power, the warrior understood a new perspective was needed to best his primordial foe, and no variable existed better able to do just that then the captain now sitting directly across from him.
A strategist. An ally. An old friend.
“Only one relevant detail,” Captain Douglas Gordon affirmed, emotion vacant from the permanent scowl he wore, “how did he know you both were going to the cabin?”
‘Or, not…’
Gordon wasn’t a man of many words. Not a man of etiquette, humility, or subtlety, but for all of his shortcomings, the Captain’s logical mind warranted his immense pride. Where that mind currently resided, Ozaki wished to know.
‘Called you to tell me what I don’t know. Not to remind me of the obvious,” he internally complained.
Ozaki’s head tilted back. Vibrations of the transport rattled his body. Emotions swirled inside, but the mutant choked them back, bottling them with the immense guilt from allowing his protectee to perish.
“Gotta be telepathy.”
The American tinged dialect lured Ozaki’s gaze off the helicopter’s interior’s ceiling to the three men at the back of the transport. Each man was adorned with dark camouflage. Knives, weapon accessories, and other tactically beneficial tools lined their pockets, ensuring in theory that no matter the obstacle, experience and grit would ensure their success. But even in a world filled with giants, normal mission parameters were far from their destination.
They would land in a small town in Hokkaido amongst a sea of glistening white suburban houses. Their weapons would prove inefficient if Orochi did intercede. Why Aso forced their inclusion, Ozaki strained to comprehend, but if the old man wished to place Self Defense Force Special Operation Forces on his mission in exchange for accepting his request for transport, then the mutant accepted their perspective as much as their presence.
“Like he read your mind or maybe sensed you, know what I’m sayin?” the largest of the three men elaborated.
“Doubtful…” Gordon noted with a lingering tone that made the interested operative perk up.
“Oh right, you weren’t here. Callsign’s Ace,” the operative noted with a sly grin before hitching a thumb to the man to his left. “This S.O.B.’s Spade and he’s-” Ace remarked now with two fingers pointed across the chopper to the lone, shades-wearing individual, “Joker.”
Gordon seemingly accepted the formal introduction with an unwavering stare before continuing, “If Orochi possessed such an ability, he wouldn’t have needed to ask about Ayana’s location, would he?”
‘That I can agree with,’ Ozaki thought with a subtle nod.
“All right, got me there,” Ace lamented. The man’s bulk then shifted to Spade, thrusting an elbow into the operative’s side. “You got a theory?”
Spade’s thin frame leaned forward, rubbing his side. “A cult is about the only thing that makes sense to me. That or…” Spade’s attention shifted to Ozaki, “you were sloppy.”
Fury pulsed into every cell within Ozaki’s body.
“I wasn’t-” the mutant assured merely for Gordon to interrupt.
“Better, but when paralleled with Orochi’s intention, your guess fails to hold up,” the Captain countered and in that statement, Ozaki agreed, shifting his anger to pick apart Spade’s assumption.
Sure, a few fools could believably turn against their species in pursuit of some promised reward, but Orochi seemed anything but charitable in his approach. If what he remembered about Miki’s warnings were true, then humans pledging their allegiance to Orochi would be akin to roaches pledging their support to an exterminator.
“We’ll figure out how,” Ozaki assured himself as much as the four men within earshot, “First, Ayana. Once she’s safe, we can worry about the details after.”
“You mean the monster she’s linked tah?” Ace asked.
Ozaki simply nodded while Gordon, unable to not dictate what was left unsaid, clarified, “She’s the leverage against the Ryuseicho. We get her, Orochi loses a pawn.”
The name of the creature, the Ryuseicho, struck Ozaki like a concussive punch as his mind recoiled from the word, trying to counter with the name Miki had used to identify it. The name, just on the tip of his tongue, proved too elusive to nail down.
‘It’ll come to me,’ Ozaki drolled, realizing the moniker was his life motto at this point, before saying aloud, “And her life is the priority. If the bastard’s there, you three are on distraction duty. You can’t kill him. But if you piss him off long enough, I can be clicks away in just a few moments with her.”
“You’re going to run?” Spade interjected, drawing Ozaki’s fury once more.
“To win a war, you need to pick your fights,” Gordon explained, experience guiding his words before a sly grin slowly crept across his face. “More fun for us unlucky bastards.”
Ace’s face filled with childlike glee. His elbow thrust into Spade before the operative’s gaze shifted to Joker. “Why the hell are you so quiet? Normally, can’t get you to shut up.”
“Nerves,” Joker hissed, trying to end the conversation, but Ace’s curiosity seemed unable to let it die.
“Bull. sh*t. You’re afraid of some S.O.B.? Okinawa. Last Month. You ran between that demon and lion to save some stone-faced civvies in the trees.” Ace hitched a thumb to his other compatriot. “Mocked him for the last week on being a lily-livered coward.”
“Feels different,” Joker deflected and with the unsatisfying remark, Ace countered with an audible raspberry.
Silence returned to the transport. Ozaki’s thoughts turned inward, where the constant voice of Miki Yamane spoke to him, and him alone.
The location of Ayana accompanied his thoughts like a telepathic song. Whether Miki’s psychic jingle was of deliberate or unintentional action, the effect was all the same; the recurring thoughts kept Ozaki focused on his path toward redemption.
Asagi Kusanagi’s fate wouldn’t be shared with Ayana Moribe, his own ego be damned.
Chapter 3: The Ryuseicho Awakens
Monster Island
Standing on a beach with glistening white sand, Hyaku go-bu felt the water washing over his toes. He blinked and looked up at the turquoise sky, flecked with cream clouds, and felt palpable tears stream down his wrinkled face as he witnessed a miracle coalescing in a vortex of chaotic lightning. The air smelled of salt and electricity. He breathed it in deep, savoring the memory his god bestowed him.
The one-hundred and fifth miracle birthed from Tsukuyomi’s lifeblood quivered with reverence as the power of its maker radiated before him. Every atom of his being keenly attuned to his god’s intent, he watched in awe as a new miracle emerged from the maelstrom of energy.
The smoke cleared, and a creature of legend emerged. Its four great tentacles reached out in all directions, each tipped with a razor-sharp spear. As it descended to the beach, the membranes stretched between its four one-thousand meter long appendages, changing from pink to blue, green, yellow, and red. When its single eye glistened a fervent gold, it quickly locked onto the miniscule figure kneeling with reverence before it.
“O’ great Ryuseicho, I am Hyaku go-bu, a humble servant of Orochi.” The zealous speaker bowed his head towards the monster. “My lord Orochi has given you life, and offers you all that you could covet! Life! Vengeance! Your Priestess!” The monster’s face-plate of bone tilted every slightly, summoning a warm smile from within the servant. “Follow Orochi’s will and serve him in ensuring humanities’ destruction, and he will reward you with all your desires in a world ruled by titans, by lesser gods. What say you O’ great Ryuseicho?”
Moments of shared silence past. Membrane’s lining the Ryuseicho, which at one point shifted like an octopod between endless hues, solidified into a burning, coalescent color. An answer.
Hyaku’s jaw fell open in delight, captivated by the response he knew would always have come to pass.
“Wonderful. Wonderful! Go forth now, go meet our shared-”
Churning water vanished beneath the servant’s toes and crisp, pacific air took its place. Hyaku go-bu experienced the change in sensation for a moment, and then, all was numb. Salt-laced water no longer stung at his nose or the shining sun radiated across his eyes. All of his senses, his memories, his being slipped away, draining into the spear which lanced through his skewered torso.
Sakimori Residence, Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo
Hikaru Sakimori was home.
The emerald-hued grass swept over his lawn like an all-encompassing blanket, and a soft air of nostalgia filled his lungs as he peered through the front gate of his family’s residence. After decades of absence, every aspect of this place told of stories he thought had been forgotten long ago. He remembered it all; the cherry blossom tree that once bloomed a brilliant pink each spring, the brown door that always swung open with a creak as he entered into the warmth of his family home. Everything seemed exactly the same, but time had left its unavoidable mark. There were new homes which towered over the ones of his youth, a crop of new businesses that drew bystanders down the freshly paved streets and amongst those faces, Hikaru couldn’t help but spot the grown children of his youth now accompanying their progeny. But only one new addition caught his eye with particular interest as the child innocently drew upon the sidewalk to his front door, colored chalk clutched in his pudgy hands.
“Hey, what are you drawing there?” The warm greeting deflected off the child who proceeded to scrape brown chalk against the sidewalk. “Do you have a second-” a loud scrape of chalk against the walkway beset Hikaru’s ears. “My name’s Hikaru and this is actually my home. I’m looking-”
The child’s expression of suspicion as he quickly turned to meet Hikaru’s gaze caused the air to thicken in an instant. The kid looked long and hard, eyes burning with mistrust until his attention refocused on his drawing.
“So you live in the vacant house?” the pudgy child spoke as he drew piercing red eyes upon his monster’s face.
“I… used to,” Hikaru admitted sorrowfully. “That was a long time ago.”
Another scrape of chalk tore at the previous resident’s ears. “You’re old, but not that old,” the child replied, still with distrust in his voice.
“It’s- complicated,” he muttered and from those words, the past fifty years was laid bare before Hikaru, with every failure, every victory, and every tragedy vivid in his mind.
Peaceland, a planet that longingly desired to mimic the Land of Light’s protective guidance across the universe, detonated as a moon slammed upon its surface. Only a single family, watching the horror unfold from orbit, escaped the planetwide genocide, Hikaru included among them. And while they settled on the Earth for many years, the longing to bring vengeance upon those who enacted the terrible event had led the family to action in nineteen seventy eight. Justice was finally achieved at a cost that felt far too great for the sole Peacelander left in the universe.
So that broken alien returned to his adopted world, nearly unchanged in age thanks to the effects of traveling near light speed. In his pursuit to ensure the loss which clung to his soul never would occur to another being, that broken alien ventured into the world with noble intentions merely to be taken prisoner in both body and soul. While freedom had been attained, the ramifications of Cameron Winter’s game still haunted him as much as the events that followed.
To save a man’s life, the loved world and husband of one Audrey Timmonds, Hikaru faced off against a being whose league his very people wished to emulate in both success and power – the Land of Light’s champion, Ultraseven. Another victory was attained, but this time, the toll was purely physical. To describe his condition as anything less than body-shattering would be an understatement, and those crippling wounds were only mended after six, grueling months.
Solidifying his nerves and gritting his teeth, he knelt down beside the child, brandishing a warm, toothless smile, “Anyway, what’s your name kid?”
“Hansuke.” The child mumbled the single name while completing the finishing touches of the fearsome creature’s piercing eyes. The red chalk was then discarded and the brown was swapped in to add arms to the bi-pedal insect. “No one’s lived here all my life. What’s so important about today?”
Another pointed question flung Hikaru’s way, reflecting the youth’s startling maturity. And while he wished he could be honest, being truthful would reveal his otherworldliness, reveal his current hidden residence that possessed the remnants of his homeworld’s technology, along with his ship, Smokey, and finally, reveal how in the dark he truly was.
While his vacant home possessed no Peacelander technology, the base he had resided within the past few months housed everything left of his people. And in that cavern, after a long day of volunteering to pick up litter across nearby neighborhoods, he returned to discover a digital message was thrown across every screen and monitor.
Have no fear. I’ve done nothing to your systems, the message read. I am like you my friend, and I wish to discuss matters, both personal and urgent. I hope to see you tomorrow, at your familial home. From, a fellow companion of tragedy.
Now after a day of contemplating his next action and discovering only Peacelander technology could have bypassed his own bases’ systems, Hikaru dared to walk into this trap to find the so-called friend. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he wasn’t the last Peacelander in the universe.
“Someone who wants to be my friend wished to meet me here,” Hikaru finally admitted though his smile never waivered. “But as you know, you must always be careful around strangers. You should probably head home now-”
Hansuke’s hand froze in its place, his chalk grating against the rough surface as if in protest. His distrustful gaze locked onto Hikaru, scrutinizing his every movement before reluctantly shifting back to his work of art. Great scythes came to life from the boy’s chalk, bestowing threat to the monster.
“There are… bad people inside,” Hansuke warned, his voice trembling with a mixture of suspicion and incredulity. “A… a friend of mine ran into them. Haven’t seen him in days.”
Hikaru’s desire to remain upbeat tempered the dark revelation’s impact upon him. He extended his arm, looking to any prying eyes within his childhood walls that he was pointing out a flaw of the kid’s monstrous artwork, instead of covering confident words which he spoke.
“Are you certain?”
A subtle nod from Hansuke answered. “I’ve been watching them. A bald girl and the guy…” his voice trailed off. “He’s big. Bigger than you by- by a lot.”
That final line resonated within Hikaru’s very soul, and the hero within him accepted the call to action without any hint of doubt in himself.
“I’ll help your friend but please, go home,” he vowed in a whisper, while his face expressed an assurance that everything would be okay. Hikaru spun around, marching back to his home. With a subtle creak he opened the door to his past, stepped inside, and closed the entrance behind him.
The nostalgia of home flooded his senses, his memories of his family and his past life here burning within his heart. But the joy quickly faded as he remembered Hansuke’s warning and the friend lost inside.
His gaze swept over the living room, the kitchen, and the hallway without losing that warm smile he entered the house with. If anyone was watching him, then perhaps they still believed he was still wrapped up in the warm embrace of nostalgia, but as to where these intruders were, Hikaru couldn’t detect any clues to their whereabouts. Nothing seemed out of place beyond the faint dust covering the surfaces.
With a few steps, he delved deeper into the living room. Seventies era décor still plastered the walls and finally, as his eyes met his families’ group photo hanging upon the wall, Hikaru’s breath was taken away. A tear rolled down his right cheek for the family he wished more than anything to spend time with once more. With a sniffle he hastily wiped it away, only to be met with a noxious smell that hung heavy in the air.
The foul odor clawed at his sinuses, tore at the back of his throat, and burned his lungs with every consecutive breath. Something poisonous was interlaced in the air, and as Hikaru readied to dash toward the entrance, any remaining nostalgia was violently torn away as a flash of light shined from the kitchen, and a crack of thunder tore through his family home.
Glenn Adams International Hospital, Tokyo
A gentle finger slid across Miki Yamane’s cheek, conveying a message her husband hoped would reach even the most isolated regions of his wife’s unresponsive psyche.
You will be alright. You are not alone.
Kenichi Yamane’s analytical brain consistently brought doubt to the forefront of his mind that the comforting message he bestowed would be received. Facts clouded his judgment, supported by numerous papers he’d devoured over the past four days in relation to his wife’s condition. And yet in the face of such undebatable reason, when rivaled with the strength of unscrupulous logic, Kenichi forcefully battered those once sacred icons of logic and reason away for the comforting reassurance of hope. A hope instilled in him by the comatose love of his life.
‘You’re not like others,’ Kenichi thought in a tender tone, hoping a familiar female voice would reach out to his mind to affirm his reasoning.
The oppressive blanket of silence hung in the air like a thick fog, strangling that indomitable sense of hope until wretched guilt stirred his tormented thoughts once more.
For nearly two days he hadn’t noticed Miki’s absence. Not out of some long-dormant malice toward his loved one, merely the bitter effects of a condition which infected each of them and that no doubt played a part in his love’s current spell.
Husband and wife alike shared a detrimental case of obsession with their professional passions.
“You and your patients. And me with my-” Kenichi’s head lazily rolled back, right fingers clutching the bridge of his nose, “monsters.”
The term was something Miki would’ve rallied against. Another misconception of the public which fostered like-minded politicians and yet, those same politically powerful individuals routinely called upon his expertise for guidance. To convince them of what titanic creatures posed humanity risk and which were simply non-threatening entities venturing too close to humanities’ boundless perimeters.
“For every migration of Anguirus or Rodan that I diffuse, a demon of Okinawa arises and makes the next meeting that I attend that much more difficult. Today’s meeting with General Aso, if I actually attended it, would be no different.”
Kenichi glanced in the direction of the bed, his gaze lingering on his wife’s composed figure, again hoping his wife’s ideals would counter his more grounded realism.
“Yes, I know you would say that a monster is nothing more than a living thing capable of causing immense harm, and you would also reason that mankind is also capable of such atrocities.” Kenichi’s finger continued its comforting caress of Miki’s cheek. “And there I must agree, yet I cannot help but feel…”
The hum of medical machinery filled the air as Kenichi stared into his comatose wife’s sealed eyes.
“Your ability to see the good and potential within those creatures, including people, is astounding,” Kenichi said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “You… you saw something dormant in me and brought it to life. You… you are truly incredible.”
A momentary pause gripped Kenichi’s mind. He was moving off topic, avoiding the one confrontation that he dreaded bringing up to the surface, even with his wife unconscious.
“But as much as you search for the best in all living things, I do carry doubt that you will ever find something pure in what razed Okinawa, in the leviathan that raided Tokyo. I envy your resolve, but I hope, one day-”
“Mr. Yamane?” a female voice called out.
Kenichi’s forlorn gaze shifted to the nurse at the door, her face shielded by a spotted white cloth.
“I’d prefer Doc-” Kenichi paused, eyes transfixed on what lay behind the newest arrival.
Twin bodies lay in pools of freshly spilled blood. Their wounds, unknown, but the dagger which surely killed each guard delicately held in the nurse’s hand like any medical device.
“A-hem,” the woman coughed, drawing Kenichi’s gaze upward to the blood-splattered face mask.
Cloth wrinkled on the woman’s face; a cruel smile desperately tried to gleam from under its protective shield.
“Well doctor, don’t you dare worry,” the woman said with a cackle, “you and her, why you both aren’t going to suffer any longer.”
Chapter 6: Gomora vs. The Ryuseicho
Monster Island
Twitching claws froze. Reptilian eyes widened in delight as a vortex of lightning gave away to a new, tantalizing form. Distance blurred the monster, dulling the golden glow within its visor-like face and the sheen of its silver arms, but the lust of battle, the draw of a fresh opponent turned Gomora’s transfixed gaze into a euphoric stampede.
For too long he sat idly by. The elder, Anguirus, still refused to spar with him even after their trek to the grave of the revered one.
The runt, Godzilla Junior, grown larger from a recent excursion, still was too small to provide Gomora any satisfaction from their battles.
And Gabara-
Gomora slammed his right fist into an open palm, parting twin puffs of air from his nostrils.
-the coward’s ability to cower was unmatched. But this new tentacled threat, the… invader. It was the worthy adversary Gomora hoped to clash against. Like the revered one frozen in ice or the moth of his youth, he would become a beast worthy of recognition, of facing any opponent! Not even the scourge of the universe, that terrifying golden hydra, would be able to best the mighty, the defiant, Gomora!
A small hill detonated as Gomora charged through. His roar of arrival, of conquest, proceeded to cleave through the land to the monster he would soon match in a battle of supremacy.
Off steep cliffs Gomora lunged, allowing his own black silhouette to envelop the one-eyed creature.
A small speck lay at the end of one of its spear-like tentacles, the remains of some indigenous, pale creature now shriveled to an amorphous husk. All four spears retracted to the reptile’s surprise, giving the battle hungry reptilian a clear opening to his invader’s form.
The invader’s right arm swung up, and Gomora swung his clawed fist down, ever confident that the impervious, sturdy armor that graced his chest could withstand any blow. Meanwhile, his counter would only be the first of many!
Reptilian scale struck cranial armor, yet a pained whimper forced itself from Gomora’s trembling jaws as he remained mid-air.
Every twitch of his body amplified the damage of the scythe which pierced through his cracked, abdominal armor. Crimson plasma and orange power flowed through the blade, siphoning strength with every passing second. With another weak gasp, Gomora pushed himself off the bladed appendage merely to collapse, his shocked stare focused upon the invader and the four, spear-tipped tentacles hovering just behind its head.
How could he miss the scythe-like blades? How could the mighty Gomora be bested in a single blow? How-
The tentacles of the invader thrashed wildly in the air, splitting at their ends to create pulsing orbs of blinding gold. Gradually, those golden hues shifted in color until orange light blanketed Gomora, crackling with power that was undoubtedly his own technique – the Super Oscillatory Wave.
Gomora’s fiery stare intensified. He was going to die, die by his own energy, but if the invader expected fear, the reptile refused to diminish himself with such emotion. A trembling roar cried out in defiance, ready to embrace the familiar darkness.
A foreign, blue tint reflected off the tentacle invader’s membranes, and the chorus of fear that emanated from the creature was deafening. Its thrusters began to blaze, and an eerie membrane stretched between its limbs, carrying it away on wings fueled by terror. In mere seconds the invading creature shrank into the horizon, gripped entirely by palpable panic.
Gomora tried to lift his head and look around, to find the source of the invader’s fear, but he saw nothing except an azure glow emanating from the nearby cliffs. Soft tremors carried themselves down the blue cliffs and through the white sand until Godzilla Junior, spines radiating with azure energy, finally eclipsed the formation and Gomora’s bewildered expectations.
The runt. The horror ran away not by the sight, but of the mere presence of- of…. him?
The question echoed in Gomora’s mind as he disappeared into a familiar abyss.
Mothra’s Chamber, Infant Island
Fury and venom spat forth from Belvera without equal. She knew she was wrong, outvoted, and began to doubt the valid points she herself had made on why she and her sisters shouldn’t involve themselves with the events of the world. But with every insult she threw out, the Dark Elias hoped the obfuscation could hide her real objection to sending their monsters to stop what the humans called the Ryuseicho.
“How can you idiots think it’s a threat?” Belvera’s attention snapped to her sisters, Lora and Moll. “You both weren’t even here when that thing first appeared!”
“We have memories-” a snap of the Dark Elias’ fingers silenced the other two figures standing within the cavern. “Don’t you two goodie-goodies cut in when I’m right.”
A few footsteps drew Belvera’s exasperated gaze off the Shobijin and toward Moll’s fierce demeanor. “We may not have experienced it, but those that came before left no doubt to its danger.”
A roll of her eyes led the Dark Elias’ uninterested attention toward the cave’s outer walls. Amongst waves of stalagmites and torchlight, where an image of Mothra clashed against Gigan, the flickering flames grew in intensity. The great battle, hinted by the moth and cyborg’s clash, grew ever greater in scope.
Diamonds littered the horizon, the aerial alien fleet descended from the stars to conquer the world and intermingled within their conquering armada, another class of Gigan descended by the hundreds. A velour herald led its Gigan brethren beside a draconic warrior of the stars, truly a planet-conquering legion of immense destructive potential that no foe could stand against. And yet as the piercing torchlight shifted, a powerful force of unified opposition arose, radiating a raw, relentless might that promised to throw back the extra-terrestrial invaders.
Led by the very phoenix whose elimination they were discussing, the Ryuseicho, its brimming color flowing between its four, distinct tentacles, ascending with hundreds of crimson wyverns by its side. Those Gyaos of varying sizes let loose pillars of righteous, golden destruction, while Mothras by the hundreds assisted their man-made brethren. Other silhouettes dotted the artworks periphery, other guardians or invaders that literally paled in comparison to the herald, the warrior, or the phoenix, but the results of that clash, eons later, was clear.
The tide that had come from beyond the dark reaches of space had retreated, never to be seen again since that fateful day.
“Yup. I was there.” Belvera rolled her eyes back to Moll who seemed no less amused by the nonchalant answer. “The Xilien Empire nearly took over the world. You know Battra slept through the whole thing, the lazy-”
“Enough with the diversions!” Moll snapped, her patience seemingly at an end. “The Gyaos destroyed their creators, have repeatedly ravaged the world without reason or cause. Now the one which vanquished the Ryuseicho is lost and you still wish to do nothing against a being that can control them?”
“Okay it may be a threat. It’s just…” thoughts raced to assemble another reasonable excuse before she continued, “you don’t need my idiot to tag along. If he dies, I go poof. Probably. And you need my vast wealth of knowledge for cases like this.”
A chittering screech echoed off the cave’s walls, drawing a sigh from Belvera’s lips before she gazed upward. Above her head, she finally acknowledged the monstrous trio intently listening in on the conversation and in particular, the Male MUTO’s visible irritation. Its crimson, singular eye focused squarely on her.
“Look, you could go, but who’s going to protect-” Belvera hitched a thumb toward the Mothra of another world, “her new egg? If something happens to her and her egg, well then Lora and Moll vanish. And you like them right?”
Another series of verbal clicks. Another objection the Dark Elias dreaded merely for another to join in an unbearable, unified chorus.
“It is customary for Mothras to leave their children under the watchful protection of their guardians,” the Shobijin chimed in.
Belvera opened her mouth, ready to shift the topic of conversation to another diversionary point, but paused as a flicker of realization came over not Moll’s stalwart eyes, but Lora’s. All the hastily constructed walls to shield the truth, to protect the parasites’ life, suddenly turned to clay as Lora approached. The Dark Elias’ weakness would be open for all to see in seconds, bringing Belvera to the edge of visibly revealing her fears until warm, compassionate hands wrapped themselves around her.
“It’s okay to be scared. I’m here for you, sister, and your secret is safe with me,” Lora whispered, turning the roaring waves of weakness within Belvera into an audible remark of bewilderment. As Lora pulled back, a subtle smile hinted at the truth she would keep out of sight before she faced her sisters, playing into Belvera’s villainous ruse.
“If she wants to turn away from the world, she can do so alone,” Lora affirmed to her sisters with unusual strength. “We know we can rely on our guardians to protect the world, despite the risks that may come with it.”
Lora’s attention shifted to the great guardians within the chamber.
“So go!” the Elias declared. “Help protect the world!”
The priestess’ plea was met with three unique chirps that made Belvera feel uneasy. She knew the MUTO was in danger, but she could also feel the power of their guardians as their great insect wings rose and their hurricane-force winds filled the long underground corridors of Infant Island.
Belvera’s head dropped as conflicting emotions coursed through her. On the one hand, she was worried for the MUTO, but on the other, she could rest easy knowing her deep attachment to it was hidden. Her fingers danced over her thigh in thought, and then she looked to Lora, silently thanking her for being so brave. Despite her words in days long past, Belvera couldn’t help but admire her sister – the emotional strength she possessed was something the Dark Elias envied. Glancing back to the trio of creatures as they soared away, Belvera for once in her life hoped that the faith she possessed was enough to see at least one of them return.
Chapter 8: Managing the Apocalypse
Anti-Kaiju Division Headquarters, Japanese Self Defense Force, Tokyo
“Thus, when all recent events are taken into consideration, my team and I have forecasted an Xilien or Kilaak incursion of Tokyo within the next week if not sooner.” The team lead nearly bent ninety degrees as he bowed. “Thank you General Takaki Aso for the honor of hearing my team’s assessment!”
Drained, callous eyes painstakingly lowered off the young man currently beaming with stoic energy, turning to the presentation’s corresponding paperwork. Thousands of words from one of the most enlightened team of thinkers the Japanese Self Defense Force could call upon, detailing with unmatched precision the events that would soon befall Japan, and at best, General Aso equated the report to kindling.
“You may be seated,” Takaki said in thanks, withholding his body’s desire to add apathy to his words.
It was not the young man’s fault, nor was it the fault of the dozens of other experts which filled the room alongside Takaki. Each was doing their best, taking nearly seventy years of monster incursion, alien invasions, and other assorted phonemes and trying to hypothesize the most sensible explanation for what was occurring.
A molten demon had arisen from the Earth on Okinawa.
Fact.
A sea beast, without alerting any of the sensors that ringed the bay, had appeared without warning within Tokyo Harbor, followed by the appearance of an eight-headed dragon on Nikko’s mountainous slopes.
More indisputable facts.
Crying alien seemed to be the popular choice, and if any person or team spoke out against the obvious, it would amount to political suicide. No one would dare challenge, let alone go beyond these indisputable facts.
‘So you better find that girl Ozaki. Get me something that can’t be explained away by crying alien.’
The squeak of the presenter’s chair compressing snapped the General back to the meeting. Sliding the manila folder in front of him to the young assistant to his right, the General snapped his fingers to the woman on his left. A new manila folder fell into his grip from his other assistant.
‘Dr. Kenichi-‘
The empty chair at the fair side of the meeting room table suddenly yanked away Aso’s attention.
“Doctor Kenichi Yamane,” Takaki announced before scanning the members of the meeting, “is unable to attend due to a personal matter. We can discuss his brief another time.”
Another manila folder sprawled before General Aso’s vision.
“Dr. Akari Nakamura, are you ready to proceed with your presentation?” the General asked aloud.
Cold, calculating eyes gazed back at Takaki. While most men and women within the room seemed nervous at displaying their thoughts, Dr. Nakamura’s unflinching gaze gained the attention of everyone before she let loose a coy, half-smile. The room patiently waited for her reply and as the seconds carried on, the doctor glanced at her watch, allowed a few extra seconds to pass and then finally said aloud, “Chiyo.”
“Excuse me?” Aso inquired, glancing back to the woman’s full name within the folder.
‘Dr. Akari Nakamura,’ he read internally to ensure he hadn’t misspoken.
He tried to keep the atmosphere light with a chuckle, but his fake smile faded as Dr. Nakamura slowly got up from her chair. The tension in the room rose with every step she took until she finally leaned against the back wall, her eyes fixed on the air vent above her head.
Palpable, blinding silence filled the room as the strange act of the woman ensnared everyone in its grip until the good-natured façade the General possessed quickly vanished into a heated scowl.
“Acquire security,” Aso ordered to the young assistant to his right merely to foster an icy laugh from the unruly professional.
“But don’t you want answers instead of the useless chatter these fools have to spout?” Chiyo said in a mocking tone, further intensifying the already tense atmosphere. Her frigid expression remained focused intently on him, and Takaki felt a sudden, stomach-churning curiosity as his gaze remained locked on her, like most within the room.
“Fine then, Okinawa?” he questioned, as much to satiate his growing interest as to buy time for his assistant’s current assignment.
“Oh, I guess you could say it was a test,” Chiyo mused, her perfect teeth glistening like ice. “And that Azumi prophecy going around, why, we couldn’t allow for such slander. Not that you fools seemed to care that much about it.”
Men and women alike froze just as much as the General did within his seat. Any thought that Aso had charge of the assembly quickly vanished as all recognized the terrifying intimacy Chiyo thrust upon them with a single, two letter descriptor – we.
“Tokyo?” Aso barked, ignoring the few attendants which fled for the meeting room door.
“A distraction,” Chiyo coolly replied. “While you looked to the monstrous threat in the harbor, we found an ally at Haneda Airport. You humans are so easy to distract when threatened. Predictable really.”
Panic intensified through the meeting room, the members’ faces turning as pale as the walls. Every member except for the General and his remaining assistant remained frozen in place.
“Nikko?” he inquired, sweat beading on his forehead and trickling down over his furrowed brows.
Chiyo’s booming laugh filled the room, intensifying the General’s already frantic heartbeat.
“Now I’m growing bored,” she said, her malevolent grin widening. “Come now, you’re a mildly intelligent creature. Answer me this, why do you think I’d announce myself like this? Take all the time you need, I’m in no rush. I’m sure your lackey will be here any second with security.”
Thoughts raced through Aso’s mind as he frantically tried to decipher her intentions. Every word she spoke replayed within his head until a sudden realization stopped his racing heart.
‘Humans are so easy to distract when threatened.’
Gunfire rang out. Aso clutched his ears while chaos blossomed outside his room. Trembling away from the chorus of death, the military figure pressed against the meeting room’s glass window, watching stunned individuals outside the Japanese Self Defense Force headquarters be cut down by imposters within their ranks. Horror was no longer theoretical; it had come alive and was consuming his fortress, his country, his people.
A falling chair startled Takaki from his trance; however, it was Chiyo’s murderous intent that held his terrified gaze as she dashed across the room and unsheathed a hidden knife. Only when his loyal aide crashed into Chiyo and screamed an order did sense finally return to him.
“General – run!”
Chapter 9: The Muto, Mothra (Legendary) and Mothra (Universal) vs. The Ryuseicho
Pacific Ocean
The Male MUTO shot through the sky with renewed purpose, following twin guardians through the sunny atmosphere, spotted with clouds. A single thought echoed within his mind as his ebony wings churned the air with their thunderous beats: prove himself. He was battle-ready and desired nothing more than the upcoming fight where he would demonstrate his strength to the Mothra who allowed him residence in her domain, and the Mothra which migrated with him from another world.
Unlike the Alpha which vanished after defeating them, or the molten demon that searched for its own dominion in the new world, the Male relished the home he’d found. His instinctive craving for connection had been quenched by the Queen of the Monsters’ kinship. If a monster dared threaten the world he now resided upon, dared to threaten her life, then the Male would unleash its full might to silence that threat forever.
His leathery wings glimmered from the intense heat of the sun, and his ebony body shone in the light like an obsidian jewel. He pushed himself harder and faster, unwilling to show any hint of weakness, of any sign that he did not belong beside the guardian insects that glided with unparalleled grace.
Though the sheer power of the Mothras’ flapping wings created a deafening cacophony, his acute senses could detect a distant hum. It was almost imperceptible, but unmistakable to his heightened inner ears and growing anticipation. As he flew closer, the hum in the distance materialized into a giant tentacled creature.
Tentacles weaved behind the aerial monster, creating an entrancing mirage of colors while anatomical thrusters along its backside carried it forward. The dancing, kilometer-long appendages that almost seemed like impromptu wings, were accompanied by a new color as the creature’s singular golden eye turned toward them and just as quickly, away.
The Male chirped a warning, their approach detected, yet even though the Ryuseicho was aware of their presence, the threat showed no signs of changing its course. A blunder of arrogance that the Male and his compatriots immediately maneuvered to take to their advantage.
The Queen of Monsters and Mothra of this Earth accelerated forward, their colorful wings and vibrant scales creating a mesmerizing sight as they descended from the heavens together. The Ryuseicho heard or spotted them, either way, the creature finally acknowledged the threat and launched its four spear-tipped tentacles to intercept the pair. Each tendril followed the moths like missiles, racing forth to impale their miniscule bodies before striking open air as each demonstrated unmatched, aerial agility the Ryuseicho’s tentacles could never hope to match.
Yet amidst the chaos, the Male MUTO descended with killing intent, his powerful wings tearing apart white clouds that lay between him and victory. Knife-like appendages thrust down into the creature’s pink flesh, and a bellowing cry ripped through the sky, silencing all movement within the realm. The Ryuseicho’s golden eye gazed back to the MUTO, and the parasite watched blistering hatred burn anew within that orb.
The MUTO bellowed a defiant cry, but a sudden impact ripped him off the pink flesh of his target. Ebony limbs thrashed, instinct fueling his actions until his crimson eye spotted the Queen of Monsters’ limbs, her wings carrying herself and the MUTO away from the Ryuseicho as four spear tipped tendrils filled the void the parasite once resided within.
A moment was all the parasite possessed to process the life-saving act before the spears capping the Ryuseicho’s tentacles parted, letting loose four lances of overwhelming orange power.
Wings fluttered. Chirps of surprise let loose into superheated winds. The Ryuseicho’s fury chased the Male as he swiftly dodged their all-encompassing light, keeping pace with the Queen who flew just in front of him, leading him through the maze of oscillatory waves. Soaring through the heavens, the walls of energy continued to give chase, to reduce the avenues of escape until the Male’s crimson eye once again met that of his adversary.
They had managed to get ahead of the flying threat, but now it soared forward, boney spears parted to reveal four orange orbs of destructive energy. When fired in unison, the MUTO knew there would be no escape for him or the Queen. They would surely perish, yet as the light intensified, the Male recalled the greatest lesson installed in him after countless battles against the alien abomination of Vladivostok or the draconic terror of his original home world: have faith in your allies.
Mothra’s descending form filled the space between the Ryuseicho and MUTO, filling the void with glittering yellow scales. Every fiber of the MUTO channeled strength to his ebony wings, frantically gaining space with the Queen away from the aerial minefield. For as the threat unleashed his power toward the pair, glistening scales flashed with the power of the sun, and let loose a shockwave that even his dark Elias upon Infant Island may have felt.
Blinding light faded to reveal the terror. Charred flesh dotted its exterior, yet its limbs still moved with unnerving fluidity. Its one eye focused upon Mothra with frightening interest while its tendrils once again parted, brandishing an unfamiliar yellow hue.
The MUTO moved to assist, yet the Queen’s limbs snatched him back from his hasty action. A chirp forced him to focus on their allies’ wings which now released a familiar shower of golden scales.
To assist would only lead to dire consequences, yet a growing sense of unease gripped the parasite as he watched his ally from afar.
Mothra once more proved her aerial supremacy by soaring past the tentacled threat without harm. Scales by the tens of thousands engrossed the Ryuseicho, yet her target’s golden eye remained focused, watching every move until those four orbs of gleaming power unleashed their stored power amidst the guardian’s shroud.
Thousands of cracks tore through the sky, not from a secondary explosion, but as lances of golden power cleaved through Mothra’s cloud. Two beams of light Mothra managed to avoid, but the other two carved through white flesh without resistance; the guardian extinguished as she was surgically torn apart by the cutting golden power of the Ryuseicho.
Rage surged through the MUTO’s veins as a blazing cry tore through the sky. An electromagnetic pulse shot from his body, snaring the attention of Mothra’s killer. Yet as the golden eye focused upon him, and the orbs of his spears aimed in his direction, their dulling glow gave the opening the MUTO and the Queen needed to avenge their fallen friend.
In perfect synchronicity, the MUTO and Mothra pounced upon their aerial target. Claw and mandible and stinger lashing out in an all-out attack against their aerial foe, turning its constant forward momentum into a sputtering fall. No matter how much Mothra’s slayer thrashed or altered its rocket powered flight, the MUTO clung on with fierce determination. As he plunged another appendage into thick flesh, the Ryuseicho’s aerial jolts finally forced the Male to slide from the g-forces. A relocation which his adversary exploited by flinging out its right arm and sending a wall of bone crashing into the parasite’s body.
By the time the MUTO realized he was falling, four orbs aimed with lethal intent, tracking his descending body until the Queen of the Monsters let loose a shrill cry of war, flung herself off the now hovering tentacled monstrosity and recaptured its undivided attention.
Hellish waves of energy turned the sky a sinister hue, yet for all the fiery energy that blanketed the atmosphere, no current of power graced the Mothra of his home world. Eons of experience, of refined aerial mastery, were demonstrated as she ducked and weaved through the columns of destruction. Then she was upon the creature as its overwhelming vestige cast a foul shadow upon her.
Globs of silk pinned scythes to their master’s body. Mothra’s stinger punctured the right shoulder crest of the killer. Tentacles crashed upon her, and yet she dodged. A swipe of claws struck the monster’s face, but no matter how many times her attacks landed true, they weren’t enough to slow its relentless pursuit or fend off its four tentacles as one finally found its mark.
As a hole tore through the Queen of the Monster’s right wing, the MUTO reached the Ryuseicho and clamped its jaws upon its neck. Twin tentacles raked him off before another pair battered him toward his crippled ally. As four orbs glistened anew, Mothra’s glistening form interceded between the MUTO and their target, and let loose a glow that the sun would covet.
God-like rays of light erupted from the Queen of the Monsters, followed by a blistering tempest. The directed shockwave swatted the Ryuseicho away as if it were a mere insect, its light stricken body vanishing into vacating white clouds. In that moment of emptiness, Mothra sang out, not with words of encouragement, but with a warning for the MUTO to get away.
She desperately wanted him to flee.
Cries of defiance followed from the Male. To abandon an ally in their time of need, against such a threat, led sheer defiance to fuel the MUTO’s pierce screeches. He would not, could not-
Mothra’s song intensified into a harsh note and upon its conclusion, the MUTO went quiet. Listening to the rest of his friend’s plea.
He needed to seek out other allies; to venture away from their home and find the Alpha of their homeworld – the Male would need their strength to face what lay-
Golden light burned anew through the Queen of the Monsters and to dust the monster faded. Flecks of her essence, of her scales and power, reflected the sonic scalpels which had tore her body asunder before winds carried her essence to the MUTO. Scales and power mended to his ebony hide, mimicking his hues until nothing remained in the sky except the MUTO and the approaching killer.
Rage propelled the Male forward on wings of vengeance, fueled by his failure to live up to his responsibilities. The shame and guilt engulfed him, leaving all that remained of his self-worth to disappear into four columns of destructive orange light.
Sakimori Residence, Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo
“Zone Fight Power!”
Alien fabric materialized upon Hikaru’s exterior mere seconds before lightning crashed into him, enveloping his being and leaving no escape from the electrifying pain. His muscles spasmed and convulsed as the lightning ripped through his form, challenging his will to stand against the relentless onslaught. He could feel his strength withering away with every passing millisecond and yet he fought on, gritting his teeth with unyielding resolve until finally, the attack puttered to an end. Sucking in a ragged breath of poisoned air, Hikaru’s eyes darted towards the wall behind him, gaining assurance as six smiles made clear that his familiar photo was untouched amongst a charred wall.
He was still a bulwark for the innocent, even if it was only their memory, and with renewed confidence in himself, Hikaru lunged forward with superhuman speed.
As he closed the distance to the kitchen, Hikaru registered the details of his assailant. Her bald head gleamed in the light and her expression contorted from surprise to a look of unbridled malevolence, one that even the most wicked of Garoga would covet. Pointing her staff forward, blue energy swirled at the weapon’s tip before letting loose a bolt intended to blast him away.
A wasted effort.
His fist crashed through the energy and struck the woman’s abdomen with ease.
Her pained scream echoed off the walls and then her body soared through the back of the kitchen, creating an opening between it and the master bedroom. Loose insulation and falling debris clouded the space between the rooms, and Hikaru readied to pursue, merely for a deep voice to tremble his familial home.
“Hah! Told you that wouldn’t work.” The male voice halted Hikaru’s stride until a female scream and a sickening crack followed moments after, rekindling the other warning Hansuke provided within his mind.
‘The big guy.’
As if summoned by the thought, a hulking brute of a man busted through the hole at the far end of the kitchen, blood staining the bottom of his right foot. His bare abs were perfectly chiseled and his arms were defined with every move he made. Their size accentuated by the light of day streaming through the nearby window. But for as impossibly tall as he was sculpted, it was his aura that truly unnerved Hikaru – an air of strength and confidence that seemed unbreakable.
“Air’s fine now,” he remarked with a grin, angling a thumb through what once was a dividing wall. “Killing her stopped the spell. Told her it wouldn’t work on you.” A chuckle followed as confident as it was jovial. “Too strong for tricks. Like me. Like master.”
Dusty air filled Hikaru’s lungs, removing the bitter taste of tainted air that lingered within, but his doubts of the man’s intentions remained. Every muscle in his body tightened like a bowstring as he keenly observed the stranger, ready to act at the slightest hint of malice.
“Why- why kill her?” Hikaru questioned, lowering his fists slightly. “Are you a friend?”
A loud, mocking laugh erupted from the killer’s lips. “Hah! No! I’m Ichi. Not a friend, and I’ll kill you in a sec.” Hikaru’s fists raised immediately in response.” I just want to ask a favor first-” the killer continued until all the strength and confidence on display vanished into a peeved sneer. “Great! And now they’re mad…”
The childlike groan that followed from Ichi proved the final straw for Hikaru’s patience. While the man seemed to not be an immediate threat, the killer had taken a life within his familial home and taken Hansuke’s friend-
‘I never asked the kid’s name,’ Hikaru cursed internally, squelching a bit of the confidence he had mustered before he said aloud. “Where is the boy?”
Ichi simply raised a finger to silence the inquiry.
“One sec,” the man requested only to look toward the ceiling, arms crossed. “Look, you all need to quiet down! I’ll kill him in a sec. Stay outta my head until it’s over!” A huff of disappointment followed his outburst. “I will not think Chiyo, you know it hurts. Why don’t you go find that old man you keep asking about and leave me alone. Same goes for the rest of you. Only master tells me what to do!”
Ichi’s gaze fell upon the window, annoyance pulsing through every twitch of the killer’s muscles.
“They think they know everything!” the killer yelled before kicking the dishwasher with his bloody heel and bending it inward as if were mere plastic. “Just cause I was the first, that I can’t speak in my head, they think they’re better.” Another gleeful chuckle graced Hikaru’s ears. “Hah! Well none of them can do what I do, what I-” Ichi’s attention shifted back to Hikaru, acknowledging the forgotten spectator. “Oh, right. Forgot about you there, not-friend.”
A look of disbelief was all Hikaru could muster against the insanity accompanying him. “Who- who were you talking to?” he managed to mumble out.
“Fangs of Orochi,” Ichi complained while he rubbed his temple. “Always plotting and scheming. They don’t like me cause I came from a finger while they all came from master’s teeth.”
Hikaru’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared down the hulking killer before him. Madness clouded his mind and a thousand questions filled it yet, somehow he understood this towering figure was not the confident goliath as he first appeared but nothing more than a child. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage, but the thought was quickly pushed aside as his heart placed the importance of the missing friend of Hansuke above all other lingering questions.
“Someone snuck into this house the other day,” Hikaru explained, drawing a look of bewilderment from Ichi, “do you know where they are?”
The killer remained frozen, locked in a slack jawed stare until the hamster within the man’s brain began to run, loading past memories.
“Hah! Oh, that sneaky tyke. Yeah, sent his body to master,” the brute chuckled jovially. “Master wanted to see him personally especially since- hmmmm. I wonder,” he grinned devilishly, “if I punch you enough will you change colors too?”
Hikaru felt all hope for the child evaporate, an unbearable wave of despair washing over him. His vision became a red fog of rage and sorrow, the scales of justice becoming unbalanced as a precious world to family and friends had been destroyed by the silencing of an innocent life. He swore an oath in that moment – this killer, his allies, and whoever his master was would answer for their crimes, just as the Garoga before them.
The paragon curled his fists. His piercing gaze seared through the empty air merely to summon child-like delight from the killer.
“Before we start punchin’, offering you a favor,” Ichi courted. “Don’t transform. Rather not kill you quick. Want to make this fun.”
Justice roared its indignation, but Hikaru’s noble heart still recognized the potential of such a wager. Questions lingered. Who was this master? How did he have access to Peacelander technology? So many questions, and the desire to answer them and seek justice for the dead friend of Hansuke caused Hikaru to utter a single word in affirmation.
“Deal.”
Unknown Island, Pacific Atoll
The cybernetic draconic stead Belvera flew upon could not move with enough speed. The waves of the ocean below her churned with a fierce intensity, while her long, ebony hair whipped around her like a maelstrom.
Then, where the ocean and horizon harmoniously fused, a crimson mass rocketed toward her.
The crimson creature hurtled through the sky, its blazing wings propelling it forward with unprecedented speed. Fire seared her senses as it raced by and its heat singed her skin. Belvera tried to pull away, but just as quickly as the molten avian appeared, the crimson beast raced past her. Deserting her to see the motionless shape of the Male MUTO, a sight that had the potential to shatter her universe.
Garu-Garu crashed onto the glass-studded shore with an explosive impact that reverberated throughout the landscape. Belvera followed a heartbeat later, tearing across the charred beach to the wretched blackness she had dared to care about.
Mothra, both Mothras, were gone in an instant. Taken away by the Ryuseicho’s murderous intent, and as Belvera extended a single hand, her held breath finally escaped the Dark Elias’ grip.
The Male MUTO lived.
The Dark Elias roared her rage, the sound ricocheting off the black hide of the MUTO. Hot tears streamed down her face, the salty water searing the wounds of affection that she had kept so secret.
Curling her lips into a snarl, Belvera felt hatred and bitterness course through her veins like an inferno, begging to be unleashed on the world that had nearly taken away something she treasured. But the fury inside her was nothing compared to the guilt crushing her heart like a stone; guilt that Moll and Lora, those pestilential sisters of hers, had been right all along.
Her inaction had enabled Orochi’s evil to fester unchecked and now, King Caesar and both Mothras were gone. Her foolishness had cost them dearly; if only she had acted sooner, then perhaps the tragedy engrossing her could have been avoided.
The gentle beat of moth wings reminded her of her failures and she hung her head in shame. But when she saw Moll and Lora, their eyes filled with grief, something inside Belvera stirred.
The lack of the goody goodies, their annoying, unified presence…
‘Without a Mothra,’ she pieced together the fate of her dreaded sisters within her mind with absolute clarity, ‘they’ve returned to the Earth. And so would I if he… died.’
Belvera’s blood turned icy as determination welled up in her heart. In spite of all her missteps and transgressions, she knew she could not keep living in isolation anymore. She had to make amends and take action; it was the only way she could save what was left of the world.
“My guardian’s alive, but I want payback,” Belvera hissed through clenched teeth, swallowing her pride for what she needed to say next. “And if we’re going to find the bastard that did this, not the Ryuseicho, but Orochi, I…I need your help. I’m weak when it comes to all the mind stuff, inexperienced-”
Four arms of comfort and understanding opened to Belvera, stretching wide and encircling her in an embrace that let her know — she was not and would never be alone.
Chapter 12: Ultraseven vs. The Ryuseicho
Shinagawa District, Tokyo
The pulsing wails of the Tokyo sirens filled Dan Moroboshi with a paralyzing dread. He was the galactic defender of Earth, handpicked by Father of Ultra from the immaculate Land of Light. He was Earth’s champion – the last line of defense against all threats. Any creature that dared to threaten his beloved planet, especially just a few days after his six month hiatus, was his to confront and crush, as was the duty of every Ultra in their respective sphere of the universe.
In the past, he had been too slow to prevent SpaceGodzilla from arriving on his designated world. His hesitation to take action against the cosmic entity’s crystals had nearly caused cataclysm after cataclysm. Whenever he remembered the days of his former disgrace, a single name echoed around his inner turmoil like a raging storm, intensifying with each wave as it brought an onslaught of repulsion and contempt to his every thought.
‘Zone Fighter.’
Dan struggled to contain his disdain for the so-called hero. Compared with Dan’s eons of life, Zone Fighter was an infant, a man who had yet to mature, still hooked on juvenile notions of heroism. That the world was not torn asunder by the crystal plague or the creatures from the anomalies could only be from luck and nothing more.
But it would do no good to waste more time on such trivial thoughts for he, unlike the Peacelander, was a true protector. It was why, even after being defeated by the false hero, he saved that young, headstrong fool when Zone Fighter’s body lay broken. It was why he transported Nick Tatopoulos across vast reaches of space to spare his fragile, human life from perishing at the hands of radiation poisoning.
Today was the day the world realized their chosen protector had returned.
Dan took off running through the streets of Tokyo and into the fleeing crowds of people, determined to make things right. He ran for minutes on end, pushing himself harder and faster until the cresting waves of the harbor came into view. Nearby dock workers shouted their protests as they watched him lunge into waves, but their meager voices vanished as Dan Moroboshi donned the Ultra Eye and in a burst of light, became his true self – a red-clad Ultra Warrior known and feared throughout the universe, Ultraseven!
Rippling shockwaves streaked through harbor as Ultraseven took off toward the open ocean like a crimson meteor, soaring over kilometers in mere seconds. The lands of Japan vanished into the horizon behind him while a black, tentacled silhouette took shape before him.
The threat to humanity crested in and out of the open ocean, flying parallel to Japan’s coast rather than toward its innocent residents. White silk bonded the monster’s scythe-like arms, yet as the salt water coated the fibers, the vile creature snapped those weakened bonds. Then, as if sensing his presence, the one-eyed creature gazed in his direction, letting loose a bellow of warning.
Ultraseven ignored the hollow threat; his honor and duty demanded action, and this time, unlike his battle with the Meteor Man, he would not hesitate to use his full power from the start.
His left arm rose as his right bent, and immense energy began to cascade across his limbs. A scorching blast of light erupted from his angled limbs as he fired a Wide Shot, the ultimate weapon in his arsenal. The glittering beam of white was immediately countered by the vile creature, whose spear-tipped tentacles parted to unleash four beams of orange light.
A tale from an Ultra brother quickly came to the forefront. A tale told of a battle between a tri-horned saurian that possessed such power, but Ultraseven quickly pushed that memory away and continued his adamant advance, undeterred by the sheer force of the energy blasts matching his own. The clash of his beam against the four were evenly matched yet growing with unbridled chaos until at last, in a tremendous eruption of vibrant light and deafening sound, Ultraseven was overwhelmed.
The protector of Earth barely felt his impact into the water, knew not how long he lay dazed beneath the surface, but as grey spear-tipped tentacles punctured the ocean’s top, unbridled clarity returned to Ultraseven. Like an underwater meteor he surged forth, weaving through the veracious tendril’s murderous reach. But the drag of the watery realm slowed the warrior considerably, meaning every evasion only counted down the moments until one nearing blade struck true. Thus, as a tendril flung his way with deadly intent, Ultraseven unsheathed the Eye Slugger atop his cranial crest and parried.
Unrelenting strikes filled the aquamarine abyss. Ultraseven blocked every thrust of his foe’s tentacles with his Eye Slugger, never backing down from its onslaught. The tentacles came from all directions, matching his speed and ferocity.
Parry. Spin. Clash. Parry. Dodge. Clash. Parry.
On and on the barrage continued but simply matching wouldn’t suffice. His solar reserves would eventually deplete and without that power, he’d be utterly helpless, so he scanned the skies for the source of those writhing tentacles. Accelerating to the area of water beneath the vile creature’s aerial form, Ultraseven allowed the creature to lash out with its sharp blades right before he disappeared in a blink of an eye.
A moment later Ultraseven fazed into being mere meters behind the one-eyed beast; its golden orb rising like the sun across the horizon, registering the teleportation and the raised Eye Slugger that would soon end its miserable, monstrous life.
Alien steel swung down, its shadow carving across the horror’s neck. The creature’s four spear-tipped tendrils still lingered beneath the waves, unable to block the slash while the threat’s scythes were in no position to parry. The world’s safety was-
The creature’s abdominal sacs burst open, unleashing a cloud of tiny pink tendrils that immediately launched themselves at the Eye Slugger’s hilt. The shadow upon the Ryuseicho’s neck inched upwards in those final milliseconds as each concussive hit knocked the blade further and further away until finally, the weapon crashed into the beast’s hardened face and ricocheted off it’s crystalline armor. A shower of sparks washed over hero and villain, blinding the protector as the dull end of his enemy’s scythe slammed into his gut, launching him skyward.
A shockwave tore through the atmosphere as he leveled out. Furiously, the Ultra Garrison hero balled his fists.
This- abomination! Did this abhorrent monster think it could simply batter him away, to remove his oath of protection to safeguard the planet? He was Agent 340 from the Land of Light; a being crowned protector of Earth by the Ultra Garrison! A garrison of justice; a league of galactic renown!
“The Earth is mine to protect!” the crimson hero roared, unwilling to be overwhelmed again in a fight. His left arm rose as his right bent to a sharp angle, brilliant white light radiating from him and blindingly illuminating the darkness below. “Your reign of terror ends here, monster!”
The Wide Shot that raced toward the Ryuseicho was unlike any Ultraseven unleashed before, as if his very life force had amplified his dwindling reserves. The creature had no chance to avoid its inevitable destruction, only time for one last desperate act – four glistening spears appeared from the depths, catching the light in a last attempt to protect the creature from its certain doom.
In mere seconds the beam engulfed the Ryuseicho, a pillar of energy decimating everything in its path. Water roared as it steamed while a shockwave raced across open water. Ultraseven gradually tempered his output to see what trace of his enemy, if any, still lingered. What remained however, was not lifelessness; rather, what replaced his enemies ashes was something terrifying; something which defied all logic – four smoldering spears pulled away from each other, revealing the unharmed creature hovering at the writing water’s surface.
‘Impossible!’ Ultraseven internally screamed. ‘How… did- did the tendrils’ spears shield him?’
Golden beams ripped through the air like smooth lightning, and Ultraseven threw himself into a frenzy of aerial maneuvering to survive. With each deftly executed dodge, his stone-cold determination burned brighter. He was a fearless protector even in the face of certain death, yet the battle’s length was slowly sapping his strength. Whatever solar reserves the hero possessed were meager at best.
‘No!’ The fervent cry of defiance reverberated inside of his mind like a clap of thunder.
He wouldn’t be worn down!
Ultraseven dug deeper, channeling every scrap of solar energy within. He could still win. He would win! The Earth would never suffer under his watchful eye.
The hero unsheathed his Eye Slugger and shot a fiery glare to the golden eye tracking his movements. One second, that light was faint, overwhelmed by the four nearing sonic scalpels. The next, Ultraseven’s body teleported down to the ocean’s surface just above the Ryuseicho, Eye Slugger unsheathed for his final play. The beast already possessed a raised scythe, possibly anticipating such a risky strike.
“Even if you block, I’m not giving up! ” he shouted defiantly. “I will protect this world from your terror!”
Ultraseven brought his mighty blade down in a defiant swing that cut through the invader’s right arm like solar winds through the universe, reducing the scythe-like limb into a flattened stump. A meager flesh wound was all that remained beneath the cleaved appendage and as his final lethal blow failed to materialize, the protector accepted the cost of his risky strike.
Twin spears pierced through Ultraseven’s back and shocked him with unbearable agony, ripping through his being. A cry of anguish was all he could utter, unable to save himself as the vile creature hurled him away and sent him plummeting into the ocean’s depths.
Without any further reserves or the strength to press on, Ultraseven gazed up at the cerulean sky and saw his enemy flying away toward places unknown. His failure was cemented, yet just as he resigned himself to his watery grave, hoping another Ultra could arrive and save his beloved world, a glistening ball of white light descended from above and cocooned the protector of Earth in its shining embrace.
A foreign and unventured land of light.
Sakimori Residence, Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo
“Works for me!” Ichi roared before slamming his bloody heel upon the kitchen tile, shattering it.
The killer’s blood curdling scream pierced through Hikaru’s bones and unhinged his battle-ready stance as his foe began to transform. Ichi’s muscles expanded rapidly, bulging like inflating balloons from inhuman growth. The brute threw his arms toward the popcorn ceiling as his body grew to monstrous proportions, outstripping that of any mere human being and reaching the edges of the kitchen’s outer walls. Every breath the killer took seemed to multiply his bodies radiating strength, until finally, the brute took his own fighting stance.
Blood thirsty eyes snapped upon the paragon. A jovial smile parted as Ichi said, “Let’s see how long you last!”
The brute moved with a lightning-quick fury, his giant fist swung towards Hikaru with force enough to consume the feeble punch the warrior countered with. The crushing impact of knuckles against gut caused an explosive shockwave to rip through Hikaru’s entire body. In this moment of clarity, Hikaru realized the full intensity of Ichi’s transformation; the brute was using one-hundred percent of his new human body’s available strength.
Hikaru burst through the living room pillar with a deafening crash, scattering splintered wood and paint chips throughout the room. His body skidded along the floor like an unstoppable force until he came to an abrupt halt, somehow still standing. Meanwhile, Ichi casually strolled into the room, an unfazed observer to the destruction.
“Hah, I knew you were strong!” he hollered with prideful glee. “Maybe you’ll last longer than those Mothras or that seven guy against the Ryu- Ru… ugh… the tentacle thing!”
‘Mothras? Wait, Seven’s back on Ear-‘
Hikaru was instantly stunned by a thunderous blow that violently snapped his head ninety degrees to the left and refocused his attention on the brute before him. An uppercut to the chin followed, and he was thrown into the air before thick fingers clutched his right leg. With a sickening twist, Hikaru felt himself being pulled back and thrown through the wooden floorboards until he crashed down into the basem*nt that once acted as his grandfather’s workshop.
Distant floorboards groaned in protest. Walls screamed from growing weakness. Dust choked the downstairs. The familial home couldn’t sustain much more punishment and as Hikaru rolled onto all fours and moved to push himself off the floor, a bloody bare foot slammed upon his back. The resulting shockwave tore through the cement floor, cracking the foundation to its core.
“Hah, looky here. Still in one piece. See, once I kill you, bet master will allow me to kill Ozaki. He seems like he’d be fun too.”
“Who’s Ozak-” An earth shattering kick folded Hikaru in half and ended his question mid-sentence.
The next few seconds transitioned in a blur. His grandfather’s workshop within the basem*nt fazed out of existence and fresh sunlight washed across his body as he crashed out of the house. Whipping through the air, he spun multiple times before gravity finally yanked him back down to the luscious green yard. Newton’s law of motion though kept the paragon from enjoying a soft landing and instead propelled Hikaru off the soft grass and right into the firm bark of his familial cherry blossom tree.
Pink petals fluttered downward. A plethora of gasps filled the air. With a slight turn, Hikaru noticed a crowd had formed on the street, with Hansuke mixed among the adults. Whether it was from Hansuke’s doing or simply the commotion no doubt caused by the intruders, the onlookers’ terrified remarks at Hikaru’s violent ejection only grew as the earth itself began to visibly tremble.
Hikaru shifted his attention back to the house, now visibly groaning from a hole in the roof, as Ichi arose from a fresh crater in the front yard.
“There you are,” Ichi remarked with a hint of concern, merely to glisten with joy as Hikaru arose to his feet. “And you can still stand. You really are fun.” His jovial eyes lost a bit of excitement as the killer noticed the crowd. “Master doesn’t need any more humans on Moneron. Don’t worry not-friend, I’ll take care of them quick.”
The brute sprinted forward with murderous intentions, the ground quaking underneath his bare feet as he charged across the yard. Hikaru’s eyes widened in horror as he watched the killer close in on the civilians and using all his strength and speed, the paragon intercepted the blow meant for Hansuke’s small body.
Ichi’s curled fist slammed into Hikaru’s forehead. A shockwave exploded outward, but the mighty blow barely registered to the paragon. Despite the strength behind the attack, Hikaru remained unscathed, standing tall and proud. Ichi repeatedly glanced between his powerful fist and Hikaru, still filled with seething energy but unsure what to make of the nullification of his raw power.
“Huh, well… that’s different.” the killer noted before Hikaru’s fist sailed forth in an instant, jettisoning the killer into the far end of the building.
The structure buckled as a cornerstone of the home was torn away. Ichi’s movement came to a halt, blood seeping from his open maw. Yet the killer’s excitement, along with his wide euphoric gaze, showed no sign of anguish. He was still enjoying the game, a game that no longer served a purpose in Hikaru’s eyes, especially with civilians now at risk.
As the Peacelander began walking towards his foe, the spectators behind him erupted in a loud chorus of cheers, thundering in his ears like an uplifting drumbeat. The praise was as nostalgic as it proved uplifting to Hikaru’s spirits as he said, “My turn to talk.”
Ichi bolted upright and thrust a stone crushing blow toward the paragon’s face, yet as it struck, the bulwark that was Hikaru remained perfectly rigid; an unmovable object standing before a very stoppable force.
“By concentrating, I can nearly match my giant form’s strength meaning-” Ichi threw another blow, but as it struck a single finger, the reality of the situation finally dawned upon the killer. “-your fun, and the fun of your master on Moneron Island, will be over shortly. Appreciate the insight.”
All the enthusiasm of moments prior melted away. Rage, seething as it was child-like roared into the heavens as the brute swung a fist forward, rejecting the reality forced upon him. In response, red hot from the friction caused by his right fist’s tremendous speed, a blow that could knock Godzilla’s sixty thousand ton mass away with ease impacted Ichi’s body.
One second he was at the base of Hikaru’s familial home.
The next, he was gone; a distant shattered speck sailing through the atmosphere.
As the chorus of cheers reached their crescendo, Hikaru watched the only home he’d ever known sway and crumble into a pile of rubble. Emotions surged through him – anger, sadness, and despair – all boiling over before he could even process them. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks like molten lava, burning his skin until he furiously wiped them away and regained his composure. He knew that he would never be able to return home again, but the familial memories of laughter and love would remain with him forever – an ache in his chest that he would carry with him for the rest of his life. The ruse, however painful, was worth the individual lives he would save and the justice deserved by Hansuke’s friend.
“And I promise to never forget,” he whispered solemnly before strolling back to the adoring crowd to take a knee beside Hansuke.
“I’m sorry,” Hikaru whispered, immense regret lacing his words, “I was too late. Your friend he… discovered a trap meant for me…” The young boy merely nodded; a silent affirmation to the tragedy that befell his friend. “They weren’t human, transforming aliens or monsters I think.” Hikaru felt his own face twist with revulsion and disgust, but then, like a switch had been flipped, a wide grin spread beneath his mask to reassure Hansuke, “I’m going to go stop them, for your friend, but I have you to thank for the warning.”
Hansuke’s maw hung open, the paragon’s smile unable to stem the fear and uncertainty radiating off the child. “I’d like to… can I talk to you-”
“Another time,” Hikaru assured the boy before he arose to the onlookers’ delight.
“You’ve really returned,” an elderly passerby celebrated. “It has been too long.”
“Just in the nick of time!” another member of the crowd yelled.
“Zone Fighter!” a woman said to attract his attention. “Did you hear about Ultraseven? He was beaten by the Ryuseicho!” A phone flashed before his eyes, unveiling a live feed of a tentacled creature Ichi alluded to amongst their fight. As the one-eyed monstrosity sailed over Hokkaido’s shores, the woman asked, “Can you stop it?”
The crowd held their collective breath as Hikaru looked to the ground and weighed his options.
While Ichi never possessed a shot at winning their fight, the blows he did land still packed a considerable bite, and every muscle within his body throbbed with a soft type of pain. Such injuries would no doubt be amplified in his giant form. And against an unknown foe, one which bested a being that he struggled to overcome, should he attempt such a risk?
As his vision shifted to his ruined home, Hikaru knew what would happen if he didn’t go; innocent people would be hurt, families would suffer and cherished worlds would be taken away from loved ones.
‘It is always best to try,’he internally affirmed, ‘that’s what a true hero would always do.’
Staring towards the horizon, this time with a newfound determination, Hikaru confidently replied, “Yes, I can stop it. But, I need your phone.”
Glenn Adams International Hospital, Tokyo
Kenichi Yamane stared into the cold, dead eyes of his attacker with a pang of fear rippling through his body. He was pinned down to the ground, desperately clutching onto a knife just above his chest as his opposition, an unknown nurse dressed in white, sought to end his life.
The cold blade of the dagger glinted menacingly under the medical lights as it inched ever closer to Kenichi’s fleece vest. Desperately, the man’s mind raced through a million options, desperately searching for any glimmer of hope to save him from his plight. But nothing, no clever plan or ingenious technique, could make up for the undeniable fact that he lacked the physical strength to contend with his attacker.
The realization of his inevitable death and all his regrets filled Kenichi with a chill that reverberated down his spine. With a heavy heart and trembling lips, he muttered his final words of apology, “I’m sorry Miki, I’m… so very sorry.”
Metal struck soft fabric with a thunderous boom, like a gunshot that released fear into the room. Kenichi braced himself, barely able to open his eyes as he heard a sickening crack of bone and fabric. He fearfully waited for pain that never arrived and realized, with horror upon opening his eyes, the true cause of the sound – his attempted killer had been thrown to the ceiling in a powerful display of telekinetic strength.
The nurse tried and failed to break the invisible bonds suspending them, snarling and howling as they desperately pulled to free themselves, yet that invisible force demonstrated its dominance once more with another room-shaking impact. The nurse’s body crashed off the right wall, the impact shedding loose insulation as cracks spiraled through the room. Gravity’s pull was the only force which brought the nurse down, allowing her to thrash upon the laminate flooring.
The killer locked eyes with Kenichi, her menacing scowl carrying an unmistakable message of terror. A split second later, she was gone, sprinting through the glass window and out into the day. The sound of splintering glass was soon followed by an ear-splitting screech as her multi-story fall ended with an impact upon an unknown vehicle.
The danger had been thwarted, but Kenichi still cautiously rose to his feet, ever watchful for lurking perils. But as he surveyed the room, his unease softened when he saw his wife now awake, her normal comforting gaze beset by immense terror.
Without hesitation, Kenichi leapt forward and wrapped his arms around the love of his life. She sobbed against his left shoulder, not from their embrace, but from the act which preceded it.
Logic pulsed within Kenichi’s mind as he saw Miki’s abject revulsion from using her gifts in this way. Generally her resolute pacifism could not withstand the onslaught of guilt from using her abilities, but clearly such a line, nearly crossed on this day, could be just as easily ignored on any other. Despite the immense power of her skills, Kenichi could see the fear in Miki’s eyes at that prospect. Kenichi doubted Miki would ever overcome that fear, yet in that instant they found their place in the world, postponing that decision for another time, as they each held each other.
A gentle hand slid across Miki Yamane’s cheek, conveying once more the silent message he’d passed along to her for days.
‘You will be alright,’ he thought, feeling a comforting, familiar presence in his mind take solace in his words. ‘You are not alone.’
Chapter 15: Zone Fighter vs. The Ryuseicho
Iburi District, Hokkaido, Japan
One moment Hikaru was amongst a crowd of onlookers in front of his ruined home, watching the live broadcast of the Ryuseicho approach a news helicopter in Hokkaido. The next… the world he now traversed was beyond normal three dimensional space. His sight, if he truly could see, was nothing but energy and data, his digitized body traversing space and time to the broadcast’s source. The Peacelander knew not exactly how the semi-teleportation process worked, or the possible negative long-term effects it may have on his three-dimensional body being broken down into particles of energy, but as he materialized back into the world hundreds of kilometers away from where he once resided, he possessed no doubt to the technique’s effectiveness.
Rotor-blades roared behind him. The Ryuseicho’s singular eye blossomed with surprise at the sudden arrival of a one-hundred meter tall giant in its path. With a fierce battle-cry, Zone Fighter swung his right leg outward and crashed his heel into the passing tentacled monstrosity’s visor, sending it skidding across the grassy lowlands.
‘You overcame Ultraseven, but I won’t let you pass by-‘
A soul-cleaving roar of rage shook the skies, echoing off distant mountains and slicing through Zone Fighter’s resolve. The creature’s glowing eye stared into him with a searing hatred, like a hot iron branding his very soul. Cerulean thrusters roared to life, jettisoning the tentacled beast in his direction. Zone Fighter soared backward, attempting to keep some relatively safe distance from the Ryuseicho’s nearing bladed left arm and hammer-like right arm.
‘Need to keep my distance. I’ll be skewered or bludgeoned if I get too close,’ Hikaru processed merely for the four tendrils behind the Ryuseicho to part their ends, unsheathing glistening golden light.
Pillars of gold malice followed his movements as he banked to avoid the beam’s touch, but for every aerial maneuver he managed to pull off just above the endless fields of Hokkaido, the relentless fury of the Ryuseicho maintained a close pursuit.
Energy thrummed through the paragon’s veins with desperate need as his open palm beckoned to one of the creature’s tendrils of light. Hopes of disabling the creature’s tendrils manifested into an Slice Chop that possessed the capabilities to cut anything it graced merely to meet its match as golden energy collided with the energized arrows. A brilliant explosion followed, splattering the paragon and his foe with shards of cutting light.
A roar of anguish bellowed from Zone Fighter as miniscule fragments of energy pierced his blue and silver armor while the Ryuseicho uttered its own cry, its shoulder crests pierced and leaking life-giving ichor.
‘Can’t do that again,’ Hikaru realized merely for four fresh orbs to glisten once more. ‘And I can’t evade forever.’ Pillars of light raced forward, forcing evasive maneuvers. ‘Need to slow him down at a distance and risk a confrontation up-close, but how?’
Amongst hectic maneuvering, frantic eyes searched the human-devoid fields for any natural features to use. While beneficial to keeping innocent lives out of harm’s way, the endless square fields to his East and West were proving less than helpful to Hikaru’s battlefield strategy. Risking dissection for intelligence, the Meteor Man flicked his attention North for a brief moment and noticed the flat fields he flew over were quickly going to morph into rolling hills. Then, a more dramatic increase in elevation would mold those hills into a horizon spanning series of mountains with only one canyon, amongst numerous others, carved through the formation, with enough space to give his one hundred meter body ample room to maneuver. Ideas for tactics flourished anew and a cherished memory roared to the forefront of Hikaru’s mind.
To ease familial stress as he and his family prepared to leave Earth in the summer of nineteen seventy eight to end the Garoga threat once and for all, an outing to the movies was devised. His young brother, Akira, chose the film, and while his brother’s taste in movies ensured the spectacle wasn’t the highest caliber of art humanity ever created, its action, characters, and special effects were all breathtaking. Watching the film titled ‘Star Wars’ instilled in him new hope for the future, and now in his dire present state, that film’s finale bestowed him an idea on how to strike back.
“Meteor Jet!” Zone Fighter roared, his voice cleaving through the remaining flatlands.
As if summoned by the hero’s cry, brilliant azure flames blossomed across the warrior’s back. His gliding descent subsided, transforming into a hectic dash to avoid the golden pillars arching close behind him. He knew, however, that keeping his back to the killer would only end in his own destruction – he needed something else, a new and unorthodox technique if he was to survive and defeat the creature.
“Reverse Meteor Jet!”
Azure thrusters roared to life across the paragon’s chest, propelling him into a lightning-fast one-hundred and eighty degree spin before he rocketed backward. Zone Fighter’s velocity remained unchanged, his speed carried forth by an aura of forceful energy; however, as his gaze locked on with the golden eye of the Ryuseicho, he noticed the glistening orb of rage pulse from a fresh wave of bewilderment.
Golden lances fell silent. The Ryuseicho’s head snapped back, seemingly unsure what to make of his foe’s unsettling backward sprint. As Hikaru struggled with his unorthodox run, every awkward step backward flowed into one of sturdier footing. In seconds, Zone Fighter’s reverse dash was near flawless, allowing the Meteor Man’s confident voice to boom with unmatched conviction.
“Meteor Missile Might!”
Shimmering gauntlets of alien metal materialized upon each of the paragon’s wrists before the creature refocused and launched its tendrils forward. Sparks glistened over rolling hills as the bracelets were struck by the Ryuseicho’s renewed wrath. All four spears were blocked in a series of parries, then Zone Fighter aimed one of his gauntlets and released a small volley of explosive retribution.
Rockets ripped through the sky, turning verdant meadows into burning craters of desolation. Cerulean thrusters easily carried the monstrosity out of the gauntlets’ line of fire, as Hikaru expected would be the case, but for every dodge the creature made, its rage drew it that much closer to the source of his target – the Meteor Man. Just as its twin appendages swung wide in preparation to impale or bludgeon him respectively, canyon walls enveloped Zone Fighter, boxing in both him and the nearing creature.
Tentacles flexed but found no room to maneuver or unleash their glistening wrath. In response, the monstrosities’ thrusters ignited with greater power, propelling it that much closer to the source of its ire.
‘Now just don’t fly away from this trench run,’ the paragon internally hoped before he yelled, “Meteor Zone Barrier!”
Fingers interlocked above the warrior’s head before glistening power erupted, materializing into a rectangular wall of pure energy that towered as high and wide as the Meteor Man himself. As Zone Fighter raced away from his creation, he heard the monstrous Ryuseicho bellow in surprise and fury. Its hammer-like arm swung forward and all of Hikaru’s hopes of halting the tentacled horror shattered like glass alongside his destroyed shield.
Lethal appendages glinted from the Meteor Jet’s light as the Ryuseicho surged forward. Panicked by the burst of speed, Zone Fighter summoned barrier after barrier to halt the rapid advance. The canyon the pair were quickly maneuvering through reverberated as each wall of energy was shattered from death-imbuing appendages, slowing the relentless creature but at a great cost to Hikaru’s dwindling energy reserves.
‘I can’t keep this up forever,’ he realized, his Color Timer beaming a dim yellow. ‘Need to go one step beyond!’
“Meteor Reflection Barrier!” Zone Fighter roared as he made a sharp turn in the ravine, summoning a golden shield of energy.
Like the last few barriers, the Ryuseicho swung its hammer-like appendage forward to remove the obstacle, yet as bony protrusion met golden energy, the wall of power didn’t shatter upon impact; instead, it hissed like an electrical wire as the Ryuseicho pushed the static bulwark forward.
As the creature’s speed began to noticeably decline from the shield’s friction, Zone Fighter’s heart filled with triumph. But his elation was quickly replaced by a primal terror as his attention darted further down the ravine and the icy chill of dread wrapped its fingers around his triumphant heart.
Within a few kilometers the canyon would end, opening into a populated valley tucked in the mountain range that was no doubt unaware of the horror the paragon had mistakenly led their way. Determined eyes snapped back to the tentacled beast, certain of what needed to occur.
Strategy needed to be tossed aside. The Ryuseicho had to be confronted head-on, regardless of the risks.
Geysers of power which once encompassed the Meteor Man’s chest fell silent. Digging his heels into the dirt, Zone Fighter slid back until the Ryuseicho surged forward, allowing the Meteor Man to grab hold of the Meteor Reflection Barrier. But despite the strength of his stance, the earth formed trenches beneath his sliding heels. Geysers of energy re-ignited across the warrior’s back, yet even with the Meteor Jet’s aide, he continued to move closer to the canyon’s mouth, to the innocents within the valley less than a kilometer away.
Azure fire pulsed with greater ferocity.
A defiant bellow rejected the certain future.
And yet failure neared with every passing-
‘No!’ Hikaru internally screamed, his eyes blazing with determination as he stared into the creature’s vengeful expression. ‘I will not fail them! I will not fail to protect anyone ever again!’
A baritone bellow rattled the paragon, informing the Meteor Man of his certain demise to which he could only think of one response.
‘Now, like you’ve done so many times,’ he pleaded to himself, remembering a friend’s words, ‘Stand Hikaru. Stand!’
Zone Fighter yelled in protest of the Ryuseicho’s force and from the declaration, untapped power of his Meteor Jet flourished anew.
New geysers of azure power erupted within the already burning flames along his back. Forceful energy halted Zone Fighter’s hectic slide at the canyon’s mouth, producing a battle of wills neither Hikaru nor his foe dared to forfeit. Each pressed their respective thrusters to their limit, neither unyielding hate or unmoving determination gave any ground to the other.
The Double Meteor Jet couldn’t last forever; his blinking red color timer reflected that dire fate as it glowed against the golden barrier. But for all the time his new technique bestowed Zone Fighter, it not only ensured the safety of the innocent human lives just behind him, but copious amounts of kinetic energy for his barrier to absorb and most importantly, reflect.
Golden energy radiated with bristling power. The Meteor Reflection Barrier roared to life as all the kinetic energy thrust into its being from the Ryuseicho’s unrelenting onslaught was discharged in one mountain quaking pulse. One second the Ryuseicho was struck by realization of its mistake, the next, its body had blasted backwards into the bend of the canyon kilometers away. Raising his gauntlets, every missile still in his possession discharged in rapid succession, peppering the distant hole the creature crashed into with a torrent of explosive firepower.
Geysers of power fell silent.
Missile tubes lay dormant, hissing with heat.
The distant blaze faded into smoke.
Zone Fighter crashed to his knees with a heavy thud, his exhausted muscles convulsing from the immense power he had successfully wielded. Every muscle quivered with exhaustion and every fiber of his being screamed in protest, as if ready to burst apart in a cacophony of pain and fury.
‘But I was strong enough… I didn’t fail- I… protected them,’ Zone Fighter weakly affirmed before he leaned back and felt twin lances of energy spear through his chest and heart.
A gasp was all the hero could utter.
Against his will, his powered body finally gave out, as he fell back onto the surrounding rock and reverted to his human size. Moments of dread stretched on as Hikaru’s blood pooled around his body. He awaited the Ryuseicho to return, to set fire to the peaceful village at the periphery of his darkening vision, yet as the now maimed creature appeared high above, the consequences of his failure failed to materialize. The Ryuseicho, to his shock, simply flew on, cresting mountains as it no doubt flew toward the master Ichi had spoken of.
As Hikaru’s vision began to fade into a deep suffocating black, he resigned himself to his fate. Yet in his final moments of life, the knowledge that countless lives had been spared brought him some shred of solace. Perhaps Hansuke would warn others of Ichi’s master and another being, heroically fueled by all those that had come before, could finally defeat the tentacled monstrosity.
Waiting to finally join those that had long since passed, Hikaru looked to the tranquil blue sky only to notice a silver triangular vessel hovering kilometers above him. As quickly as it appeared, piercing white light descended and illuminated his weary eyes.
Hikaru felt his numbing body arise; every atom which comprised him dematerialize into a land of endless white, but his mind proved too weak to follow and he swiftly blacked out.
Anti-Kaiju Division Headquarter, Japanese Self Defense Force, Tokyo
The shuffling of booted feet filled his ears, along with his own shallow breaths. General Takaki Aso took a long drag on his cigarette, allowing the smoke to attempt to take with it the pain and confusion of the past few hours. That desired grace failed to materialize.
Aso’s breath caught when the banging on the steel doors reached a deafening level, and the entryway to his office groaned under the weight of its attackers. Though he could not see the invaders from his desk, Aso imagined the imposters’ lurching forms darting at the doors. Attempting to bust them open and reach the final resident within the Anti-Kaiju Division Headquarters.
The General took another drag on his cigarette, following the tainted exhale with a drink of his personal stash of alcohol, ignoring the cacophony.
Out of places to retreat and without hope that he would survive the day, General Takaki Aso sat in repose, awaiting death.
The door gave way with a climactic boom. Figures shrouded in poisonous air flowed out, filling the room with their bodies as quickly as the deadly gas. With a single inhale, Takaki felt the crippling fumes begin to take effect, shaving whatever length of time he remained alive to minutes at best. The arrival of Chiyo, distinguished amongst her imposter brethren, cut that generous estimate ever further.
“My my, no further places to hide?” she asked mockingly. “Well, a congratulations is in order. You are the last remaining human alive in this wretched place.”
The General puffed on his cigarette, savoring the flavor, before Chiyo raised a gas-mask, taking Takaki’s breath away.
“I’m not going to beg for that,” Aso mused, summoning Chiyo’s half smile.
“Why, I don’t want you to,” she admitted. “See, while we can imitate others-” the woman’s skin shifted like a chameleon, dancing between ethnicities until she returned to her devilish persona, “-information is far harder to come by. This will buy you an hour, maybe two, since you’re only human. But don’t you want to try? Maybe help would arrive by then. All in exchange for a few, measly questions.”
The General’s eyes flickered between the temptress and the mask, a momentary weakness quickly subdued with another drag as he stifled whatever hope remained in his soul of making it out alive. He was thoroughly under Chiyo’s thumb, as had been the case since he called upon her to make her presentation hours ago.
“I’ll take the mask,” Takaki noted brusquely.
Chiyo’s coy grin grew. “Really? I was hoping to force this on you and torture you for all you knew. Unless that still sounds appealing?”
A swift push launched the mask across the table to Takaki who stared at it with disdain.
“Before I put this on, I have one question. After you answer that honestly, I’ll answer whatever you ask? I have time, right?”
A simple nod gave the General all the clearance he needed.
“Why? Why did-?”
“Everyone have to die?” Chiyo interrupted, revealing her perfect white teeth. “Sorry for interrupting, you humans are quite predictable. Anyway, for the miniscule pests that you are, my creator wanted this facility razed. The fools that replace those who perished will either be too incompetent to interfere, or-” the woman’s face shifted to a perfect mimicry of Aso’s wrinkled, deadpan expression “-one of us. Fortunate survivors, unable to halt the deaths of their beloved friends or the theft of… that.”
Chiyo’s feminine features returned as she pointed to the glass observation wall on the far side of the room which overlooked the lifeless exterior of the Japanese Self Defense Force’s greatest weapon: Mechagodzilla.
“Before you gain a miniscule amount of hope, know we’ve watched it since we started the attack. No one in or out. But do be a dear and put on that mask. We have many more questions to ask, and a few more minutes of this air will make my job oh so much harder.”
Aso expelled one final puff of smoke before he reluctantly fitted the mask to his face. Standing upright caused a few imposters behind Chiyo to flinch, but the woman confidently waved them down, allowing him to move uncontested.
“Perfect,” she cooed. “I do appreciate your willingness in all this. Betraying your friends, colleagues, and species really shows what sniveling pests you all are.”
The General wandered over to the glass, staring into the dull, golden eyes of the one-hundred meter tall anti-kaiju weapon.
“Anything in particular you wish to know?” Takaki asked.
“Obviously,” Chiyo noted, affirming her superiority as she loudly propped her feet upon his desk. “Mostly the plans you put in motion against my creator. We know of Shinichi Ozaki and Miki Yamane. My… competent brothers and sisters will be taking care of them soon enough, but any other loose ends we should know of?”
“When the dragon appeared on Nikko, Mechagodzilla was launched and once again, proved too slow to combat the threat,” the General explained, raising his right arm as if to stretch a muscle.
“Oh, we have the records of that failure,” Chiyo whined with little interest. “No change. No excitement. Nothing I or my creator particularly care about.”
Beneath the mask, unaware to the temptress seated behind him, Takaki felt a miniscule amount of solace fill his beleaguered body.
“Another failure. The crew took far too long to arrive, for Mechagodzilla to launch, to help in any way.” Aso looked back into the icy stare of Chiyo, watching those frigid orbs melt for the first time. “So privately, yesterday, in case they were needed with Ozaki’s mission today, I asked them to remain within Mechagodzilla’s body.”
Within an airtight metallic shell.
The General snapped his gaze back to Mechagodzilla, giving the machine a salute for hidden figures within its armor.
A silent brief to Chief Officer Nashi that none remained within the headquarters. An order to bring about the justice their dead comrades deserved. A final request from a dying, aged General wishing to correct the failures of the day.
Golden eyes illuminated with power. Multi-colored power glistened within mechanical jaws, summoning power Aso knew could eviscerate all the evil which lingered within his fallen fortress.
A sharp pain ripped through General Takaki Aso’s back, a final ploy of Chiyo to regain some semblance of control with her knife. But the light which emanated from Mechagodzilla enveloped Takaki’s vision in a radiant glow, the multi-colored light smothering the curved blade’s anguish. He could hear Chiyo’s voice, but it seemed muffled and distant. Finally, the light enveloped him, setting him free as all became still and quiet.
Chapter 17: To Keep Moving Forward
Moribe Hideout, Hokkaido
The pleas and screams of the Self Defense Force’s Anti-Kaiju Division reverberated through Ozaki’s guilt ridden mind even as the channel that carried those chilling cries of terror faded into nothingness. With minutes to go until the transport descended, any desire to return to headquarters, to assist those that no longer radioed for assistance, was overwhelmed by the need to protect Ayana Moribe. And as he surveyed the transport, Ozaki saw every eye upon him, beaming with a burning desire for retribution.
He gave the command with steely resolve. “No change in the plan; you three will provide cover. I’ll acquire our target.”
“And the monster?” Gordon asked.
Ozaki glanced at his friend, who seemed to sense a hidden menace that he had no time to consider. The Ryuseicho had arisen, apparently been intercepted by multiple kaiju, but to place his trust in unknowing others was far beyond the mutant’s current ability.
“Same plan. If it arrives, I’ll outrun it, alone.”
Ozaki was already reaching for the door as the aerial vessel struck pavement, but he glimpsed Gordon’s wide, unbelieving eyes.
“It’ll be fine,” he reassured him. With that, he stepped through the door and raced forward, off the military transport, past the picturesque white picket fence and inside the unassuming residential home to find his target – Ayana Moribe.
Inside the house the warrior expected chaos with how his luck had been of late; instead, order beamed off every wall and space. No piece of furniture or familial frame seemed to have been moved from their perfectly placed position. Dust was extinct within the household, as was any hint of a stain. And as Ozaki feared the house may have been sanitized, his target walked into the room, staring with reserved fascination.
Feminine curiosity flowed into fear as Ayana processed the intruder Ozaki represented. A roadblock he needed to overcome without action.
“Miki Yamane sent me!” Ozaki uttered to calm Ayana’s fear. “We need to leave. You’re no longer safe here.”
Ayana’s voice quivered with fresh dread as she barely whispered, “Tatsunari’s out, grabbing food.” Then her fear became palpable as she asked one last question, “He’s back isn’t he. My monster. The Ryuseicho?”
With a simple nod of his head, Ozaki confirmed her suspicions just as whirling gunfire cracked outside the door, reminding him that further pleasantries would have to wait for another time.
“Stay close!” Ozaki roared and with the command, Ayana’s newest protector propelled towards the entrance, only to behold a warzone of deathly carnage.
Ace lay in a pool of his own blood, soaked into the pavement like a deep black stain. Spade had met a similar fate, his body splayed atop the home’s picket fence, with his brains littering the grass below. Only Joker remained standing, and the man’s nerves seemed to be at their worst as he frantically tried to place a fresh magazine into his rifle.
Countless missions of experience that comprised Joker’s repertoire seemingly failing against the backdrop of horror.
‘Where is the bastard, where is-’
Gordon stepped forward from behind the transport, unsheathing his sword in one smooth motion. The man crossed the ground in a single stride and with one swift stroke of his blade, Joker had joined his compatriots in death, his head severed from his body at the neck as Gordon’s steely gaze turned towards Ozaki—and beyond.
The protector stumbled a few steps forward, unable to process the life taken before his eyes.
‘What? Why? Why did he-’
Racing thoughts proved too slow to shift into vocal inquiries as a boom rolled over the nearby mountains. From their high peaks an ethereal horror sailed.
The Ryuseicho had come.
Ozaki’s heart sank as he saw the wounded horror descend from the heavens. Its punctured luminescent membranes shimmered and pulsated with an arcane power. Ozaki clasped Ayana’s hand tight, succumbing to the Ryuseicho’s immense shadow as it fell upon protector and protectee alike.
A pressure wave of wind washed over Ozaki while stunned eyes witnessed the darkness melt away. The creature showed no interest, no consideration of slowing as it continued onward, vanishing over another series of distant mountains. He heard Gordon yell something, but the words were lost until a gunshot ripped through the air and broke the peaceful trance, jolting Ozaki with the cruel reality of death.
The bullet recently fired wasn’t for the departed monster; its life-taking form found Ayana instead.
Ozaki let out a primal scream as the woman fell to the ground, the sickening thud of her body meeting the hard earth, reverberating in his soul. His furious sprint towards Gordon ended with a deafening crunch of muscle against metal as he threw him into the transport’s hull. The unrelenting grip of his one arm around Gordon’s neck and fierce hold of his other on the Captain’s weapon kept the man helplessly immobile. He felt the veins in his own neck bulge, the pounding of his heart growing ever more violent, ready to mete out the ultimate punishment for his friend’s treachery. Still, he hesitated, needing to see if Gordon could explain himself, and as if baiting the mutant, the Captain merely flicked his gaze back to Ayana’s corpse.
Ozaki’s vision followed, granting his friend an opportunity to explain his treachery before vengeance was taken… only to find-
Words failed to materialize at the sight. Guilt melted away as a male figure now lay upon the ground, the wound which silenced Ayana carved perfectly through his temple. Ayana’s corpse was replaced by another – an imposter.
Any trace of guilt that had clouded his judgment evaporated as Gordon coughed and motioned for his attention. With dread and shock, Ozaki’s gaze shifted to the severed head of Joker’s whose feminine features and blond hair glowed in stark contrast to the fresh memories of the operative just minutes ago.
Ozaki fell upon his knees; a thousand thoughts running through his head. True horror gripped his soul; terror in the knowledge that, in this war he joined on a whim with full confidence in his superhuman gifts, he was utterly powerless.
A shadow fell over Ozaki’s knelt form while a reassuring hand grasped his shoulder.
“Not the time for doubt,” Gordon affirmed to his friend. “Especially not in yourself.”
Ozaki could not find the words to respond; shame clogged his throat.
“We’re in a tight spot here. Pilots are gone. The chopper is down because of that…shifter,” Gordon said, his eyes trailing off for a moment. “Command’s been razed from what we heard on the radio.”
‘I can’t hear Miki…’ he trailed off, realizing the female voice no longer accompanied his thoughts.
As he found some miniscule amount of inner strength, Ozaki finally found his voice. “I can’t hear Miki,” he said solemnly.
“Either dead or awake,” Gordon interjected. “Pursuing her will delay-” His sentence was left unfinished as he recognized the emotional struggle etched onto Ozaki’s face. He released a begrudging sigh before continuing, “Finding her will delay things. You sure?”
The fighter rose to his feet, fueled with stinging fury, and nodded in response. Gordon seemed to understand the silent gesture and continued with his plan.
“If Orochi razed command, he would have gone after other targets simultaneously. Miki included.” The Captain paused for a moment before adding, “You won’t find her at the hospital. Locate her home. Her husband, a Dr. Yamane.”
‘Another overlooked detail,’ Ozaki internally mused before forcing out, “And what about…” The mutant tilted his head toward Ayana’s imposter.
Gordon stepped away and said, “Joker’s shifter didn’t have his memories or his experience. He waved that gun around like a novice. Took the other two and the pilots by surprise alone. If we meet again, I’ll give you a code word – an unlucky bastard we used to know. Now, quit wasting time. Go.”
And so Ozaki was off again; fueled by emotion and running at superhuman speed to avoid being overwhelmed by the failures of his past.
Chapter 18: Of Tragedy and Identity
Moneron Island, Sea of Japan
Tsukuyomi’s lightning filled eyes parted to a familiar stone shrine, flickering torches casting beautiful shadows over the hand carved steps. Followers knelt at the foot of his perfectly carved throne and threw their hands up to the ceiling, rejoicing that their malevolent creator had returned to grace them with his presence.
The flesh-bound god surveyed the room for the first time since he awoke. His spawn lined one wall, their faces hidden in shadows as they awaited orders from their divine leader. He smiled, looking into the eyes of each and every one of them; they were loyal, devoted, and capable of carrying out his will without question or hesitation. His offspring were an unexpected blessing, adept at fulfilling his desires – undetectably infiltrating mankind’s ranks or, as was the case with two humans squirming against their bindings at the farthest corners of his kingdom, obtaining important assets.
“Acquire the creature from Haneda airport,” Tsukuyomi said, a general order rather than one directed to any of his spawn, “I need to address our guest.”
As Tsukuyomi exited the shifting shadows and stepped into the raging storm, his eyes were met with a nightmarish landscape of lightning and wind. Kaishin Muba’s rage, the power within all the lost souls that comprised its body, let loose without respite, darkening the skies to any of humanities’ mechanical eyes that orbited the planet. A temporary shield to hide not only the current headquarters of the god within a sea spanning maelstrom, but the rogue demon that now descended toward him.
The Ryuseicho’s body moved effortlessly through the cresting waves, radiating with vibrant fury. Four spear-tipped tentacles whipped and thrashed around it, demolishing fifty foot waves with each of its movements. It was a direct warning of what would happen if Tsukuyomi did not release its priestess. The flat-ended appendage remained lowered while the other bladed tip moved so close, Tsukuyomi could see the faintest hint of his glistening blue eyes across the boney armor. Finally, a thunderous bellow cleaved through the air, shredding the trapped god’s last ounce of patience.
Tsukuyomi’s tone was like a boom of thunder – a deep rumble of authority that echoed against the shoreline. His words were icy daggers, slicing the air with razor sharp edges.
“Do not make threats against the one who has given you life. One that can see how mangled the day’s events have left you. One who holds what you desire, and one who has entrapped that which you seek vengeance upon. Leave this island – now – and rest beneath the waves like a proper pet. If not, if any further insolence is uttered or enacted, your priestess will die. You will die. Do you comprehend this oh beaten and broken Ryuseicho?”
He stared into the Ryuseicho’s glowing eye, willing it to understand and obey his commands. The vibrant colors of the creature’s membranes wilted before his gaze, and his newest pawn sunk into the sea, surrendering to Tsukuyomi’s power.
The god strolled back into his temple, veins throbbing in his neck. With a disgusted huff, he grabbed the steel box he had requested, prying it open with two fingers and emptying its contents into his right palm which he immediately snapped shut. The boxes’ contents clawed and chewed, viciously attacking its new fleshy prison for every step the god in human form walked toward Tatsunari Moribe.
“Your life has one last bit of usefulness, human. Try not to fail this final task.”
Tsukuyomi’s fist opened wide, releasing the microscopic entity into its new host’s forced open mouth.
Anguish consumed Tatsunari. Pure, agonizing terror eclipsed his dying soul. The bindings on his arms and legs cut into his flesh as he desperately clawed at his throat, trying to rid himself of the growing darkness inside him, until a fate that even Tsukuyomi did not foresee was revealed.
Tatsunari Moribe’s bindings snapped.
Fists crashed into one spawn after the other. An amused grin took shape upon Tsukuyomi, watching his children fall one after the other as they desperately tried to gain control over the infected man, yet each dropped with a precise kick, an adrenaline fueled punch, and whatever other move the dying man could achieve. Finally, Tatsunari’s gaze snapped to Tsukuyomi amidst the struggle, and the god tempted an attack with a coy grin. He expected a fist to fly his way, yet at the apex of Tatsunari’s rebellion, the man collapsed down upon the ground, the husband’s gaze transfixed on his wife.
Purple sparks danced across his skin. Flesh began to shift color as oxygen and muscle were consumed within and yet, with a final breath the human did not curse his fate or decry the one which killed him, but speak softly to Ayana with words of compassion and a request.
“Love you!” Tatsunari cried, forcing a raised brow from the god as he watched the spectacle. “Now close… close your eyes… Ayana.”
The priestess complied with her husband final request, sealing her sight away to the horror that befell the man.
Tatsunari’s face contorted in agony as his skin shuddered and melted away like ice on a hot summer’s day. His clothes, unable to withstand the onslaught of destruction that befell him, were torn and shredded until even the bones beneath them were no more. Tsukuyomi watched on with a devilish smirk as the floor became a swarming carpet of putrid red creatures, and then in a flurry of sparks, a single human-sized entity with piercing yellow eyes.
“Destoroyah,” Tsukuyomi called out, attracting the two-meter tall crustacean’s full attention.
Pharyngeal jaws flexed back and forth, summoning violet energy that vented toward the god. Micro-Oxygen encompassed Tsukuyomi’s body, melting away the black robe which once resided upon his vessel’s exterior. A raised palm halted followers which moved with aggression toward the creature while also causing Destoroyah’s eyes to widen in disbelief.
“My apologies for the violent upbringing, but as you can see,” Tsukuyomi twisted his undamaged body back and forth, “I am beyond death. Beyond the limits of mortal lives, just as you are.”
Destoroyah’s white-tipped mandible twitched; demonic eyes gleamed with recognition.
“You see, I revived you because we share a similar dream. An understanding, that all life is unworthy, that it is beneath those of a higher power. Are you not the same? Do you not agree? If so, join me. Join my side and your superiority is assured, and our shared dream may be realized.”
Destoroyah slowly crept forward, the quivering of moments ago replaced by a tantalizing curiosity. Then, bowing low in a sign of total submission, Destoroyah accepted the god’s offer, bestowing Tsukuyomi with the second living weapon needed to smother the virulent infection known as life. Glancing at Ayana Moribe, relishing in her smoldering glare that desired revenge, all the failures of his spawn were forgotten in light of this glorious success.
Destoroyah was now a creature of the god’s bidding.
The Ryuseicho lay under his heel.
The Anti-Kaiju Division was effectively no more.
Mechagodzilla still existed, the supposed one above all still lived, and even Miki Yamane remained, but how could any of those minor threats make up for the slain guardians or the fallen heroes. The time had come to crush the final monsters that ensured Earth’s protection and as Tsukuyomi glared upon his crimson killer with pride, he knew that Destoroyah would be the instrument that would usher in the beginning of life’s end.
‘A barren Earth; a perfect world.’
Beneath the violent coastline of Moneron Island, Iris descended into a bleak, still void. The only comfort tagging along with his descent was the dreaded sensation of incompleteness.
Waves of memory, of past lives Iris once experienced, washed over his psyche, reminding the creature of what he once was.
Recollections of Iris’ first life surged through his mind like a hurricane, revealing a torrent of conflict. He had been a great champion, a blazing phoenix that vanquished endless, cybernetic foes and sent them fleeing into the star-filled night. But while the victory had been glorious, there was something missing in his warden’s bond, some incompatibility that had led to his creators fearing their prized creation’s human connection. And then one day, the human voice that had comforted Iris in its softness and guided him through his past glory was abruptly snatched away. Modifications were forced upon Iris’ soul as his creators tried desperately to eliminate the ‘error’ within him, manipulating him until he felt like a purposeless puppet with broken strings.
The agonizing wave of memory receded as a new life washed over his mind. A new purpose and accompanying strength surged through his veins, banishing the agony that arose from the incompleteness of his being. A compatible human had stirred him from ages of dormancy, igniting a raging inferno of revenge and silent fury, propelling Iris forward with a relentless hunger for perfection until…
Death’s cold hand soon snuffed out this brief attempt at life, leaving only the third lifetime’s ashes in its wake.
An existence without any connection to its past, fated to follow an unthinking path of destruction. Blindly, with foolhardy courage, Iris hurtled towards its demise at the hands of a black scaled leviathan until all that remained was an empty chasm of ashes.
Was there truly no escape to this endless cycle of death and rebirth?
The past few hours of conflict seemed to affirm Iris’ blight filled doubts. Even as he rejected the temptation of the speck upon the beach, or defended himself against the world’s countless monstrous aggressors, he was still nothing more than a puppet, held together with thinly veiled promises and threats.
As he lay in a state of agony, Iris clung onto a single flicker of hope – that one day, he would find himself whole again and perhaps, he would no longer be alone.
Unidentified Vessel, Upper Thermosphere
One moment Hikaru’s existence was nothing but a blank void, and the next, his mind barreled forward out of a sea of unconsciousness, thrashing between waves of reality and non-existence. Against the black, endless depths the Peacelander fought to escape, while reality teased a world through a murky, green ooze.
Fingers twitched against numbing muck. Eyelids battled to even open, yet as he processed his newly returned sight, a dimly opaque substance flowing around him blurred everything within his gaze.
Black silhouettes, hazy through the murky ooze within his tank, wriggled and slithered just out of sight. Gruesome, muffled voices hissed in a language he could not comprehend. Then a familiar figure stepped forth – a child whose outline burrowed deep into Hikaru’s psyche.
‘Hansuke,’ Hikaru recognized. ‘Where am-’
The pudgy child’s outline began to molt. Legs and arms split apart into lengthy tentacles. Hansuke’s round head narrowed, mimicking the forehead of Goro Ibuki’s robotic assistant as flesh continued to extend and extend until the humanoid larva’s metamorphosis bloomed with palpable terror.
A paralyzing fear spread through Hikaru’s veins as numbing agents raced through the Peacelander’s body, trying to drag him back into unconsciousness. As if sensing his dismay, the tentacled figure leaned in close and pressed its scared right eye against the glass which separated them both.
“Rest easy Hikaru, bliss awaits and you’ll awaken stronger than ever just like your friend-”scaled lips peeled back into a smile, revealing twin rows of dagger-like teeth, “-my tragic companion.”
Winner: Iris
