Godzilla in Warhammer 40k

Chapter 65: Arrival at Cadia – Let the Galaxy Burn (and Roar)

The first problem was the ship. The second was the side.

Which faction would Godzilla choose?

Would he stand with the Imperium to crush Chaos?

Or with the Ruinous Powers to bring humanity to its knees?

The answer, naturally, was: both sides must fall.

Godzilla did not pick sides. Sides picked themselves, by standing in his way.

That was the essence of Warhammer 40K—madness, not morality. And trying to frame Godzilla's actions in terms of "right" or "wrong" missed the point entirely.

He was not a Space Marine, bound by honor. Nor a daemon, enslaved by appetite.

He was Godzilla.

And if you thought he was here to save humanity, you didn't understand a damn thing.

Captain Wade understood this better than most. As the Genesis prepared to enter the contested void near Cadia, he prayed—not for survival, but for restraint.

"I pledge my finite life to the infinite Imperium," Wade murmured, eyes closed, gripping the Aquila on his chest. "Cadia awaits. May the God-Emperor preserve our souls."

Every man and woman in the Imperial ranks knew the truth: Cadia was death. Cadia was glory. If you wanted to die for the Emperor, you went to Cadia. If you wanted to be remembered, you bled for Cadia.

And if you wanted to vanish without a trace beneath the talons of Chaos? Well… Cadia could do that too.

Subspace Transit Initiated.

With a surge of warp energy, Isis once again opened the paths between worlds. But this time, she did not only bring the Godzilla Planet. She brought another—an entire green-skinned ork-claimed world that had been "liberated" months prior.

Two planets, lashed together by psychic chains.

Held in perfect orbit. Side by side. Not colliding.

Naturally.

This was Warhammer 40K. Physics had long since given up trying to keep up.

Isis—standing in the Eye of the storm—was perhaps the first non-Chaos psyker in history to guide twin planets across the Immaterium to the Cadia Gate. Her psychic aura flared with raw power, bolstered by a conclave of Lizardman shamans whispering in ancient dialects older than the Eldar tongue.

"I wonder what's happening on Cadia now," Godzilla muttered, watching the Warp twist and ripple. "I think there's a big E demon there."

The so-called "E-demons" were Living Saints—beings of pure faith, granted the Emperor's light. They were the closest thing the Imperium had to divine avatars.

Unfortunately, they shared one big weakness with regular daemons: Blackstone.

"...And if I recall, that one's a lesbian."

A long silence followed.

Even the system had nothing to say.

Typical Godzilla—everyone else was worried about Forge World deployments, Titan Legions, and daemon Primarchs. Meanwhile, he was thinking about tabloid-tier gossip between Living Saints and overly stern Inquisitors.

His musings were interrupted by a violent tremor.

[Entering the Eye of Terror.]

The stars twisted.

Colors bled into one another, impossible hues that defied mortal perception. Reality buckled—and from the warp-touched sky above Planet Godzilla, shimmering portals tore themselves open.

Tzeentch had arrived.

Brilliant blue and searing pink flooded the sky, and from those rifts came shrieking abominations—Pink Horrors, daemons of change and madness. Their many arms held scimitars, or fire, or relics of ancient betrayal. Their laughter echoed across both planets, psychically and physically.

"Here we go again," Godzilla growled.

The Horrors began their attack immediately, spewing multi-colored flames in all directions. Each flame was an expression of thought—rage, deceit, ambition—and could burn through even Imperial armor like paper.

But this was Godzilla's planet.

The psychic fire did little to his forests, which were steeped in Godzilla's essence. Instead of burning, the trees grew stronger—twisting into even more aggressive shapes, their leaves glinting with psychic resistance.

Some worried that splitting a Pink Horror in two might worsen things.

They were right.

Every time a Pink Horror was struck down, it split into two smaller Blue Horrors—who in turn unleashed an even more chaotic flurry of flames. The planet descended into a briefly dazzling chaos, more surreal than dangerous.

And above it all, the stars laughed.

Tzeentch's voice—or the closest thing to it—echoed through the Warp, mockery wrapped in infinite possibilities.

Isis, straining under the psychic assault, finally forced both planets from the Immaterium. Sweat soaked her robes as she fell to one knee.

"Damn it," she gasped. "I knew that bird-faced bastard would try something."

Tzeentch had failed to derail the voyage. Just barely.

Her psychic shielding held, bolstered by Lizardman sorcery more ancient than Chaos itself. Her power had grown—strong enough now to rival lesser gods. Vatosh? Irrelevant. Eldar demi-deities? Outclassed.

But the damage had been done.

The planets dropped into the Obscurus Subsector, at the very edge of the Cadian Gate. And there, in the distance—like a rotting rose blooming in reverse—was the Eye of Terror. Vast, screaming, eternal.

One corner of that rift had a seam—a safe corridor through the storm.

That seam was Cadia.

"A break in the infection," Godzilla muttered. "The Imperium's last Band-Aid over a galaxy-sized tumor."

He stomped on several blue Horrors that still scuttled around his feet, and looked to the Eye once more. Even for him, there was a primal tension in the air.

Here, anything could happen.

Chaos Titans. Daemon Primarchs. Entire Legions of madness.

"Oh? I thought my loving papa would greet me first," Godzilla said sarcastically, kicking a squirming Horror into orbit. "Didn't expect bird-boy Tzeentch to show up first."

Tzeentch was rare. Subtle. Not the kind of god who liked direct confrontations.

Nurgle—the "loving father"—was more common. He was generous, in his own putrid way, always eager to share. With cultists, with soldiers, with entire planets. Especially with the poor and sick.

"Praise Papa Nurgle," Godzilla intoned mockingly. "Only he gives you the gift of eternal diarrhea wrapped in fungal hugs."

[You'll meet all four eventually. This is the Thirteenth Black Crusade.]

"Great. Maybe I'll even get a family photo."

He looked around. This wasn't Cadia. Not yet. But it was close.

Very close.

Multiple planets filled the nearby void, many scorched or in mid-battle.

[Location: Saint Yorman's Hope — ninth planet of the Cadian system. A former Imperial prison world.]

"Oh, I know this one," Godzilla nodded. "Prisoners revolted, garrison collapsed, Governor called exterminatus. Final team infiltrated and blew the core. Boom. Gone."

What had once been a fortress was now a crater field of ash, fire, and daemon sigils.

[Contact: Slaaneshi Fleet — Emperor's Children. Lucius the Eternal leading.]

Godzilla cracked his knuckles. "Oh? That long-tongued twink. Shame Fulgrim didn't come. I wanted to see what hair product he used."

[Fulgrim is busy with his silver-themed warband. No time for Cadia.]

"Silver party. Right."

Godzilla squinted at the warpfire-scorched sky, and the warbands moving into orbit.

Slaanesh. Lucius. A planet scarred by death.

This was a good warm-up.

At last, the King of Monsters was in the Cadian system.

Let the galaxy burn—and let it hear him roar.

*********

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