Godzilla: The Monarch of Ruins

───「 GODZILLA POV 」───

Walking in the depths of the ocean, the ancient beast known as Godzilla advanced steadily toward the deep sea.

Just like two hundred years ago, when it wandered beneath the melting ancient ice caps, Godzilla was in a foul mood.

It had only just awakened from its latest slumber, but something unusual nagged at its mind. Strange, foreign information seemed to have been injected directly into its consciousness.

As it opened its eyes, taking in the pitch-black seafloor, something peculiar entered its field of view.

[Host Name: Godzilla]

[Height: 218 meters]

[Weight: 640,000 tons]

[Breath: High-temperature plasma...]

A faintly glowing panel hovered in the upper left corner of its vision. The ancient symbols displayed there detailed various facts about itself.

It recognized those symbols. They were the same ones the little creatures had used in their rituals during its ten prior awakenings. Back then, it resided near the saltier, darker waters of a distant land. Over countless ceremonies, it had learned to decipher their meanings enough to comprehend the information displayed before it now.

Understanding the symbols was one thing, but their sudden reappearance was unsettling.

Those little creatures—the humans—had perished long ago. Their land had sunk beneath the waves during one of its long slumbers, and with it, those symbols had disappeared. Yet here they were, appearing unbidden in its vision.

And what was more unsettling was the task they proposed.

It glanced at the lines beneath the glowing panel, where a main mission and several side missions were displayed:

[Main Mission: Expel humans from the universe!]

Damn humans have destroyed the planet's ecosystem! As the representative of this planet, for all the deceased creatures, can you use your atomic breath, Godzilla, to make them leave the universe?"

[Current Completion: 0%]

[Reward: Advanced materials, advanced energy sources, planet's ecological restoration.]

[Side Mission: The First Step in Expelling the Universe]

The awakening of the King of Monsters is accompanied by absolute fury! Destroy any human city.

[Reward: One body-strength evolution.]

[Side Mission: The Benevolence of the King of Monsters...]

The missions were bizarre. Why were they asking it to destroy those little beings?

Godzilla swayed its massive body uneasily before rising from the layer of rock it had been resting on for the last two centuries.

Despite the ominous directives, Godzilla chose not to act. Unlike its kin, which often showed little regard for other beings' survival, it was different. It was patient. It was a pacifist.

As the oldest of the Titans, it had a unique fondness for these little creatures.

From its hazy youth millions of years ago, it had borne witness to countless cycles of destruction and renewal, experiencing one mass extinction after another. But it had also observed these tiny beings—humans—create wonders in their brief lifespans that even the ancient Titans could never achieve.

Though their existence spanned less than ten thousand years, the amazement they brought surpassed anything it had encountered in the previous hundred million. Their ingenuity had once filled it with hope. And though it grieved when one of their continents sank, it had been comforted to discover their descendants thriving on distant shores.

But these descendants, it soon realized, did not share their ancestors' reverence for the natural world. They even dared to challenge it and its kind.

Once aware of their hostility, Godzilla and the other Titans had gradually receded from view, letting humanity dominate the Earth unchecked.

"We are eternal," it had thought at the time. "They are fleeting. If they do not want us, we can wait for their end."

Swinging its massive tail, Godzilla emerged from the depths of the ocean trench where it had been resting. The waters were quieter than it remembered.

The haunting songs of the whales, once so prominent, had vanished. They were gone, just as it feared.

That realization filled it with melancholy. It had always enjoyed the singers of the deep. But even before its last slumber, their numbers had dwindled alarmingly. Their extinction now, while saddening, was not entirely unexpected.

It swam upward toward shallower waters, craving sunlight after centuries of darkness. But as it ascended, something felt wrong.

The ocean was... empty.

No fish darted in schools, no shrimp skittered among the seabed. Even the resilient coral reefs, once teeming with life, had become barren wastelands.

The water itself felt sick, tainted by an unnatural poison. The stench of it reminded Godzilla of the rare luminescent stones buried deep beneath the Earth's crust—stones that had always been deadly to ordinary life.

But those stones had once been scarce. Now, their contamination filled every corner of the sea.

Godzilla emitted a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the waters. It was a call—a Titan's ancient language, meant to summon its kin.

No response came.

It growled again, louder this time, amplifying the soundwaves enough to wake Titans still in slumber. Yet the silence persisted. Not a single Titan stirred to answer its call.

Unease turned to dread.

Finally, it shifted to a different frequency, broadcasting its voice on the wavelength of nature itself—the oldest and most primal frequency of all.

This time, there was a response.

But the answer did not come from the world outside.

It came from within.

The glowing panel in Godzilla's vision shifted, flooding its mind with information. Memories and scenes it had not lived through poured into its consciousness, as though nature itself was sharing its final will.

It saw humans capturing slumbering Titans, dissecting their bodies to study the mobile nuclear reactors within.

It saw humans waging war on awakened Titans, killing them with weapons of mass destruction.

It saw the humans' victory over the Titans lead to civil war among themselves—an endless cycle of nuclear conflict that decimated the planet's ecosystem.

For decades, humanity's nuclear war raged on, poisoning the Earth so thoroughly that over 99% of all terrestrial and marine life had perished.

Even the insects were gone.

Godzilla understood now. The natural consciousness of the planet, weakened and dying, had entrusted its last desperate plea to the sole remaining Titan.

Its wish was simple:

Eradicate humanity.

Not out of hatred, but as a final act of preservation.

If humans were allowed to continue, their technology would eventually annihilate every form of life—even the smallest microorganisms. Without life, the planet would become a barren, lifeless rock.

For billions of years, Earth had endured. It had weathered mass extinctions and cosmic cataclysms. But humanity's reckless wars had pushed it to the brink.

Nature's plea was clear:

Exile them all. Leave no one behind.