Chapter 56: The Bugs and the Behemoth
Even Godzilla, the walking apocalypse, couldn't fully endure the pain that came from overloading his nuclear organs.
"Damn… this hurts more than I thought. First time being Godzilla and I'm already learning the hard way—my internal organs feel like they're on fire... and now it itches? What the hell?"
[Note: Overloading Godzilla's internal organs causes cellular collapse. However, thanks to his regenerative cells, damage is quickly repaired—pain gives way to itching, and the itch fades once the cells finish their work.]
After a few agonizing minutes, the unbearable itch began to subside.
"Ahhh… much better."
Godzilla gave a mighty shake of his head. His massive body still radiated heat, and the ground around him shimmered from residual energy. In the distorted air, he looked even more monstrous—more divine.
But none of that mattered anymore.
The moment the greenskin WAAAGH boss was vaporized, chaos erupted among the other orc warbosses. True to their nature, they turned on each other like rabid dogs the second their top dog fell. This was greenskin law: when the Big Boss dies, the rest brawl until a new one rises.
It would take time—maybe a lot of time—before another WAAAGH-level warfront could be assembled.
[Mission complete. Reward: new skill acquired—Internal Radiation.]
"Nice. A new toy."
The ability, Internal Radiation, was straightforward but devastating. Godzilla could trigger a compact, ultra-violent explosion from inside his own body—a flash of blinding white light that would detonate outward in a tight radius. Though limited in spread, the raw force was enough to launch creatures his size like rag dolls.
This wasn't the External Radiation he used against Ghidorah—the broad, sweeping energy wave meant for area denial. That one covered more ground with less punch. This? This was for making things go away.
Of course, "unlimited" power was a myth. Even Godzilla had a limit.
"Wait… that's two completed missions, right? What were they again?"
[Greenskins and Eldar.]
"What about the bugs?"
[They just got here.]
As if on cue, the sky darkened.
Tyranid drop pods rained from orbit like meteor showers. The swarm had arrived.
Before the greenskins could even recover from their in-fighting, they were already under siege. Knifelimbs, bio-guns, and living artillery poured across the battlefield. Hormagaunts, Termagants, and monstrous warriors surged forward in an unstoppable tide.
At first, the greenskins held their ground—barely. The remnants of their orbital fleet still fired from above, and countless anti-air batteries lit up the sky. But without a unifying boss, their defenses collapsed quickly. The Tyranids pressed the advantage.
More and more drop zones opened. Wave after wave of chitin and fang slammed into the orc lines. The green tide was beginning to buckle.
And then—
"The Great Devourer... is here."
Godzilla stepped onto the battlefield, and the effect was immediate.
The swarm froze.
Not because communication was cut—but because the Hive Mind itself hesitated. In that instant of stunned instinct, the greenskins rallied. Ladz hacked bugs apart, and a Tyrant creature exploded under a storm of rockets.
But the hesitation lasted less than ten seconds.
The Tyranids resumed their assault—but they avoided Godzilla entirely. Any swarm creature that could see him turned and fled. Across the battlefield, the Tyranids engaged the greenskins with renewed aggression—but kept well away from the looming titan.
"Why are they running?"
[You've already destroyed three Hive Titans. For a swarm of this size, that's more than enough to justify a full tactical retreat. The Hive Mind wants biomass, not suicide.]
The Hive Mind wasn't stupid. If a battle went poorly—especially if it meant high losses with low gain—it would cut its losses and redirect. It avoided lifeless worlds, steered clear of Necron tombs, and wanted nothing to do with daemons.
But greenskins? Orks were a favorite. Even if they lost a few waves, the biomass they gained made the fight worthwhile. Unless they had no chance of winning… they'd keep coming.
"Man, I'm not even that scary…"
Godzilla glanced skyward, piercing the clouds with his gaze. Far above, nestled in the stars, the Tyranid fleet loomed. Over a hundred bio-motherships, each the size of an Imperial battleship, floated in orbit, accompanied by countless support vessels.
It wasn't the largest swarm fleet in history, but it was enough—enough to conquer Ultramar or glass Baal. And they almost had, if not for the 'loyal' Chaos factions messing things up at just the right time.
"Hmph. The Eldar ran fast. I saw two Phantom Titans, and poof—gone before I could take one apart."
And who could blame them? Those Phantom Titans weren't easy to replace. Eldar could barely build anything on that scale anymore—most of their Titans were holdovers from before Slaanesh was born.
Every loss was irreplaceable.
"Okay... so how do I chase off the bugs if they just keep running away? Hey system, got anything like a 'psychic bait'? Like from StarCraft?"
[This is Warhammer 40K, not StarCraft.]
"Yeah, but come on, they're acting like cowards. Look—every time I take a step forward, they take three back. They're literally rotating bugs into my old spot like some kind of meat relay."
Godzilla growled in frustration, stomping forward again. The swarm parted like waves before a predator.
"Don't be scared! I'm not even trying to kill the whole Hive Fleet yet!"
From behind him, Isis—his ever-zealous priestess—watched carefully. She raised her staff, eyes glinting with fervor as she saw the swarm retreating.
"Pitiful creatures," she declared. "Have your Great Devourers begun to fear the light of my god? You would flee from battle? That is unacceptable. If you will not come to war… then war will come to you."
She thrust her staff skyward.
Across the planet, slumbering Lizardman priests stirred. Psychic energy surged into the sky—brilliant, blinding light cascading from the ancient temples of Godzilla's world.
Among them, the light of the First Generation Priests shone the brightest—psionic power second only to the Emperor himself. Not even Tzeentch's greatest daemon, Fateweaver, or the fallen Primarch Magnus could rival it.
The psychic beacon blazed so brightly it pierced the fabric of the warp, guiding even lost Imperial fleets.
The swarm couldn't resist.
Drawn like moths to a bonfire, Tyranids turned mid-battle and began moving toward Godzilla's world—massing for orbital descent.
But the moment they landed...
They realized they weren't fighting soldiers anymore.
They were fighting the trees.
********
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