Chapter 4:
It wasn't that the Hive Mind looked down on Godzilla—it simply didn't consider him worthy of its attention.
The Tyranid swarm attacking this world was just a minor offshoot of the Leviathan Hive Fleet. A splinter within a splinter. The Norn Queen assigned to this detachment had full autonomy, and there was no reason for the broader will of the Hive Mind to intervene.
Unfortunately for her, she made a miscalculation.
She couldn't understand how the Titan Tyrant, a creature matched to Godzilla in size and supposedly superior in biology, had its arms torn off in combat. Godzilla didn't even look like he was trying.
But it didn't matter.
The swarm did not hesitate. It did not question.
One Titan Tyrant failed? Then send two more.
Judging by the size of the beast, the biomass yield would be considerable. As long as the losses weren't catastrophic, the Norn Queen deemed it worthwhile to continue the assault. The swarm would kill Godzilla—dismantle him, digest him, and repurpose his very being into something useful.
Inside the heaving gut of the brood warship, two more Titan Tyrants were loaded into organic drop-pods. The sacs pulsed and bulged before launching from the ship's underbelly, hurling toward the planet's surface like falling stars.
But the Norn Queen didn't have time to watch them land.
She had another problem: the human fleet.
On the other side of the warzone, Imperial voidships opened fire. Plasma beams and lance batteries hammered the Hive Fleet's outer organisms. Though this Tyranid detachment was modest in size, it was now under pressure. One wrong decision could lead to annihilation.
Compared to those kilometer-long warships, Godzilla—barely 50 meters tall—was insignificant. A footnote on a planetary battlefield.
And yet, aboard the command deck of the flagship *Emperor's Will*, the humans had taken notice.
An image flickered on the hololithic display. A lone creature surrounded by carnage. Flames. Poison. Monsters. And the beast—still standing.
An Ultramarine, even larger than the rest of his post-human brothers, studied the display.
His armor gleamed with badges and seals: the Mark of Courage on his brow, the Emblem of Heroes on his pauldrons, a tapestry of honor across his chest plate. His identity was unmistakable.
"What in the Emperor's name is that?" he said aloud.
Second Captain Cato Sicarius—the Lord of the Watch, Grand Duke of Talassar, Knight Champion of Macragge, High Lord of Ultramar, the Slayer of Kings, and the Breaker of Worlds—was baffled.
In centuries of warfare, he had never seen a creature like this.
But as he stared at the image, the name came to him.
"Godzilla?" he murmured, startled. The word echoed in his mind, not spoken but *implanted*, like a psychic whisper. It was as if the warp itself had gifted him the knowledge.
The name wasn't in the Imperial database. It wasn't in any xenos taxonomy Sicarius had studied.
Before he could dwell on it, the bridge shook from a fresh barrage. Tyranid spores exploded against the ship's void shields.
Sicarius snapped back to reality.
"There's only one of him. Possibly native to the planet. Relay to the ground forces: avoid the creature. Shift the combat zones away from its location. We are here for the swarm."
He slammed his fist onto the command lectern.
"And mark the world. From this moment on, this is *Godzilla's Planet*."
It seemed like a whim, but it fit. The creature had earned the name.
Besides, the Ultramarines had bigger problems. The battle against the swarm was consuming their attention and resources. No one had time to worry about a single behemoth, no matter how powerful.
At least he couldn't fly.
Back on the surface, Godzilla stalked the retreating Titan Tyrant. The beast wasn't fleeing out of fear—the Norn Queen had ordered it to delay without engaging until reinforcements arrived.
A simple command. But difficult to follow.
The Titan Tyrant was crippled. Its two scything limbs had been torn off, leaving only the bio-plasma cannons on its lower arms. It was not built for ranged combat alone.
It retreated, sending wave after wave of lesser Tyranids to stall Godzilla's advance.
'Trying to run?'
He wasn't about to let that happen.
Godzilla opened his jaws. Deep in his throat, white light gathered and intensified. Then it erupted in a concentrated beam of white-hot atomic fire, sweeping across the battlefield like a dragon's breath from ancient myth.
The Titan Tyrant raised its armored arms in defense. The chitinous plates boiled and cracked under the thermal onslaught. This was a contest of pure destructive force versus biological armor. Fire versus shell.
And fire was winning.
The Titan Tyrant let out a keening scream—an unnatural, high-pitched wail that almost sounded *sentient*. For a moment, it made one wonder: did Tyranids still feel pain?
Low-tier swarm organisms heard the call and surged forward. Gaunts and Warriors rushed the beam, hoping to absorb the attack or draw fire away from their larger kin.
It didn't work.
The moment they stepped into the flame's reach, they combusted. Charred to ash before their feet even hit the ground again. Their sacrifice didn't slow the blast.
After nearly a full minute of sustained breath, the Titan Tyrant's armor finally gave out. The atomic fire drilled through its torso, exposing pulsing innards to the open air. Then those too ignited—scorched black and carbonized in seconds.
The beast collapsed with a mournful howl.
Godzilla's mouth shut. The fight was over.
Even the swarm couldn't reanimate something this far gone. Its organs were completely destroyed. Only the legs twitched, spasming from residual nerve signals.
[Points earned: 10.]
Godzilla stepped forward and crushed the fallen monster beneath his foot. The scorched chitin cracked like glass, collapsing under his weight.
He raised his head to the sky and unleashed a triumphant roar.
A statement to every creature watching: *this is my world now.*
The Tyranid swarm hesitated. For the first time, the warrior organisms and lesser hive tyrants paused. Charging the beast now would be a waste of biomass. Tactical inefficiency.
They didn't retreat—but they stopped advancing.
'Not bad,' Godzilla thought. 'Plenty more Titans to go around. Good biomass, easy wins. Worth it.'
A bargain for him.
But not for the swarm.
Above, the two fresh Titan Tyrants screamed through the atmosphere, their airdrop pods glowing as they descended. The Norn Queen received confirmation that the previous Tyrant had been killed.
And though the Hive Mind did not feel emotions, if the Norn Queen could feel anything at all, it would've been confusion.
*The Titan is gone already? We haven't even landed yet!*
Even the Space Marines, hardened by centuries of war, were left stunned by the display.
"My Lord," one of them breathed, watching from orbit. "The beast… it destroyed a Tyranid Titan in under three minutes."
"He fights like a Titan Champion."
They had seen many worlds fall to the Hive Fleets. They had seen monstrosities the size of warships ravage entire cities.
But never had they seen a creature on a planet—any planet—*kill* a Tyranid Titan.
Until now.