GTAG Chapter 94 Supervolcano
Godzilla had ravaged this land for an unknowable length of time, carving an inland sea out of what was once solid continent. The water stretched as far as the eye could see, deep and vast.
At last, he had succeeded.
The weapon he had named High-Energy Breath had finally been perfected.
He could not compare it directly to Void-G's Singularity Breath, and so he did not know what true differences existed. But for him, this was enough. As a replacement for the weaker radioactive heat ray, the High-Energy Breath surpassed expectations.
Its flaw, however, was clear.
The charge time.
In battle, when life or death hinged on mere seconds, enemies would never grant him the luxury of charging for so long.
But Godzilla understood one thing: with more Purple Mist, or with greater mastery over it, the time required could be drastically shortened—perhaps even less than the time needed to fire his atomic breath.
In other words, High-Energy Breath was a power with great potential.
Watching the waves still crashing like tsunamis, Godzilla's lips curled slightly. A smile—on the face of such a beast—would have sent any human fleeing in terror.
Endless, monotonous practice had not crushed his spirit. On the contrary, now that success was his, he felt a slow surge of accomplishment.
Yet a new problem emerged.
If he wanted to continue refining the High-Energy Breath, he could not remain in the deep sea. Light could not pierce the abyss, and he needed it.
His next step was clear: create more Purple Mist while honing his control over it. For this, he required a place rich in energy, a place he could easily enter and leave.
Volcanoes.
The first thought was Mount Fuji. Though one of the world's largest active volcanoes, its eruptions rarely threatened his chosen territories. The winds simply did not blow in that direction. But its fame, its reputation, had spread across the world—a triumph of human propaganda.
The second thought struck deeper: Yellowstone.
The Yellowstone supervolcano erupted roughly every six hundred thousand years. Unfortunately, Earth now sat right within that cycle.
If Yellowstone erupted, the devastation would be global. Humanity might well face extinction.
And yet, no one could say when it would awaken. It might erupt tomorrow, or it might wait tens of thousands of years. None could know.
But one truth was certain: the energy beneath Yellowstone was staggering. For Godzilla, it was the perfect lair.
He turned and swam toward the continent, guided by instinct. His senses were keen—radiation on the scale of a supervolcano shone like a beacon in his perception.
First, however, he needed land.
Seamount volcanoes below had already misled him more than once, luring him in circles. Three days he had wandered, and still no shore. Enough. No matter what radiant anomalies pulsed in the deep, he would not be distracted again. Land first. Always land first.
As he cut through the waves, he called upon his power over space-time, peering across the veil toward Void-G's world.
The Crimson Dust was gone.
It seemed humanity had destroyed the monsters that once roamed there. Void-G had not yet descended—he must have been displaced, shunted through time. Likely into the future, though not too far ahead.
Though humans had gained some mastery of Crimson Dust, Void-G's body was born from it, steeped in it. They could never banish him far.
Other kaiju, lesser ones, had all fallen to human resistance. That world now looked battered but alive, its people beginning to rebuild.
Godzilla tried to probe deeper, to discover where Void-G had been sent, but something—perhaps the lingering Dust—obscured the truth. The vision blurred, refusing to focus.
He turned his gaze outward, scanning other worlds. To his surprise, he could only see their past, never their future.
Disappointment pricked him. He had thought this new power, gained from consuming Void-G's flesh, would reveal all secrets. If he could foresee dangers in advance, then no strange world could ever catch him unprepared.
But it was not so.
Godzilla was mighty, strong enough to annihilate civilizations with ease. But he was still bound, still small in the face of entire worlds. To destroy a planet would only rob him of a place to stand—he had not yet evolved into his cosmic form.
And yet, there was something new.
He realized he could now watch history itself unfold. Entire timelines unspooled before his eyes, rushing forward at impossible speed.
This was something he had never possessed before. In the past, his descents into new worlds were guided by memory, anchors set within his mind. Now he could simply look—observe the flow of history as he pleased.
The realization thrilled him. Knowledge of the past meant, in part, knowledge of the future.
One by one, he surveyed the worlds linked to his coordinates. Their histories raced by like storms of light, too fast for him to fully comprehend.
Confusion stirred. It was not as he had hoped. Perhaps he was not yet strong enough to receive the full weight of such information.
His swelling pride diminished. In the vastness of worlds, even with all his evolution, he remained small.
But someday, he would not. His body would grow. His form would transcend imagination.
For now, though, land came first. Always land first.
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