Chapter 44: WAAAGH Has Arrived
Isis didn't linger to observe her eccentric kin's antics. In the eyes of the Lizardmen, unlike humans, every hatchling drawn from the spawning pools was born of the Great Plan. No matter how strange they seemed, they had a purpose.
Everything was unfolding as it should.
"It's time," Isis murmured, stepping into the heart of the temple.
Raising her staff, her eyes glowed with crackling blue psychic energy. In answer to her call, a radiant beam surged upward from the temple's peak, stretching into the sky. Psychic forcefields expanded, enclosing the planet in a shimmering bubble of light—a warp shield, akin to the Imperium's Geller Fields.
Moments later, the entire world slipped into the warp.
The Immaterium. The Sea of Souls. The Supreme Sky. This extradimensional realm had many names, and all of them whispered madness. It was only through mastering warp routes that humanity had once carved out its empire across the stars during the distant 20th millennium. But now, under the gaze of the Chaos Gods, those same warp lanes had become treacherous.
Ships venturing through the warp faced not only the twisted physics of that alien realm, but the constant threat of daemonic incursion. There were more than just four Chaos Gods, but those four—Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle, and Slaanesh—were the tyrants of that domain.
Warp travel was suicide without protection. Fortunately, the psychic field surrounding Godzilla's planet was strong. The Lizardmen had grown used to such journeys. Clearly, this was not their first venture through the Sea of Souls.
Godzilla, however, was seeing it all for the first time.
He looked up at the swirling, multicolored nightmare just beyond the psychic shield. His huge eyes shimmered with curiosity.
"So this is the Warp. Trippy. First time here."
He watched as a storm of spiraling, impossible nebulae bloomed like madness incarnate across the skies.
"Think the Chaos Gods are gonna mess with me?"
[They will, eventually. But not yet.]
The voyage through the warp was brief, only a few hours, but when the world re-emerged from the Immaterium, it had jumped across the galaxy—from the northeastern fringe of the Milky Way to a distant star cluster near the rim, far enough that not even the Emperor's Astronomican could pierce the veil to see it.
And the moment they arrived, the void outside exploded with light and fire.
A massive battle raged near a neighboring world. A greenskin fleet was locked in brutal combat with a host of Eldar warships. Lance beams, torpedoes, and ramming attacks lit up the void like a fireworks display. Just as Godzilla arrived, he saw one of the Eldar cruisers spear headlong into an Ork battlefortress cobbled together from a meteor.
"Whoa. And here I was hoping for a warm-up first."
The sudden arrival of a planet-sized object didn't go unnoticed.
Across the battlefield, the Eldar paused in disbelief.
"Farseer Alanna, are you seeing that?" an Eldar officer asked, voice tight.
"I see it," Alanna replied grimly.
Far from the chaos of the front lines, the elegant Farseer stood atop the observation deck of her flagship. Draped in luminous robes and adorned with intricate wraithbone circuitry, she stared at the new planet hanging in the void like an omen.
She wasn't blind—but she might as well have been. She hadn't seen it coming. That was what disturbed her most.
She was a Seer of the Eldar, a master of fate. Even amongst a race defined by their psychic talents, Alanna stood apart, able to glimpse fragments of the future with terrifying clarity.
And yet… she had seen nothing. Not a whisper of this world. Not a flicker.
Something was wrong.
"This... isn't right," she murmured, and lifted a hand. Psychic power shimmered as she reached into the skeins of fate.
The threads of time parted—and she saw him.
A towering black titan wreathed in fire, standing amidst a battlefield of Eldar corpses and Ork remains. Ash and smoke trailed behind him. Eldar Titans lay shattered at his feet. He lifted his head and roared.
Godzilla.
As if aware of her gaze, the beast in the vision slowly turned his head—and looked directly at her.
A wave of psychic backlash hit her like a hammer. Alanna staggered, clutching her temples. The vision shattered.
She was lucky. It hadn't been a killing blow. Just a warning.
If Godzilla had truly wanted to retaliate, she would have been little more than brain-matter splattered across the deck.
"Godzilla," she whispered aloud.
Everyone who saw him knew his name. As if it were etched into the fabric of reality itself.
[Everyone who sees Godzilla knows his name.]
Meanwhile, on a feral planet nearby, the Orks were watching the sky.
Their leader—an oversized Nob with crude power claws—pointed at the newly arrived planet and howled with delight.
"Oi, boyz! Somethin' BIG just showed up!"
"WAAAGH!!!" the orks roared.
Gretchin, squigs, and snotlings joined in, caught in the frenzy of WAAAGH energy radiating from their kin. The entire warband was already stampeding toward the hangars.
The greenskins didn't care who the newcomers were. A giant planet suddenly popping into orbit? That just meant more dakka.
And more fighting.
The battered, leaky shuttles were loaded with boyz screaming in glee. Half of them weren't even spaceworthy, but Orks didn't care. They didn't need air. The WAAAGH would protect them. Probably.
One after another, crude landing ships burst out of the greenskin battlefleet, racing toward Godzilla's world.
The larger ork ships—monstrous junk-heaps with jagged turrets and exposed engines—began rotating to target the planet. Onboard, the orks roared and loaded cannons the size of buildings.
Many people might wonder—
Do Orks ever think about the enemy's strength before attacking?
No.
If they did, they wouldn't be Orks.
The greenskins were the happiest race in all of 40K because they didn't care. They existed to fight. Even Khorne admired their single-minded lust for battle.
Not that the Orks worshiped Khorne. They had their own gods: Gork and Mork.
Or as the orks themselves say: Gork is brutal but cunning, and Mork is cunning but brutal.
Aside from a rare few corrupted by Chaos, most Orks followed these gods faithfully. They were far too loud and thick-headed to be easily tempted by whispers in the Warp.
Back on the greenskin command ship—a kilometer-wide monstrosity of welded steel and misplaced gun batteries—the Ork Warboss pointed at Godzilla's world and shouted.
"FIRE!!!"
Cannons thundered.
Hundreds of shells screamed across space. Some were massive—larger than Godzilla himself. One had been jury-rigged from an Imperial Cyclonic Torpedo, its nosecone crudely re-welded and marked with Ork glyphs.
Godzilla narrowed his eyes as the first wave of firepower lit up the void.
"*********
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