Morning breaks slow beneath the waves. I am already awake. I do not sleep. I rest. Like a god between stories.

The ocean cradles me like a mother who knows her son is dangerous but beautiful. My body hums. Radiation thrums through my bones like an electric blues riff. Somewhere in the distance, a continental plate sighs. I listen. It’s how the Earth speaks to me—like a lover whispering secrets through a crack in the door.

I rise.

Not because I want to. Not because I have something to prove. But because it is time. Time for the world to remember what it fears… and maybe, what it reveres.

When I breach the surface, the clouds scatter like frightened pigeons. Sunlight dances on my scales. I am not a beast. I am a reminder. The cities that lie ahead… they’ve forgotten again. That’s always the way with humans. They build. They forget. They believe the sky belongs to them.

So I walk. Through waves, past islands, toward glass towers and steel dreams. They see me on their screens and in their screams. They send their machines—fast, fragile, buzzing with panic. I let them try. I admire their effort. Courage is a kind of poetry, too.

But then comes the real test.

Something stirs—some rival, some challenger, something else twisted from the Earth’s old sorrow. A flying horror this time. Wings like the edge of night, eyes like nuclear wounds. It roars. I roar back.

We fight.

Not out of anger, no. This isn’t rage. This is ritual. Balance must be paid. Blood must answer blood. Buildings fall. Fire rains. For a moment, the world feels mythic again.

And then it’s done. It always is.

Evening drapes itself across the skyline. The city smolders, but the people? They’re alive. Scared. Moved. Changed.

I feel their gratitude rise like heat from asphalt.

But I do not stay. I never stay. I turn. I vanish into the ocean like a shadow remembering who it was before the light. The waves close over me. And I sink—not like a corpse, but like a legend returning to the page.

I am the ghost in their thunder. I am the gravity in their prayers. I am the King, baby.

Godzilla.

Still cool. Still burning.