Look at "It"

───「 Human POV 」───

The meeting commenced.

Professor Andrei stood at the center of the conference room, his figure framed by a large projected whiteboard. His expression was grave as he stared directly into the camera transmitting his image to leaders and scientists around the world.

In his slightly hoarse voice, he finally spoke:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that I bring troubling news."

A hush fell over the virtual assembly.

"For the past three days, research teams across the globe have been meticulously examining Godzilla. This morning, as per our coordinated schedule, we received a report from the Qinghan team in East Asia."

He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing.

"Yesterday morning, they detected something anomalous on Godzilla's body."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the attendees.

"They submitted a report detailing a peculiar phenomenon: over the past five days, the damaged areas on Godzilla's body have been shifting. At first, they suspected natural movement or external interference. However, after detailed analysis, they arrived at a startling conclusion—"

"The wounds weren't shifting."

"Godzilla is healing itself."

The conference erupted into shocked whispers and concerned glances. But the professor pressed on.

"At first, I was skeptical. Based on our understanding, Godzilla's external armor is a dense, integrated structure. Localized self-repair shouldn't be possible. Theoretically, any damage to its armor should result in a full-body molting process, akin to a reptile shedding its skin."

His gaze darkened.

"But as I reviewed the findings, I realized..."

He took a breath.

"They were right."

With a click of his remote, a new image appeared on the projection—a thermal and structural scan of Godzilla taken five days ago.

"This is a full-body material analysis of Godzilla that we conducted at great risk, fearing we might wake it. Focus on the fusion reactor in its abdomen—at the time, it was in a molten, unstable state."

He pressed another button. The image changed.

"This is the scan we captured today."

Gasps filled the room. The first reactor, previously an unstable pool of superheated material, was now nearly two-thirds repaired. But more than that, it had undergone structural changes. Layers of new material had formed around it, wrapping the reactor in a series of protective membranes—layer upon layer, reinforcing both the damaged core and the untouched second reactor.

Professor Andrei gestured toward the image. "This... this is new. These structures did not exist five days ago. And according to our calculations, they provide enhanced thermal shielding, likely to protect the reactor from overheating. But here's the alarming part—"

He zoomed in, highlighting the fresh layers of protective tissue.

"Five days ago, this material wasn't present anywhere in Godzilla's body. It did not regenerate old structures. It evolved them."

Silence gripped the room as the implications sank in.

"This discovery prompted a deeper investigation. We revisited the footage from Godzilla's initial landfall and compared it to our latest data. What we found..."

He clenched his jaw.

"The Godzilla we scanned today is structurally different from the one that emerged from the ocean. Until now, we assumed it molted during the two days it was missing before resurfacing. But in the Mariana Trench, where it was last observed, we found no remnants of a discarded exoskeleton."

The professor's voice grew heavier.

"It didn't shed its armor. It changed."

"We now have irrefutable evidence that Godzilla has the capability to autonomously alter its physiology—what we in biological sciences refer to as autonomous metamorphosis. And in layman's terms..."

He exhaled sharply, his voice steady but tinged with unease.

"Godzilla is a creature of infinite evolution. Even as we speak, it is still evolving."

The weight of his words settled upon the conference like a lead blanket.

"Every attack, every wound we inflict will only accelerate its adaptation. If we fail to destroy it swiftly and decisively, we will never be able to stop it."

Tension thickened in the virtual meeting space. The officials, scientists, and military representatives listened with grim expressions. And then, as if to hammer the final nail in, Professor Andrei revealed the countdown.

"Based on our projections, at its current rate of self-repair, Godzilla will fully recover in four days."

The air grew heavy. Some participants exchanged worried glances, others bowed their heads as if in prayer.

"What happens after that, we do not know. Whether it will awaken immediately or continue evolving in its dormant state is beyond our certainty. But make no mistake—"

He met the camera's gaze with unflinching severity.

"If we do not act, we are doomed. May God help us all. That is all I have to report. Goodbye."

With that, his projection faded from the screen, but the meeting was far from over.

In its place, a new projection appeared—this time, the chamber of the United Government Assembly. Over a hundred world leaders and parliamentarians sat in solemn silence, their expressions grim.

A moment later, they began reciting a passage in their respective languages—a declaration from a century ago, a cornerstone of modern civilization:

The Permanent Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons Agreement.

The words rang out, echoed by voices across nations. A treaty upheld for generations. A pledge that had preserved peace for over a hundred years.

But as the final words were spoken, the chamber fell silent. And then, in unison, the parliamentarians proclaimed a different ending:

"As of this moment, by joint resolution of the United Government Parliament—"

"The Permanent Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons Agreement—"

"Is hereby nullified. Effective immediately."

March 26, 2208. 10:23 AM.

Four days until Godzilla's awakening.