Spamming
───「 GODZILLA POV 」───
Amidst the explosion of the nuclear submarine, Godzilla released the wreckage and surged forward, targeting the positions of the remaining submarines.
Ignoring the unmanned submersibles in its path, it endured their firepower without hesitation, methodically dismantling the last few nuclear submarines. Only after ensuring their destruction did it turn its attention to the submersibles, launching a relentless assault.
───「 Human POV 」───
Underwater explosions erupted one after another, and within mere minutes, both submarine fleets in the two oceans were obliterated. No one had expected the fleet to deal significant damage to Godzilla, but its swift annihilation of such a formidable force left the command center in stunned silence.
It was too fast.
As they watched Godzilla's actions, a heavy realization settled over the room.
It recognizes us. It understands human presence.
It possesses memory, thoughts—even intelligence. Perhaps it is no less intelligent than we are.
Not only is it unmatched in sheer power, but perhaps even in intelligence, humans may be unable to surpass this monstrous entity.
If humans cannot overcome Godzilla in any aspect, then what hope remains? Sheer numbers? But if numbers were all that mattered, wouldn't ants rule the Earth?
A creeping sense of despair spread among the personnel until Commander Chester's voice shattered the silence:
"What are you fools standing around for? Check how many escape pods have deployed! So what if it's intelligent? It's still our enemy. Do you think it will spare us if we don't fight back?"
"One! Two! Three! Move!"
"Number One! Report how many escape pods have surfaced!"
"Yes, Commander! A total of 78 escape pods have surfaced, but we estimate that 70% of the crew perished at sea."
"Send their locations to headquarters for retrieval. Number Four, give me a status on fleet dispersion."
"Yes, sir! Our fleet maintains an average distance of 34 nautical miles from Godzilla. All ships are steadily increasing the gap."
The command center buzzed with renewed activity, easing Chester's concerns slightly. If these young recruits couldn't hold onto their fighting spirit now, their navy was doomed.
But the looming threat of Godzilla remained. One wrong command wouldn't just doom the navy—it could doom humanity itself.
Godzilla, what are you exactly?
───「 GODZILLA POV 」───
After reducing the submarines to lifeless wrecks, Godzilla surfaced. Its dorsal fins sliced through the waves, and its massive head emerged, surveying the ocean as it swam toward the Far East Island.
Its speed slowed to 50 knots—far less than the blistering 150 knots it had previously reached.
It no longer pursued the fleet. Instead, it moved steadily toward its next destination. The human ships were now scattered, each dozens of nautical miles away, unlike the nuclear submarines that had been in close proximity.
Destroying them one by one would be inefficient. The humans couldn't strike back effectively, but by scattering, they forced Godzilla into a prolonged chase, draining its energy. It was a predictable move—humans always avoided direct confrontation. Their fragile bodies simply weren't built for it.
Seeing that Godzilla wasn't attacking, anxiety surged among the human forces.
They had come to provoke it—to force it into battle!
Yet, Godzilla ignored them, letting their weapons strike harmlessly against its scales without retaliating.
To Godzilla, basking in the open air was a simple pleasure. Retaliation wasn't necessary.
Humans, however, couldn't bear this indifference.
───「 Human POV 」───
"Have the escort ships move into Godzilla's atomic breath range in waves! Evacuate all personnel beforehand and send in unmanned vessels!" Chester ordered.
If they could bait Godzilla into using its atomic breath, they could at least gather valuable data.
An escort ship broke from the fleet, closing to within 15 nautical miles behind Godzilla. Its crew scrambled to evacuate via transport aircraft.
But before they could fully take off, Godzilla turned its head.
A flash of blue light.
A concentrated blast of atomic breath roared across the sky, igniting the atmosphere in a searing firestorm.
This wasn't a fully charged attack—just a casual burst. Even so, by the time the flames reached 15 nautical miles, the fire had lost its destructive force against steel. But the extreme heat was more than enough to incinerate the escaping personnel mid-air.
Transport planes, their pilots and passengers scorched to ash, plummeted into the sea.
The command center fell silent again.
It saw through the plan.
"Commander Chester… should we continue?" a subordinate asked hesitantly.
Chester adjusted his cap. "Continue. This time, have them disembark 20 nautical miles away."
The second attempt proceeded as planned. This time, Godzilla didn't react to the evacuation. Nor did it fire on the unmanned vessels entering its range.
It understood what mattered most to humans.
Ships could be replaced. Industrial robots ensured their production wouldn't stop. But trained personnel? They were irreplaceable.
Godzilla swam forward, only unleashing its atomic breath when the drone swarm reached maximum density—obliterating them in an instant.
"Have them disembark 17 nautical miles away."
A new order, another experiment.
And just as before, Godzilla reacted exactly as expected. The ship remained intact, but the soldiers on board were completely wiped out.
Before the fleet, Godzilla's towering figure was no longer just a monster—it was a nightmare incarnate.
Yet, as a creature beyond human comprehension, it cared little for their fear.
Advancing steadily, the fleet cautiously moved alongside it, probing its attack range with every step. From above, the scene was almost surreal: a vast fleet encircling their colossal adversary like a procession of tiny worshippers. But their "king" held no fondness for them.
Neither did they for it.
And so, the monster and the fleet moved forward together.
After fifteen tense hours, the distant coastline of the Far East Island came into view once more.
Godzilla was making landfall—for the third time.