The year was 1954, a time when humanity's hubris was at its peak, when the great powers of the world thought themselves lords of creation, capable of bending nature to their will. It was also a time when secrets were kept in dark corners, unseen by most but felt in the faint tremors beneath the surface. In this era, the existence of mysteries—magecraft, to those few who knew its name—was hidden, carefully protected by those who practiced it. But in the waters off the coast of Bikini Atoll, something ancient stirred, and the boundaries between what was known and what was hidden began to blur.
The test of the atomic bomb at Bikini Atoll, designed to assert dominance and frighten enemies, achieved something far more dangerous. It did not simply obliterate the atoll in a brilliant flash of nuclear fire—it awakened something far more ancient, a creature of the deep that had slumbered for aeons beneath the waves. Much older than the gods of myth, older than the Age of Man itself, this creature had seen the rise and fall of empires before even the first human drew breath. It was a primordial force of nature, forgotten in the mists of time.
The earth trembled as it stirred, the ocean currents shifted, and the skies darkened with the beast's reawakening. Deep beneath the ocean, hidden from the eyes of mankind, a great mass of muscle and scale began to move, its eyes opening for the first time in millennia. The detonation of the bomb had torn through the fabric of reality, an explosion of raw energy that shattered the thin barrier between the mundane world and the mysteries long suppressed. The creature's eyelids, like stone slabs, peeled open to reveal orbs of molten fire.
This was no mere beast. It was a creature whose very existence was intertwined with the planet itself—a being of such power that it had been sealed away before even the gods were born, a force of destruction so great that it had once threatened to consume the world. For eons, it had been imprisoned beneath the ocean, buried beneath layers of magic and sediment, its true nature forgotten even by the most ancient of magi. The bomb was nothing more than the key that had unlocked its prison, setting free the force that would soon be known as Godzilla.
As the creature rose from the depths, the ocean seemed to recoil in fear, waves crashing in all directions, as if the sea itself was desperate to escape the presence of this living nightmare. It was a titan—hundreds of meters tall, its body covered in thick, armored scales that shimmered with an unnatural light. Its dorsal fins, sharp and jagged, glowed faintly with residual radiation, a testament to the nuclear fire that had awakened it.
The world, the real world, had forgotten what true power was. In an age where even the gods of the past had been reduced to myths, and dragons were little more than legend, Godzilla's reappearance was a reminder. The age of mystery had never truly ended; it had only gone into hiding, barely visible beneath the surface of the mundane. Now, it was clawing its way back into the light, and it would not be ignored.
As Godzilla ascended from the depths, its movements were slow and deliberate, like a mountain shifting beneath the waves. The water boiled around it, not from heat, but from the sheer presence of the creature. Energy crackled in the air, and even the skies seemed to respond, dark clouds swirling above as if the heavens themselves were reacting to this ancient power's return. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp around it, as though the world itself was buckling under the strain of Godzilla's existence.
From a distance, naval ships that had gathered near the test site picked up strange readings on their instruments. Radiation levels were spiking—far beyond what was expected from the bomb. At first, the crews thought it was simply a malfunction, a side effect of the nuclear explosion. But then, the water around them began to churn, and a deep, resonant roar echoed through the sea, shaking the vessels to their core. The crews scrambled to make sense of what was happening, but there was no explanation in their world of science. What approached them was beyond anything their instruments could measure, something far more dangerous than the atomic bomb they had just unleashed.
Godzilla broke the surface in an explosion of water and steam, its towering form casting a shadow over the ships. For a moment, there was silence. The creature stood still, its fiery eyes scanning the horizon, taking in a world that had changed in its absence. The sailors on the ships watched in stunned disbelief, unable to comprehend the enormity of what they were witnessing. It was as though a god had risen from the sea, a force of nature made flesh. But this was no god of mercy or protection—this was the embodiment of destruction, a harbinger of death and ruin.
The creature's roar shattered the silence, a deafening sound that seemed to pierce the heavens. It was a sound of pure, unbridled rage, a fury that had been building for millennia. The skies above seemed to tremble at its voice, and the air itself vibrated with the intensity of the sound. The naval ships, though powerful in their own right, were little more than toys before this ancient terror.
Godzilla moved with terrifying speed, its massive form cutting through the water like a blade. The first ship was crushed beneath its massive tail, shattered into splinters in an instant. The second was torn apart by its claws, the steel hull crumpling like paper. The sailors had no time to react, no chance to fight back against this unstoppable force. In the space of mere moments, the fleet was reduced to wreckage, scattered across the ocean.
For the magi of the world, the reawakening of Godzilla was a disaster beyond comprehension. Magecraft had always existed in the shadows, hidden from the prying eyes of ordinary humans. The Counter Force, that unseen hand that maintained the balance between the mundane and the magical, had worked tirelessly to keep the two worlds separate. But now, with Godzilla rampaging across the ocean, that delicate balance was on the verge of collapse.
This was no mere beast, no simple creature born of radiation. It was a relic of a time when the mysteries ruled the world, a force that transcended the understanding of even the greatest magi. And as it made its way towards Japan, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake, the magi knew one thing for certain—the world of mystery could not remain hidden much longer.
—
The world had yet to understand the magnitude of what had been unleashed. News of Godzilla's emergence off the coast of Bikini Atoll spread slowly at first, shrouded in confusion and disbelief. Reports of destroyed naval ships and the strange, catastrophic aftermath of the atomic test had been dismissed by most as the exaggerated results of radiation poisoning or mechanical failures. After all, no one could believe that a creature of such size and power could exist in the modern world, a world ruled by science and reason.
But it did exist.
In the days that followed the initial contact, Godzilla moved with relentless purpose, cutting a path across the Pacific toward the island nation of Japan. The creature's movements were slow but steady, like the inevitable march of death itself. It did not tire, it did not hesitate, and its course was clear. At first, its presence went unnoticed by the general population, the Japanese government dismissing rumors of a massive, moving object beneath the ocean waves as baseless.
But to those attuned to the deeper, unseen mysteries of the world, the warning signs were unmistakable. In the halls of the Mage's Association, panic began to spread. The most powerful magi, those who understood the nature of this creature's existence, realized that something ancient and terrible was stirring. For centuries, the boundaries between the mundane world and the realm of magecraft had been carefully maintained, a delicate balance that ensured the survival of both. But now, that balance was threatened by the return of a being that predated even the greatest of mysteries.
Godzilla was no mere force of nature. It was a creature that should not exist, a relic of an age long forgotten by both humans and gods. Its reawakening was a signal that something had gone terribly wrong. Worse yet, it carried with it a terrifying power—a power far greater than any dragon, more destructive than any weapon the world had ever seen.
The day Godzilla reached the shores of Japan was clear and bright, the sun shining down on the quiet coastal towns and fishing villages that lined the eastern coast. But beneath the waves, death was approaching. Fishermen at sea were the first to notice the change—strange currents, unusual temperatures, and an eerie silence that fell over the ocean as if every living creature beneath the surface had fled.
Then came the roar.
It began as a low rumble, like distant thunder, growing louder and more intense with each passing second. The water began to churn violently, and the ground trembled as if the earth itself were convulsing. Panic spread like wildfire as villagers fled their homes, racing toward higher ground. But there was no escape from what was coming.
Godzilla erupted from the sea with a force that defied comprehension, the ocean splitting open as the massive creature rose from the depths. Its immense, towering form blotted out the sun, casting a dark shadow over the land. The creature's dorsal fins, jagged and glowing with an eerie blue light, shimmered in the sunlight as it lumbered onto the shore. Its scales were as thick and impenetrable as steel, each one reflecting the light like the surface of a dark, ancient gemstone.
Its roar echoed across the land, a deafening, primal sound that sent waves of terror rippling through all who heard it. Buildings crumbled under the force of the sound alone, and the air seemed to vibrate with the sheer power of its presence. Godzilla's eyes burned with an ancient rage, a fiery intensity that could not be sated by destruction alone.
Its first steps onto land were slow and deliberate, but each one sent shockwaves through the earth, toppling buildings and cracking the ground beneath its immense weight. The coastal town that had stood for generations, untouched by war or natural disaster, was reduced to rubble in mere minutes. There was no time for evacuation, no time for rescue—only destruction.
The Japanese Self-Defense Forces were mobilized within hours of Godzilla's landfall. Tanks, artillery, and fighter jets were deployed in an attempt to halt the creature's advance. The military had faced many threats before—natural disasters, invaders, and even remnants of the old mystical world that occasionally broke through into reality—but nothing had prepared them for this.
From the skies, fighter jets swooped down, unleashing a hail of missiles and gunfire upon the towering beast. Explosions ripped through the air, their fire and smoke filling the sky. But the attacks were futile. Godzilla's armored hide absorbed the onslaught with barely a scratch. The jets might as well have been gnats, their efforts as meaningless as the wind blowing against a mountain. One by one, the jets were swatted out of the sky, their debris raining down in flames.
On the ground, tanks fired round after round, the sound of heavy artillery reverberating across the landscape. But it was as though the creature didn't even notice. Godzilla's sheer size made it impervious to conventional weaponry. Its massive tail swung through the ranks of soldiers and armored vehicles with terrifying speed, crushing tanks like tin cans and sending soldiers flying.
Yet despite the overwhelming destruction, Godzilla did not rampage mindlessly. There was something deliberate in its movements, as though it were searching for something—an unspoken force drawing it deeper into the heart of Japan. The creature's anger, though immense, seemed to be fueled by something more than instinct. It was as if it sensed the presence of those who once held dominion over the mysteries, and it sought to remind them of a power far greater than their own.
At the height of the devastation, when all hope seemed lost, humanities' will to survive sent forth its most elite warriors—the Counter Guardians—to stop the creature. These were not ordinary heroes but beings chosen by the Counter Force, an omnipresent entity that sought to maintain balance between the worlds of magic and reality. The Counter Guardians were humanity's last line of defense against threats that could not be contained by any other means.
They appeared as shadows at first, descending upon Godzilla in a blur of speed and magic. Clad in armor and wielding weapons imbued with ancient magecraft, they moved with precision and purpose. These warriors were no strangers to battle. They had faced dragons, ancient gods, and horrors from beyond the realms of human understanding. They had fought in Holy Grail Wars, standing against the mightiest heroes of legend. But nothing could have prepared them for the wrath of Godzilla.
The battle that followed was unlike anything the world had ever seen. As the Counter Guardians attacked with spells and blades, Godzilla responded with devastating force. Its movements were slow but unrelenting, each strike sending shockwaves through the air. The Guardians, despite their speed and skill, found themselves struggling to even harm the beast. Their blades glanced off its armored hide, their spells dissipating against its immense power.
But they did not give up. Time and again, they attacked, darting in and out of the creature's reach, trying to find a weakness. They summoned the power of the elements, unleashing torrents of fire, lightning, and ice upon the creature, but nothing worked. Godzilla seemed impervious to the very laws of nature, its existence defying the limits of magecraft.
In a desperate gambit, one of the Guardians—an ancient warrior whose name had long since been forgotten—plunged a spear imbued with the power of the Counter Force directly into Godzilla's chest. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the creature had been stopped. The ground trembled as Godzilla staggered, a low, guttural roar escaping its throat. But then, with a surge of terrifying power, it unleashed a blast of pure nuclear energy from its mouth—a beam of radiant blue fire that obliterated everything in its path.
The Counter Guardians were vaporized in an instant, their bodies reduced to ash. The earth itself was scorched black, the land left barren and lifeless in the wake of the attack. Godzilla, though wounded, had won. Its chest smoldered where the spear had pierced it, but the injury only seemed to fuel its rage. The creature let out a thunderous roar, louder than any before, shaking the very heavens with its fury.
The last hope of the Counter Force had failed.
The destruction did not stop. Godzilla continued its rampage, moving further inland, reducing cities to ruins in its wake. Entire swaths of Japan were leveled, millions of lives lost in the chaos. Not even the mightiest of dragons could have wrought such devastation. And yet, despite the unimaginable horror of its actions, Godzilla was not a mindless force of destruction. It was a being of ancient purpose, driven by forces that no human or magus could comprehend.
It was not long before the surviving magi of the Association realized that they were out of options. The mysteries that had been hidden for so long were now at risk of being exposed. The Counter Guardians, the greatest warriors they could call upon, had been slain. Their only hope now rested in a weapon—a weapon that no magus should wield.
—
The aftermath of Godzilla's first and only rampage was a scene of desolation unlike anything Japan had ever experienced. Cities lay in ruin, the skeletal remains of once-thriving metropolises scorched and blackened under the weight of the beast's fury. Where life had flourished, only death and ash remained. The land was marred by deep gouges, streets torn apart as if by the hands of titans, and the air still carried the acrid scent of nuclear fire.
The wounded Godzilla, though temporarily driven back into the depths of the ocean, had left behind not just a scar upon the land but also upon the minds of all who had witnessed its devastation. Casualties were beyond count. Millions had perished. The Japanese government, paralyzed by shock and disbelief, struggled to comprehend the enormity of what had transpired, but it was the Mage's Association who truly grasped the gravity of the situation.
Behind the veil of the mundane world, hidden within secret enclaves and ancient halls, the most powerful magi convened in hushed urgency. They had been forced to act before, deploying the Counter Guardians as a desperate last resort. Yet even those peerless warriors, chosen by the Counter Force itself, had barely managed to wound the creature. Worse, they had paid the ultimate price for their failure.
Aboard one of the few surviving Japanese naval vessels stationed offshore, a gathering of powerful figures unfolded beneath the looming shadow of catastrophe. The air inside the ship was thick with tension as the creaking metal hull swayed gently with the ocean waves. The heavy odor of saltwater, mingled with the metallic tang of oil and machinery, permeated the atmosphere. In a conference room deep within the ship, the Mage's Association had dispatched some of its most prestigious members to confront the reality of their situation.
Barthomeloi—The current Vice director, a man as proud and unyielding as the bloodline he came from—stood at the head of the table, his features imperious and eyes narrowed in contemplation. Beside him, the enigmatic Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, the Kaleidoscope, sat quietly, his ancient eyes glinting with the subtle amusement of someone who had seen the rise and fall of civilizations many times over. And in one corner, Merem Solomon, one of the Dead Apostle Ancestors, remained in silence, his presence a reminder that even the vampire lords of the world had taken note of Godzilla's arrival. His golden eyes flickered as he gazed out of the window, lost in thought, contemplating what could have been. Though Merem's allegiances were often enigmatic, his words carried weight among those present.
At the center of the table sat Dr. Daisuke Serizawa, a man who had become the subject of great interest to magi and church officials alike. His thick, weathered hands clasped together tightly, revealing a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Serizawa's unassuming appearance masked the brilliance of his mind, but to those gathered, his greatest accomplishment was not his intellect—it was the mysterious, devastating weapon he had created. The Oxygen Destroyer.
For weeks, magi and military officials had been working tirelessly to piece together what remained of Japan's defensive efforts, all while seeking answers about the unstoppable force that was Godzilla. They needed Serizawa's invention, and they knew it. Yet the man had become an enigma himself, retreating into his work and showing little interest in becoming a tool of destruction.
It was Barthomeloi who spoke first, his voice authoritative and cold.
"Dr. Serizawa, we've wasted enough time. You know what must be done. This creature… this Godzilla cannot be allowed to remain unchallenged. Your weapon—your Oxygen Destroyer—is the only thing we have that can truly kill it."
Serizawa's eyes met Barthomeloi's, his expression unmoved. For days now, he had been under immense pressure. The military had tried to pry the secrets of his invention from him, and even the Mage's Association had made overtures. But he had remained resolute. The destruction that his invention would cause was not something to be used lightly. And now, here he was again, being asked to unleash what he considered the greatest weapon ever devised—one that could rewrite the very fabric of nature itself.
"No," Serizawa said, his voice steady but firm. "I built the Oxygen Destroyer as a solution for clean energy, not a weapon of mass destruction. If I activate it, it will not just kill Godzilla. Its effects on the ocean and the environment will be catastrophic. The oceans will be poisoned, life itself will struggle to continue. And even if I use it, there's no guarantee we can contain the devastation."
Zelretch, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his tone light but with the undercurrent of a thousand realities swirling behind his words. "You're a man of conscience, Dr. Serizawa. That much is clear. But this isn't just about Japan. This is about mystery itself. That creature is older than the very concept of the gods you've heard about. Older than magecraft, older than life as we know it."
Zelretch's eyes gleamed with an almost mischievous light as he leaned forward. "The longer it lives, the more it risks exposing the secrets we have fought to protect for centuries. Magecraft, the Counter Force, even the balance of the very world itself is at stake. Do you really believe this is the time for hesitation?"
Merem Solomon let out a quiet sigh. He was more interested in observing than engaging in the conversation, though his presence added a sense of gravity to the room. "The Dead Apostle Ancestors themselves have chosen not to intervene, though they are aware of the danger. Even I have refrained from acting, because if Godzilla is slain by conventional means… well…" He paused, as if to let the weight of his words sink in. "It will not die easily. If the creature were to perish in such a manner, it would release an energy so vast that it would make a supernova seem like a spark. The Counter Guardians wounded it, but they knew better than to kill it. The beast is not just nuclear—it is something beyond our comprehension."
Barthomeloi folded his arms, clearly unswayed by the philosophical nature of the conversation. "Then it falls to us, doesn't it? The Counter Force has done its part, weakening the creature. Now it's time for the humans—our people—to finish the job."
Serizawa's hand clenched. The moral burden of his invention weighed heavily upon him, and he could feel the weight of history pressing down on his shoulders. His mind wandered back to the devastation Godzilla had wrought upon Tokyo, to the lives lost, and the cries for help that had gone unanswered. And yet… could he be responsible for unleashing something even worse?
Zelretch, ever the tactician, decided to shift the conversation. "What we're asking of you, Serizawa, is to finish what has already begun. The damage has already been done. Godzilla cannot be left to recover. If it does, next time it emerges, there may be nothing that can stop it. Think of this not as a weapon, but as a necessary measure. The Oxygen Destroyer is the key to preventing this from happening again."
Serizawa's brow furrowed. "And what if it falls into the wrong hands?" he asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "What if another country, another power—magecraft or otherwise—decides to use this technology for something far worse than killing Godzilla? I refuse to allow that."
The room fell silent.
Barthomeloi stood from his seat, his figure casting a long shadow in the dim light of the room. "Then destroy the notes. Destroy the prototype. But we cannot leave here without you agreeing to use it."
Dr. Serizawa looked down at his hands, weathered from years of research, experiments, and inventions. The Oxygen Destroyer had been his life's work, but it had never been meant to end lives. Yet now, fate had forced his hand.
"There is no other way, is there?" he muttered to himself. He felt the world closing in around him, the pressure building from all sides. The Magus Association, the Church, the government—everyone wanted a solution. They wanted an end to Godzilla.
Zelretch gave a small, encouraging nod. "No other way."
Serizawa exhaled, long and deep, his breath shaky with the weight of what he was about to agree to. "I will do it," he said at last, his voice heavy with resignation. "But once it's done… there will be no more. No more Oxygen Destroyers. The world cannot have this kind of power."
Barthomeloi and Zelretch exchanged glances, a moment of silent agreement passing between them. "Very well," Barthomeloi replied. "You have our word. The world will never see another."
Merem, who had been watching the entire exchange with an unreadable expression, finally spoke again. "The world may never know how close it came to ruin," he said softly. "But they will remember the name Godzilla."
Serizawa stood up slowly, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. His mind raced with the implications of what was to come. The creation he had built with his own hands, his own brilliance, would now be used to kill the greatest threat humanity had ever known.
"I will need time," he said, his voice hoarse. "Time to prepare it."
Barthomeloi nodded curtly. "Take whatever time you need. But remember, Serizawa… we don't have much left."
—
Beneath the still waters of Tokyo Bay, the world was quiet. Far from the ruin and devastation on the surface, far from the cries of the millions who had suffered from the beast's rampage, there was only the deep, endless cold. This was where Godzilla had retreated after its final rampage, a wounded titan resting among the darkened seabed, a broken colossus whose body still radiated the remnants of the atomic fury that had given it life. The behemoth was still, its massive form silhouetted against the murky depths, a fallen god at the edge of its existence.
Dr. Daisuke Serizawa descended slowly through the water, his breathing heavy inside the oxygen mask, each exhalation fogging the visor in front of him. The weight of the Oxygen Destroyer, the device strapped securely to his chest, felt far heavier than the machinery it contained. It was the weight of his decision, the knowledge that with one simple action, he would become both executioner and martyr.
He couldn't help but think of everything he was leaving behind—his wife, the love of his life, and the unborn child she carried inside her, their son, Ishiro. The image of his wife's gentle smile flashed in his mind, her warm hands on his face as she whispered in his ear that they were going to have a family. A family. He had dreamed of that—of holding his son for the first time, watching him grow, teaching him to become a man, a man who could change the world for the better. But now that dream was slipping from his grasp, dissolving like the bubbles rising in the water around him.
Serizawa felt the pressure of the ocean deepen as he sank closer to the seabed. Above him, Barthomeloi was already beginning his ascent back to the surface. He had given the signal—it was time. The others would return, leaving Serizawa alone with the task he had been destined to carry out.
In the faint light that filtered down from the surface, Serizawa could see it. Godzilla's immense form was curled upon the seabed like some primordial dragon, resting, recovering, its body heaving slowly as it labored to draw breath. Its scales, once gleaming with fiery energy, were now dim and cracked, a sign of its battle-worn state. The monster's head lay upon the ocean floor, its massive, golden eyes closed as if in fitful sleep, but Serizawa knew better. The beast was conscious, aware.
The connection between them was immediate. As Serizawa's feet touched the seabed, disturbing the soft silt, Godzilla's eye opened.
A moment passed between them—an eternity wrapped in a heartbeat.
Serizawa stood still, frozen, the currents tugging gently at his suit. He had expected to feel fear, terror, at being so close to a creature of such unfathomable power. But there was none of that. Instead, Serizawa felt something far deeper—understanding. The great eye of the beast, glowing faintly in the darkness, was not filled with rage or malice. It was filled with something akin to resignation.
Godzilla gazed at Serizawa, its golden eye reflecting the man's small figure in the vastness of the deep. There was a kinship in that gaze, a recognition of shared fate. Both of them were beings created by forces far beyond their control—Godzilla, born from the hubris of mankind's nuclear ambitions, and Serizawa, a man whose genius had led him down a path from which there could be no return.
In that moment, Serizawa felt the loneliness of the beast. It was alone, just as he was. A creature born into a world it did not understand, a world that feared and reviled it. It had lashed out, not out of malice, but out of instinct—just as Serizawa was about to act, driven by the instinct to protect the ones he loved. The difference between them was not so great.
Serizawa reached down, his hand trembling slightly as he grasped the trigger for the Oxygen Destroyer. The device was cold against his palm, colder than the water surrounding him. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a countdown to his own death. He could feel the weight of his decision bearing down on him, the finality of it sinking in. This was the end, not just for Godzilla, but for himself.
He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing his wife's face one last time, the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke of their future. He imagined holding his son, Ishiro, for the first time, rocking him gently to sleep as the sun set over the horizon. He imagined the life he would never live, the moments he would never experience.
I'm sorry, my love, Serizawa thought. I'm sorry I won't be there for you. I'm sorry I won't see our son grow up. But this is the only way. This is the only way I can protect you.
He looked back at Godzilla. The beast's eye was still upon him, calm now, as if it, too, had accepted its fate. There was no rage in its gaze, no hatred. Only a deep, abiding sorrow. Godzilla understood what was coming—perhaps, in some way, it had always known.
With a deep breath, Serizawa pressed the trigger.
A brilliant, blinding light exploded from the Oxygen Destroyer, a pulse of energy that tore through the water like a tidal wave. Serizawa could feel the shockwave rippling through his body, but he remained still, his hand still grasping the trigger. He could see Godzilla's massive form convulsing, the beast's body writhing as the oxygen was stripped from the water around it, leaving it gasping for breath.
But Godzilla did not thrash in anger. It did not rage against its fate. Instead, the creature's gaze remained locked with Serizawa's, its golden eye dimming as the life slowly drained from its colossal form. The connection between them remained, unbroken, until the very end.
As the energy from the Oxygen Destroyer consumed the water around them, Serizawa felt the life begin to drain from his own body. His limbs grew heavy, his vision began to blur, and the cold of the ocean seemed to seep into his very bones. Yet even as death crept closer, he felt a strange sense of peace. He had done what he needed to do. He had protected the ones he loved. And in that moment, as the light faded and the darkness closed in, he was not alone.
He was with Godzilla.
The last thing Serizawa saw before the light faded entirely was the closing of Godzilla's eye, the great beast finally succumbing to its fate. There was no more struggle, no more pain. Only peace.
And then, there was nothing.
—
Far above, on the surface, Zelretch stood on the deck of the naval vessel, his ancient eyes narrowing as he sensed the ripple of energy from the depths below. The Oxygen Destroyer had done its work, but the effects were far more profound than even he had anticipated. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and twist in response to the device's activation, as if a piece of the world itself had been erased. The magic was not a mere alteration of reality—it was a true destruction, a True Magic unlike anything the world had ever seen.
The sea churned violently, the waters roiling with unseen forces as reality struggled to repair the gaping wound that had been torn open. The laws of physics twisted and buckled under the strain, and for a moment, Zelretch feared that the very ocean itself would collapse into nothingness.
With a gesture, Zelretch extended his hand, calling upon the power of his Second Magic. He felt the currents of infinite realities swirl around him, and with a twist of his fingers, he began to weave the threads of existence back together, containing the destruction before it could spread any further. It was an immense effort, even for someone of his power, but slowly, the world began to stabilize.
Still, the damage had been done. The Oxygen Destroyer had not just killed Godzilla. It had torn a hole in the very fabric of reality, and though Zelretch had managed to contain it, the effects would be felt for years to come.
The other magi aboard the vessel watched in stunned silence as the waters finally began to calm, their faces pale with the realization of what had just occurred. Many of them had harbored dreams of studying the Oxygen Destroyer, of unlocking its secrets and using it to gain access to the Root, the source of all magecraft. But now, those dreams were shattered. Serizawa had destroyed his notes, and with his death, the knowledge of how to recreate the device had died with him.
Merem Solomon, who had remained silent throughout the ordeal, let out a quiet sigh. "So, the secret of mystery remains hidden… for now."
The other magi nodded in agreement. Godzilla, the ancient beast that had threatened to expose the world of magecraft to the modern world, was no more. The crisis had been averted, but at a great cost.
As the sun began to rise over the horizon, casting its golden light over the still waters, Zelretch turned his gaze toward the ocean, his expression thoughtful. "Serizawa… you were a man of conviction," he murmured softly. "And for that, the world owes you a great debt."
The Mage's Association would move on, the world would forget the terror of Godzilla, but Zelretch knew that the true impact of the events in Tokyo Bay would be felt for generations.
As Serizawa turned to leave the room, he couldn't shake the feeling that, even if Godzilla were to be slain, there would be no true victory. The destruction would not end with the death of the beast. There would always be something more.
A/N: Greetings my dear readers to a brand new fanfiction, one in which i will continue to pump, i know this isn't what some of you people who already followed me might not have wanted but, no need to worry, because, i may or may not have any plans on continuing my other fanfic.
But for now let's talk about this story, we will be focusing on the Serizawa line here, yes i will be mostly using OCs, and the godzilla Jr here is most definitely an OC (and for the most part a self insert), and oooh boy did I buff Godzilla and the Oxygen Destroyer, yes it practically destroyed a part of reality, this will be explained further in the future don't worry, next chapter will be out soon after, I hope.
Well anyways, i hoped you enjoyed the show, leave a like and review, constructive criticism is appreciated and flames will be ignored, and also please bare with me, all I know about Fate's lore comes out of the anime and some of the abridged versions and other Fanfictions.
I don't own any of the characters except for my OCs, not sure if my OC version of Godzilla Jr. counts though... Cover Art not mine, at-least the one I have now.
