After the climactic battle with King Ghidorah and the ascension to King of the Monsters, Godzilla believed he had protected everything precious to him.
But he overlooked one terrible truth-his own son, Goji, was left behind in the cave where his fat...
In the depths of the dark ocean, life seemed untouched by the passage of time.
The pressure and cold created a world that felt as if it had been locked in an eternal, indifferent stillness.
Then, a tremor—a flicker of movement that shouldn't be there, a red glow searing through the black water, bright as fresh blood.
A portal, swirling, wild, and impossibly red, tore through the void at the ocean floor, and from it, something large and dark slipped through.
Its figure twisted, unsettling the murky waters around it as it shot forward with purpose, its powerful tail cutting through the darkness like a blade.
Anger, colder and more enduring than the water itself, drove the creature.
It moved as if nothing else existed but its destination, where forgotten memories lingered, heavy and silent.
After what felt like hours, the creature reached the ruins of an underwater temple.
This place, even in its ruin, stood like a haunted monument.
Rocks lay scattered in disarray, dust still drifting from the ceiling above, and half-crushed pillars leaned dangerously as if mourning their own demise.
Broken statues, unseeing stone eyes weathered by eons, stared out into the emptiness, silent witnesses to a world that had moved on.
With a low, resonant growl, the creature drifted inside.
Every scrape of his claws against the stone floor echoed hollowly through the empty halls.
He cast his gaze around the devastated temple, his eyes glowing a brilliant, icy white.
He felt the weight of years pressing down upon him, as if time itself had grown tired in this place, too weary to continue its slow erosion.
“I’m home,” the creature rumbled in a low, gravelly voice, each word carrying a burden that stretched across lifetimes.
This was Goji, the forsaken son of Godzilla, and this temple was once his haven—now, a mausoleum.
His body, massive and imposing, seemed at odds with the fragility in his voice, a reminder of the innocence he’d long since shed.
His scales glistened, obsidian black with ghostly highlights that shimmered whenever he moved.
His dorsal plates, once small and unassuming, now rose in jagged peaks along his spine, glowing with a haunting white aura.
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He was home, but it was a place he had not known in many years.
The temple now stood as a memory—a forgotten graveyard for the life he’d left behind.
