The scent of death was suffocating, thick in the air like a shroud that clung to everything. It was a smell he would never get used to, a nauseating blend of coppery blood, burnt flesh, and something else—something sickly sweet and repulsive, like decay. The main hall of the Guardians of The Globe, once a beacon of justice and heroism, had become a grotesque tableau of carnage. Blood pooled in slick, dark puddles, mingling with shattered remains of furniture and equipment, while the walls were spattered with gruesome reminders of what had transpired here.
Where once laughter and camaraderie had echoed, there was now only silence, broken only by the occasional drip of blood from dismembered limbs. The bodies—or what was left of them—were strewn across the room in pieces, a grim mosaic of shattered heroism. Heads blown off, torsos torn asunder, limbs twisted at unnatural angles; the scene was a testament to a battle fought with a ferocity beyond comprehension.
Amidst this slaughter, one figure stood out, a lone sentinel in a crimson-stained uniform that had once been pristine white, as pure and unblemished as freshly fallen snow. Now, it was drenched in the blood of those he had once called comrades, those he had fought beside, laughed with, trusted. His name was Omni-Man, the greatest warrior among the Guardians, a hero to the world—and a traitor in its darkest hour.
He stood in the center of the devastation, his shoulders heaving with the weight of what he had done. Blood dripped from his hands, once instruments of salvation, now stained with the lives they had taken. His face, chiseled and stoic, was a mask of conflicting emotions. Anger, sorrow, regret, and a hard, cold determination flickered across his features, each one leaving its mark.
He was a warrior of the Viltrumite Empire, a race known for their strength and ruthlessness. Sent to this world to conquer, to subjugate, he had instead been seduced by its beauty, its fragility, and its promise. He had allowed himself to be softened, to care. This weakness—this empathy—was a betrayal of his mission, a betrayal of his people. And now, it had culminated in this horrific act of violence.
Omni-Man looked down at the broken bodies of the Guardians, his breath catching in his throat. Each face, each form, was a haunting reminder of what he had lost, of what he had been forced to destroy. His eyes lingered on War Woman's shattered shield, on Red Rush's broken form, on the lifeless gaze of Darkwing, who had always been the most skeptical of him. Their deaths were necessary, he told himself. It was them or the mission, and the mission could not be compromised.
But the words rang hollow in his mind, a feeble attempt to justify the unjustifiable. The Guardians had been his friends, his allies. They had believed in him, trusted him, and he had betrayed that trust in the most heinous way possible. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, a crushing burden that threatened to break him.
He had known it would be hard, that there would be resistance. But he hadn't anticipated this—hadn't anticipated the depth of his own attachment, the strength of his feelings for these people, this world. It had weakened him, made him vulnerable, and in that vulnerability, he had almost faltered. The Guardians had fought back with a desperation that surprised him, their strength and resolve more formidable than he had ever given them credit for.
They had almost beaten him.
And in those moments of struggle, he had felt a flicker of hope, a yearning to stop, to turn back. But it was too late. The die had been cast, and he had been left with no choice but to see it through to the bitter end. And now, as he stood amidst the wreckage, the blood of his comrades pooling around his feet, he felt a cold clarity settle over him.
This was just the beginning.
The hardest battle was yet to come. The Viltrumite Empire had set its sights on this world, and it was his duty to pave the way for its conquest. But first, he would have to face the one who could truly stand in his way—the towering, formidable warrior who was this planet's last line of defense.
He needed time to prepare, to heal, to steel himself for what was to come. The Guardians had been formidable, but they were not his true challenge ,but giant man with long hair is. That lay ahead, in a confrontation that would determine the fate of the world.
As he began to fade, Omni-Man felt the exhaustion crash over him like a wave. His vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt around him. The injuries he had sustained, the toll of the fight, and the overwhelming weight of his guilt all combined to drag him down into unconsciousness.
"Agh..." he groaned, stumbling as darkness encroached on his vision. He felt his knees buckle, and then he was falling, collapsing into the sticky, congealing blood of his fallen comrades. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was the lifeless eyes of his friends, staring accusingly at him.
*
*
*
Far from the Hall of Guardians of the Globe, a secluded forest stood unmarked by the recent chaos that had marred the ball of justice. In the heart of a forest, a towering figure's laughter echoed through the trees.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! THAT'S A HUUUGE BITCH!"
Loud voice revealed someone—a giant of a man, standing three meters tall. His muscular frame was adorned with a vibrant Hawaiian shirt, its bright hues clashing with the forest's serene greens. He wore white pants, incongruous in the wilderness, and dark shoes that completed his bold, carefree look. His golden blond hair flowed in a wild mane, reminiscent of a lion, while a long goatee framed his face, giving him a regal yet fierce appearance.
Gold glasses perched on his nose gleamed in the light, his eyes shining with a mischievous, predatory glint. A faint golden aura flickered around him, hinting at the power within.
Across the clearing loomed a massive kaiju, a nightmare come to life. Crab-like, with a hard, chitinous shell gleaming ominously under the daylight, its eyes glowed with an eerie light, reflecting a cold intelligence. Its massive pincers snapped, each movement sounding like grinding stone. Its body was a fortress of organic armor, daunting and impervious.
The creature's presence was overwhelming, dwarfing even the giant man before it. As they locked eyes, the kaiju let out a deep, rumbling roar, shaking the ground and chilling the forest.
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* ROAR *
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The roar echoed through the night, a challenge and a declaration of fury. The golden-haired warrior grinned, "Big, I slay Bigger. BUT NOW, GET OVER HERE! "
As if expecting the challenge, the colossal kaiju lunged forward with terrifying speed. Its enormous legs swept through the forest like a scythe through tall grass, toppling trees as though they were mere matchsticks, their trunks splintering explosively under its weight. The creature moved with unrestrained, primal fury, its glowing eyes burning with an all-consuming desire to destroy everything in its path. There was no strategy, no restraint—just raw, unbridled rage.
Unfortunately for the kaiju, its opponent was a man who had yet to reveal his true power.
With a determined "YAGH!" the man launched himself from the ground, a movement both effortless and powerful. His muscular legs propelled him upward with such force that the ground cracked and cratered beneath him, sending dirt and rocks flying. The ground shook as if a minor earthquake had erupted from that single leap. He soared into the sky like a missile, a streak of gold against the dark night.
The kaiju, sensing danger, roared again, a deafening bellow that shook the heavens and reverberated through the earth. Its blazing eyes tracked the man's ascent, but its massive bulk made it slow and cumbersome. As the man reached the peak of his jump, he began his descent—a three-meter-tall human missile aimed directly at the kaiju's head.
With a roar to rival the kaiju's, the man extended his hand, his fingers clenching into a fist that glowed with a faint golden aura. The energy around him intensified, a shimmering aura pulsing with life. His eyes, now glowing faintly gold, were locked onto his target, piercing through the kaiju's rage-filled visage.
As he plummeted toward the kaiju, time seemed to slow. He became a blur of motion, a streak of light hurtling down with unstoppable momentum. The kaiju, unable to react in time, could only brace for the inevitable impact. The air crackled with energy, the tension reaching its peak.
Then, with a resounding crash that echoed for miles, the man's fist collided with the kaiju's armored head.
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* BOOM *
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The impact was cataclysmic, sending a shockwave that flattened the surrounding forest and scattered debris. The ground quaked under the force of the blow, the air shuddering as the shockwave passed through. Trees were uprooted, animals fled in terror, and the night sky seemed to tremble in response to the unleashed power.
The kaiju's roar was abruptly cut off as the force reverberated through its massive frame. Its eyes, once glowing with rage, dimmed and flickered. For a moment, it stood frozen, echoes of the impact still reverberating through the forest. Then, slowly, it toppled backward, crashing to the ground with an earth-shaking thud.
Dust and dirt billowed into the air, obscuring the scene in a thick cloud. As the dust settled, the man emerged, standing tall and unbowed atop the fallen kaiju's head. His golden aura slowly faded, but his power and presence remained undiminished. His fist, still clenched, relaxed as he looked down at the unconscious beast beneath him.
The clearing, once filled with the sounds of battle, was now eerily silent. The man's gaze swept across the devastation—the fallen trees, the massive, unconscious kaiju at his feet.
With a final, defiant grin, he leaped down from the kaiju's head, landing gracefully on the ground. He walked away from the fallen creature, each step leaving a small imprint in the earth. The forest around him was silent, as if in awe of the spectacle it had just witnessed.
" Kaiju 0, Goliath 98. Bwhahahahahaha!"
Thomas Andre, or more commonly known as Goliath the Titan Slayer.