───「 Human POV 」───
"Mr. Serizawa, you've been staying here for several days now. Is everything alright?" the staff member asked with concern.
"Yes, it's fine. Thank you for all your help during this time," Serizawa replied with a polite nod.
"Don't mention it—it's the least I could do. Your brother, Dr. Serizawa, was tremendously helpful to our organization. This is nothing in comparison." The staff member paused at the door. "So, that's all then? Should I leave you be?"
"Please," Serizawa confirmed.
After the staff member departed from the trailer, Serizawa opened his laptop and began reviewing the latest intelligence reports. Deep in the underground shelter, no daylight penetrated—just the artificial glow of screens illuminating his tired face.
What he accessed wasn't typical news but rather classified information—detailed reports about Ghidorah's wings, Godzilla's movements, and discoveries beyond the rift. This was the inner sanctum of scientific intelligence, previously accessible only to high-ranking government officials from various nations.
Recently, however, access had expanded slightly. While still restricted from the general public, professors from elite universities could now view certain files. It was only through his brother's credentials that Serizawa Kosuke gained entry to this highly secured database.
What he discovered there left him awestruck.
The database contained detailed information about the rifts—gateways to other dimensions—and the worlds that lay beyond them. There were catalogs of different life forms classified by threat level: harmless H-class organisms, somewhat dangerous S-class entities, highly threatening R-class creatures, and the utterly catastrophic D-class beings.
Compared to the vastness of space above, the world beneath humanity's feet harbored even greater mysteries.
Seven rifts. Seven different spacetime continuums. Countless species of completely alien life forms.
These rifts—essentially wormholes connecting different dimensions—existed right here on Earth. Their very presence defied conventional physics.
Creating a wormhole should require negative spacetime gravity, which in turn would need matter with negative mass and negative energy. Since all known substances, including antimatter, possess positive energy density, wormholes should be theoretically impossible.
Yet they existed.
While the Casimir effect could theoretically create a pseudo "negative energy" field sufficient for a wormhole, the real problem was structural stability. According to physics calculations, the tension of a wormhole was astronomical.
This tension increased inversely with the wormhole's diameter. To prevent the forces around a wormhole's throat from tearing apart molecular structures, its diameter would need to span two light-years—requiring the conversion of all positive matter from 10 trillion suns into negative matter.
Even then, such a wormhole would exert a tension of 5 million tons per square meter—enough to stretch any known material into atomic strings.
Yet somehow, the seven rifts deep within Earth exhibited tensions less than one hundred-thousandth of a Newton per square meter.
The implications were staggering. To achieve such minimal tension would require a wormhole with a diameter exceeding 100 million light-years. The amount of negative mass needed for such structures was incalculable, suggesting Earth must harbor many more undiscovered rifts.
Gateways to other universes... The concept was mind-bending.
If humanity could understand these rifts' ecosystems, they might provide escape routes should Earth ever become uninhabitable. Unfortunately, most worlds beyond were incredibly hostile.
Two rifts connecting to North and South America led to barren planets without atmospheres. Another in East Asia opened to a primordial world of molten magma.
Only four rifts—located in Europe, East Africa, Siberia, and Antarctica—contained complete ecosystems, but each presented unique dangers:
Europe's dimension harbored insects that corroded metal, plants that changed shape at will, and white mists that disrupted electronic signals.
Siberia's rift led to an eternal winter where temperatures plunged below -100°C, supporting only extremophile microorganisms.
Antarctica's portal, paradoxically, opened to a tropical jungle inhabited by dangerously intelligent creatures.
East Africa's rift revealed endless grasslands roamed by titan-sized beings that rendered unmanned probes useless.
As a biologist, Serizawa found these other-dimensional ecosystems fascinating, but research remained frustratingly limited. Despite years of exploration, scientists had only documented appearances of these life forms—classified as H, S, R, or D—without capturing specimens for proper study.
It would take generations to fully understand what lay beyond the rifts—likely beyond his lifetime.
What a shame, he thought.
As Serizawa refreshed the database page, a new report caught his attention. The title sent a chill down his spine:
"Analysis Report on Destoroyah, a Class D Life Form Beyond the Rifts."