Chapter 23: The Arena Beckons
Both the Tau and the Dark Eldar had now felt the crushing presence of Godzilla.
As for the Dark Eldar, their losses were hardly a concern. Unlike their more restrained Craftworld cousins, the Dark Eldar of Commorragh maintained a vastly larger population. Despite their souls being constantly at risk from Slaanesh, they were prolific in other ways—cloning, bio-modification, and a complete disregard for traditional reproduction saw to that. Their sheer numbers often left the Imperium wringing its hands in frustration.
Commorragh itself? It defies meaningful scale. Games Workshop has never pinned down a size, but suffice to say it's so sprawling that you could murder someone in broad daylight and not only go unpunished—you might be offered a job in the arena. Glory awaits those who can slaughter their way to prominence.
Yes, remember the Arena of Commorragh. Victory there earns more than just prestige—it grants power, influence, survival. Defeat the likes of Tyranid Broodlords, Ultramarine Captains, Ork Warbosses, and even Lords of the Death Guard, and you'll climb the social ladder fast. There's even a certain regent—Evelyn—who's been hyped across fan communities. No, she's not Roboute Guilliman's girlfriend. Just allies, folks. Settle down before the Ultramarines knock on your door.
Back to the matter at hand: the death of the Archon had already rippled through the ranks of his cabal.
"The Archon is dead?!"
One enterprising kabalite warrior shouted with joy, "Excellent! I'm Archon now!"
He was promptly crushed underfoot by Godzilla.
Such is the way of the Dark Eldar. Leadership is fluid. Assassination is a career move. The only surprise was that the last Archon managed to detect his assassin at all—a testament to how routine backstabbing was in his life.
Godzilla now stood before the downed Dark Eldar cruiser. Though the hull was battered, the general structure remained intact.
'That thing's enormous… GW really just makes up these numbers, huh?'
Godzilla, despite his titanic size, seemed almost small compared to the Eldar ship.
'Doubt I can jump on that one. Maybe a proper battleship though…'
[Too small. Try a battleship. Maybe one of the Tyranid hiveships. That'd fit.]
His thoughts briefly wandered.
'Wonder if there are any Dark Eldar girls on board. Reminds me of that lizardfolk novel I read once…'
[Don't start. You're not Khan. Just say it if you're gonna say it.]
'It was just a thought.'
While Godzilla pondered this, the lizardmen moved. Erupting from the jungle, they encircled the Dark Eldar survivors. Initially, the kabalites scoffed. They were refined killers, capable of dueling Necrons to a standstill. What could these beasts do?
Then the blood started to flow.
A lone kabalite warrior darted and struck at a lizardman, slicing under the arm. He expected the blade to cleave clean through. Instead, it bit in shallowly—as if cutting into dense bark or metal.
"This isn't flesh... what is this?"
He circled, slicing again and again. Wounds opened—but none fatal. When his blade rebounded off the creature's spine with a metallic clink, he froze.
Fatal mistake.
The lizardman's club came down like a thunderbolt, crushing his helmet and skull in one stroke. Dark Eldar armor lacks the luxury of energy shielding.
Across the battlefield, the Dark Eldar were being overpowered or captured. Those who had come to take slaves had themselves become the offering.
The lizardmen had a reason. Their rituals demanded sacrifice. And to open a Webway gate, nothing worked better than captured Eldar.
"In this galaxy," whispered Isis, kneeling in reverence, "weakness is sin."
Her faith, woven through generations of priesthood, resonated like a pulse across the jungle. With every breath, the warp shifted.
"My god desires a Great Crusade. Then this world shall march through the stars, bearing his will."
But in the Warp, others had taken notice.
From the Brass Throne, the Blood God stirred. His command thundered across the daemon plains.
[Blood. Skulls. Bring me his.]
The Khornate legions, locked in endless combat, paused. Something greater awaited.
In the crystal towers of the Changing Maze, Tzeentch laughed. Not at Godzilla—but at Isis. The pawn psyker. His chosen agents would strike soon. But how, none could say—not even the beast-god himself.
Meanwhile, Godzilla was busy pulling apart Tau vessels like oversized puzzle pieces.
Commander Ether stood beside his cadre, cradling the wounded Aun'Va surrogate.
"I don't think we'll return home today," he muttered.
"We must endure, sir. For the Greater Good."
"They're here."
The rainforest parted. The lizardmen, no longer bothering to hide, emerged.
This was it.
Their last stand.
The remains of Ether's flagship—Godzilla's latest trophy—loomed in the distance. With no hope of retreat, resistance would only buy time, not survival.
Then a voice rang out in their minds.
"In the name of my god, Godzilla, I declare your defeat. Lay down your arms. I, High Priestess Isis, guarantee your survival. Resist… and perish."
A Tau soldier barked, "We do not surrender!"
Isis's voice was cold and clear.
"Is that your answer, Tau Ethereal?"
Ether took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"For the Greater Good… we do not yield."
"So be it."
Isis raised her hand.
There was nothing elaborate—no spectacle of divine fury. Just one simple gesture.
A broken Tau cruiser—cleaved in two by Godzilla—lifted into the air.
Then, like a hammer from the gods, it came crashing down upon the Tau's last line.
In that moment, both the Ethereal and the commander were obliterated.
There were no survivors.
The power of the lizardmen had been revealed. And behind them, their god—Godzilla—watched silently, his campaign only just beginning
*******
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