Chapter 53: The Joyless Castle
While Godzilla thundered across the battlefield of the material universe, crushing greenskin war machines beneath his feet, his shadow loomed elsewhere—in the Immaterium itself.
For now, let us turn our gaze away from the mortal plane. Deep within the Realm of Chaos, in that warped place where thought is form and desire shapes reality, lies the decadent dominion of Slaanesh: the Prince of Excess.
Each of the four Ruinous Powers possesses their own grotesque domain—Nurgle's rot-choked Garden, Tzeentch's maddening Impossible Fortress, Khorne's Brass Citadel, and among them, the seductive expanse known as the Palace of Pleasure, or more precisely, the Castle of Joy. It is a labyrinth of impossible beauty and torment, a dream-turned-nightmare where every twisted whim of the Dark Prince is given form.
And there, standing like a blight upon pleasure itself, rampaged Godzilla.
Or more accurately—Godzilla's Warp Projection.
Summoned not by ritual or pact, but spontaneously birthed into the Warp when Slaanesh attempted to manipulate the mind of Godzilla's mortal high priest, this monstrous echo of the King of the Monsters tore its way into the Prince's personal playground.
The spiked towers meant to inflict eternal ecstasy and pain shattered like brittle twigs beneath his steps. Lust-demons scattered like insects before him, only to be trampled into pulp beneath his burning feet. Where he walked, the pleasure palace became a charnel road of collapsed towers, ruined spires, and broken daemons. The very walls were studded with the shrieking souls of dead Eldar and slain daemons—but even they now fell silent in Godzilla's presence.
"You will go no further, beast!"
A booming voice, shrill and furious, halted his march for a moment. Looming from the mists of pleasure and pain emerged a Keeper of Secrets, flanked by twisted daemonettes and Slaaneshi horrors. Four-armed, elegant, monstrous—this was a greater daemon of the Dark Prince, a creature of desire and destruction.
"This is His domain," the Keeper roared, muscles rippling, silk and steel jingling with unnatural allure. "You trespass upon the sacred soil of excess! Turn back, Godzilla!"
But the monster did not turn. It did not slow. Its skin rippled strangely, as though its cells beat like living drums. The form it bore was no longer purely that of the natural world—it now resembled the Hell Godzilla of Terran legend, the kind whispered about in comic books and grim dreams.
It wasn't truly that version—thankfully for the entire Warp. But the resemblance was undeniable. This was a warped Godzilla, tainted by the Warp, yet still Godzilla. And in the Warp, where belief is power, that was more than enough.
The Keeper of Secrets sneered. "You twist the laws of the Castle! You violate the sacred harmony of indulgence!" His voice dropped an octave, fury now overriding the usual seductive tone. "That's blasphemy against the Dark Prince, you warped abomination!"
In a realm where form is fluid, the Keeper sought to increase his size—to grow titanic, towering, overwhelming. But...he couldn't.
His expansion stopped abruptly at around sixty meters—equal to the beast he faced.
"What? My growth has... ceased?!"
The realization dawned with horror: Godzilla's very presence was rewriting the rules of the realm. Even here, in the Prince's seat of power, Godzilla's will suppressed the laws of excess.
The Keeper screamed in rage, taloned feet stomping with futile power—but Godzilla moved again. The clash of titans was inevitable.
"You dare?! Then dance, beast! Dance to the rhythm of agony and beauty!"
With bladed grace, the Keeper lunged, his four arms a blur. Twin sabers, forged like the curved blades of Eldar Harlequins, slashed at Godzilla, while his great pincers closed to crush.
He spun like a dancer—sprinting, twisting, vaulting into the air in a perfect pirouette of destruction. His scimitars struck Godzilla's flank—
Clang!
Sparks flared from the monster's flesh. No cut. No blood.
The Keeper's eyes widened. "What?!"
Godzilla answered the flourish with his own.
He spun.
His colossal tail, heavy as a dreadnought and faster than thought, whipped through the air and smashed into the daemon's head with the force of an orbital strike. The Keeper of Secrets crashed to the ground, dazed. Still reeling, he tried to counter—one clawed pincer darted upward to strike between Godzilla's legs.
Godzilla responded by stepping on the limb.
"AAAHHHHHHH!"
The pincer exploded in a shower of daemonic ichor. Even for a creature born of pleasure and pain, the agony was unspeakable.
The Keeper shrieked and tried to pull free—until he heard it.
"Bzzzzzzzzzz..."
That terrible hum of energy charging, the sound that echoed across galaxies in terrified memory.
He looked up.
Godzilla's maw glowed with that searing azure light. The atomic breath was coming.
"No—no—NO!"
With wild abandon, the Keeper slashed off his own trapped limb and turned to flee. But no daemon outruns death.
The atomic ray fired.
It carved a path through the heart of the Castle of Joy, incinerating daemons, towers, and forbidden idols alike. It consumed the Keeper mid-stride, his scream trailing off as his essence disintegrated into Warp ash.
All around, daemons were annihilated. Some died instantly; others melted, twisted, or vanished in silent shock. The realm itself buckled.
And watching from a safe vantage, hidden behind illusion and trickery, stood a peculiar figure: tall, masked, clad in motley colors.
The Laughing God.
Cegorach—also known as Silegao in certain old Craftworld dialects—rubbed his sharp chin thoughtfully.
"I was going to make a joke," he muttered, "but this... this might even make the Emperor of Mankind crack a smile."
He stifled a chuckle. "Hehehe~"
What he saw both amused and terrified him. Godzilla's subspace avatar was not bound by normal daemon logic. He was not a warp entity. He was something else. A blight upon the Immaterium. A godless beast made of rage, fire, and refusal.
Slaanesh had poked the wrong bear.
"You brought this on yourself, Shalish," Cegorach murmured. "And to think... this all started because you toyed with his priest. The Eldar may be fools, but this time, they weren't the punchline."
His form shimmered. Even the Trickster God knew better than to remain nearby.
"Time to go. Leave the screaming to someone else."
And with that, the Laughing God vanished, long before Slaanesh could turn their eyes toward him. He had already sent his Harlequins to warn the warriors of Craftworld Tyrande to flee—not just from the green tide or the approaching Tyranids...
But from Godzilla.
Who walks among daemons and gods as if they were insects.
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