Empty Monarchy

[Biohazard85]

Empty Monarchy



The listening rhythms of riveting waves slipped from the ocean’s hands as they swept against the rocky landings of the brooding island that seemed to just be floating within the ocean’s currents. It was a formation of land that was designed with a purpose, each rock and bead of sand was placed evenly across its layout. It was an island lost against the sight of distance, away from the rules of the world. Survival was the only rule that played on Ogasawara Island. And to do so was to summit one’s self to the reign of the one they called the King of The Monsters.

The tittering roam of mounting waves tore and parted against a lifting mass that pierced through the layer of water. Husks of thick charcoal stained skin continued its climb to the rays of the sun. The creature’s orangish coffee rimmed eyes stared into the oblivion that stood at its incredible height. His body was shapely with straight shoulders, a heavy chest that bounded forward and a slender stomach. The creature’s arms were molded with muscles that pushed against the bulky armor like skin that held them in. Each giant hand was greeted with four lengthy claws, almost an unnecessary bonus. Its legs were stoutly, wide and heavy, built to carry the monster’s massive weight. It’s back tested in three rows of sharply barbed fins tuned from white glistening bone; they laid randomly on its back in an incoherent mess. Like a tapping finger, its massive, burly tail battered the running waves. Its head was minor compared to the rest of its body and rectangular in shape. A twisting brow covered over the monster’s cunning eyes, giving a look of anger and power. With no more than a small press of its muscles, Godzilla’s jaws were liberated from their clamped state, sending a trembling bellow cascading across the island he called his own.

The inhabitants of the island knew the roar that filled the valleys; it was a warning to them all. They knew if they showed any disrespect, that they would have to show the king that they had the right to battle him that was the law on Monster Island. Many of the monsters showed their scars that they had received from Godzilla, their faces scolded by the painful licks from its searing radioactive breath. Most survive the brutal attack, but not all of them do.

A dropping foot sounded across the ground as Godzilla stumbled on to the hot sandy beach. The echoing rumble shook the loose rocks from their place close by, dropping dust into the spying eyes of a monster too afraid to even show itself in the same daylight that Godzilla walked in. It hid itself under a pile of sagging debris, it watched through the small holes in-between the rocks as Godzilla stepped closer. The frightened monster’s lips curdled with an unpleasant snarl as its view became clouded with Godzilla’s chunky thigh. That snarl was taken as a sign of disrespect.

A gusting thrust of hammering flesh threw itself against the unstable pile of rocks as Godzilla’s tail violently swept over the area, turning over every rock that laid in its way to found the peasant that had made noise in the present of its ruler. A stout wall of expanding dust filled the air with its denseness, blocking out even the light provided by the sun. The layering particles of dust began to settle once again, mending back into the soil that they were jarred from. Squatting on all four in the middle of the roving chaos, sat a small chubby, bright reddish monster. Its undersized body was blotted with fat, its skin loose and lumpy. Mounds of flesh layered themselves against its back, forming into a hump. The beast’s back legs were slender and fitting, tipped with three toes that were pointed with three dagger-like nails. The front paws were massive, twice as large as its rear ones; they were barbed with elongated claws, sharply carved and broad, a useful tool for digging through the rocky crust of the island. Its head was very square and wide, its snout matching evenly with the dimensions of its head. The side of its cheek boiled with scarred flesh, where the monster’s hide had been melted away by Godzilla’s atomic beam, showing that it had been defiant before. Floppy ears came like sails against the animal’s head, drooping with each bounce of movement. Its eyes were round and small, which had been dipped in a crimson red. A protruding yellow stained horn came from above its eyes. Its oblong shaped mouth gutted a hissing grimace that could only come from the childish monster, Baragon.


Baragon’s eyes were turned low, like a guilty child. A gloom of shade impressed against the terrified monster’s face. Venting steams of gusting hot air greased against Baragon’s oily flesh. His timid eyes blinked against the concession of air, only to be pressed against a foul swell of thicken charcoal colored flesh. Tipping lips were pulled backwards as an audience of sharpened teeth paused in front of Baragon’s face as Godzilla sneered, dripping slag of saliva moistening his lips heavily. Godzilla’s forceful face was nearly twice as big as Baragon’s timid head as Godzilla pressed on his sneering stare. Baragon’s jaw grinded against the rocky soil as it lowered its head as far as it would go as Godzilla lowered his head even closer to Baragon’s. It acted like a child that had been horribly scolded, hiding its face away from its parent to not face the intimidation that was present. Baragon’s muscles shivered with the impending fright, the memories of its first encounter with Godzilla were still fresh as the flesh was still hot with pain.

A stirring shadow lifted from Baragon’s weeping state, as a tremble of thudding footsteps rumbled pass. Baragon’s head rose from its slump, watching the bundle of pointy spines wade into a valley of expanding cliffs, as Godzilla continued with his pushing might. The darkness was the only place to hide on the island, the only place that Baragon could be safe. Its lengthy claws scarp into the gravely ground, shaping the earth to fit its body shape as Baragon tunneled to the depths below.

The drip of the sun came with its bright rays, sanding over the desert like environment. The air swelled with sweat and heat, surrounding the area in a feeling of discomfort. The clinching warmth clasped against Godzilla’s armored scales, barely able to increase the already high temperature of the creature. Not even the shade could cool the roaming temperature down. The wind remained just as hot as the island did, not giving away any of its relaxing comfort to anyone that sought it. A tingle of charming cool wind came from behind Godzilla’s back, whistling through his fanning spines. Laps of air sailed against Godzilla’s back, like they were being pushed unnaturally. The unnatural occurrence made Godzilla tilt his head towards the roving cool wind that came from behind him, his lips scrunching angrily against the ever top of his jaws. The simple gesture came hard to the one that was responsible for the cool air that was blowing. In a storm of mixing greens and yellows hovering in a speeding cloud dashed over Godzilla’s shoulder. The movements of its wings caused the monster to become nearly naked to Godzilla’s eye. Godzilla had yet to actually see what the creature looked like; all he knew was that he could always sense its fear. The hum of its insect wings came to a dull drone as the beast disappeared. The giant insect had no interest in Godzilla; it was better at hunting smaller, weaker prey.

Protesting footsteps pounded as Godzilla lurched across the island’s territory, the quakes that rebounded through the valley of cliffs were no more than a warning like thunder was a warning for the violent storm that was coming. Within those cliffs, the approach of Godzilla fell light against sleeping ears. Stabled against a rock facing, a bulky mass of muscle and power that had been shaped into a sleeping giant laid. The skin of the living mountain was dressed with a dull gray, covering over the shaky, rough texture of its tissue. To support the immense heaviness of the beast, two colossal legs were sealed against its waist, each ending in their own foot that stepped with three slender toes. The monster’s waist and chest was nothing more than a plate of solid bone that had been covered in gooey, heavy skin. Its arms reached with limited length, angled with three pasty broad claws. Its head lurched outward from the top of its body, its maw extending far away from its blood red eyes, its mouth coated with several sizeable teeth dispersed throughout. Adorned on the back of its head were two massive, bony horns, curving wildly around themselves before they ended in a deadly point. It was the only one that feared nothing from Godzilla’s tours, it was Pazuzu, rightfully Godzilla’s equal.


With a trick of his eye, Godzilla beamed his sight deeply on the sleeping Pazuzu. A tip of Pazuzu’s eyelid came up, exposing Godzilla’s graze into its own view. A horrible, drudging snort steamed from Pazuzu’s open nostrils, showing its discontent for Godzilla’s presence while it slept. Godzilla gave a simple snarl back, before he resumed his walk, knowing that a sleeping monster never means harm.


The island was only the second home of Godzilla, as the ocean was the cradle of life for the monster. The sea was too vast for him to be king; his power would never be able to handle the cold darkness that was such a comfort to the brutal monster. Within its settle waves, an object floated around peacefully. Its shape was saucer like, much like a turtles shell, through it had seven hefty spikes projecting from all of its sides. The drifting shell’s color was drenched in a cold blue, to mimic the waters that it was traveling in. The monster was lost to Godzilla’s control; it would only obey the call of the ocean.


There another creature in those same oceans, concealed within the lapping waves, wearing them like a child would wear a blanket to hide from monsters under its bed. Its eyes easily saw Godzilla as he prodded across the island’s shoreline. It hid its slender body against the rocky bottom of the shallow waters, its deep red skin turning to a muddy brown in the shadowy depths. The bony spines on the monster’s back were the only thing that wasn’t obscured by the murkiness. The giant animal’s tail coiled against the back of its legs, like a frightened dogs. Its legs were simple in design, tiny and frail, with only the slightest of skin stretched over them. Hunger had eaten away at the morsels of flesh that had formed the brute’s once large stomach, only leaving a sagging pouch of weak flesh. Its arms had suffered the same fate as the rest o fits body; they were long and skinny, nearly unable to lift the hand filled with bladed claws. The living fossil’s gem of a face was plated with spines and barbs sticking out from various directions from its oval shaped head. The creature’s sickly orange hued eyes stayed focused on Godzilla movements. Anger had built in the feeble monster against Godzilla, knowing that he was the cause of why it was so hunger. Varan opened its wide mouth, letting a rush of venting air escape pass its withered teeth as no food would be going down it.

A smell of ash and sulfur was strong in the air, a smell that was kept against the island’s nose on a daily basis. The isle was built on a mass of active lava, always rolling and turning under the thin crust that held it in. There was only one point that it was allowed to peak from and that being the tip of the volcano that climaxed from the Far East side of the island. The volcano was just another object that had to feared Godzilla’s wrath or be able to subdue the creature. Either way, it was still under the kingdom that had crowned Godzilla its king. Though, the volcano already had a king of its own.

Stroking vents of compressing steam and heat expelled from crumbling, soft earth as oozing lava seemed to shape and rise like a living being. Craggily, blacken rock shifted into a full body, standing on its own legs as life breathed through the earth made element. Through the cracks of the rock, super-heated lava flowed freely, like a dam that couldn’t hold back the force of the water; it was the life force of the creature, a substitute for blood. It was like every other living being, it had two legs and arms, each forged from sulking stone, each end of the appendages whittled with jagged claw like finger and toes. The living volcano’s head was nothing more than a giant mouth, wide and smooth, like the opening to a furnace, as a crown of three horns were placed on the back of its head. From the faults of an evolving earth, a creature of pure elements was born; Obsidius was a marvel of what the earth was capable of, but he had been lulled into silence by Godzilla’s rule.

Slipping eyelids adjusted into a sever expression; a view of hatred was lined across them. Godzilla’s eyes stood against Obsidius’s sweltering form, waiting for the monster to give enough of sign to force Godzilla into keeping his title. Obsidius knew its grounds; it was another that had suffered against Godzilla’s strength when it pressed its strength. It was months before its body reformed enough for it to once again move, it didn’t even know why the monster kept it alive. Maybe it knew without other monsters around, Godzilla couldn’t be called a king. Obsidius sunk back into the lava pool that it had emerged from, covering its body in the refreshing magma.



The kingdom was at peace, its peasants easily subdued. The king had made his visits, learning of his followers’ actives and doings. Fear was what ruled and Godzilla was that fear. It was the only way to control beings that were too violent and sadistic to form a discreet society, so it was the king’s right of form a certain rule to fill in the gaps that were present. Each day that passed, Godzilla noticed the behaviors were changing, less aggression and hostility. He was slowly reforming them into monsters that weren’t always filled with hate, to just live their lives without killing each other out of territory and violence. Monster kind wouldn’t survive without a ruler, and death wasn’t the only thing to come from that.

Godzilla’s day had come to an end as he reached his side of the island. A lush of tropical vegetation screened the ground floor with a heavy green as a curtain of rough mountains laid behind it. As he stumbled across his territory, a rush of movement raced towards Godzilla. The dusk of the shadows that were coming over the island, gave a false darkness to the creature’s broken, dull brown skin. A lean shell that rode along the frame of the monster held a garden of stout toothy spikes. The monster’s tail kept the same pattern of spikes that were on its shell, as twin chains of thorns went down to the tip of the elongated appendage. It’s four legs long and crane like, with four, slender and stretched out fingers tipping all of its paws. Its head was lean and lengthy, the top of its head placed with a cap of bony barbs. Its mouth was stretched long and slender, tipped with a growing horn at the crest of its nose. Anguris’s moist muzzle snorted a cold, almost whispering whimper, a welcome to Godzilla.

Godzilla returned the greeting with a low bellow. Anguris was the only monster that Godzilla would never look down upon. It had grained immense respect for the beast, after Godzilla fought both of its parents fifty years ago. It was the closest Godzilla had come to death facing a creature that was nearly a third his size. There was nothing more than respect left for Godzilla to show to the monster that held its parents’ strength. It was the closet thing to a friend that Godzilla could have.


Searing eyes that were sealed with an evil sneer came from across the island, eyes that had been watching Godzilla’s trek the entire time. These eyes were filled with jealousy and loathing, a loathing that it lived on an island that was wrongfully ruled. That its fellow monsters were forced to be treated like the bastards of the world. That peace could only be accomplished by bringing about the death of the king. It could never happen by its own hands, it would have to seek out a plan to weaken the monster first. And as its eyes came upon Anguris, Rodan came to the answer that it sought.