(A/N: A new legend rises—welcome, Anthony Bova! Bonus chapter incoming!)
───「 Human POV 」───
"The latest detection of Godzilla is being conducted in the South Pacific Ocean," announced the news broadcast playing in the laboratory breakroom. "Today, the World Government Commander-in-Chief has officially visited Yanjing to discuss the Godzilla defense plan for East Asia."
I barely registered the news as I gathered my things. The reporter continued with her update: "The coastal defense walls in East Asia are now at 68% completion, the Australian defense line at 72% completion, and construction is ongoing for the North American defense line."
I followed Dr. Li out of the laboratory. My brother, Dr. Daizuke Senzaki, had taken up temporary residence not at Yanjing University but at the city government headquarters. Despite my reluctance to see him, staying alone in the empty lab seemed worse.
Yanjing University had cancelled classes days ago, granting students a month-long break. The administration urged students from coastal regions to make arrangements for their families to move inland and reunite with loved ones. The subtext was clear: if Godzilla made landfall in East Asia, reunions might never happen.
We exited through the main gate onto eerily quiet streets. Dr. Li hailed an autonomous hovering vehicle, and we climbed inside after stating our destination: "Yanjing, City Hall."
Dr. Li reclined and promptly closed his eyes. I tried to rest but soon found myself drawn to the window, pressing my face against the glass to observe the transformed city.
Yanjing had always been suffocating—a metropolis of skyscrapers hundreds of meters tall crowding every street. But today, the suffocation came from absence rather than presence.
Filtered sunlight pierced through gaps between buildings and tree canopies, illuminating empty roadways. Neon advertisements still flickered between the towers, creating the illusion of normalcy, but the streets told a different story.
Occasional pedestrians walked dogs on elevated bridges. Urban trees lined sidewalks with greenery that now seemed excessive without humans to appreciate it. Even the typically congested business districts had clear lanes.
Only the main arteries—eight or ten lanes wide—showed signs of activity, and all traffic flowed outward, away from the city center.
"Godzilla's imminent arrival has clearly emptied the city," I murmured, more to myself than to Dr. Li.
Yanjing ranked among the world's most populous and bustling metropolises, yet today it stood unnaturally quiet.
Despite Yanjing's extensive defense network across the Bohai Strait, public confidence remained low. Eastern Japan had deployed similar defenses before Godzilla reduced it to rubble. People seemed to "trust" Godzilla's destructive potential more than humanity's defensive capabilities.
Rumors circulated that real estate prices in Siberia had increased sevenfold. Days earlier, riots and looting had erupted across the city. Only after deploying security robots and emergency supply drops did authorities manage to restore tentative order.
"It's tough for East Asia," Dr. Li remarked without opening his eyes.
He was right. Western regions faced protests and "zero-cost shopping" while eastern areas experienced outright looting. The entire world teetered on the edge of chaos.
"Boom, boom, boom..."
We merged onto a ten-lane expressway, and I pressed my face higher against the window, looking skyward.
"Are those transport drones? Are they all AI-controlled now?"
____
Yanjing's airspace teemed with transport helicopters—far more than I'd seen in the footage from Osaka and Hokkaido last week. Countless aircraft carried materials across the metropolitan area, supporting the rapid construction of fifteen Electromagnetic Railguns in mere days.
And that was just within Yanjing proper.
"Is this the power of artificial intelligence? I'm impressed," I whispered.
Fifty years ago, the Agata terrorist attack had prompted the World Government to ban strong artificial intelligence. That prohibition had only been lifted ten days ago, revealing what humanity had sacrificed for safety.
When robots could perform any task without human guidance, industrial construction speeds increased five to tenfold. Perfect robots could build an Electromagnetic Railgun in two days while simultaneously replicating themselves to 200% of their original numbers.
The World United Government had actually lifted the ban shortly before Godzilla destroyed Tokyo. In just over ten days, robots had completed nearly half of East Asia's defense lines. Their only limitation was material availability—a problem solved through automated mining operations.
If we'd had these robots during the Eastern Japan operation, perhaps the outcome would have been different.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Hindsight offered no comfort now.
"Yanjing City Government Square. You have arrived. Welcome aboard," announced the autonomous vehicle as it glided to a stop.
We disembarked, and I froze at the sight before me.
____
The City Government Square had transformed into a military installation.
Security robots had erected a perimeter wall between city hall and the public square. Armed soldiers stood at regular intervals along the barricade, weapons ready. Their expressions conveyed grave seriousness, as if protecting something of immeasurable value.
Armed drones patrolled overhead while military helicopters and transport aircraft landed and departed from improvised landing zones. The entire complex had been sealed tight—not even a fly could enter undetected.
This wasn't a research facility; it was a fortress.
"Old Huang, are you sure my brother is inside?" I asked nervously, using Dr. Li's nickname.
Dr. Li patted my shoulder reassuringly. "Senzaki, come on."
The middle-aged scientist who'd been napping earlier now appeared fully alert. He gestured for me to follow, presented his researcher ID, and proceeded through a checkpoint in the wall.
"Hey, wait for me!" I called, hurriedly retrieving my own credentials and rushing after him. The soldiers scrutinized my ID but allowed me to pass.
Beyond the barricade lay an astonishing sight. The square teemed with researchers—many familiar faces from Yanjing's academic community. I recognized professors, lab directors, and department heads who should have been conducting critical research at their respective institutions.
Before I could process this gathering, a staff member spotted me and hurried over.
"Dr. Daizuke wants to see you," they said, taking my arm.
"Oh, okay."
My heart raced as they led me toward city hall. Senzaki Daizuke—my brother—awaited inside.
What could be important enough to gather the country's scientific elite behind military fortifications? And why had my brother, whom I'd been deliberately avoiding, specifically requested my presence?