Alex soared above San Francisco, his massive wings outstretched, gliding silently through the skies like a shadow of judgment. Below him, the city still bore the wounds of monsters and gods.
From his height, he could see the twisted steel and shattered glass — a scarred landscape. Firefighters worked tirelessly, digging through rubble and collapsed buildings in search of survivors or the lost. Smoke still rose from pockets of destruction, and the distant wail of sirens echoed through the streets like a haunting song.
But there was a pattern.
A distinct path of destruction, almost linear, where George and Ralph had rampaged through infrastructure on their way to the energyne tower. Alex followed the trail with his eyes, noting how chaos was carved neatly through the heart of the city.
Yet beyond that—there was something else. Skyscrapers half-finished, construction cranes towering high, scaffolding clinging to steel skeletons of rising buildings. The city was rebuilding.
And it wasn't rebuilding from just the recent monster attack.
There were older scars too — wider devastation, leveled districts that didn't match the trail left by the trio of mutated beasts. These had the unmistakable signs of a battle between titans.
> Godzilla… and the M.U.T.O.s.
Alex could feel it. This city had once trembled beneath creatures far beyond anything he had faced so far. And the realization settled a chill into his bones. If the damage was any indication, then he was still a hatchling in a world of ancient gods.
He turned.
With a beat of his wings, he adjusted course — heading east.
Boston.
It was ironic, really. That city had once been his home in his past life — an ordinary borring life but now things were different.
---
High Above the Skies
He wasn't alone in the clouds.
Alex glanced to the side with a sharp turn of his head. Jets. Two of them, tailing him from a distance.
> Fewer this time, he noted. And more cautious.
They weren't firing, just watching. Observing. Testing his reaction. He made no aggressive move — simply kept his course steady, eyes locked on the horizon. As long as they didn't try anything, he had no reason to bother with them.
But the fact that they were shadowing him at all confirmed one thing:
No
Monarch was intensifying it's efforts to observe him.
Always.
And now they were starting to treat him like they did the titans —" how annoying",he thought dryly.
He flew in silence, the wind rushing past his wings as his thoughts wandered.
> Would Boston still be the same as I remember?
It was a question he couldn't shake. In his previous life, it had been home—familiar streets, brick buildings, Now, soaring as a beast across the clouds, he couldn't help but wonder if any trace of that world remained.But most off would it be like the Boston back in his original world or different.
The flight took six hours of nonstop flying.
When he finally arrived, the city lay beneath him, quiet and untouched. No devastation. No ruined buildings. No signs of titanic conflict.
That could only mean one thing—Ghidorah hadn't awakened yet.
> So the three-headed monstrosity is still frozen in Antarctica…
Alex felt a weight settle in his chest. Relief? Maybe. But more than that—urgency.
He wasn't ready. Not at all. That thing wasn't just a predator. It was an extinction-level threat. If Alex was going to stand a chance, he needed to become something more.
Stronger. Faster. Titan-class.
There was no time to reminisce. No time to soak in nostalgia.
With one final look at the city skyline, he turned sharply in the sky, his wings slicing through the air like blades as he made his way back toward Isla Nublar.
He needed rest. And in the morning—Skull Island awaited.
---
Meanwhile, Monarch was working hard behind the scenes, doing everything they could to calm down the military, who were growing increasingly uneasy. The Black Wyvern's movements were erratic—not aggressive, but certainly intentional. To the trained eyes at Monarch, it was clear: he was looking for something.
At first, they had assumed he was tracking the mutated crocodile's corpse, wanting to reclaim or consume it. But when he bypassed the location entirely, heading instead for San Francisco, their theory began to fall apart.
Then came Boston—another destination that made no sense.
In Monarch HQ, Dr. Serizawa stood quietly before the live satellite feed, deep in thought.
> "Two years ago… Godzilla fought the M.U.T.O.s in San Francisco. It nearly leveled the city…"
A realization sparked in his eyes.
> "Could he be looking for their remains? Trying to consume them as he did with the others?"
That seemed plausible, but something about it still felt off. Why Boston, then?
He turned to Dr. Houston Brooks, relaying his thoughts. Brooks listened intently, rubbing his chin in contemplation.
> "Whatever the Black Wyvern is searching for—it's not random. He's following a pattern."
> "Agreed," Serizawa said. "We need to know what it is before he finds it."
A mutual decision was made.
Using jets to tail him had proven problematic—they were too loud, too visible, and far too aggressive. If they wanted to monitor Alex without provoking him, they would have to do it silently.
From now on, autonomous stealth drones would follow him at all times. Observe. Record. Analyze. Whatever the Black Wyvern was looking for, they had to find out what it's looking for and what it means for them.
---
Alex soared silently through the skies riding the air currents, his massive wings gliding over the ocean as Isla Nublar came into view. Despite the wind rushing past him, his mind was elsewhere—deep in thought.
From everything he had seen and deduced so far, it had likely been at least two years since Godzilla fought and defeated the MUTOs. That meant he had roughly three years before everything went to hell—before Ghidorah's arrival turned the world upside down.
But when that time came… what would he do?
Would he intervene and side with Godzilla, the current alpha? Or would he simply watch from the sidelines, conserving his strength, and let nature run its course?
One thing he was sure of: he would never bow to Ghidorah, or any titan. Submission was out of the question. If the odds were stacked too high, then pride be damned—he would run, survive, and fight another day. Better that than a one-sided beatdown ending in death.
As the sun rose high overhead, Alex finally returned to Isla Nublar, reaching his familiar roost—the avian dome he had claimed as his lair. But something was wrong.
Below him, he saw a flurry of activity. Scientists were scrambling in all directions, grabbing their equipment and retreating in a panic. Among them, his sharp eyes recognized one particular figure—Emma Russell, the woman who would one day create the ORCA device.
Alex narrowed his eyes.
He could kill her right here and now. One strike and she'd be gone, the future she helped shape unraveling before it ever began.
But... that future was the only advantage he had. Without it, he would be flying blind. So, for now, he let her live.
As the humans scattered like ants, Alex returned to his lair—only to find it littered with equipment. Cables, sensors, lights... they'd set up inside the dome.
> "Alright," he thought, his reptilian pupils narrowing. "They've clearly crossed the line."
With a heavy swing of his spiked tail, he crushed the machinery underfoot. Metal shrieked, sparks flew. Another sweep of his tail sent the wreckage flying out of the dome, crashing into the trees beyond the enclosure.
Satisfied, he returned to his resting spot and curled up, letting his wings fold around him like a cloak.
Sleep claimed him, but his mind remained alert.
They were watching. And now... they had pushed too far.
---
End of Chapter