Monster Verse: Indominus Rex

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BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Trees splintered, rocks cracked—but he remained unmoving.

Smoke curled around his wings as the light faded.

Not a scratch.

Not a single mark.

Inside the outpost, a stunned silence followed.

"H-He blocked it?! That was our most powerful weapon!"

"No... It's impossible. Even atomic-enhanced alloys melt under a magnesium ray!"

One engineer stumbled backward.

"He's not just resisting the attack... He's evolved past it."

Miraluz narrowed his eyes, folding his wings with calm precision.

"So this is mankind's new toy," he muttered, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

"A weakened version of atomic breath, huh?"

He was almost amused.

Had this been a week ago—before his transformation—such a weapon might have ended him.

But the energy signature in the rays was unmistakable: atomic.

And he had just been reborn as an Atomic Titan—his biology rewritten to absorb fission storms and fusion cores.

The very energy these humans wielded was now part of his bloodstream.

He might have felt it if it were a full-force blast from Godzilla himself.

But this? This was nothing.

In the control center below, panic spread.

"Nothing worked! He's shrugging it off like rain!"

"We've got nothing left! Not even nukes would be enough!"

"No..." one voice cut in—a young scientist, pale but determined.

"Not if we hit his neural clusters. His brain stem or heart... we'd need a railgun, not rays."

"That's if we survive long enough to aim."

Outside, Miraluz's wings spread wide again as his body began to glow.

The core within him—his atomic furnace—started spinning like a charged reactor.

From tail to spine, a golden-white luminescence crawled upward, tracing the ancient lines of power embedded in his armored scales.

His eyes blazed. His horns sparked. His throat began to swell with energy.

Inside the base, someone screamed.

"What is he doing?!"

"He's charging up! It's an attack! RUN—"

"No!" barked one of the commanders.

"Boost the magnesium rays! Maximum power! Hit him with everything we've got!"

Desperation bred madness.

One engineer overrode the outpost's core limiters, redirecting all auxiliary power—lighting, cooling, emergency shields—into the ray cannons.

Cooling rods glowed red-hot. Sparks flew. Sirens wailed.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The beams fired again—hotter, faster, burning white with overloaded fury.

Miraluz hovered in place, seemingly unbothered.

The rays struck him again, crackling against his wings and torso—but this time, his scales began to absorb the radiation.

He was feeding on it, charging faster.

From the jungle below, wild beasts had gone silent.

Birds stopped singing. The air became still.

Miraluz opened his jaws.

"I AM ATOMIC"

The energy gathered at his maw reached critical mass.

From between his fangs, a spiraling torrent of atomic energy screamed into existence.

He exhaled.

KA-KRAAACK!!!

The atomic breath split the sky like judgment.

A blinding beam of golden-white death surged, slamming into the center turret with pinpoint accuracy.

The magnesium weapon exploded on impact, sending debris and a mushroom cloud into the air.

Flames engulfed the cliffs as shockwaves shattered windows miles away.

The remaining two turrets tried to re-aim, but it was too late.

Miraluz spun mid-air and released two more concentrated atomic bursts—shorter, sharper, aimed with surgical precision.

One hit the power core beneath the second turret.

The other melted the third before it could realign.

The entire outpost rocked with successive detonations.

Inside the command center, men and women were thrown to the floor.

Lights flickered. Oxygen masks dropped. The ground shook.

"Evacuate! Full retreat!"

"We can't stop him!"

From above, Miraluz watched the chaos, his breath still glowing faintly.

But he didn't move in to finish them off.

Not yet.

He wanted them to know they had lost.

That their machines, their strategies, their sacrifices—all meant nothing to a god.

"I'm in a good mood today," he rumbled.

"So I'll be merciful. I'll end it quick."

A technician dropped his headset, backing away in horror.

"Is there anything more worse than this...?"

No one answered.

The only sound was the growing hum that echoed from above.

"Miraluz. He was charging again."

Then—

"BOOM!"

He moved.

Under the terrified eyes of those below, the beast's wings extended wide, casting a shadow that swallowed the outpost like an eclipse.

From his gaping maw, the heat and glow intensified until it was nearly blinding. Then—

He fired.

The Atomic breath erupted from his jaws, not as a single blast, but as a wave of destruction.

A line of golden-white energy carved through the sky like a blade made of the sun itself.

It directly struck the outpost's central tower, the beam focused and dense, crackling with fusion-level heat.

It was like watching the heavens split open.

The first thing the defenders felt was the heat wave—a wall of scorching air that swept across the outpost before the beam even arrived.

Skin blistered on contact, metal warped from proximity alone, and the oxygen in the air itself ignited.

Then the beam hit.

KA-KRAAAAK—!!

The sound wasn't just loud—it was deep, like reality itself shattering.

The main command center, observation decks, and reinforced bunkers—all were swept away in the blink of an eye.

Concrete evaporated. Steel turned to molten slag. Titanium alloy was reduced to ash.

Fifty thousand degrees Celsius.

That was the estimated temperature of the blast core.

Nothing survived.

Even emergency shielding, meant to withstand nuclear fallout, melted like candle wax.

Then came the chain reaction.

"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!"

Secondary explosions tore through the mountain as fuel lines, ammunition depots, and backup generators detonated one by one.

A final cataclysmic shockwave raced outward, sending Skull Island's cliffside chunks plummeting into the ocean.

A black and red mushroom cloud formed over the wreckage, rising with terrible elegance into the sky.

From miles away, beasts and birds fled.

Even monsters watching from the jungles lowered their heads, sensing that something above them had claimed the throne.

Inside what was once the outpost's lower catacombs, a few surviving engineers had sealed themselves behind a thick nuclear blast door. Flames danced outside the cracks.

"…He… He's a god," one of them whispered.

"No," muttered the lead technician, blood trailing down his temple.

"He's what happens when mankind pushes too far. We tried to control nature. Now nature fights back."

The ceiling trembled. Dust fell.

And from outside, the muffled roar echoed like a mountain laughing.

Above the carnage, Miraluz floated in silence.

His wings beat once, sending a ripple of wind through the scorched forest.

He looked down upon the crater that used to be a military stronghold.

Molten rock glowed red in the pit.

Nothing remained but shadows scorched into the earth and the echo of what once dared challenge him.

Monarch would remember this day.

So would the world.

He hadn't just defended Skull Island.

He had sent a message:

This was his territory. His domain.

And no empire, weapon, or army could stand against him now.

Far to the east, satellites orbiting above began to receive garbled signals from the region.

One analyst stared at the screen, pale-faced, as the live thermal imaging bloomed into a white-hot cluster over Skull Island.

"Sir…" she whispered.

"We just lost visual of Outpost 33."

"Show me."

She brought up the footage.

There was no sound—only frames of a beam slicing across the jungle, then white, then static.

In the war room, silence reigned.

Someone finally muttered, "He's evolving faster than expected."

Miraluz turned toward the ocean.

Somewhere out there, beyond the fog and surf, other forces stirred.

Titans.

Rivals.

But his wings spread wide for now, and he soared over the trees once more—victorious.