Monster Verse: Indominus Rex

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Soon, the dinosaurs began their journey to Isla Sorna.

With urgent cries and loud strokes, they vanished into the deep ocean.

Their God remained.

He did not move.

There he stood, at the heart of a shattered island still trembling from nuclear wrath.

His titan aura could no longer be suppressed.

The other alphas were most probably now aware of his existence.

His enormous wings extended outward.

The silver scales shimmered under the surging radiation, catching the light like molten metal in a forge.

The titan's colossal form cast a shadow so vast it darkened the island.

His eyes closed, then slowly opened.

The breath he took then was big enough to pull entire plumes of nuclear fallout into his nostrils.

He was no longer invisible.

He did not need to be.

The aura that once coiled around him like mist now erupted outward—a roaring beacon of atomic ancestry.

It was wild and unforgiving, pulsing with flashes of raw voltage.

From above, it looked as if the heart of the island had been split open, bleeding radiation into the sky.

And the sky answered.

Thunderclouds summoned into existence above him.

They didn't drift in. They were born around him, coalescing with supernatural speed.

Wisps of ash became black thunderheads.

The atmosphere churned as if trying to escape itself.

Then came the lightning.

But it wasn't yellow or white.

These bolts were heavenly-gold, jagged like fangs, crackling with pure annihilation.

They didn't follow the normal rules of storms.

They struck horizontally, spiraled in midair, split, and rejoined like thinking predators.

With each impact, the ground shook. The island trembled.

This was no ordinary storm.

It was a domain.

Miraluz's birthright as Alpha.

Domain of the White Dragon Emperor of Supremacy

Within MONARCH's Atlantic Command Base, alarms were howling.

"Is this a weather event?!" an analyst shouted.

"No," barked Director Aisha Vaughn, eyes wide as the satellite feed stabilized.

"That's not weather. That's a biological signature… It's Miraluz."

She turned toward the lead Titanologist, who was clutching his head.

"He's... no longer suppressing his signature. We're seeing his full aura signature. It's off the charts. Do you understand what that means?!"

Aisha stared at the monitor. Isla Nublar was glowing. Radiation levels were equivalent to multiple reactor meltdowns.

But the storm...

"Send this to all remaining watchpoints. Update the Alpha-tier index. As of this moment, Miraluz is confirmed Alpha-class. He's challenging all titans in existence."

The difference between an Alpha and all other Titan designations—Beta, Gamma, or even the rare Delta-tier—was not just a matter of size or strength.

It was their domain.

They did not exist within the ecosystem. They were the ecosystem.

Each Alpha-class Titan carried within them a unique, catastrophic power—natural disaster elevated to sentient, mobile form.

King Ghidorah, Monster Zero, flew shrouded in a permanent cyclone. Its mere presence warped the jet stream, creating storm systems that circled the globe, bringing flood, tornado, and drought to whatever nation dared challenge him.

The Supreme MUTO could tunnel through continental plates, triggering earthquakes with every movement. Entire cities vanished beneath its seismic tantrums.

Then there were the Shimo. Peaceful by nature, yes—but provoke one, and you would see oceans freeze solid in seconds.

Their blizzards could halt global temperature rise for decades, possibly plunging the Earth into a second Ice Age.

And Godzilla...

His Red Lotus form was the walking apocalypse. Constantly radiating thermonuclear energy at thousands of degrees, his body alone could vaporize cities without ever firing a breath.

Now, a new Alpha had joined their rank.

Miraluz—the Storm Dragon.

His aura generated an autonomous weather system, fed by residual nuclear energy and natural conductivity in the atmosphere.

A self-sustaining storm that would only grow more powerful as he breathed.

The scale of it rivaled Skull Island's hurricane—except this was mobile, precise, and vindictive.

And he stood utterly still, letting it grow.

This was not vanity.

This was a message.

A claim of territory.

A warning.

A challenge.