Filthy oil floated on the ocean's surface—leaking from the sunken destroyers. One ship had yet to sink completely; its mast and bow still jutted out of the sea at a crooked angle.
The vast ocean had turned into a pot of chaos. Wreckage of every kind—debris, hull fragments, and fallen sailors—drifted upon the waves. Lifeboats cut through the turbulent water, desperately trying to rescue those still alive.
The Seventh Fleet's destroyers had suffered devastating losses. Godzilla's radioactive beam had reached far beyond anyone's expectations. The few surviving ships retreated from the coastline, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the monster.
The air squadrons had already exhausted their payloads, dropping every bomb they carried before returning to Kadena Air Base to reload with new ordnance and fuel.
The entire Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant had been erased from the map—only a wasteland of overlapping craters remained. Norman Osborn stood amid what was once the reactor grounds, now reduced to bare sand and ash.
He was far from unscathed. His once nearly indestructible, scale-covered body was torn open in countless places, revealing ghastly wounds. Even his head had been ripped apart, exposing bone-white skull beneath the shredded flesh.
Repeatedly hurled through the air and smashed into the ground by the nuclear shockwaves, his internal organs were left severely damaged.
Such injury awakened the savage instincts buried deep within his Godzilla genes. He let out a thunderous roar that rippled through the air, compressing the atmosphere into expanding rings of white vapor that howled toward the sea.
Halfway through that roar, he suddenly lifted his head toward the sky. A black speck appeared above. Before he could react, a blazing, searing light filled his entire vision.
It was so bright that heaven and earth seemed to dim around it.
A massive fireball bloomed low in the sky, as if a second sun had risen above the world. The first thing to reach the ground was the searing wave of thermal radiation, hot enough to melt everything in its path. The ground temperature shot up by thousands of degrees, and at the core of the blast, it reached tens of millions.
Next came the deadly shockwave. The earth itself rippled like the ocean under its force; small ridges and rocks were flattened in an instant.
In the sky, the fireball burned fiercely, rising into a towering mushroom cloud.
Terrified by Norman Osborn's overwhelming destructive power, the U.S. military had chosen not to risk another test strike. Instead, they directly dropped a tactical nuclear warhead from a B-2 bomber, abandoning the idea of having the B-1B use a bunker buster.
Kusanagi Kyo stared at the mushroom cloud that refused to fade from the sky, his heart still pounding. If he, Yagami Iori, and Sakazaki Ryo hadn't run without hesitation the moment the nuclear alarm went off, they would've been torn to shreds by the blast by now.
"He's got to be dead… right?"
Kyo clenched his fists tightly, frustration burning in his chest. He hated how powerless he'd felt before that monster—and hated even more that the martial artists of Japan had been used and abandoned by Shimizu and the authorities behind him.
The Japanese martial world had paid a horrific price in this battle. Entire lineages might have been wiped out forever.
"There's no way anything could survive that," Ryo said quietly. His tone was heavy. He'd lost an arm—his martial path had come to an end. Yet compared to those who'd been swallowed whole by the creature, he considered himself lucky.
"I'll make Shimizu pay for this," Yagami Iori growled, his voice low and cold.
Just as the three prepared to leave, movement erupted from the wasteland that had once been the nuclear plant. Sand and dust burst upward like a geyser—something was clawing its way out from beneath the ground.
"What… is that?"
All three of them thought of the same answer, one they didn't dare to believe.
Boom!
Norman Osborn's colossal figure rose again from the ruins.
Meanwhile, Broly sat cross-legged beside a refrigerated container. Inside it were the cancer cells removed from Wade Wilson's body. Matt had called him earlier to arrange the handoff.
Matt had been busy lately; he hadn't come to the cancer center in person.
The surgery on Wade Wilson had gone remarkably well—but the cancer cells still lingered in his body. The operation had only delayed the inevitable. Those dormant cells remained just as deadly.
"I still can't believe that those disgusting things used to grow inside my liver," Wade muttered from his hospital bed. His face twisted in a complex mix of emotions.
Dr. Stephen Strange, always meticulous, had taken pre-operation photos of Wade's organs—riddled with tumors—and shown them to him afterward. One glance had made Wade nauseous for an entire day; ever since, even the sight of meat made him sick.
"How are you feeling now?" Broly asked softly. He could sense that the Qi he had transferred to Wade earlier was already exhausted. After more than ten hours of surgery, Wade was terribly weak.
"Better. A lot better, actually. Feels like a huge weight's been lifted off my chest," Wade said with forced cheer.
Broly could tell he was pretending. Wade was weaker than ever. Even with Strange's near-miraculous surgical skill, his organs had been devastated. Removing the tumors had inevitably damaged healthy tissue.
"I'm not sure whether I should give you Qi again," Broly said after a moment's hesitation. "It could heal your surgical wounds—but it would also make your cancer cells more resilient."
Because of their infinite growth potential, those cells benefited far more from Qi than normal ones did.
Wade chuckled softly. "Those cancer cells are already lethal. If they get worse… what difference does it make?"
He spoke with quiet acceptance. His life was already nearing its end. Ever since he'd been admitted, each extra day he lived was a gift. What he wanted most was to spend his final days not wasting away in a hospital bed.
"…Alright."
Broly respected his decision. For him, sharing his energy was effortless—it was an endless well.
White Qi flowed from his palm into Wade's body. Wade immediately felt as though he'd been immersed in warm water. The jagged surgical scars across his chest began to knit together at a speed visible to the naked eye. The searing pain deep inside his body faded away, replaced by warmth and life.
"No matter how many times it happens, this power never stops amazing me… Thank you, Broly," Wade said sincerely, his voice unusually solemn.
"We're friends, Wade."
Broly lifted the refrigerated container. He planned to have Professor Connors analyze the cancer cells, to study their abnormal structure and develop a serum capable of curing cancer altogether.
After greeting Vanessa, who waited anxiously outside the ward, Broly left the cancer center.
In a quiet corner of New York City, he stepped onto his Jindouyun (Flying Nimbus) and soared toward the farm.
On the way here, he had given Tessa Eagle, who was returning to school, a lift to New York. Now that he was traveling alone, he no longer needed to hold back—the Nimbus streaked through the sky at its maximum speed.
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