Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He opened his eyes.

All that met his eyes was the familiar red and black –– pure, deep, and unchanging.

He had slept in his home for… he did not know how long. Enormous stalactites hung from the ceiling like the fangs of some ancient beast, unmoving and eternal. Glowing lava flowed slowly across the stone in molten rivers, casting a bright, golden light that danced along the walls and pillars. The air shimmered with heat –– not oppressive, but steady and deep, seeping into his thick hide. It was satisfying, grounding –– just enough to warm his rough scales and remind him that this place was still his.

He strained his neck and peered out, scanning his surroundings.

Nothing out of place.

He was still in his old temple, surrounded by rows of towering stone pillars, some of them cracked, some nearly broken halfway through. Along their surfaces were carvings — murals depicting himself and the tiny ones who had once worshipped him. Among them were many symbols, ancient and indecipherable — tiny ones’ language.

But he did not care about that right now.

He did not know what woke him up, but he knew it was not something good.

Last time he had been woken by tiny ones’… food? He found himself in a fight with Shinomuras –– the latter had made quite a mess around, so he taught them a lesson. He supposed that the tiny ones were pleased with his help, because they prepared a grand meal for him on a small island. It was very delicious –– except for that big explosion part, which he did not like much. And after all that, he returned to his temple to rest.

He slowly pushed himself up with his arms and shook the gravel off his body. He then took a moment to check his senses before turning his head toward the northeast. He snorted –– clearly annoyed by this restless titan.

There.

…

A moment later, he was now swimming swiftly in the ocean toward the direction he had sensed before. Water pressed in from all sides, carrying his mountain-like weight but also parting before his immense form with reverence. Each powerful thrust of his tail sent tremors through the deep, leaving swirling currents in his wake. Shadows of schools of fish scattered before him, vanishing into the blue. But he paid no attention. His mind was locked on the source –– that familiar, irritating pulse. The sea, vast and ancient, bore witness to the return of its king, who surged forward with growing fury.

Soon the seabed began to rise into an upward slope –– a sign that he was nearing his target. He swept his tail back, sending a blast through the water, and surged upward toward the surface.

His dorsal plates were the first to cut through the surface like blades, with curtains of water trailing from his fins, splashing against his rough scaly back like raindrops. Then his massive head broke through from underwater, revealing only the upper half –– just enough to show the fierce glint in his eyes. Blowing two puffs of air from his nostrils, he narrowed his gaze to lock on an island in sight. It was cluttered with box-shaped buildings –– strange, unfamiliar things. And there were many floating stones scattered around it, on which his nose could tell were many tiny ones. But he did not care.

Not now.

He had a parasite to find.

So, in a burst of speed, he surged forward like an arrow loose from its string, pushing the water in front of him to form a wall that was steep and foaming, roaring ahead like a white crest of wrath. Seabirds shrieked and scattered from the sky as he closed in. He did not slow down. He carefully avoided crashing into these stones carrying tiny ones and sniffed once more. The stench was stronger here –– acrid, wrong, invasive. Somewhere on that island, it was hiding. The parasite.

And he was going to take it down.

When he drew close to the island, he came to a sudden halt to push himself upright from the water, now standing on his legs as he scanned his surroundings. He sniffed the air a bit, then instantly turned his head in another direction, and stomped his way to where the parasite was hiding.

He heard many high-pitched screams –– from those tiny ones. But they quickly faded into a hush, leaving only the deep, resonant rumble of his breath echoing through the silence. Then with a red flash glowing in the corner of his eyes, some sort of bubble-bursting sound suddenly erupted from all sides, along with a rain of annoying tickles peppering his skin –– irritating.

Still, he paid them no mind. These desperate little attacks meant nothing to him.

He had far more important things to deal with now.

…

Ahead lay a large flat patch of earth carved into strange patterns, where there were lines, shapes and grids. Giant metallic insects stood still in rows, their wings tucked and their bellies sealed shut. The air reeked of fuel, smoke, the distant scent of countless tiny ones inside another transparent box and also the unbearable stench of wrongness –– parasite here.

He stomped forward, massive feet cracking the surface as he entered. The metallic insects crashed into one another, erupting in fire and noise –– though he didn’t know why. But it did not matter. There it was –– the parasite. It had turned to face him, letting out a series of shrill, disgusting screams. In that moment he understood: this male parasite was searching for its mate.

And that was not a good thing.

He needed to kill it. Now.

So he roared –– for the first time since he had awakened. He opened his massive jaws, and from there surged a powerful gust of wind. Then came the thunderous bellow that made the earth tremble, echoing across the island, the sea, the clouds above. Even the thunder itself would cower before it.

Then he charged forward, aiming to crash into the parasite with the full weight of his fury. The parasite of course would not stay there to greet death. With a beat of its wings, it darted into the air, barely evading his sharp claws. One of its slender forelimbs struck the back of his head mid-flight, making him stagger –– but only for a moment. He thrashed his head around and snapped his jaws shut, trying to catch its fore limb. But the parasite was also quick, who pulled back, and soared even higher, avoiding his attack.

Irritated, he reached up with both arms, trying to swat the flier from the sky. But the parasite stayed just beyond his grasp, gliding nimbly and swooping in to strike at his head again and again. Gradually his anger cooled. He stopped reacting blindly and began observing –– waiting, watching, parrying.

And then, he struck.

With a sudden snap, his jaws clamped down on one of the parasite’s limbs, who shrieked out in pain and thrashed, beating his head with its remaining limbs. But he did not let go, instead biting down even harder. The parasite’s strikes grew frantic and savage, until with a well-aimed blow it slammed right into his gills. He winced and opened his mouth by reflex, and the parasite broke free and shot into the sky, out of reach.

He prepared to chase again –– but this time, the parasite did not return to strike. Instead, it turned its head sharply, screamed in another direction, and took off, wings beating furiously.

His eyes locked onto the coward as it fled.

And he roared again.

This is getting worse.

Chapter Text

This is so wrong.

The ocean around him was dark and endless, a crushing void that pressed in from every direction. Frigid water wrapped around his body like a vice, numbing yet familiar, dragging against his massive form as he cut swiftly through the depths.

Above him, faint shafts of bluish light filtered down from the surface, fractured and scattered by the restless waves far overhead. They shimmered like dying stars in an eternal dusk, flickering across the ridges of sunken stone and the ruins half-buried beneath layers of silt. The deeper he went, the more the silence grew, taut, strained, like the air before a storm.

His senses had prickled multiple times after he submerged back into the sea to hunt the parasite down. The way it had screeched before escaping left him uneasy. He knew it was not out of fear — it had been summoned by something even more threatening.

It could only be the female. And if the two of them managed to complete the mating process...

THEY MUST BE STOPPED. NOW!!!

He was so furious and anxious that his tail lashed through the water like a blade, carving sharp currents and sending countless bubbles spiraling up toward the surface. A deep snort escaped him — loud and involuntary — his jagged teeth bared in raw frustration.

The parasite.

One of his kind’s oldest enemies.

Even before the moment he was born, their species had been locked in a cycle of relentless, bloody conflict — a war etched into memory and instinct alike. He knew them. Knew their stench, their movements, their hunger. And above all, he knew what their presence meant.

The moment their eggs hatched, this planet — his territory, his home — would plunge into chaos.

Doomsday.

He would not allow that. He could not allow that.

A low, rumbling growl echoed through his chest as he surged forward, muscle and instinct fused into a single force of nature. The water parted violently around his snout and shoulders as his massive body accelerated, tail whipping behind like a rudder of fury.

He pushed harder, deeper, faster. Each stroke of his limbs propelling him through the dark with renewed urgency. Columns of bubbles exploded in his wake, and the distant shadows bent and twisted under the sudden force of his motion.

He knew exactly where the parasite had gone. He had memorized the bitter stench it left behind, like rotting acid. Every pulse of the water carried a trace, and he followed it with unwavering focus.

There was no time left.

If the mating had begun, every second now could mean the birth of a new wave of destruction.

And he would tear them apart before that ever happened.

No matter the cost.

…

It wasn’t long before land came into view.

He gradually slowed down, rising toward the surface until only his eyes and snout broke the water. The shoreline stretched out ahead, but a bridge loomed between him and the inner land. The sea here had grown increasingly shallow — too shallow, perhaps, for him to pass beneath without tearing the structure apart. So he paused, drifting silently closer, letting the currents carry him as he weighed his next move.

Only when he neared the bridge did he sense them — the tiny ones.

They were everywhere.

Clusters of them stood on large metal slabs that floated just off the coast, and many more had gathered directly on the bridge. His nose twitched — even underwater, he could trace their distinct scent.

He knew they had built the bridge. And he found himself... impressed.

Long ago, when he was revered by their ancient ancestors, he had learned something essential about these tiny beings. Fragile though they were — so easily crushed underfoot — they possessed imagination beyond reason. They lacked the means to speak his tongue, yet they built things that spoke for them: machines, tools, great networks of steel and stone.

His temple — the one hidden from sight beneath the deep ocean— had been built by those early tiny ones. To this day, he still regarded it as one of his most treasured sanctuaries.

So even though they no longer worshipped him, even though most had forgotten what he once meant to them, he held no hatred for them. In fact, a part of him still… liked them. They were noisy, chaotic, and sometimes foolish. But they dreamed, built, and tried. In all that, they reminded him of something worth protecting.

So for now, he made a choice — he would not destroy the bridge, at least not unless the tiny ones stood directly in his way.

With deliberate caution, he sank back beneath the surface, angling his massive body to avoid the floating metal platforms nearby. Then, with a powerful thrust of his tail, he began to rise again, this time to his full height — slowly, purposefully — so he could assess his path without damaging their fragile structure.

But before he could act further, the air split with shrill screams.

Cries. Panic.

And then came the sting.

Tiny irritants peppered his hide — pinpricks across his scales, like the bothersome jabs he remembered from the island. But this time, it was more than that. Something sharp and fast — he couldn’t even see what — struck his body and detonated with a crack of pressure. It didn’t pierce his skin, but the sudden bursts left a burning sting, like ants biting across his flanks.

His patience, already thin, began to fray.

With a deep, guttural growl, he roared out his frustration and reached up with one massive claw, seizing one of the suspension cables that held the bridge in place. The entire structure groaned and buckled under the pressure — waves crashed violently as his grip sent tremors racing down the length of the steel.

More screams. More blasts.

Are they trying to stop me? Trying to stop me from hunting down the parasites?

He could not understand. He had shown restraint. He had tried.

Now fury boiled through his chest. And yet some part of him still hesitated.

Were they confused? Were they afraid of him, not knowing what he was after?

But then — pain.

A blast caught him directly in the gills.

His sensitive gills — a vulnerable place — scorched by some unknown strike.

That was the end of it.

His vision flared white with anger. His body tensed, breath rattling like thunder.

No more restraint. He had had enough.

He let out a roar that shook the skies — part fury, part warning — and lunged forward with all his weight. His thick, armor-plated torso slammed into the center of the bridge, shattering its supports like dry twigs. Steel snapped. Cables whipped loose. Concrete exploded into dust. The bridge cried out in a storm of bending metal and crumbling stone as it collapsed beneath his wrath.

What mattered now…

Was to find the parasites.

And end them.

…

After crossing the shattered remains of the bridge and wading deeper into the inner land, he finally saw it — the city.

A vast sprawl of steel and glass rose before him, dense with towering box-shaped structures that glimmered faintly in the low light. Unlike the smaller buildings he'd encountered on that island, these were massive. Some even reached above his brow, their smooth walls stacked with strange, flickering lights.

He took a step forward, the ground trembling beneath his weight. One glance told him: there was no way he could engage the parasites here without leveling these towering structures. This battlefield was not made for titans.

Then he caught it — a scent.

A foul, acrid stench hit his nostrils, thick and choking, clinging to the air like tar. It made him reel for a moment. The smell was unmistakable: the parasites. But here, it was far stronger than before — overwhelming, even more potent than what he’d sensed back on the island.

He froze.

That could only mean one thing.

What he had feared all along was now reality.

The parasites had combined.

And their eggs might already have been hidden somewhere here.

He let out a roar, filled with frustration and urgency, then began stomping deeper into the city at a faster pace.

The rain was pouring relentlessly, blurring the city in sheets of gray. Dark clouds loomed overhead, blocking even the faintest trace of sunlight from reaching the ground. Each time his feet slammed into the earth, water splashed in every direction, rising in waves beneath his weight. He could hear many screams — from the tiny ones, but he chose to ignore them and focus on the urgent threat now.

He squinted into the downpour, scanning for the parasites. The rain blurred his vision, turning buildings and movement into hazy silhouettes. As his focus sharpened, the chaos around him — the distant screams, the crash of water, even the rumble of thunder — faded into silence. All that remained was the slow, thunderous rhythm of his breath and the steady thud of his heartbeat, echoing like war drums in his chest.

Then a nasty screech tore through the storm-filled sky, followed by the unpleasant crash of collapsing buildings.

The parasite.

There it was. The male parasite, hunched atop the shattered remains of a crumbling building, its grotesque wings twitching erratically in the rain. It let out a shrill, repulsive screech — a clear challenge hurled straight at him through the rain.

Rage surged in his chest, raw and instinctive. But he knew better than to let emotion lead.

Not this time.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, deeply, and began to rise. With deliberate force, he pushed his colossal frame upward until he stood at his full, towering height, water cascading in thick sheets off his back and flanks. His glowing eyes never left the parasite. He was tracking it, analyzing it.

He had been through this before — on that island.

He would not lose again.

In an instant, the parasite lurched forward, exactly like it had on that island, its wings snapping open with an unpleasant crackle as it launched itself into the rain-slick air.

He had no time to roar his fury, instead he leaned forward, jaws parting wide, and clamped hard at the parasite’s wing with his jagged teeth. He had hoped that he could crush several bones after that bite — to hear that satisfying crack — but the parasite’s wing was surprisingly slick, its smooth surface slipping through his bite. It tore free with a shriek, evading his grasp before he could close his jaws fully.

After all that, the parasite darted backward into the rain-soaked air, its disgusting, red-stripped eyes never leaving him as it climbed higher and higher. He could see that if it regained enough altitude, he would no longer be able to reach the parasite. And then this fight would shift out of his favor.

You don’t.

He did not hesitate and lunged forward with a thunderous step that could crack the pavement beneath his feet. He strained his arms upright, claws outstretched, aiming to catch hold of one of its razor-sharp limbs. Unfortunately his reach fell just short, which gave the parasite enough time to react. Its wings beat furiously, lifting its entire body higher into the storm-darkened sky, nearly avoiding his grip.

He snarled in frustration, unwillingly witnessing it hovering beyond his grasp. He had thought to use his atomic breath, had wished to unleash his destructive beam to burn the parasite down in midair with delight, but it moved too fast. He was not confident to end it with one shot, and if he missed, he would waste too much energy into nothing. He still had a female parasite to tackle with.

Speaking of the female parasite, he still had not caught a single sign of it, yet his nose would never lie to him. It is here, hidden. He was certain of this — the stench here was too strong to belong to the male parasite alone.

He hoped to eliminate the male one here now, before the female had a chance to join this fight.

Two versus one.

It wasn’t honorable, but that never mattered to the parasites. They fought to overwhelm, to swarm, to conquer — any means necessary. And if they attacked together, it would become a battle even he might not walk away from.

He could not let that happen.

It was getting dark now. He had no time left.