The cells of the head and the cells of Godzilla's remains were not engaged in a cold devouring, but a silent, tragic fusion.
They had originated from the same ancient, primordial root of life, and now, within the void frozen by the Gravitational Field, their shared genetic code flowed together.
Their cell membranes merged soundlessly, like rivers reunited after a long separation, flowing back into a dried-up mother riverbed.
There were no shrieking rejection alarms from the immune system, no devastating explosions from clashing energies—only a grand, alien harmony amid the silence, like a heart beginning to pulse again at the bottom of an abyss.
Connors's shattered consciousness finally found a painful yet solid foothold within this Godzilla shell that had long since been declared dead.
Godzilla—the living planetary-scale calamity—possessed an immune system that was itself a walking purification furnace.
Any tiny storm stirred up within its body by humanity's feeble antibody defenses would have been enough to scorch an intruder into cosmic dust in an instant.
Fortunately, this fusion was a call of shared bloodline, not the blasphemy of a foreign object.
The rigid neural fibers, once colossal cables capable of pulling mountains, now resembled rivers frozen for ten thousand years welcoming the first ray of thawing spring sunlight.
Bioelectric currents so faint they were almost nonexistent awakened once more, struggling onward through pathways as thick as ancient tree roots.
This was not the nimble leap of human neurons, but the heavy pulse of magma beginning to churn deep beneath the earth's crust.
Every signal carried the Primal Power of creation, painfully searching for a path through the ruins of that colossal body.
"Move..."
Connors's remaining will cried out within the boundless chaotic ocean of Godzilla's consciousness, like a speck of dust in a storm.
Miraculously, one finger of