Kosuke began to climb.

“You can come back for us!” Hajime said. “Just get going!”

In all my time, Kléothag said, I have never beheld the birth of a Godspawn. It is not what I imagined it to be, but, no matter; I shall not waste this chance. With my dying breath, I will stop your ascension. I swear it! You will not defile this world with your chaos! You shall not desecrate my corpse!

Everyone screamed.

And then the earth roared. One of the mountains on the distant ridge blew its top, blasting out clouds, thick, furious, and billowing. The pyroclasm spewed lightning and cement into the sky. The landscape churned.

“Keep going, Kosuke!” Moriko said. “You can do this!”

The fire in Kosuke’s soul was in full bloom. The imaginary vessel in his body that kept accepting all this power grew and grew. The light-sphere swelled, sweeping out into the sky. He erupted with growth. His legs grew down onto the bottom of the ravine, planting his clawed toes in the silty riverbed. In seconds, the ravine fell until it was just over his head.

Tiny voices screamed behind him.

No!

His classmates had been gripping to his shell spikes, which had now grown along with him.

Scrambling back, Kosuke scraped his tail against the opposite side of the gorge as he lowered himself until his back was at a right angle to the ground. His horns dug furrows into the cliffside, loosing boulders. Kosuke pushed his palms flush onto the cliff to hold the rubble in place. He kept his back as flat as he possibly could as he carefully lowered himself onto his belly, all while trying not to think about the volcano erupting in the background.

“Get off!” he hissed, too afraid to yell.

They slid off him like water. As soon as he saw the others rush to help Hiro, Aimi, and Osamu, Kosuke crawled back along the floor of the ravine.

“The volcano is erupting!” Osamu screamed. “Superheated mudslides! Pyroclastic flow! Everything is going to flow straight through the gorge like rain down a gutter!” He pressed his hands against his head. “We are all going to die!”

“I can’t stop growing,” Kosuke said. “I don’t know why.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Looking down, he saw his classmates fretting, their glances shifting between one another, the eruption, and the kaiju looming above them.

“I don’t want to drop you! I don’t want to fail! Please.”

He wept.

Meanwhile, Hajime stared, transfixed, looking up at the creature his friend had become. And Kosuke looked back.

Hajime was so small. He was like a toy soldier. With just his finger, Kosuke could crush him.

The kaiju shook his head. “How can I climb if—”

“—Kosuke, you moron! Even Kléothag said it!” Hajime yelled. He stomped his feet. “I should have seen it sooner!” He looked his kaiju-friend square in the eyes and yelled. “It’s trust! It’s belief!”

A shiver ran down Kosuke’s back, starting between his horns, rippling down his mane—red feathers perking up—underneath his shell, and down his tail, all the way to the tips of the spike at its end.

Hajime turned around to address the others. “That’s why he’s growing! He gets bigger when we believe in him!”

Osamu’s jaw dropped. “And he gets smaller when we doubt…”

“…what?” Kosuke shook his head.

“You can believe in yourself, Kosuke!” Hajime yelled. “You already got us to believe in you!” He jumped in place. “And if we can believe in you, then so can you!”

“But…” Kosuke turned his palms to face the sky, “what if Kléothag is right? What if I really am going to ‘defile this world’?”

“You’re not a monster, Kosuke,” Koji yelled, “you just look like one!”

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Moriko coughed as she staggered forward and looked up.

“It’d be damn easier to prevent when you’ve got friends on your side, instead of being all on your own, so,” she cupped her hands to her face and yelled, “get off your giant turtle-shell ass and save us already!”

Hiro gasped and stumbled back. “Oh shit!”

Everyone looked up.

The mountain blew sky-high. Volcanic bombs whizzed through the air—fireworks of rock and death.

“Why is it moving?!” Aimi screeched. “Why is it moving!?”

Kosuke got to his knees and turned around. The sound of his gasp was like the sky holding its breath.

The Clawpeak was wiggling like a limb breaking free. It pushed up, sloughing off the mountain chain as it rose and pierced the smoke and ash, leaving rifts in its wake. Rock and lava and burning forest spilled out from the rifts, melded together in a massive landslide.

Is it really true? Can I use faith? Do they really have it?

Kosuke could hardly believe it. Just this morning, he was just another kid; just another nobody. Now… well, he was still a kid, even if his shoe size had gotten bigger. The world was big and scary and Kosuke worried he’d never find his way in it.

Now, I’m ‘big and scary’, too…

His breath tightened in his chest. Kosuke didn’t know what he was going to do with himself. Tomorrow was going to be a very, very strange day—but that wouldn’t happen if tomorrow never came.

And then, he heard them.

They were chanting his name.

“Kosuke! Kosuke! Kosuke!”

Do they really mean it…?

His body answered for him. It was like something out of a fairy tale. At first, he thought he’d risen to his feet, but no… he was growing. A giant. A colossus. The heat of the power flowed into him, but it no longer stung.

Kosuke didn’t know why he had this power, but he resolved to make the best use of it.

I owe it to them. If they’re going to believe in me, I need to make myself a kaiju worth believing in.

Their faith was his strength. His strength was their faith. Power overwhelming surged through him, his head cresting over the ravine, and higher still, until Fire Valley Gorge was but a narrow gully that came up to his waist. A gutter, overrun with racing sludge. The light-sphere grew impossibly large. Kosuke could sense its boundary. It swelled, spanning the whole of the earth, and then growing further, kissing the moon as it reached for the stars.

Faith.

It was just as Hajime had said. They had faith in him, and that faith was what made him change. It was their trust in him that gave him strength. It was not strength he had wanted, but, having been given it, he wanted to wield it as best as he could, to do as much good as he could. Because what would be the point in believing in something that didn’t help?

Beneath the rising Clawpeak—the living talon of a waking giant—the earth let loose its fire and fury. An all-consuming deluge of churning, chthonic slurry poured straight down Fire Valley Gorge, blasting through everything in its way, setting the hills aflame beneath the starry night.

Kosuke ran along the gorge, toward the torrent, praying to his ancestors that his new body would turn out to be fireproof. He burst through the great bridge like the tape at the end of a relay race. Falling volcanic bombs pelted Kosuke’s face and head like hot hail. The red metal crumpled at his sides as broke and heaved and fell away. He dove forward, onto his knees, skidding across the narrow ravine like a douchebag with a skateboard, plunging his claws into the valley’s sides, ripping up rocks and trees as he slowed to a standstill in front of the narrowest stretch of the gorge. And he yelled. He didn’t know if Kléothag could still hear him, or if the creature even cared to listen, but he didn’t care. He figured he might as well say something. He was alive, for now.

Stolen story; please report.

The torrential lahar flooded toward him, and he held his ground, staring fire and death in the face.

“Hey, Kléothag,” Kosuke yelled, “I didn’t ask for their faith. They’re the ones who give it to me! We’re just trying to survive!”

Kosuke really, really hoped this would work.

He roared as the deluge plowed into him, and he into it. He threw his weight forward like a sumo wrestler, massing his body into the ravine, making a plug of his body. The superheated earth thrashed and recoiled, battering into him like the Fire Orochi itself. It slammed into his stomach faster than a speeding bullet train, bashing him back, sending his foot-claws scurrying across the ravine’s floor.

Digging in hard, Kosuke pushed, grappling the viscous tide of earth and fire. The lahar was like liquid cement. It spurted up over the ravine’s sides as it sloshed and sprayed. It splashed Kosuke’s face and feathery mane with its superheated sting, but the boy held firm, pushing into the flow, making a wedge of his body, diverting the slurry into adjacent valleys like they were mere spillage channels. Kosuke roared as it stung his eyes, which he shut and kept shut as he pushed through total darkness.

The slop piled high, hot and heavy, surrounding him like a mold, until Kosuke was certain he would die, entombed within the lahar’s crushing weight.

And then it stopped.

— — —

Kosuke was slow to open his eyes. Though he’d never been hit by a truck before, he had a pretty good feeling it would have felt a lot like the dull ache currently throbbing in his belly and chest and limbs. It was like he’d strained every muscle in his body all at once. Gradually, the piping hot glop cooled and cracked. Kosuke tried moving an arm; little pieces broke free. He tried moving his legs; more pieces fell. With a groan, he ripped himself free and then sank to his knees, blinking his eyes and shaking his head, flicking the steaming debris off his fur and scales. With a groan, he shifted, leaning onto the slurry where it spilled over the edge of Fire Valley. He sank into it like it was a giant beanbag. It was warm against his shell.

The heat felt pretty nice.

For a moment, Kosuke thought he heard a sound of thunder echo in the distance, but that just turned out to be his breathing reverberating off the gorge’s steep walls.

He looked up.

Ash was falling. The foliage burned, fulfilling the prophecies of the colors of their leaves. Slowly, he turned around.

A bit further into the valley, a handful of suspiciously large, four-legged ants hopped up and down on the narrow riverbed, next to a battered toy in the shape of an aluminum bus.

They were waving their arms.

His friends were safe.

Kosuke exhaled deeply as he smiled. His breath cleared a hole in the haze, blowing away the ash and smoke, giving him a view straight through to the stars above. It was like something out of a dream.

What happens next, I wonder?

Would he try to go home? Could he try to go home?—was there any home left for him to go to?

He didn’t know.

Looking over his shoulder, Kosuke saw lava dribbling out of the volcano’s cone.

I should… probably plug that up…

Why did you do that?

The earth still shook as Kléothag spoke but this time, it was bereft of anger.

Turning his head, Kosuke noted the Clawpeak had sunk back into the mountain range, sealing the hole in the earth.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked, looking up at the stars

Yes.

The force of his reply made Kosuke wince.

Now, answer me.

Kosuke looked down at his classmates. They huddled beneath the hole in the smog, sheltered in the bus’ hazy headlights and the twinkling of the stars and moon above.

“I already told you,” Kosuke said, with a sigh, “I didn’t ask for their faith, or for these powers. I’m…” he shook his head. “We were just trying to make the most of an awful situation.” He glanced at Hajime. “It’s like my friend Hajime would say: use it or lose it.”

…I see.

There was a strange, smoky silence.

“Is that really so strange to you, Kléothag?” Kosuke asked.

Yes and no. I am… the voice paused, I was a child of war, long ago. Since the time of my hatching, I have labored and fought. I have slaughtered your ilk by the billions. Yet even that expanse of time is but a drop in the vastness of the True Sea. The Exarium’s heartbeats are the passage of aeons. Much must have changed while I slept. Your world certainly has.

Gone was the fury. The earth thrummed with a voice of wisdom.

It was a true “Elder Voice.”

I only wish we would have had the chance to hear it for ourselves. How different things might have been if we had.

Kosuke had a million questions. At the risk of second-guessing himself, he decided to go with the one he thought the simplest and the safest.

“What is ‘my ilk’? What am I? Do you know what has happened to me?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kosuke noticed his classmates were either seated or standing still. They were all listening to Kléothag.

To put it in terms you might understand… you are becoming a god. Most are lost to madness, worn away by the adze of time. But you are still as fresh as the morning dew. You have not yet succumbed.

Child, you are not what I expected.

“What did you expect?”

A hermeneus, Kléothag said, perhaps even a savior. Alas… I am long past saving.

Kosuke shifted in place. “W-What?”

I am dying, Kosuke. My injuries are too grave. I am too weak to return to the Tannînel. Time has not healed my wounds.

The voice quavered.

Forgive me, my children; forgive my carelessness. I was a neglectful father. Life took root upon me as I slumbered. I should have anticipated this, but it caught me unaware. Know that I never meant to harm you.

“What do you mean?”

Your world… this planet… it is my body, transfigured; my sepulcher, soon to be. This moment is but a candle. It will pass; I will fade, and I do not know what will become of you after that. I can only hope that my message will have reached its destination by then, else… this was all truly for nothing.

“A message?” Kosuke cocked his head. “What message?”

A warning: something wicked this way comes. A great darkness, far greater than any I have ever known; a vast maleficence, nameless and unnamable. Even now, its teeth gnaw at my flesh. Its hunger is boundless. The Alliance was a fickle thing, merely a shard of a moment. The war against the Godspawn had only just come to a close when, from beyond the horizon, a shadow struck. It took me with it. Now… I fear the consequence my absence may have caused. My allies will have no answer for my disappearance save for foul play. It will give them the pretext they desired. So many were uneasy with the peace. The thirst of conquest sings within them. Allies will break their truces; decimation will abound. They will not be prepared for the horrors this new darkness will mete upon them.

The earth sighed.

They know not what they do.

“Why are you telling me?” Kosuke asked. “What can I possibly do? I’m…”

Kosuke looked over himself, over the body that was now his, and the life it had thrust upon him.

The life it had taken away.

Kosuke, the Godspawn should be no more, and yet, here you are. I have no explanation for this, only an opportunity to avail myself of it. As your friend might say: I must ‘use it or lose it.’

Kosuke sensed the slightest chuckle.

“Use what?”

You.

“M-Me?” Kosuke pointed at himself with his claw.

Yes. It is a power of the Godspawn. You… you may yet give me a voice. My warning may yet still be sent; catastrophe might yet be averted. And, if the worst has come to pass… at least there is a chance they might save themselves, or one another.

“How?”

Down below, though it was very faint, Kosuke heard Hajime and the others belt out encouraging words.

The people of this world and its multiplicities have not understood my message, Kléothag said. They hear, but do not listen; and if they listen, they do not understand. But a Godspawn’s words can spread farther than mine. Kosuke, your voice can percolate across the True Sea. Perhaps you will fare better than I. Please, child, With what little strength I have left, let me tell you what I know. I must show you how to share it, before the darkness takes me.

You are my only hope.