He remembered the glimpse of a tiny creature, one of his, reaching to touch him, the obliterating light that followed. Renewed, he had risen, and fought, and triumphed. He proclaimed himself and the others bowed to him. But no war is won so easily. He knew this from his own memories, but also from other recollections that came to him from a far deeper place, from the darkness before his eyes first opened. They were not the same recollections as those he had experienced himself; there were no colors or remembered shapes or even places, but instead a deep certainty. As his senses stretched to encompass the wind that blew from the heart of the planet and encircled the world above to meet the winds from the sun, as he could feel the slow rivers of molten rock flowing, colliding, swallowing land, giving birth to it, the cycle of hot rise and cold fall in the waters, the pumping heart of the oceans, everything that was now, so too did he feel what was, when the surface of the earth was liquid rock, when waters came, when ice covered everything, when the green life came and clawed its way onto bare rock. When many of his kind lived, fighting always, and the New Ones came to try to claim dominance.
He had settled the latest war. And then he had sought his own place to rest. But the same light that had given him the energy to fight had also destroyed that place. So he searched for another, and found it, wrestling it from a terrible adversary. He called the others to their places of rest. And there, in the warmth, in the hollow bones of the earth, he had rested his weary, battered body, knowing that eventually the planet would call him back. He drifted into the half-dream, where present and past were the same.
Time passed, no more than a single blink of his eye, it seemed. Then came an itch, a taste on the back of his tongue. Familiar but not familiar. Out of place and wrong. He tried to ignore it at first, because it seemed so insignificant; a tiny parasite trying to burrow into his scales.
But it grew, and as it grew, so did his anger. They should not dare. They should know better.
He broke from the half-sleep, his dreaming ended. He reached out to the other Titans, those woken by Ghidorah and all of the others, too. They were all still where they were supposed to be, quiet, at rest.
All but one; one that should be there but was not.
He pulled himself up. The time for rest was done. His gaze rested on the gigantic skull of the enemy, the ancient adversary his kind had once driven from this place but never completely defeated. He shrieked his warning, his threat, his growing rage.
And then he began his long journey back to the surface, to find the itch in his scales and end it forever.
这是一个哥斯拉的POV,描述的非常精彩,我笔力拙劣就试图仔细详细翻译了。哥斯拉的记忆最早可以追溯到地球陆地还未成形,一切都还只是液态的那一时期。他记得海水的循环、冰河的带来、熔岩的流动,这一切已经久远到不知何时。
可以说哥斯拉就是地球意志一般的存在,他是一个古老的神明,洞察着世界的一切。在击败基多拉之后,他感受到“地球在召唤他回来“,所以他来到了地心世界休眠。
但在最近,他感知他的敌人——基多拉还尚未死绝,从未被彻底打败。他愤怒的发出咆哮,于是开始了他漫长的征程。
这是哥斯拉的世界————我们只是位于其中。