Chapter 13

'What the...'

The kaiju flew closer, its mechanic wings battering the air. Its red, soulless eyes marked Darthra with an aura of dread.

Whatever this thing was, Darthra immediately screeched.

"Mothra? A robot Mothra? No,"

He just had to assume.

'Mecha-Mothra,'

It screeched as it circled Darthra.

As it did, he could hear how really heavy its wings were as they flapped. Its body looked clunky, yet soared like an eagle in the air.

Even as he locked eyes with its metal form, Darthra couldn't help but shake.

'Is it hostile?' He began to worry, 'Is it friendly?'

In the end, Darthra increased his altitude.

There was room to check.

He noticed the glowing antenna.

A bit too late.

From Mecha-Mothra, a radical beam of red pulsed forward, straight past Darthra.

"Agh!" He screeched.

Not from the random beam which turned this tin can of a robot into a hostile.

But the stinging burn.

One too familiar.

"SHIT!"

Darthra could only fly frantically as he fell.

Into the hole.

Back into the room.

With a thud, Dartha landed, eying his left wing.

'Now I can't fly,' He looked at the opening in the ceiling, 'I'm a goner...'

'Wait...'

Darthra's gaze landed.

An abomination of silver seemed to look back as it lumbered forward, struggling with each step as its body was open.

No matter how disturbing it looked or how grossed out he was, there was one key difference between Mecha-Mothra and this alive armour.

Hostility.

As it moved closer, Darthra felt no threat from it.

Instead, he felt...support.

"Power..."

"Sacrifice..."

"Desire..."

'Even now...I don't think I'll win with my powers,' Darthra kept his gaze on the ceiling, 'I didn't try, but why should I if I'm going to lose?'

"Don't do that,"

A voice.

Darthra knew it from before.

Where was it coming from?

"Don't let one action sway who you are,"

'Oh, I know that,'

By now, if it could, the silver armour could pounce Darthra at this point.

'That's...my next goal,' he stared it down, 'there's always a risk,'

'However, I'm willing to sacrifice,'

So, with shaky legs, Darthra walked forward, towards the stumbling armour wear.

It stopped for a split second as if surprised by Darthra's movements.

Then, it continued, opening itself to improbable extremes.

With his heart bouncing out of his mandibles, Darthra prepared for the worst.

The next thing he knew, the armour jumped on him, covering Darthra like a blanket.

All he could feel was the constant movement of this amalgamation. It was like having hundreds upon hundreds of spiders or centipedes crawling up and down constantly on his skin.

A few seconds later, there was this weight on his body.

Every part, even his antennae and wings, felt a bit heavier.

'Ugh,' He groaned, the bulky feeling made him uncomfortable, 'It's like I'm in a sauna,'

'but, I'm alive,'

A screech echoed.

Mecha-Mothra.

'Shit,' He felt his movements required more effort, 'what does this armour do?'

As the robot hovered above, the people still there screamed.

Both from the robot insect and from the silver mess of a moth.

"Sacrifice..."

'Huh? That again?' Darthra heard it in his head, 'must be the armour,'

"Your pain...is your freedom,"

As the room glowed red, from Mecha-Mothra, Darthra began to panic.

'Do something!' He thought, 'Was this a bad idea?'

'What do I-'

PLISH!

Sounds of flesh cut through the room.

The people and even Mecha-Mothra reacted to it.

Darthra felt it.

It was like getting pinched. Then from the pinch, came the twist, then the rip.

Whatever it was, caused such pain, that Darthra let out a blood-curdling screech.

One that halted Mecha-Mothra's attack.

In fact, it was Darthra's cry of pain that led the robot to not only stop attacking altogether but to fly out of the room, disappearing with a faraway screech.

A shame for Darthra.

"Fuck...argh...fuck!" He screeched, "The pain!"

He felt it.

Blood trickled from his wound. It seeped through the silver armour and dripped onto the floor.

"Your blood...matches your passion..."

The armour moved.

What Darthra felt was the exact opposite of the excruciating pain he went through. It was as if the armour grifted into his very flesh and exoskeleton. Into his nerves. Now that it moved. The pain was gone.

So was the apparent 'wound' he felt on his abdomen.

The blood still stained him, though.

'What...was that?' Darthra could move, though with more effort, 'Did I scare away that Mecha-Mothra?'

As he walked, he shook his head.

'That's kinda dumb,' Darthra thought, eyeing his body, 'how could a robot feel fear? Maybe it was controlled and the pilot was frightened? Or in this world, robots have feelings?'

He had many questions, but like a kid who didn't study for a test, Darthra had no answers.

'What is this armour, anyway?' He shook, 'Can I even take it off?'

Darthra sighed.

Then, a shroud of glee entered his heart.

'With this on, I was able to stop myself from dying, I think,' He thought, looking around, 'with this, I can combat a bit better,'

'I can win.'

Darthra shook his head again.

This was no time to get ahead of himself. The armour was a mystery to him. Not only did it hurt him, but it also fixed that wound, somehow.

'Whatever,' Darthra stared at the moth corpse on the stone podium, 'then, what happened this that moth?'

His brainstorming began.

Then ended quickly.

Why? Because of a human.

Yes. Darthra would turn to face this human as they walked out of the cracks, where they had been hiding.

Soon, the rest followed suit, quivering in their skins.

Darthra stood at the ready in front of the podium, despite his armour weighing him down.

'Perhaps an answer will be fulfilled.' He thought, waiting for a response.

He noticed one.

A man.

With a face of terror, he fell to his knees.

"Our saviour has come," He said, lowering his head to pray, tears in his eyes, "we...are safe,"

One by one, the group of people surrounded Darthra in a half circle, on their knees and praying as well. Some sniffed like the man. Others stayed quiet.

Darthra, however, was shitting himself with confusion.

'Did I hear saviour?' He thought, standing there, 'Am I a hero to these people? How? Where they not just scared of me?'

Mecha-Mothra came to mind.

'Hmm,' Darthra watched the people pray, 'is there some bad blood between these two?'

He didn't care for the people, but he did care about Mecha-Mothra.

Even then, seeing this group of people bowing to him, to a failure like Darthra, and calling him their saviour, grew a new feeling within him. Plus, he realised something.

They must be desperate.

'That corpse,' Darthra faced the rotten moth again, 'the armour was on that before I arrived,'

'could they have been doing the same thing to this corpse that they are doing now to me?'

With a heave, the armour clunking on his body, Darthra turned and watched the people.

'At least they're not killing me, like last time,' He thought, 'they're putting their hopes on me instead,'

Darthra sighed. That happened before and didn't go well.

'I'll just disappoint them again like I always do...'

He paused.

'No,' He told himself, 'this is a wake-up call.'

'I must believe in myself,'

With his one and a half wings raised, Darthra stood, as if posing.

'I must start here, I have this armour to help me,'

"Strength...for your blood,"

He heard it talk again.

'Not forgetting it's weird sentences,' Darthra shook his head, 'whatever, starting today, I'll say something with certainty,'

'Like how Anguirus said,'

He breathed in and out.

'I can beat that Mecha-Mothra.'

'I will do it.'

A sensation fell upon him.

One of confidence.

'Not good enough, I still feel doubtful,' He posed again, 'While I wait for my wing, I can practice,'

As the group of people prayed to him, Darthra would stand like the statue before them, the light shining off the armour he wore, and repeat one phrase.

'I can do this.'