1,443,446,925 Dead
1,430,209,514 Civilian
13,237,411 Military
12,648,246 Missing

$145,547,996,134,248 In damages.

78% of the worlds military assets destroyed.
86.6% of total military personnel deceased.

9% of the Earth's surface destroyed.
78,169 animal species extinct. 4,252 species of plant extinct.

Numbers were a funny thing. Most people couldn't really grasp what they meant. If a million was a statistic, what was a billion? For those who lived through a crisis like this, it was understood through absence. The world humanity knew was gone, wiped from the face of the earth save a few untouched spots. Cities wiped clear or simply empty, monuments both natural and man-made destroyed, even methods of worldwide communication were gone with the satellite network broken. This was the world humanity found waiting for it after the Ghidoran invasion. If the birth of Godzilla was the worst disaster since WW2, this was a disaster greater than all others throughout history combined. Humanity had lost so much.

Russia's military was gone. Africa was devastated, desert glassed and grass planes burnt to dust. America had lost 67% of its military bases and over 16 major cities were nothing but rubble. Ireland had been blackened, those that survived forced to abandon the Emerald Isle. Greenland, Iceland, Canada, all suffered horribly. China was all but gone, the Himalayan mountains replaced with a great scar. Japan was a ruin. No place, from pole to pole to every island, was left unaffected. The world of old was gone forever, physically as well as spiritually.

But for all the catastrophe, it could have been, should have been, so much worse. Natural disasters that should have sprung up simply didn't. The immense clouds of dust in the atmosphere that should have ruined weather the world over and plunged it into another Ice Age simply fell to Earth, covering the ruined mountains and sealing up the cracks the final battle had left on the world. Nuclear power-plants that had been breached simply lost all radiation, storms that should have resulted from the changed landscape, didn't. Even the alien monsters simply stopped fighting, turned, and vanished from the earth. No one ever knew why.

But humanity remained. Humanity rebuilt, recovered, repopulated. Humanity lived on.

The great swell of monsters was over, the Earth no longer making an army of guardians to stave off destruction. One or two would show up every year, normal mutations or awakened creatures, or else those that survived the great destruction in hiding. But for all intents and purposes, the world of monsters was at an end. At least, that's what humanity told itself. They needed to believe it was finally over.

Because otherwise, the cost was simply to great to bear.

xxxx

Godzilla sniffed at the body, blood still warm as the heart had just ceased beating. He nudged it, willing the figure to get up. Nick just lay there, unmoving and silent. His body was intact, but his mind was silent. Godzilla willed him to rise, to see the victory they'd made, but his father didn't listen. He curled up next to his parent's body and remained, waiting for a moment that never came. The rain had lasted since the Ghidorahs fled, and it stayed then as if to mark the damaged world.

Godzilla roared towards the heaven in anguish unparalleled, and through the rain, anyone who saw would think they saw the monster cry.

xxxx

The funeral for Nick Tatopoulus was small, just one of countless others all over the world. Nor was he the only one being mourned. Monique Dupre had died during the defense of Paris, and was being honored along with Nick. The tired old pier had never seemed so quite. A few words were said, by the remaining 4 members of H.E.A.T, Nick's son John, and Colonel Hicks, who had personally flown from Monster Island to see his old friend off. Godzilla watched with strange silence until Nick was buried in Central Park, under a growing monument to the dead.

The mutation vanished from his lair later that day.

xxxx

Lucius Montague sat in a chair at his house at the beach, a rather large place for his services. It didn't really matter though. He'd hated being forced to pilot that stupid thing, but it was apparently all that saved his life. When the dragons came, they tore his more serious looking allies apart, and only decapitated his Mecha-Baz as if it were an insect not worth squashing further. That was why, out of all 12 Praetor "Kaiju Killers," he was the only one still alive. He took another swig of whiskey, spat it out in disgust, and then kept drinking. That stupid machine was the only reason he was alive.

He wasn't so sure he wanted that right now.

xxxx

Sam sat silently in the back of a helicopter as it flew him to his next location. With the chaos of the world, a few old drug cartels and reemerged and were training to take over Mexico, so everyone who could be considered law enforcement was being called in. He didn't think of himself as a hero, but he never could stand those things, and so was more than happy to join in.

The Jetstream had been too heavily damaged for repairs, so for now at least he was out of a job. Apparently a laser sword to the chest wasn't good for the operating systems, but he'd won, and that's all that mattered to him. He gripped his sword with his left hand, more than ready to kill the bastards who were taking advantage of the world in a state of such disarray. He hoped that he could afford some prosthetics after this. He never was as good with his left.

xxxx

Sir Reginald L. Micheal's stood at the front of the ceremony, doing his best to keep his grief from showing. The Knights had done their duty. Through their sacrifice, not a single step had been taken into Britain, and the Ghidorahs had been held at bay. Of their 20 members, 3 survived. He had never known a group of braver men in all his days. Sir Callahan had died with sword piercing the heart of a dragon, surrounded on all sides by fire and gnashing jaws, like a true knight of old. The Gawain had captured the picture of his final stand, and it was being used to motivate the country towards recovery.

The service was splendid, the choir magnificent, the arrangement of flowers and men in uniform picture perfect. No men could have asked for a finer burial. They had been awarded every accommodation that could reasonably given, and even had a new medal granted for defending not only Queen and Country, but the world itself. The Blade of Humanity was a heavy thing, weighing down their lapels, but he didn't care. It was a suitable burden of survival.

xxxx

Alaska was surprisingly untouched. It had been far enough out of the way, sparsely populated, and well defended enough to survive most of the chaos. Anchorage had been left almost totally intact, and while Fortitude military base was all but gone, the three Wolf fortress-class vessels had survived.

Occasionally, sightings would come in of three reptilian mutations wandering the wastes. No confirmation could ever be made as to their identities as unknown problems always befouled any equipment. Still, eye-witness sightings would often claim that, during a heavy storm, one could see the largest one standing on its hind legs and looking up into the sky, circled by the other two. No one ever could explain why.

xxxx

Gordon was done. He'd been in the JSDF for most of his life, had saved the Earth a hundred times, and been a hero ten times that number. He had seen it all, done it all, and every human on Earth knew his name. And now, he had done and seen enough. 3 months after the invasion, Gordon resigned as admiral, after making his final order to decommission the Susanoo permanently. So much power didn't belong to anyone, at least not while the world needed healing. He retired to the tiny home along the coast he hadn't lived in for 30 years.

Gordon had been a hard man who could do anything, face any foe, take up any challenge. A lifetime of that had finally broken him. He was done, just an old man who'd been alive far too long while so many young men and women gave their lives instead. Gordon didn't die like some great hero, defending the world from giant monsters or alien threats.

He spent the last 3 years of his life in declining health from the wounds he'd taken from the Ghidorah-mutant, and the last 5 months were spent in a hospital bed, IV in his arm. On January 4th, 2032, Douglas M. Gordon passed away at the age of 88.

The funeral was attended by those 47 men and woman who had survived aboard the Susanoo, the remaining 14 members of M-Unit, Ozaki included, and what few old JSDF command remained to see their old friend off.

xxxx

Godzilla had returned to the world he'd been gone from for so long the same way he had come into it to begin with. He'd risen from Tokyo Bay and trudged his way into the city, making his way to where the massive human machine floated above the remains of the city. Underneath it was a beast he recognized, and as he came to stand before it, he realized with a smirk that he was looking up at it this time. The other creature the humans had named Godzilla stood like he did, nearly twice as tall as he was, and looked at him with intelligent eyes. Something in his appearance seemed to click in its head, and it pressed something on one ear, shrinking down in a flash of light. He'd watched it sniff the human, sensed the man die, and watched the proud beast lose its fire.

He had fixed the world, undone the damages and prevent worse from happening, stopped the attacking monsters and made them peaceful, and the humans never seemed to realize it. He had, for the hundredth time, prevented their destruction, and they never seemed to care. But they no longer attacked him, no longer sent weapons to kill him or scientists to study him. The humans had lost their hatred of him, and had finally decided to leave him be.

For the first time in all his lives, Godzilla had what he desired: he was left alone. His foes were all gone. His allies were all gone. He was finally alone. He sat on the ocean floor on a peak of sand, the only light the soft blue glow coming from his own body. He had nothing now. Nothing to fight, nothing to hate, nothing to watch over or care for. He was a god, a king, invincible and master of the world. But the world didn't seem to care for him any longer, invincible with nothing to fight, a god without worshipers.

He was a king without a kingdom to rule. It was lonely at the top.

A soft wail filled the darkness, and he raised his head up to see something staring at him out of the darkness. He increased his personal light, to reveal something many times his size, all black flesh and tentacles and yellow eyes, a thing that could only be described using words or emotions Godzilla didn't know or feel. It looked at him with eyes far older than his, and he could sense others waiting in the blackness. Something huge floated above him, like a great skull of warped flesh and writhing form, not just the tentacles but the skin itself. Yet another creature that made him seem tiny floated down from the blackness, and it reached into his mind.

Dogolas serve

He picked himself up and gazed out at the throngs of horrors, and smiled. Looks like he'd found his kingdom.

xxxx

Musashi Himura put the final touches on the last page of his book, and closed it with a sigh. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to become an author, maybe his obsessive capturing of every detail? But it didn't matter, he was done, and that's all that mattered. He was done just in time to go watch the launch.

It had been 20 years since he'd joined the JSDF, 4 since he'd quite. 19 years since that day. Humanity was still recovering a little, but as it was, they had really come a long way. He was glad to have seen so much in his life, though most of it he could have done without truth be told. But you couldn't change the past, just work towards a better future.

After the invasion, Suzaku had used his remaining resources to launch humanitarian aid for the damaged places all over the world, rising through the ranks of the JSDF until he came to lead their research department. He'd married Mara the day after it was all over, apparently he hadn't felt like risking waiting on a family in case anything else should happen. With her home gone, it was merciful as well as kind. Himura often joked that their kids would rule the world some day. He wasn't always sure he was joking either. Dolph and Emily still worked in the GMPO, more or less running the now fully international organization dedicated to both preserving what few monsters remained, and helping people recover from any and all monster related incidents.

He himself was now married to a wonderful woman named Momoko, who'd been working in the JSDF at the time of the invasion and had been one of those aboard the Susanoo. A victory kiss and had turned a tad more intimate, and here they were now with a beautiful little girl and expecting another to be there shortly. As he stood up from his desk and stretch, his wife called to him from the other room.

"Hurry dear, you don't want to miss the launch!"

"Just finishing up now, I'll be there in a second!" He called, placing his pen down and heading for the door. His metal leg squeaked a little as he went, he would have to lubricate it after the launch was over. The 1st of the Admiral Gordon dreadnaught-class spaceships was going up today, and it was worth being outside to see humanities first interstellar craft. All that leftover alien technology had done wonders for colonization and FTL projects. He pitied the people on the Moon who would only get to see a tiny streak as it passed on its way to Mars. Still, this was what being a scientist was all about. Those antimatter engines worked wonders.

He looked back at his book, gave a smile at all the memories written down, and closed the door.

When Man seeks power, he faces nature. When he seeks to rule the world, the world finds means to put man in his place. When he rises up against nature, creating great monuments to his power, nature breaks them, with hurricane and earthquake and flood. When Man grows in numbers beyond counting, nature sends plague, disease, infection. When man conquers the land, nature ceases sustaining his food, starving him. Even as he attempts to escape nature, it grips him, creating violence over its resources, causing conflict, hatred.

War.

Man is ever in the grip of nature. He can never escape it. And when man seeks to rule nature, with science and intellect, when he seeks to control reality, he is brought to face it. When man seeks power, he faces that power.

And nature is not kind.

But nature is not wholly without mercy. For all its children, nature finds a place in the grand scheme of things for them, and man's will ever be to advance. When man builds, nature knows. When man protects, nature rewards. And when man heads for the stars, nature watches as he leaves. Man must always know that there are things beyond him, waiting should he stumble, to destroy him as he falls. But man will always pick himself back up again, rebuild, renew, start again.

For now at last the Age of Monsters is ended, and the Age of Humanity can begin.

Well, that's it. I already have something else well in the works, but am currently suffering some writers block most severe, so no idea how long until it comes. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the story, I do hope you enjoyed it.