What is a King to His Men?

"Lushalmat ibri."

That was the last sentence uttered to the King by the sole-surviving worshiper, who was a ruler among his people, before his passing. The generations beneath him, already wavering in their belief due to their upbringing during peace, promptly feared him, even forgetting his work he did for them. Being feared wasn't much different from being revered, but they chased him away with weapons that, although non-life-threatening, were irritating and disrespectful. He was their king, their god, and they denied him for their own personal interests.

He wanted to give them a piece of his mind and wipe them out for their insolence, but his comrades wouldn't have it, Mosura and Anguirus especially. They still saw some good in them and pointed out other humans across the world who might still see him for who he is and what he represents. There wasn't just the one temple solely dedicated to him, there were multiple, and most of them worshiped multiple Titans.

So Gojira gave the human race another chance, brushing off the one clan as a fluke. Just because he was more close to them didn't mean he wasn't well-known elsewhere. They'll all come to, eventually.

But the Titans were steadily falling into hibernation thanks to the change in the earth's climate, and the increase in human intelligence and will meant they wanted gods to be more human or to disappear entirely. Some weakened enough that even humans were beginning to cause them harm and drove them from their homes, their temples. As puny as the creatures were, they were ferocious. No Titan feared Man, but no Titan liked what had become of them.

Gojira was the only one with enough strength to rebel and bring havoc and fear to the coastal civilizations. Anguirus and Mosura were not pleased with his actions, and that rift in their opinions caused them to butt heads than ever before. The other Titans flip-flopped and would ally or go against Gojira depending on the year, or even their mood. It happened enough that it wasn't long before he felt everyone, even his own kind, was against him.

"You've gone mad!" they cried as they attempted to hold him back from land. The ocean, being his domain, was a difficult terrain for many Titans to go head-on with the King.

Gojira's rage was nearing its apex, and had brought down nearly all but a few to their knees. His bloodlust had yet to be quenched, all it would take was to stomp some humans flat, yet the spiked quadruped and delicate moth were who stood in his way. His equals hadn't yet gone through the rejection he had, only in due time would their people also turn their hearts away from them. Although they were close friends, they had unusual human qualities that made them his worst foes in his view.

Anguirus was worn down and bleeding profusely, but his eyes still shone in determination. One of Mosura's wings had a large tear in it to ground her and she was missing a limb, yet she stood tall on his armored back. Their stances told him they were fighting to the death for their livelihoods, to prove themselves worthy of their godlike statuses. Not that the other Titans didn't fight valiantly, but even as an army they were no match for the King. The two were true fools to think they stood a chance, and merely resorted to words than their strength to strike back.

"The False King fed you lies in your final battle!" Anguirus said, teeth bared at the thought of the three-headed demon. "How could you believe them?"

"I didn't until the people turned their backs on me as prophesied!" he snarled, his plates pulsing in time to his heartbeat. "I didn't want to believe they were right all along about the human race until then!"

"There have always been a few detractors," Mosura reminded him. Her body trembled in sadness and anger, overtaking her pain. "Humans are quick to forget and stray."