Overview
Kaiju are the gods of our time.
There is no lie or hyperbole in this statement. We stand in fear and awe as the earth shakes at their every step, barely able to withstand the sight of their power and magnificence. We gawk as these moving mountains of flesh, bone and metal battle each other, drunk in their blood and ecstatic in their violence like faithful celebrants. We worship at their feet as they kill their way to victory, and we mourn when they are felled. Every aspect of ourselves, of our very humanity, has become entwined with them. And yet, we fail to grasp their true divinity.
Divinity in this era is not defined by cosmic right, and it is not synonymous with being eternal nor immortal. Gods do not die – not forever, at least – yet the ones we worship fall and never arise again. What, then, makes these creatures worthy of our reverence? I have heard many answers to this question. Some say that the kaiju are gods because we fear them, for they embody primal forces over which man holds only an illusion of control. Others claim that there is beauty in their struggle and resilience, an echo of our own nature that allows us to recover our innate connection with the divine. Still some amongst the priesthood believe that the gods of our ancestors inhabit the kaiju as vessels of their unfathomable will, their battles an evolution of the ancient blood sacrifices that kept the world from being swallowed by chaos.
But this is a vain devotion, one marred by our shallowness. We have convinced ourselves that divinity is earned with every victory in the arena, and that it is sundered with every defeat. The ones who conquer today shall be slaughtered tomorrow, their mangled bodies treated like vulgar refuse, their memories eroded and turned into little more than empty names. Our worship and reverence, it seems, is broken with every turn of wheel, the endless cycle of killing. What manner of communion is this, where our gods are little more than broken toys to be discarded and scrapped for parts?
No more.
Cabrakán is the key to enshrining our modern gods, the definitive proof of our absolute devotion. Bred to be the ultimate kaiju, it will remain as eternal as the gods of ancient myth, mightier than even death itself. With every defeat, it will grow stronger. With every victory, its divinity will assert itself further in the hearts of Chixculub and its people. Its unyielding flesh shall be our faith – its impeding resurrection shall be our triumph.
– High Priest Zazil
Kaiju Profile
Code Name: Cabrakán
- Series: Caquix V.9.
- Type: Amphibian.
Cabrakán ("Earthquake") – named after the divine monster of Mayan myth – is the latest kaiju in the Caquix series. Like the rest of its kind, it is perfectly suited for both terrestrial and aquatic combat. Its amphibious nature is enhanced by a thick hide resistant to both bladed attacks and high-caliber abrasion. It remains, however, vulnerable to acidic attacks.
Class: Heavy.
- Weight: 110 metric tons.
- Length: 56 meters.
Locomotion:
- Quadrupedal (main).
- Bipedal (secondary).
- Aquatic.
Cabrakán outranks all previous Caquix series kaiju in both size and weight, its height further enhanced by its ability to stand and walk on its hind legs. While agile on land, Cabrakán is unstoppable in water, able to kill smaller targets by sheer force of impact thanks to the momentum provided by its powerful tail.
Weapons:
- Reinforced retractable claws.
- Sharpened skull.
- Barbed tongue.
Armed with an arsenal of claws and teeth designed for tearing through flesh, bone and metal, Cabrakán is capable of ending most matches in a matter of minutes, often felling its enemies with eviscerating attacks. When faced with harder adversaries, Cabrakán's strategy is simple: tear them apart faster and more brutally than they can retaliate.
Special:
- Regeneration.
- Post-mortem brain survivability.
- Enhanced aggression.
The secret to Cabrakán's success is its ability to survive even the most grievous bodily harm. It can continue fighting despite critical blood and organ loss, and when incapacitated it will continue to lash out and attempt to harm its opponent. This ability is enhanced by pain-induced aggression: specialized glands in this kaiju's brain release enzymes that turn its pain into rage, and its rage into willpower. Even when killed, Cabrakán's brain remains safeguarded by a thick skull containing a back-up system that encases its most important organ in life-preserving fluids, allowing for full recovery and regrowth. Cabrakán retains all memories of prior lives and deaths, meaning that it learns with each defeat, growing ever closer to invincibility.
Combat Record
| DATE |
OPPONENT |
BATTLE LOG |
OUTCOME |
| 19.10.55 |
Paricutín |
Cabrakán's first birth and deployment was immediately followed by a brief examination of its cognition, specifically its capacity to recognize its own reflection. After successful completion of this test, a Paricutín-class kaiju was sent into the arena. Cabrakán was reticent to attack first, a fact attributed to being a newborn lacking any combat experience. This allowed Paricutín to draw first blood. Upon attempting to retaliate, Cabrakán was instantly dissolved by Paricutín's acidic fumes, resulting in death. Remains – including its intact brain – were recovered for regrowth. |
DEFEAT |
| 26.12.55 |
Paricutín |
Cabrakán was resurrected in accordance to schedule and once again deployed against Paricutín. It demonstrated retention of memories from its prior encounter and acted accordingly. Cabrakán struck Paricutín before it was able to use its fumes, upturning it and burrowing into its soft underbelly. The battle concluded with Cabrakán feasting on the still-living Paricutín's innards. The triumphant specimen was contained for examination. |
VICTORY |
| 28.12.55 |
Tizoc |
Cabrakán was tested against Tizoc, a biomechanical specimen. Though possessing sharp claws, it failed to penetrate Tizoc's core, which hosts its vital organs, and lost its left forelimb to the rival kaiju's rotary mandible. The pain activated Cabrakán's aggression glands, turning it berserk. It continued fighting despite bloodloss, and though half its face was torn off by Tizoc, the battle ended with Cabrakán shattering its rival's skull against the arena's floor. |
VICTORY |
| 11.01.56 |
Ahuizotl |
Cabrakán healed from its wounds and regrew its missing limb in a matter of days. Despite this fast recovery, it was allowed to remain in stasis until a suitable opponent could be found. Ahuizotl – another amphibious kaiju – was chosen to test aquatic proficiency. Initially, Cabrakán prevailed through sheer aggression, though the smaller and more nimble Ahuizotl eventually opted to use the terrain to secure victory, luring Cabrakán into swimming towards the metal spikes at the bottom of the arena, fatally impaling itself. |
DEFEAT |
| 31.01.56 |
Ahuizotl |
Cabrakán was resurrected to face Ahuizotl anew, but this time it did not follow its opponent into a trap. Instead, it allowed the smaller kaiju to strike several times until it managed to clasp Ahuizotl's fifth arm between its jaws. It then shattered its rival's bones and inner organs with a strike of its tail, instantly ending the match. It should be noted that, once combat was over, Cabrakán seemed to enjoy being submerged in water, gently swaying with the motion of the ocean before being recovered for containment. |
VICTORY |
| 04.03.56 |
Pakal |
Cabrakán faced Pakal, a member of the previous generation of Caquix kaiju. Highly aggressive and possessing an acidic bite, Pakal severely injured Cabrakán by tearing at its throat, almost felling the kaiju within the first minute of their encounter. Cabrakán, though weakened, continued fighting until its right lung collapsed. It fell and seemed dead even as the retrieval team readied to recover its remains, though it suddenly sprung back to life and pierced Pakal's heart with its claws before finally expiring. Despite its death, this encounter was considered successful. |
VICTORY |
Cabrakán.
I, Ah Kin Mai Zazil, do prostrate myself before you. In the image of your namesake god you were made – built to contain his essence, born to be his vessel, to serve his will upon this Earth. Yours is the power to shatter mountains, the rite of stone and mud, the unquenchable thirst for blood.
We built your temple beneath the waters you love, a sanctuary away from battle – a refuge where you can nourish your hunger for destruction, where you can heal the wounds your rivals inflict on you during the rite of sacrifice. You live and die by the faith of your people, making the asters turn with the agony of your body, with the fury of your burning heart. We honor you with flowers that we throw into the cenote that houses you, with the flesh of your defeated enemies, with the drowned screams of those who by divine design must die.
Sacred Cabrakán, crocodile and salamander are the animals under whose sign you were born, for you must kill and be reborn until the sun stops shining, until the stars rain on silent waters in perpetual darkness. This is the destiny woven for you before your birth, when you were nothing but silent prayers in the hearts of your priests and your faithful. Praise you, Cabrakán, Lord of Earthquakes.
You are the One who makes the earth tremble, the One who crushes the heresy that pollutes our faith.
You are the earthquake, the primal power of the world.
Through your death and rebirth, our belief is strengthened, our resolve made holy.
Through your triumphs and defeats, we gain unity, our communion with the gods written in blood.
Through your violence, the pact is renewed, the divine fed at the altar of sacrifice.
We are thankful, great Cabrakán, for you are truly our champion, our Lord made flesh.
Your dominion is forever, our devotion absolute.
May your wrath never be extinguished.
May you never be denied your prey.
May your pain make us all pure.
When I first saw you in combat, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and my lungs exhaled a wild scream that found an echo in the thousands of worshippers who filled the arena. You stood as tall as you were over the mutilated corpse of your opponent – one of countless false gods who dared to challenge you – and roared triumphantly. Your people, witnessing your victory, celebrated for three days and three nights. With the blood of the fallen, the cycle continues and the Earth is blessed, my mother explained to me. Crops grow, and the stars align in our favor. That is why we worship the one who makes the earth tremble, the great god Cabrakán. That is how I understood the true nature of your divinity.
I prayed to see you again. My mother guided my steps in the darkness of your temple beneath the waves, in the suffocating humidity of your sanctuary. Those who are most zealous in their worship – your devoted priests – watched us from every corner, their expressions concealed behind masks that resembled your face. Mother and I prostrated ourselves before your altar, before the great placenta of amber light where you floated in placid silence. You slept so soundly that you seemed dead; only a few bubbles came out of your gills with each exhalation, and the beating of your heart was only a dull rumble. But beneath that stillness, behind your closed eyelids, something moved – something terrible, primal, glorious. The dreams of a god are not meant for mortals to know, and yet I knew in that instant – as my mother prayed and a guttural chant rose from the throats of the priests – that my life's mission would be to interpret them, to make manifest your divine will.
When I came of age, I joined your acolytes, renouncing the world to give myself to you in body and soul. I learned your litanies, your prayers and invocations – the language of the ancestors who once worshipped the gods of the peninsula, the Lords of Heaven and the Underworld. I mortified my flesh and shed blood on your altar as proof of my devotion, feeding your insatiable appetite, your thirst for life and obeisance. I opened the valiant breast of a virgin maiden and offered her heart to you. Thus many years passed, and my faith never wavered.
Even when I saw you defeated, wounded, dismembered, dead, I did not cease to adore you. Your divinity does not depend on your being invincible, but on your rising again after every defeat, after every death, to shake the earth. Every time you lost, your faithful thronged your sanctuary and prayed to give you strength, so that in the next combat you would prevail. We renewed our vow to you while your body recovered, while we awaited your resurrection and triumph.
So it was and so it shall be, for with each victory and defeat you grow stronger, smarter, closer to your true essence. Fearsome enemies faced you and fell. Arrogant men were humiliated when their blasphemous creations perished in your maw. The waters and the earth were stained with the multicolored blood of the vanquished. The world has been brought low before you.
Or so says Zazil, your High Priest. He says that your apotheosis has ushered in a new era, a better world where humans finally know their place. From his podium in front of your altar he declares the triumph of the ultimate virtue, the empire of the gods. He says our mission is now to keep the faithful together, to proclaim the word of our Lord of Earthquakes, to invite all those who have strayed from the path of the gods to rejoin us. Thus all the souls of Chicxulub will sing together the song of salvation, and our city will finally see the light after countless years of darkness.
Zazil is nothing but an old fool, a blind man who deludes himself into thinking he is a prophet, ignorant of the reality of our faith and our people. I have seen with my own eyes how this city sinks deeper in the mire of impurity and perfidy, how evil nests in the hearts of its inhabitants, in their bodies and in their minds. Fathers and sons have turned against each other. Vice is taken for virtue. Our streets are filled with harlots, with violence, with addicts who blaspheme while their blood boils with drugs extracted from the corpses of fallen giants. In the presence of our god, filth accumulates and grows unstoppable. And we… What do we, your priests, do?
We pray in vain, guided by blind Zazil, marching towards the stagnation of our faith. We sacrifice blood – our own and that of our god – and believe that this alone is enough to combat the rot of the world. We lie and make ourselves complicit in the decadence we condemn. We have chosen to tear out our eyes so as not to see the divine light that marks the path to the salvation of this city.
No more.
I, Kabnab, priest and faithful devotee of your divinity, free you, great Cabrakán.
I free you from this prison of stone that was once your sanctuary, where you lie confined and estranged from your people and your true purpose.
I free you from the chains that bind you: the false faith of the one who calls himself your High Priest and the ignorance of a city that does not understand why you bleed.
I free you from the one who has deceived your faithful, from blind Zazil. From his open throat no more empty words flow, only red rivers that feed your glory.
I free you, for I know that this is your design, the dream that nests in your heart, the destiny for which you were born: to purge with fire and blood this accursed city, to shatter our mountains of steel and concrete, to tear out with your jaws the putrefaction that corrupts us.
Let the earth tremble and men shudder.
May temples and towers crumble before you.
May your violence purify us all.
Praise be to you, Cabrakán, Earthbreaker.
