It's futile

The sea breeze, gentle and soothing, embraced everything, restoring a sense of tranquility.

Amidst this calm, Lithos stood, a solitary figure atop the serene waters.

His demeanor was tranquil, almost indifferent.

The once scorching temperatures had now subsided, and the recent tumultuous events felt distant, as if they were nothing but a fleeting dream.

Yet, for those witnessing the scene from afar, a collective gasp escaped their lips, their breath caught in suspense.

"This... this can't be real!"

"What in the world is happening?"

"A nuclear bomb... thwarted so effortlessly?"

Fear gripped their hearts.

As the shock began to ebb away, those observing were left dumbfounded.

This was not merely America's struggle; it was a siege that encapsulated the pinnacle of technology from various nations, representing the essence of human civilization itself.

Ten nuclear warheads, capable of obliterating islands like Hawaii in an instant, now rendered powerless...

They couldn't even dent the platform beneath the colossal figure's feet, let alone cause any harm.

Not a trace remained, neither on the platform nor on the giant himself.

"A nuclear weapon couldn't even scratch him. What hope do we have against such a force?"

On an American aircraft carrier, an elderly general stared, dumbstruck, into the horizon.

He was stunned.

The most formidable weapons at their disposal were brushed aside effortlessly, leaving no impact whatsoever.

A profound sense of despair welled up within the old general's soul.

And he wasn't alone in his despair.

Every witness to this extraordinary spectacle was left bewildered, grappling with the incomprehensible might before them.

It was akin to preparing to face an adversary with an AK47, only to find their skin impenetrable to gunfire.

Or desperately wielding an RPG, only to witness it bounce off harmlessly, leaving the opponent unscathed and unyielding.

The overwhelming power of this entity instilled a sense of hopelessness in all who beheld it.

Leaders of nations, accustomed to navigating through crises, found themselves at a loss, grappling for solutions in the face of an unprecedented threat.

Meanwhile, Lithos, unfazed by the chaos, took a deliberate step forward, advancing towards the Rocky Mountains.

He had anticipated this moment.

To humans, nuclear weapons represented the zenith of power, instilling fear and awe. But to Lithos, who had traversed the cosmos for millennia, they were but feeble tools, akin to crumpled paper against his might.

"I refuse to believe this! It cannot be!"

In the sky above, a Japanese pilot, his eyes wide with disbelief, dove towards Lithos, flames erupting from his aircraft's fuselage.

Yet, Lithos remained unmoved.

A flick of his tail feathers sent forth sparks, igniting the sky, reducing the fighter jet and its pilot to molten remnants in seconds.

Ignoring the surrounding gazes, Lithos raised his gaze, peering into the distance, murmuring to himself.

"The energy emanating from beyond the Rocky Mountains grows stronger..."

...

In the hidden realm nestled within the Rocky Mountains, golden light danced amidst magnificent structures, resonating with divine energy.

At its heart stood a grand clock tower, suspended in midair by ancient vines, exuding an aura of mystique.

Figures garbed in various attire, some clad in armor, others resembling pontiffs, floated gracefully, enveloped in divine radiance.

It was a sanctuary of unparalleled sanctity.

Upon the noble clock tower, melodious music wafted through the air.

Unbeknownst to the President of the United States, joint forces on the Pacific coast had been vanquished, while he found himself ensconced within this secretive domain.

Seated at a table, sipping tea alongside a cardinal in resplendent red robes, the President felt a twinge of unease.

Occasionally, he glanced out the window, catching glimpses of knights practicing their artistry amidst the celestial backdrop.

Their attire reminiscent of medieval champions, they exuded an aura of purity and strength, evoking a sense of awe and trepidation within the President.

Yet, what truly unsettled him was their sheer power; with a single stroke of their swords, they could cleave cliffs asunder.

The President's anxiety deepened, overshadowing the serenity of the scene before him.

"Your Eminence, I am no emperor," the President remarked with a hint of resignation.

"As for your request, it is... demanding. The days of nations wielding worldly and divine authority are long gone."

"Why have they faded into obscurity? Does faith no longer hold sway in the world?" the cardinal inquired, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

"While faith endures in our nation, it may not align with the papacy's expectations," the President hesitated, offering a tentative explanation.

Observing the President's dilemma, the cardinal chose not to press further.

"Very well. With time, perhaps perspectives will align. When the realm unveils its secrets, I intend to journey to England, initiating the spread of divine glory across the world."

The President nodded in acquiescence, taking a sip of tea.

Suddenly, the cardinal interjected, "Regarding the matter of the foreign giant you mentioned..."

In that moment, the President recounted Lithos's enigmatic presence on Earth, eliciting a contemplative response from the cardinal.

"A three-hundred-meter giant... Quite intriguing. Just as the papacy undergoes its revival, such marvels are most opportune."

As the two conversed, their thoughts turned towards the grand design unfolding before them.

In the western Pacific Ocean, a cacophony of gunfire echoed amidst a sea of battleships.

Frantically, they unleashed their arsenal in a desperate bid to halt Lithos's advance.

Yet, all their efforts proved futile; every projectile dissipated harmlessly in his wake.

...

On a battleship, a middle-aged captain pounded his fist against the console in frustration, his eyes ablaze with disbelief.

This force, impervious to their onslaught, defied comprehension.

Their most advanced weaponry rendered ineffective, they were left defenseless against an entity beyond their reckoning.

Today's armadas quaked like mice before a lion, their final stand reduced to a futile gesture.

In Lithos's eyes, they were insignificant, akin to ants scurrying about.

Beneath his feet, ripples cascaded outward, culminating in a torrent of water that rent steel asunder.

Submarines vanished beneath the waves in a maelstrom of destruction.

In mere moments, the remaining fleet capitulated, fleeing in disarray.

Lithos, unperturbed, continued his advance, eliciting trembling gazes from those in his wake.

As the remnants of the fleet retreated, a sense of defeat settled over them, their resolve shattered like glass.

On a distant carrier, an elderly general gazed upon the devastation, his spirit broken.

"Demon... What have you wrought?"

Before he could voice his despair, a comrade silenced him, urging retreat.

"It's futile, General. We must withdraw."