‘No!’ Simut slammed a hand down on the arm of his throne, the gesture turned into a pulse of rebuke across the communications link. ‘You will attack the citadel! Adjust your assault tangent, you slaughter-brained fool!’

+ALL MUST BE DESTROYED. ZOZAR IS THE DESTROYER.+

‘Attack citations transmitted, my lord,’ the royal warden reported as a pulse of data flowed across the link. ‘Zozar, the enemy within the fortress cannot escape you but they will try to fight you. They must be destroyed. All resistance must be quelled.’

+RESISTANCE MUST BE QUELLED. THE FORTRESS MUST BE PURGED OF LIFE.+

‘Yes,’ crowed Simut. ‘Destroy the defenders of the citadel. All of them!’

+IT SHALL BE DONE.+

Guided by the renewed will of the lord, the Destroyers changed direction immediately, pulling back from their attacks to focus on the shield-swathed fortification. Squads of warriors and teams of Destroyers returned to the vicinity of Zozar, accompanied by their floating and scurrying canoptek allies.

‘See, they are ready now,’ said Simut, looking at Phetos. ‘By my will the citadel shall fall.’

‘Masterful, my lord,’ replied the royal warden. ‘Your victory is assured.’

When the energy screens fell, the citadel was doomed. Towering above his feeble opponents, Zozar led the final charge into the heart of the humans’ armoured nest. His slaved warriors advanced around the base of the fortress, cutting off all escape from the gates, while anti-gravitic Destroyers rose along the walls to intercept any craft attempting to leave.

The corridors within were lit by erratic electrical circuits, flickering from the interrupted energy flow. The blast of laser and flash of chemical weapons discharge strafed brightly across Zozar’s senses, every glimmer bringing a momentary flicker of remembrance. He saw her face in reflective surfaces, lit by the plasma hail of his foes. He even saw it on their distended, unworthy bodies, their disgusting features twisted to her beautiful looks.

It was all false. It all had to be destroyed to preserve the memory etched into his engrammatic matrix. That was truth. All else was lies, an affront to her purity.

He fired pulses of condensed energy into their flesh, turning bonded molecules to flares of radiation and spreading matter. His energy-edged blade split apart their organic components without resistance, cell shock spreading like a virus from the wound site to evaporate their bodies. Phased to a different dimensional resonance than that occupied by their physical bodies, even those humans that bore a semblance of armour had no defence against the lethal sweeps.

Lifeblood painted the walls in splashes of vivid dissipating heat but there was no pleasure to be taken from the carnage, no artistry in the killing. There was only the rage, no joy. When all was slain, when the memory was safe at last, there would be peace. Until then there would be no relent, and Zozar would be the scourge of all sentient life.