Selk-2 was burning. Its capital city was nothing more than a pile of rubble, ground into the dirt by the massive guns of his flagship.
And Tierus could not be happier.
The War Champion stood on the bridge overlooking the site of his triumph. Streams of video from the planet's surface where the mortals still attempted their futile resistance played continuously, granting Tierus amusement while the prisoners chained to the wall screamed in pain.
But crushing ants cannot entertain a lion forever, and Tierus turned his attention to one of his new guests. The man was part of Selk’s defense force and had the gall to charge the War Champion with nothing but a bayonet. An insult Tierus was sure to repay a thousand-fold.
As he drank deep from the cup of revenge, Tierus walked down the wall to where another man was chained up. The prisoner’s uniform was still intact, showcasing the insignia of a general on his shoulder.
“How are you enjoying your planet’s ruination at my hand, general?” Tierus made sure his tone carried the proper disregard for the man’s title.
“Fffffuck you,” he managed to spit out of his blood-drenched mouth.
Tierus narrowed his eyes and took a knife from one of his attendants. He slowly approached the general, making sure the man could see the knife in his hand. Tierus raised it up to his face and lifted his head with the flat of the blade until the general was looking him in the eye.
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“Is that any way to treat someone as hospitable as I?” Tierus slowly drew the blade across the general’s arm, carving the symbol of War into his flesh. “Why, I even offered you a quick death if you just answered my question.”
The general stayed silent, with a slight flinch being his only reaction to the knife cutting his skin. Tierus frowned, placed the knife down and grabbed the general’s face in his hand. He could have crushed the man’s skull with one twitch of his hand, but the general still has his uses.
“Why fight the inevitable? Your planet will fall to my warband. The only choice you possess is how angry I will be when it does. Who knows, perhaps I will allow a few of your people to live as my slaves.”
As Tierus spoke, a soft chuckling came from the general. It grew louder and louder until he was cackling in the War Champion’s face.
“Yes, yes! You have finally realized your place in the universe! Tell me where the command bunkers are and I will make your death meaningful.”
“No,” the general forced through clenched teeth, “it’s not that.”
Tierus’s patience was wearing thin, but he decided to humor a dead man’s delusions. “Then what has infested your feeble mind to the point where you laugh in the face of your pointless demise?”
“I’m laughing,” he said with mirth in his voice, “because you idiots didn’t search me. Guess you thought a ‘mere mortal’ wouldn’t have anything threatening, would he?”
The Champion’s eyes shot open and he tore apart the man’s jacket, ripping out half his stomach in the process. There, strapped to his chest, was a device. It was innocuous, a small box with a few wires and blinking lights, but the champion knew it spelt his doom as clearly as a plasma grenade.
Because he had just kept for hours, on his flagship floating in geosynchronous orbit, a prisoner with an active artillery transponder.
~
Back on Istav-2, a massive orbital defense railgun locked into place. Its operators confirmed the firing sequence, using the transponder signal to break through the interference blanketing the planet.
Everyone in the room looked at one man who had more medals on his chest than the rest combined. He raised his hand and the room quieted. “Fire.”
And the king of war split the sky.