It rested.

Sionver Boll looked out at the corpse of the Zillo Beast as it was laid to rest in the memorial tomb for the victims of the Great Zillo Attack - including itself.

A great model of the sigil of the Galactic Republic towered over the vast tomb. Raised into place, it was set onto a formidably-sized pedestal with a great boom.

A hovering platform rising from behind the huge sigil, the Chancellor himself carefully placed a shard of metal recovered from the gas shells that killed the monster into a specially designed detonator.

Like a key in a keyhole, the shard slipped in perfectly, and the charges built into the sigil were detonated.

In a symbolic, solemn gesture, the sigil suddenly cracked from the detonator at the top all the way to the center. A symbolic gesture.

It was one Sionver would never forget.

A tear nearly dropping from her short, stalked eye, she prepared to fly over to the Venator-class that would take her to Kamino.

The beast's species would be saved. She assured herself of it.

The little people have their revenge, he thought. No matter. That overgrown slug will soon trouble this place again no longer.

He stared out to the yellow cylinder that stood poised on the beach. Their metal birds thumped away in fear, but also in anticipation.

He was not an idiot. Not like the other one, who lay dead beneath an island chain. He knew what they were trying to do.

He saw a crude likeness of his image on it with a red line slashed through it.

He got their meaning.

His nemesis hovered over the waves, screeching for all his worth. His blue shell and claws glistened in the oppressive tropical sun.

This cylinder, one of dozens, would finally kill his nemesis. The little people had finally done it.

His nemesis, but not him.

He could indeed feel the power emanating from the cylinder, waiting to erupt. But it was not to be his bane.

Rather, it was going to be his best meal yet.

He prepared himself, and rose from the water, his three majestic rows of spinal plates jutting out.

And the power erupted.

His nemesis was vaporized instantly. He himself braced, and tried to hold himself steady against the wind of fire and power surging against him.

He had done this before.

He took steady steps towards the core of the explosion. Where the cylinder had stood.

Focus, he told himself. Feed.

He finally reached the center of the yet-growing explosion.

He fed. It was his best meal yet.

But something was different about this explosion. He was fulfilled.

But too fulfilled? He was that, too.

He stared down in astonishment. He could not see his chest.

Normal. He was standing in the brightest place on the planet.

But he noticed that a blue aura was shining brighter than all the light around him.

Before the king could comprehend what was happening, he was no longer on Earth.

But he was not dead.

He was elsewhere.

And for the first time in millennia, he was afraid.