Having no sense of self-preservation, the zombie-genestealer charged ahead at it's master's orders. Though it would be torn to shreds, any wounds it managed to inflict on its former brethren would feel incredibly painful and debilitating, regardless of how much or how little visible damage was actually done.
Weizoth's book started to turn its pages once again. His free hand started to glow, and he placed it on Gold's shoulder. Taking in a breath to hum in annoyance, he placed his still glowing hand on his chest, causing the horn's and sabatons of his armor to start glowing white slightly. He walked over to the section of the hallway where it split and stood right in the intersection, his gaze shifting back and forth between both hallways.