Footsteps sounded in the darkness.
They were quiet, yet unusually clear.
Step, step, step, step...
The intervals between each step were almost perfectly equal, like a precisely calibrated metronome.
That darkness was not entirely empty.
In an abandoned passage not far from Gungnir, loose cables covered the low ceiling. Broken light tubes at the far end occasionally flashed a pallid light once or twice before the darkness swallowed it again.
A layer of gray-black grease coated the walls on either side, as though this were some forgotten stretch of intestine in the belly of the vast facility, briefly illuminated only by the rarest maintenance patrols.
The figure emerged from the darkness.
His armor was teal, gleaming coldly in the faint light.
The Alpha Legion's emblem was engraved on his pauldron, its entwined serpentine insignia resembling a silent incantation in the shadows.
He wore no helmet, revealing a face of rare symmetry.
His steps were neither hesitant nor hurried. He moved more like someone who had already calculated everything and was proceeding to his assigned position.
He was Omega.
One of the Alpha Legion's twin Primarchs.
He reached the end of the passage and stopped.
There, broken pipes enclosed an open space, with the wreckage of several metal crates scattered across the floor.
His gaze swept over the wreckage, then settled on the other figure standing in the center of the clearing.
A figure exactly like him.
The same height, the same build, the same teal armor, even the same face: a square jaw, a straight nose, and blue eyes.
"Omega," Alpharius said slowly.
His voice was almost indistinguishable from Omega's, and the faintest trace of a smile curved his lips.
He held a simply designed spear, its tip lowered to the floor, making a tiny point of contact with the