Omega stood amid the wreckage of the Bridge, the tip of his Power Spear angled toward the floor. His gaze passed over Abaddon's shoulder and swept across the heraldry on the black armour, his thoughts racing in the lull between clashes.
The reinforcements he had called for should have been a Loyalist Faction fleet. He had come to Gungnir on the Emperor's orders, infiltrating the heart of the Traitor Legions and waiting for an opportunity to destroy this superweapon.
But when he saw the men before him, he recognized them, especially the warrior at the front with the towering topknot. His build, his bearing, and the markings on his armour all pointed to the same name: Ezekyle Abaddon.
And their armour colours clearly identified them as loyalists.
That realization made Omega's brow furrow slightly.
Why were Abaddon and his men the reinforcements I called for?
He had never had any direct contact with Abaddon, nor would any senior loyalist commander expose an operative embedded within enemy ranks to a Space Marine he had never even met.
Unless this fleet had never been coming for him at all, or their presence here was the result of an entirely separate chain of events.
Omega had no answer.
Abaddon was pondering the same question.
Why was there a figure in teal armour standing in the middle of my Bridge?
Abaddon could venture a guess: the man before him was the Alpha Legion's Primarch.
He had seen Alpharius in the Warmaster's service. This face was identical to Alpharius's, the only difference being the orientation of the marking on his shoulder plate.
Why was he here? Why was there a Primarch among Gungnir's defenders?
Question after question sprang up in Abaddon's mind, but his surging battle lust smothered every one.
Then an explosion tore apart