Inside the underground fortress, the lighting was dim and warm, a stark contrast to the world outside, shrouded in Warfire and death.
The walls were layered with thick concrete and high-strength alloy plates, with reinforced pillars supporting the ceiling every few meters. The entire space offered a solid, reassuring sense of security.
It lay tens of kilometers underground, the largest air-raid shelter beneath Olympia's surface, sturdy enough to withstand dozens of orbital strikes without collapsing.
At the same time, Anti-Aircraft Positions of various sizes were scattered all around it, linked by intricate passages into a vast underground network.
In the heart of this underground fortress, Calliphone held Perturabo tightly.
Her slender arms encircled his heavily armored body, her face pressed against his breastplate as she felt the faint warmth beneath the cold metal.
It was Perturabo's body heat, passing through layer upon layer of steel to reach her cheek.
To Calliphone, that steel-clad body felt so warm.
She had seen him on the battlefield.
The giant who raised his warhammer high and charged at the enemy with a roar, the blood-soaked warrior who reaped lives like death itself.
But at that moment, the Perturabo she saw was not the Primarch whose name struck terror into his enemies, nor the Primarch who commanded a million soldiers. He was her younger brother, her last remaining family in this world.
"Abo..." she called softly.
"Don't worry. No one will hurt you." Perturabo's voice was gentle, utterly unlike his usual cold, steely tone.
He raised a hand and gently stroked Calliphone's hair, his fingers passing through its soft strands as a tangle of emotions welled up inside him.
There was relief, lingering fear, gratitude, and a peace he had not felt in a long time.
At this moment, only a step away from death,