Alpharius walked through the labyrinthine corridors beneath Terra.
His normally cold, hardened heart now felt as though a strange warmth had flowed into it. That warmth came neither from some sacred psychic power nor from a Primarch's might, but from a mortal who had lost half his shoulder, and his simple words: "It's that simple."
He closed his eyes and let that inexplicable warmth echo in the depths of his soul.
And at that very moment.
That untainted, utterly pure sincerity and warmth traveled along the universe's most mysterious, most indescribable bond-the soul link between the twin Primarchs. It crossed the endless void like a bolt of lightning through a pitch-black sky, striking toward the other end of the galaxy.
Deep in the galaxy, on an unnamed death world.
This was the lair of the Slaugth xenos.
It was a hell even more nauseating than the poisonous mists of Barbarus. The Slaugth xenos, horrific monsters resembling enormous maggots that fed on the brains and suffering of intelligent beings, ruled every corner of this planet.
Deep within this dark jungle of rot, slime, and endless slaughter.
A pale, slender figure, covered in horrific scars both large and small, lay concealed like a beast among sour-smelling shrubs.
He was Omegon.
Alpharius's twin, the other hidden Primarch.
Unlike his brother, who had been secretly taught by Malcador in the Imperial Palace, Omegon had landed in a place of the purest, most mindless darkness in the universe.
For as long as he could remember, his world had held only one thing: survival, and slaughter.
Through his long, nightmarish struggle to survive in the wilderness, Omegon's humanity was being worn away little by little.
He had no companions, no language, no one to teach him. He had learned to stalk through the mire