After the last scattered ork fell, silence returned to the ruined avenue.
Cătălin stood still for a moment, chainsword lowered but ready, listening. No engines. No roars. Only distant fires and the soft crackle of cooling metal. The ambush force had been small—probing, careless. Gone now.
He turned toward the horizon.
The Titan complex loomed ahead, half-buried in ferrocrete and ash. Forge Theta-1. Its scale was impossible to judge at a distance; the structure didn't rise so much as occupy the ground, like a mountain shaped by industry instead of nature.
They advanced cautiously.
As they drew closer, the sounds of battle faded completely. Even the orks seemed unwilling to linger here. The air grew warmer, heavy with machine oil and old incense. The ground beneath their boots changed from broken street to reinforced forge decking, scarred by ancient tracks and shell impacts.
Then they saw the doors.
Massive. Sealed. Titan-scale.
Layered adamantium slabs, etched with Mechanicus sigils and warning script, stretched upward into shadow. No damage. No movement. Just absolute stillness. The kind of silence that pressed against the ears.
Daniel slowed. "It's asleep," he said quietly.
Cătălin didn't answer. His eyes scanned the surrounding walls and service corridors. Too quiet meant danger.
A burst of crude fire erupted from the upper gantry.
"Contact," Daniel snapped, swinging the heavy bolter up.
A handful of ork stragglers—thin, desperate—had tried to set an ambush. They died quickly. Bolter rounds and disciplined strikes cleared the platforms and alcoves. Within seconds, the silence returned, deeper than before.
That was when Cătălin noticed it.
To the right of the main doors—damage.
A secondary emergency access hatch, torn open from the inside. The edges were warped and blackened, locks blown apart by controlled charges. Smoke still clung to the breach, drifting slowly outward.
Not orks.
Too precise.
Cătălin stepped closer, peering into the darkness beyond the hatch. The corridor inside was narrow, barely wide enough for armored infantry. Emergency lumen strips flickered weakly, illuminating scorched walls and fallen servitors.
He glanced at Daniel.
One look was enough.
Cătălin nodded once.
They advanced into the breach.