His feet took him deeper into the depths of the warren, passing by the occasional Roman carrying weapons and armor. The tunnels opened up, even as they moved higher and twisted in angular slopes. There was beauty in the design, alien though it was. Brutalist and empty, yet sculpted with precision and care.

He walked through great chambers, strewn with the wreckage of the assault. Tables and chairs, carved from that strange grass-glue wood. The legs widened and narrowed in geometric shapes he could not name, only admire the artistry that had gone into their design. Tables, flat topped though they were, followed similar patterns in the light and dark purple patterns, kaleidoscopic and ever-shifting as his eyes drifted across their surfaces.

But there was more than furniture. Musical instruments lay in splinters along the ground, smashed by Roman boots and blades. Stringed ones, not unlike violins, but coupled with holes along their sides and spouts where mouths would have blown.

There was artistry here. Beauty, even. He could see those who had lived here, eating and singing in their fluting voices. Delicate fingers plucking strings and dancing along the sides, while eerie notes drifted from the eaves.

He had enabled a genocide. That was the word for what had happened here. An entire species wiped off a world. An entire planet brought one step closer to annihilation.

Perhaps their red line on the leaderboard had been higher than Earth’s. He might be responsible for the deaths of billions.

On he walked, his eyes taking in the spatters of blood. He imagined the legionaries rampaging through the place, putting innocents to the sword with wild abandon.

This was different from before.

These were not savage beasts. This had not been an act of self-defense. The choice he had been given by Abaddon had been an impossible one, but that did little to ease his guilt.

There was life here. Sentient life. Life that loved. Life that created.

And he had ended it all.

Cade walked on, letting the horror of it all sink in. He dared not enter the chambers scattered throughout the fortress, the rooms of those he’d had murdered. Where he would see more of their possessions, those little hints of culture that spoke to the horror of what he had done.

In another time, another place, he would have been fascinated to see an alien civilization up close. And not just in its present form, but one he knew would be an amalgamation of the species’ entire history.

Instead, he let his eyes skip across the detail of the place, wanting to see and yet not wanting to at the same time. Some legionaries still remained, wandering the halls as he was. He ignored these men, sickened by what they had done. Then again, was he any better?

His feet wandered, even as blood dripped from his arm, and the Codex watched with a silent stare. Was Abaddon watching too? Reveling in the misery he had caused?