The Fourth Legion -

"Then it will make a louder sound when it falls," Valerius replied, his voice grating like grinding stone.

Warsmith Valerius stood on a ridge overlooking the shining white walls of the fortress. Behind him, thousands of his Legionaries—armored in hazard-striped iron—silently checked their ordnance. There was no shouting, no bloodlust, only the cold, systematic preparation of war. The Iron Warriors did not fight for glory; they fought for the sake of breaking what others deemed unbreakable. The Fourth Legion

When Valerius finally stepped into the command center of the fortress, he did not find a desperate garrison. He found a masterpiece of engineering, now ruined by his own superior engineering. "Then it will make a louder sound when

The siege began not with a charge, but with a crescendo. For three straight days, the Iron Warriors’ artillery bombarded the walls. Thousands of shells, heavy lascannons, and specialized siege-drills tore into the outer defensive perimeter. The air smelled of ozone, pulverized rock, and promethium. There was no shouting, no bloodlust, only the

"Record this," Valerius told his sergeant. "Bastion 4-Alpha fell in four days. The Fists are efficient, but the Iron Warriors are inevitable."

The loyalist commander lay broken. Valerius looked down, his helmet displaying endless data streams of heat signatures and structural failures. He didn't feel pride—only the bitter resignation of his Legion's existence. They were the architects of devastation, the ones the Emperor used for the "dirty work", and now, they were the bringers of that same bitter justice to their own brothers.