The Fourth Legion -

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.

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

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 siege began not with a charge, but with a crescendo

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. The air smelled of ozone, pulverized rock, and promethium

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.