The Iron Justice

Chapter One :: Baptism by Fire

"They may spend every off-duty minute polishing their shiny boots and marching up and down the parade ground in perfect formation, but don't let that fool you. These men are steel-eyed, cold-blooded killers and I'd as soon have a platoon of them in my force as I would a company of other troops."

-Gharan O'Hen, Army 212 Chief of Staff, on the Mordian Iron Guard

Terra-40K (Warhammer 40K Universe) 

 Segmentum Obscurus 

 Stygius Sector 

 Mordian System 

 World of Mordian:

Discipline coursed through the veins of the Iron Guard, a vital essence that sustained them even as the streets erupted in flames and buildings turned to ash. The men continued to fight, their unwavering determination unscathed by the chaos surrounding them. The baptism by fire had begun, and the Mordian Iron Guard proved their mettle with every bullet fired and every enemy felled.

Trooper Gabriel Valentin, the newest recruit to the 99th Regiment, stood amidst the carnage. His short, red hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as he surveyed the battlefield with intense blue eyes. The crackle of lasgun fire echoed through the air, blending with the cries of the dying and the roar of explosions. Gabriel's uniform was stained with dirt and blood, bearing witness to the relentless combat he had endured.

Relentlessly, the enemy launched wave after wave of attacks, their determination unyielding. Again and again, they pressed forward, showing no signs of relenting. They marched through the ruins that once was the capital of Mordian, and over the dead and dying as their screams were cut off by heavy boots of the advancing horde.

Gabriel's heart pounded in his chest, matching the rhythm of gunfire surrounding him. He gripped his lasgun tightly, his hands steady despite the chaos. The training instilled in him from his induction into the Iron Guard resurfaced, providing the focus needed to survive in this hellscape.

With each relentless stride of the horde, and with every volley of shots unleashed by the Guardsmen, the mound of dead and dying chaos followers grew, their broken and mangled bodies bearing witness to the brutality of the battle.

Their bodies formed a gruesome barrier, a testament to the unyielding spirit of the defenders. Gabriel glanced at his fellow soldiers, their faces etched with grim determination. The Mordian Iron Guard fought as one, a cohesive unit driven by their shared purpose and unbreakable discipline.

In the midst of the relentless onslaught, Gabriel spotted the towering figure of Commissar Voss, the grizzled veteran leading the 99th Regiment. Despite the blood seeping from a fresh wound on his brow, the Colonel's voice boomed over the cacophony of war, issuing orders that resonated with authority.

"Stand firm, brothers!" Commissar Voss bellowed, his voice carrying the weight of years of battle-hardened wisdom. "Hold the line! Show these heretics the might of the warriors of the Emperor."

As Gabriel's eyes swept across the battlefield, he saw the magnitude of the enemy force. Chaos Space Marines clad in twisted armor advanced with an aura of malevolence, their weapons spitting death. Their corrupted banners billowed in the smoke-filled air, emblazoned with blasphemous symbols that defied the purity of the Emperor's light.

Beside them, daemons clawed their way through the ruins, their twisted forms both horrifying and mesmerizing. Gabriel's gaze locked with a snarling Bloodletter, its serrated sword slick with the blood of fallen Guardsmen. The daemon's fiery eyes burned with a searing hatred, its unnatural grin revealing jagged fangs that thirsted for mortal flesh.