In the underground battlefield, the sons of the Imperial Fists fought them in brutal close combat.
More brutal still was Ralph. The ten-man squad he led all bore Iron Warriors gene-seed. Loyal Iron Warriors, sworn to the Emperor.
The entire underground network had been torn into chaos by Tarantula-pattern Mole Drills. Ralph stood on a hastily repaired metal floor of dubious quality. One careless step could send him plunging into a tunnel the enemy had excavated.
"Brothers, this is our battle to wash away our shame." Ralph looked at the warriors before him. Most were neophytes, and this was the largest operation of their service.
"The traitors of the IV Legion have set foot on our soil once again. No, those men do not deserve to be called the IV Legion. We are the Emperor's IV Legion. They carefully preserve their ancient appearance, despise psyker power, and obsess over steel and machinery. These cowards deserted the Emperor, then rejected the power of the Warp while dwelling within it. They are broken-backed curs shirking their responsibilities.
"Those cowards can cut away their mutated flesh, but they can never cut the rot from their souls. They do not deserve to be called Iron Warriors."
Ralph raised his warblade high and shouted to his brothers, "Now, let us teach them what iron means! Iron within, iron without!"
After ten millennia, the ancient battle cry of the IV Legion finally rang out from the mouths of loyalist Iron Warriors again. Morale soared in Ralph's squad, and then...
Ralph was knocked flat by a kick.
"Get back." Situval kicked Ralph out of the command position and led a squad of Imperial Fists past his men.
"It isn't your turn to attack yet. This is our time."
"No, Chief Apothecary." Ralph braced one hand against the