POV: Your Life at Every Level of an Iron Warrior (Warhammer 40K)

POV: Your Life at Every Level of an Iron Warrior (Warhammer 40K) The smell hits you first — promethium smoke and ferrocrete dust settling on a visor that doesn't fit right yet, the rim pressing a cold line across your brow every time you move your head. Your power armour is issued, not earned, and the difference is physical. It sits on your body like an argument you're losing. The artillery is already firing when you reach the wall. Not incoming — outgoing, rhythmic, industrial, a percussion line that belongs to a factory floor more than a battlefield. The IV Legion does not announce itself with fanfare. It announces itself with mathematics.