Space Marines Iron Warriors Novels & Stories

Feeling some sort of relief, Jade continued towards the exhibit. The left-wing was nearly empty, save for an elderly woman standing in front of a collection of swords and a younger man who was wandering about. Jade started to walk around, stopping by now and then to view some of the artifacts on display. She was particularly interested in an elaborate costume that supposedly came from the collection of a princess who lived during the Qin dynasty. “I know someone who’d look good in that,” Jade thought as she pictured the dress on Marie. The mental image made her laugh a little too loud, much to the disapproval of the older lady.

A man's scream echoed roughly in a flash. Marcus witnessed two werewolves dragging a male soldier. He appears to be a member of the WW Force based on his clothing. The man struggled, even more, when he was forced to kneel in front of Althaia, who was now staring at him emotionlessly. Althaia grinned horrifyingly. "Any final words?" Marcus overheard Althaia ask the poor man. Instead of pleading for his life, the man insulted Althaia's ferocity. "All right, make the most of your petty lives now, because your race will be extinct in this world soon!"

I was really hoping that the bad feeling wasn’t actually anything this time. Let’s go! Zane says into our heads, Amaris, looks like you get to put that warrior training that you’ve been getting over the last week to good use today. Are you not concerned about the welfare of your pack? I can’t help but ask, wondering how he’s not being his usual serious asshole-ish self at a moment like this. Our warriors are good at what they do, plus we have a secret weapon, he says, grinning a wolfy grin at me.

"The maritime servers just registered our open-source override as an active systemic virus. They’ve authorized a tactical kinetic strike. If those railguns discharge, the hyper-velocity slugs will flatten tier four into a three-mile crater before the noon market reset!" "They won't get the chance," I rasped, my throat raw from the ozone and pulverized granite dust, but my stance remained unyielding on the edge of the rusted iron pier. My right hand was pressed flat against the smoking, iron-tufted hide of Dante’s massive neck. Through our alpha-tether, his charcoal-iron heart was hammering like a heavy industrial piston, throwing off thick waves of sulfur steam that turned the freezing morni

The rain did not fall in sheets; it lashed against the jagged, black basalt of the eastern cliffs like a volley of iron needles. Below the sheer drop of the precipice, the sea was a churning cauldron of frothing, pale-green foam, swollen by the thermal backlash of the boiling harbor channel. The remaining sea-wolf warships, realizing the primary bay had become a volcanic death trap, had veered hard into the shadow of the cliffs. Their heavy, flat-bottomed landing barges were grinding violently against the razor-sharp reefs, disgorging their elite vanguard marines—hulking, deep-sea hybrids clad in thick, rust-pitted scale armor made from forged trench-iron and carrying massive, obsidian-tippe

Warriors reached for weapons they had set aside for dancing. My breath caught. “What is happening?” Danger, my wolf answered at once, no hesitation now. Not memory. Not vision. Real danger. The gates exploded inward. Armored soldiers stormed through in brutal formation, shields marked with a blazing star sigil carved across the steel. The Star Pack. I knew that mark from whispered warnings and old stories. Second most powerful. Known for leaving no survivors when they made a statement. For a moment my mind refused to understand why they were here.

The command cut through the chamber cleanly, forcing the conversation away from Adelaide and back toward the war, though the tension in his shoulders suggested his focus had not truly shifted at all. Malachar exchanged a brief glance with several of the assembled generals before returning his attention to Apollo. “The battle in the Iron Marches is over.” Apollo's jaw tightened. The words carried more weight than they should have. The Iron Marches had been contested territory for centuries, a wasteland of black stone, rust-red earth and ancient battlefields layered one atop another until the ground itself seemed saturated with old wars. Entire legions had disappeared there over the ages. Citi

POV: Araya The Field of Iron War came crowned in blood. His army rolled across the valley like an avalanche, armour clattering, banners dripping red ink and older stains. Wolves snarled. Men hammered spears on shields. Things that had once been wolves but were now only scars shuffled in his ranks, hollow-eyed, their howls empty echoes of a god’s command. He led them tall as a siege tower, shoulders plated in iron thicker than temple doors. Each plate wept blood that smoked and hissed in the dirt. His sword was no blade but a slab serrated with the teeth of wolves he had killed. The air bent around it.

I could feel it flowing into me as a cool soothing feeling battled with the anger and burning rage. It was as if two halves of me were battling to take hold of me, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. When we spotted the warriors fighting with what I recognised as Trent’s wolf and two others I connected to my warriors. They stood down straight away, even as I can hear Dylan shouting through the link to all available warriors to look for me, they stood down at my word.

​The Breach of the Second-Sun ​As they approached the Second-Sun, they realized the scale of the threat. The sphere was covered in millions of "Culling-Drones", mechanical wasps that were currently being launched toward the Earth’s major cities. ​"Maya, clear a path!" Leo shouted. ​Maya’s Aegis-Gold suit flared, the plasma-shield acting as a ram as the Icarus-V plowed through the drone-swarm. Kaelen operated the ship’s kinetic cannons, shredding the obsidian-plated drones with high-velocity slugs.