The air was frigid, each breath turning to mist as I surveyed the ruined plaza. Snow covered the rubble, and the once market square was now a desolate fortress. The 77th Armored Brigade was spread out, their tanks strategically positioned among the broken structures, their camouflage blending seamlessly with the winter landscape.

I moved through the maze of barricades and machine gun nests, and my cohort of Battle Automata was likewise in position in the back. Gamma, my second in command walked beside me. The wind blew off her hood to reveal her red hair and sleek metal breathing mask that covered her lower face.

She was a stickler for the rules, with a tall frame and rigid posture.

"Magos," she began, her voice modulated but firm, "The fortifications are nearly complete. The Skitarii have reported that all entry points are secured and the combat servitors are in position."

"Good," I replied, scanning the horizon.

Pork, with his spider-like limbs and various servo-arms twitching in anticipation, approached us. "Magos Victor," he said, his voice a mechanical rasp, "The Dune Crawlers have set up their firing lines. We're ready to provide support wherever needed." Dot, the youngest of my subcommanders, and newest recruit, approached skipping through the snow with a Heavy Plasma Canon normally meant for Space Marines in hand.

"Magos," she said, her voice radiating enthusiasm, "The combat data feeds are online. We can monitor all troop movements and enemy activity in real-time."

"Well done," I said, Then I did a double take wait… "Dot, where did you get that?" My eyes bulging.

"I Found it ~! " She said innocently." Don't worry I'll do the proper rights and rituals to appease the machine spirit". She said stroking the weapon with a serene smile.

I shrugged and continued on my way. "I don't have time to deal with that, Gamma figure out the details. "

---Line --

As I made my way toward the impromptu command centre, I couldn't help but notice the tension between the members of the 77th and the squad of Space Marines led by Veteran Sergeant Wilhelm. The Lunar Wolves were imposing, their armour gleaming even in the dim light. Wilhelm himself was a towering figure, wielding a massive power hammer that seemed to radiate authority and menace in equal measure.

Wilhelm's eyes met mine, and I saw the slight disdain in them. He didn't like that I, a Magos Dominus, wasn't under his direct command. To him, my independence was a threat, a potential disruption to his plans. He was glory-hungry, eager for another victory to add to his name. He had pushed for an early assault on this Ork-infested town, not waiting for reinforcements that were only a few hours away. It was reckless, and I knew it was driven by his desire to outshine the other Space Marine legions.

Magos Victor," Wilhelm said, his voice a low growl, "I hope your machines are ready. We can't afford any failures today."

"My cohort is prepared, Sergeant," I replied evenly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Let's just hope your eagerness hasn't cost us the initiative."

Wilhelm's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. "You question my decisions, Magos? We attacked because waiting would have given the Orks time to fortify their positions further. Every moment we delayed, they grew stronger." I stood my ground, refusing to be intimidated. "And now we're stretched thin, holding a position with limited resources. Reinforcements are hours away, and we could have used that time to prepare better, to ensure fewer casualties among the Solar Auxilia. This isn't just about glory, Wilhelm. It's about survival."

He scoffed, the sound echoing in the cold air. "Survival? We're Astartes, Victor. We don't merely survive. We conquer. We achieve victory through strength and decisive action."

"And what about the lives of the men and women who aren't Astartes?" I shot back. "The ones who bleed and die because of your decisions? Their lives matter too, We mustn't forget why we're fighting, Sergeant."

For a moment, we stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the pride and the frustration warring within him. Finally, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"I can understand that," he admitted grudgingly. "However we can't afford to second-guess ourselves now. The Orks are coming, and we need to be united if we're going to hold this plaza."

I nodded, appreciating the small concession. "Agreed. Let's make sure this sacrifice counts."

I moved to the command centre, where officers from the 77th and the Solar Auxilia were deep in discussion, maps and data slates spread out on a makeshift table.

"We've fortified all the key points," one of the officers was saying as I entered. "Machine gun nests, mortar emplacements, and barricades at every entrance. The tanks are positioned to provide maximum coverage, and we've laid mines and charges along the roads." I listened nodding in approval, they had done well. Despite the tension and the hurried assault, we were as ready as we could be.

Suddenly a yellow icon appeared in my internal HUD "Movement detected" Oh... I took in a slow breath and calmly shouted,

"Enemy forces approaching!"

The officers fell silent, the tension in the room palpable. Then, they all began to rush to their battle stations, shouting commands all the while. The distant roars and yells of engines filled the air, accompanied by the guttural cries of Orks. The sound grew louder and closer until it was a cacophony of noise. The assault had begun. Drawing my weapons, I moved to the front lines. My battle automata were in position, the Skitarii Vanguard were already entrenched with the rest of the soldiers, and the Rangers held the roofs.

The plaza erupted into chaos as the Orks came into view, their ramshackle vehicles and war bikes tearing through the snow. The first wave of Ork buggies detonated on the mines, leaving a small pile of debris in their wake. The second wave pushed through the wreckage and crashed into the improvised walls, sending shock waves through the fortification. The third wave followed immediately, smashing into the back of the second and causing an explosion that left a breach from which Orks began to spill.

There was no order to fire, as every single gun emplacement burst to life, cutting down waves of Orks as they poured through the breach. The Siege Automata started firing their plasma mortars, and the army units began their barrage as well. Explosions rocked the plaza, and the air filled with the stench of burning fuel and flesh.

A heavily armoured Ork bus, bristling with guns, rumbled through the breach. It weathered the storm of bullets, its thick armour deflecting most of the incoming fire. But a well-placed shell from a nearby tank found its mark, striking the transport's vulnerable wheels. The vehicle lurched, then flipped over, exploding in a spectacular fireball that sent debris flying in all directions.

From the wreckage, Ork Kommandos emerged, their heavy weapons blazing. They unleashed a torrent of firepower, their rockets and grenades tearing through the Imperial lines. More and more Orks poured through the breach, their numbers swelling with each passing moment. "Hold the line!" Wilhelm bellowed, his squad engaging the waves of Orks. More and more of the green-skinned brutes surged through the breach, a veritable flood of vehicles and mayhem. The Space Marines were there to meet them. Flesh met carapace, chainsaws met choppas, and steel discipline met savage fury.

In a desperate attempt to stem the tide, the first set of charges was detonated. A shockwave ripped through the battlefield, followed by a series of deafening explosions that echoed through the plaza. The ground buckled and heaved, sending Orks and Imperials alike sprawling.

Amidst the chaos, a squadron of Ork Flyboyz swooped down from the sky, their jetpacks roaring. They landed in the heart of the plaza, their crude weapons spitting fire and death.

"Engage the jump troops!" I commanded, and my Automata turned their guns skyward, tracking the flying Orks and bringing them down in a hail of gunfire. The Skitarii Rangers joined in, their precise shots taking out Orks that tried to land within our lines.

I felt a blunt jolt as my conversion field activated. A flash of light enveloped me as my shield blocked the impact of bullets. I turned to see one of the jetpack Orks charging at me, red choppa dripping with blood and gun in hand, "WAAAGH!" on his lips. I stepped to the side as he swung wildly, then brandished my axe and casually decapitated him. Another one followed right behind. I raised my axe high and slashed downward, splitting his head. As I was about to pull my axe from his skull, a large Ork Nob Flyboy grabbed my hand and gave me a bloody grin as he tried to stab me. The blow barely scratched my armour. In return, I gave him a fast left hook that pierced his belly. With a thought, I activated my electoos implant and unleashed an ungodly amount of electricity into the Ork Nob's gut, frying his insides.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I yanked my axe out of the other orc and raised the Nob`s body to shield myself from a burst of bullets coming from the front lines. A few Orks had bypassed the Space Marines' veritable wall of death and were running at the second line of defence, where I was. The Nob's body did admirably in shielding me from the hail of bullets before I discarded him to the side. I unholstered my custom plasma pistol. The first Ork Kommando jumped onto the second line barricade with a massive car door shield and power klaw that ripped an unfortunate soldier in two with a sickening squelch. With a roar, it charged.

A bolt of radiant white energy struck the charging Ork, incinerating his entire torso, leaving only legs and ash on the wind. I turned around to see Dot, plasma cannon in hand. The gun still smoked with ethereal blue unlight. The snow around her had evaporated, revealing cobblestones. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was in a massive O shape.

"Dot! You're supposed to be in the crawler, coordinating your maniple! Why are you here?" I said through gritted teeth as I fired my plasma pistol, targeting algorithms allowing me to score multiple headshots.

"I thought you could use some help." Her voice wavered a little, but I could sense her resolve. I had hoped only to use her maniple as a reserve, but looking at the situation now, that was wishful thinking. "Fine, bring your units up to the second line, but get back inside the crawler and only leave unless you really need to. Got it?"

"Got it!" she said happily, firing one last blast into the enemy ranks before slinging her weapon, crouching down, and sending orders to her unit. Moments later, six Kastelan battle automata and one dune crawler stomped forward and joined the second line, bolstering the morale of the surrounding soldiers. I had ordered most of the automata in the back line, using their superior range to score hits without the Orks being able to retaliate. but it seems I'm going to have to change my plan a little bit. The Solar Auxilia and the ground troops of the 77th began an orderly withdrawal to the second line. The Space Marines, despite only being ten in number, held off the horde while slowly walking back. The Orks surged forward at the opportunity, but they had effectively entered a U-shaped kill box.

The air crackled with energy as the second line of defence opened fire. Lasguns roared, autocannons barked, and plasma weapons hissed, unleashing a torrent of firepower that ripped through the Ork ranks. The U-shaped kill zone became a slaughterhouse, Orks falling like flies under the concentrated fire.

Wilhelm and his squad, their bolters glowing red hot, chainsaws dripping with viscera finally reached the relative safety of the second line. The Space Marine Sergeant, his armour scarred and dented, surveyed the battlefield with grim satisfaction. The Orks were taking heavy casualties, but their sheer numbers were still a threat.

The machine guns and the mortar emplacements couldn't keep up this rate of Fire for long. I needed to do something.

"Dot," I transmitted, "advance Kastelans 20 paces." She acknowledged the order. Milliseconds later, six battle automata, each twice the size of Space Marines, surged forward. Their Incendine Combustors spewed great gouts of burning promethium, transforming the icy battlefield into a hellish inferno. Heavy bolters and power fists obliterated any resistance in their path.

I took a deep breath, jumped up and down a little, and then rushed onward. "Vanguard, with me!" A squad of Skitarii Vanguard formed up around me, their taser goads crackling with energy as we led the counter-charge. "Forward!" I yelled.

We surged ahead, carving a swath through the Ork ranks. I swung my axe with deadly precision, each blow sending a green-skinned brute sprawling.

The Orks, caught between the concentrated fire of the killzone, the automata, and the counter-charge, lost momentum. Their ranks dissolved into pockets of disorganized resistance.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed across the battlefield. A massive Ork Warboss, clad in spiked armor and wielding a gargantuan power klaw, emerged from the breach. He bellowed a challenge, his voice booming like thunder.

The Warboss grabbed a fleeing Ork by the head, yelled something, and crushed it, stopping the others from fleeing. "Back to the second line!" I shouted. As we withdrew, I heard heavy footsteps. Wilhelm, thunder hammer in hand, rushed the Warboss, his eyes gleaming with battle fury. He and his squad charged forward, their bolters spitting death.

The Warboss roared in defiance, his power klaw crackling with energy. A titanic clash ensued, with Space Marines and Orks locked in a desperate struggle.

Once we returned to the line, I sat down on a piece of rubble and watched the battle unfold, my heart pounding. I sent out a binary command, and moments later, one of my men brought me a canteen. It was filled with a nutrient and mineral mix, essentially a liquid meal. It was rough-tasting, chunky, with a hint of vanilla. I cracked my neck and stretched before getting up again.

Ready to join the fray if needed. But for now, I had to trust Wilhelm and his-

..-A sharp pain lanced through my neck. Before I could react, a popping noise followed by a kaleidoscope of lights enveloped me, and I was pulled to the side. My augments activated automatically, teleporting me away from the immediate danger. I appeared upside down a few meters away, the sudden displacement disorienting and leaving me breathless and reeling. I had been complacent in not activating my field straightaway to save power. I found myself deeper into the plaza near the fountain, tightening my grip on my axe and keeping my head on a swivel.

A corona of light washed over me as my shield blocked a blade from behind. I turned and swung, hitting something solid before it disengaged. Scanning the area with my enhanced vision, I flicked through different spectrums until I picked up the telltale shimmer of something. I backpedalled, a long blade missing my head by inches. My hands were a blur as I let off a snapshot with my pistol, murderous algorithms honing in on its location.

My weapon discharged, its searing beam of thermal energy striking true and decloaking the Ork. He roared in pain and fury, an armoured figure in a purple cloak with a smoking backpack materializing before me, crouching.

He shrugged off his backpack and stomped on it, sending pieces of metal and circuits everywhere. Then he looked at me, his eyes focused, not bloodshot with frenzy. He stood up to his full height.

"WarBoss Shadow Taker, Git Slaver, the sharpest Ork on this side of the planet," he said in perfectly high Gothic. "Youz been cauzin' quite a ruckus." There was a minor panic amongst the third line as an Ork had just appeared among their ranks. Judging by his size and intellect, he was not to be underestimated.

I threw off my robes, revealing four masterwork-augmented arms and the close combat mechadendrites that sprouted from my back like black metal tentacles. The air crackled with electrical energy as I took a martial arts stance. Ancient technology from the glorious days of Mankind's Golden Age filled my body. I had weathered the ancient horrors of Mars's red waste and salvaged scraps of a lost era, but even those measly morsels made me a force to be reckoned with. My form was a conduit of raw power.

Lightning crackled at my fingertips. "Magos Dominus Victor, Legio Cybernetica," I declared, my voice unwavering despite the chaos around us.

He grinned, the anticipation of a good fight radiating from him as he walked towards me. "You krumped quite a bit my boyz, so I'll be taking your gits and shinies in return. That's fair, right?" He flourished two long blades, his purple cloak billowing in the icy wind.

I ordered the troops to stand down as I likewise approached the Warboss. "Fair? The only fair thing here is that I give you a fighting chance before I send you back to whatever scrap heap you crawled out of."

He chuckled darkly and dashed towards me. I met him head-on, power axe in hand.