That Time I Got Reincarnate As A Medic In The World Of Warhammer 40k

The wind howled across the wasteland, carrying the distant roar of war. Lilith stood among her fellow medicae, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the smog and smoke coiled ominously. Somewhere out there, hidden by the ash-choked air, the Orks were coming. Every second brought them closer.

"Medicae, ready yourselves!" Colonel Sturnhammer’s voice boomed. The Imperial Colonel’s bionic eye gleamed as it swept over the assembled troopers, its mechanical whirr cutting through the rising tension. "We are the Steel Legion! We do not fall today!"

Lilith adjusted the straps of her flak armor, feeling the weight of the medicae satchel thumping against her hip. The Orks were an unrelenting tide of brutality, destruction incarnate. She had heard tales of their savagery, their sheer physical strength, but this was the first time she’d face them in the heart of the battlefield. She had seen the aftermath of their bloodshed; bodies torn apart, limbs crushed by brute force, men reduced to little more than mangled flesh. But now, she was about to witness it firsthand.

Sergeant Thorne approached, his lasgun slung over his shoulder. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Stay sharp, Lilith," he said, his voice gravelly but calm. "The greenskins may be crude, but don't underestimate them. They're cunning. Focus on your work, keep your head down, and remember why you're here."

Lilith nodded, trying to control her breathing. The medicae in the Imperium were more than just doctors. They were lifelines on the battlefield, often the difference between life and death. This truth was drummed into every recruit. A wounded soldier could still fire his lasgun if treated quickly enough; every life saved meant another soul who could hold the line.

A low rumble echoed in the distance, growing louder with every second. It was the unmistakable sound of Ork war machines, their ramshackle engines belching smoke and fire. The ground trembled beneath her feet as the crude, but powerful vehicles came ever closer, accompanied by the distinct growl of hundreds of Orks. Lilith’s pulse quickened as fear curled deep within her gut.

"Here they come!" shouted a nearby Guardsman, his voice barely rising above the cacophony.

A wave of explosions suddenly erupted across the battlefield, sending plumes of earth and debris skyward. The artillery bombardment had begun. Huge craters formed in the scorched land as shells pounded the ground, each impact a thunderous explosion that rattled her bones. The air became thick with the smell of burning promethium and ozone, a harsh reminder of the volatile nature of their weapons. The fiery maelstrom turned the battlefield into a hellscape of smoke and flame, but even this bombardment would not stop the Orks.

As the Guardsmen raised their lasguns, the first wave of Orks appeared. Hulking, brutish figures charging forward with reckless abandon, roaring with bloodlust. They were clad in crude, jagged armor, pieces of metal welded haphazardly onto their bodies. Some wielded massive axes, others fired primitive but deadly sluggas, their weapons spitting a barrage of inaccurate but destructive rounds. Despite the withering lasfire cutting through their ranks, the Orks continued their relentless advance.

"For the Emperor!" Colonel Sturnhammer roared, his voice carrying above the din of battle. "Hold the line! Medicae, get those wounded out of the kill zone!"

Lilith's heart raced as she bolted forward with her fellow medics. Her boots pounded into the ash-choked earth as she sprinted toward the trenches. Around her, the Guardsmen fired their lasguns in disciplined volleys, red beams streaking through the smoke-filled air. The smell of burning flesh and scorched metal hung heavy as the first lines of Orks fell, but still more surged forward, bellowing war cries and clashing against the front lines.

Lilith barely had time to react when a Guardsman, his face twisted in pain, collapsed into the trench before her. His leg was a mangled mess of torn flesh and blood, shredded by a blast of shrapnel from an Ork frag bomb. The sight of the wound, though horrifying, was familiar to her. She had trained for this. She had lived through the chaos of the aid station. But this was different. There was no sterile operating theater, no calm under the shelter of makeshift walls. Just her, the battlefield, and the unrelenting storm of war.

"Hold on!" Lilith shouted over the din of battle as she knelt beside him. She could barely hear her own voice, the roar of gunfire and Ork bellowing drowning out all other sounds. Her hands moved swiftly, automatically. She tore open her medicae satchel and retrieved a coagulant spray. Without hesitation, she applied it to the gaping wound, watching as the blood flow slowed, the wound sealed with the advanced chemical agent.

The soldier groaned, his face pale. "Emperor… protect me…"

"You'll be alright," Lilith reassured him, though she wasn't entirely sure herself. She reached for a vial of combat stimms, injecting the pain-killing mixture into his arm. "Stay with me, soldier. You're not out of this yet."

The man's breathing steadied, but his face remained slack, drained of blood. She worked quickly, wrapping his leg with synth-skin, the flexible material bonding to his flesh and forming a temporary seal. It wasn’t enough to fully heal the damage, but it would hold until he could be evacuated to the rear lines.

A Guardsman nearby grabbed the wounded man under the arms. "Get him out of here!" Lilith shouted, her voice hoarse from the effort. The soldier nodded and dragged the wounded man back toward the relative safety of the rear trenches.

The ground shook beneath her as another wave of artillery pounded the earth. Debris rained down around them, and Lilith instinctively threw herself to the ground as the trench wall exploded in a cloud of dirt and smoke. She coughed, wiping ash and grit instinctively from her mask, her ears ringing from the impact.

When the dust cleared, Lilith staggered to her feet, her body shaking with adrenaline. She barely had time to catch her breath before a shadow loomed over her. She looked up just in time to see an Ork Nob, its massive frame filling her vision. The hulking beast bared its tusks, its beady red eyes gleaming with malice as it raised a rusted axe high above its head.

Time slowed as Lilith's instincts kicked in. She threw herself to the side, rolling across the muddy ground as the Ork’s axe crashed down where she had stood, cleaving deep into the earth. She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest. The Ork Nob roared in frustration and turned to face her again, raising its weapon for another strike. The air vibrated with the sheer weight of the brute's strength.

Suddenly, a bright red beam of lasfire seared through the Ork’s skull. The Nob stumbled, its body twitching before it collapsed, crashing into the trench with a bone-rattling thud. Blood pooled from its ruined head, soaking into the ash-covered ground.

"Get moving!" Sergeant Thorne’s voice broke through the chaos, pulling Lilith to her feet. He fired another shot from his lasgun, the weapon’s barrel still smoking. "We’ve got more coming!"

Lilith blinked, her body trembling with adrenaline and fear. She hadn’t realized how close she had come to death, but there was no time to dwell on it. The battlefield around her was still an inferno of gunfire and blood, the Orks pressing their assault with unrelenting fury.

The sound of a Guardsman’s scream pierced through the noise, and Lilith turned just in time to see another soldier collapse, clutching his side. A thick trail of blood poured from a jagged las-burn across his ribs, the flesh charred and smoking.

Without thinking, Lilith rushed toward him, dropping to her knees by his side. "Stay with me," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around her. She reached into her medicae satchel, pulling out a vial of cooling unguent. She applied it to the wound, the thick gel hissing as it met the burned flesh. The soldier gasped in relief as the burning pain subsided, his body relaxing slightly.

"You’re going to be alright," Lilith said, her hands moving quickly to apply a dressing to the wound. "Just hang on."

As she worked, a sudden explosion ripped through the trench, sending debris flying. Lilith was thrown backward, her vision going black for a moment as the force of the blast slammed her into the ground. Her ears rang, and her head spun as she struggled to regain her bearings.

When she opened her eyes, the world had become a nightmare. The trench had collapsed in places, the bodies of fallen Guardsmen and Orks alike strewn across the battlefield. The ground was soaked in blood and ash, the air filled with the acrid stench of burning flesh. Lilith’s hands shook as she pushed herself to her feet, every muscle in her body screaming in protest.

"Medic!" The call rang out from somewhere in the chaos, barely audible over the thunder of gunfire.

Lilith’s body moved on instinct, her legs carrying her toward the sound. She found a young recruit, barely older than herself, his face pale and streaked with blood. His arm hung limp at his side, a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded deep in his shoulder. His breathing was ragged, every inhale a struggle against the pain.

"I'm here," Lilith whispered as she knelt beside him, the familiar routine calming her nerves even in the midst of the battle. Her hands moved swiftly, automatically, guided by the training that had been drilled into her. She fished out her tools from the medicae satchel, wiping her bloodied hands on the remnants of her cloak. First, she cleaned the area with antiseptic unguents, the bitter scent mingling with the stench of war.

The recruit winced, barely able to keep his eyes open as his body threatened to give out. Lilith kept her movements deliberate but swift. She gripped the jagged shrapnel with her forceps, giving him a quick glance.

"This is going to hurt," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. With one swift motion, she yanked the piece of metal from his shoulder, the recruit’s scream drowned out by the surrounding gunfire. Blood gushed from the wound, and Lilith quickly applied pressure, wrapping the injury with a thick bandage.

"You'll be alright," she whispered, her voice distant even to herself. She injected him with combat stimms to dull the pain and shock, feeling the warmth of the serum travel through the thin needle as it entered his bloodstream. His breathing steadied, though his face remained ghostly pale.

The soldier’s lips quivered, his words barely audible. "Th-Thank you…" His hand weakly gripped her arm as if she were his last connection to life itself.

But there was no time for sentiment. Lilith stood, her legs trembling beneath her, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her as if the planet itself was trying to bury her alive. She glanced back at the recruit, now stabilized, and signaled for nearby Guardsmen to get him to the rear lines. He had a chance now. That was all she could offer.

A sudden explosion cracked the ground just meters away, throwing up dirt and body parts into the air. Lilith ducked instinctively, shielding her head as debris rained down. The Ork war machines, cobbled together from scrap but deadly in their brutality, were closing in. Their crude cannons belched shells that tore craters into the earth, each blast marking another patch of ground claimed by the greenskin horde.

"Get down!" Sergeant Thorne bellowed over the vox as another wave of Orks charged, this time supported by their monstrous battlewagons. The hulking vehicles smashed through the Imperial lines, their massive tracks grinding over men and machines alike, crushing everything in their path.

Around her, the line was breaking. Guardsmen were falling back, their lasguns and heavy bolters barely holding the tide. The Orks, roaring in their guttural language, were closing in, their numbers seemingly endless. For every one that fell, two more surged forward, eager for blood and violence.

Lilith felt her heart race as she glanced toward the front lines. The medicae’s role was clear: save the wounded, patch them up, get them back into the fight. But in the face of such overwhelming force, how could they hold? How could anyone hold?

"Medicae teams to the front!" Colonel Sturnhammer’s voice boomed over the vox. "We need everyone in the fight! You save them, we hold the line!"

The order was clear. They were medicae, but they were soldiers too. Lilith’s grip tightened on her las-carbine. She wasn’t just here to save lives; she was here to fight for the Emperor, for Armageddon. The fear that had gripped her moments ago was replaced with a cold determination.

She slung her medicae satchel over her shoulder and sprinted toward the front lines, where the fighting was fiercest. Around her, the battlefield was a whirlwind of blood and fire, the screams of the dying mixing with the guttural roars of the Orks. The ground beneath her was soaked with blood, both human and xenos, turning the dirt into a thick, sticky sludge.

A Guardsman collapsed in front of her, his face contorted in agony. He clutched his chest, blood seeping through his fingers. Lilith dropped to his side, her hands moving swiftly as she assessed the damage. The lasgun blast had torn through his ribcage, likely puncturing a lung. There was no time for hesitation. She pulled a chest seal from her kit and applied it to the wound, the pressure stabilizing the injury just enough to stop the internal collapse.

"Can you stand?" she shouted over the noise, her voice strained.

The soldier nodded weakly, but Lilith knew he wouldn’t last long. "Get back to the rear!" she ordered, pointing toward the aid station.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting roar filled the air, louder than anything she had heard before. Lilith looked up and froze. A massive Ork Stompas loomed over the battlefield, its monstrous, ramshackle frame towering above the horizon. The Orks had brought their heaviest artillery. The Stompas, a crude mockery of the Imperium’s mighty Titans, was armed with cannons and crude flamers, belching fire and smoke as it stomped across the battlefield, crushing everything beneath its feet.

Panic gripped her. How could they possibly fight something so massive?

"Hold the line!" Sturnhammer’s voice thundered again, somehow cutting through the madness. "In the Emperor’s name, hold the line!"

But the line was crumbling. Lilith watched as the Stompas’ crude flamers ignited entire squads of Guardsmen, turning them into blazing pyres in an instant. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils, and she gagged, struggling to hold back the bile rising in her throat.

"Throne, help us," she muttered, her voice trembling. She was running out of tools, out of time, out of hope.

The Stompas’ roar was a cacophony of metal grinding, engines sputtering, and monstrous war cries, as if the world itself was screaming. Lilith, heart hammering in her chest, struggled to comprehend the sheer scale of the nightmare bearing down on them. The sight of the Stompas and its towering form, belching fire and destruction that made her stomach twist in fear. How could they fight this?

It was the embodiment of Ork ingenuity; crude, enormous, and terrifyingly effective. Metal plates, scrap iron, and bones of previous conquests adorned its hull, with massive mechanical arms swinging wildly, obliterating anything unfortunate enough to be within reach. Entire squads were reduced to smoldering heaps beneath its treads.

Around her, Guardsmen were breaking formation, the realization that they were woefully unprepared to face this monstrosity sinking in.

“Emperor’s mercy…” Lilith whispered under her breath, but there was no time for prayers.

The ground shook violently as another explosion tore through their lines. The Stompas’ cannons fired indiscriminately, massive shells crashing into the earth, leaving craters filled with mangled bodies and burning debris. Screams filled the air; some cut short by the Ork’s relentless advance, others growing in intensity as wounded Guardsmen begged for help amidst the chaos.

"Medic! Medic!" The cries for aid were everywhere, desperate, hopeless. But Lilith couldn’t stop. She had to keep moving.

She stumbled over the body of a Guardsman, his face frozen in terror, half his body crushed beneath a pile of rubble. She caught herself just before hitting the ground, adrenaline and training kicking in to keep her focused. Another wounded soldier, farther ahead, was still barely moving. His arm had been blown clean off at the elbow, blood spurting from the wound with every heartbeat.

Lilith ran to him, dropping to her knees. She yanked a tourniquet from her satchel, wrapping it tightly around the upper part of his arm to staunch the bleeding. The man screamed, his voice raw with pain, but Lilith’s hands remained steady. She was beyond fear now. There was only the need to save as many as she could. With swift movements, she applied synth-skin to the stump, sealing the wound.

"You're going to be alright," she said, though the words felt hollow, like a lie. She didn’t know if anyone would make it out of this hell alive.

The sound of the Stompas’ crude flamer igniting once more filled the air, a deafening roar followed by the rush of fire. Lilith barely had time to react as the flames washed over the trench line, incinerating everything in its path. She threw herself over the wounded Guardsman, her own body acting as a shield. The heat was unbearable, even from a distance, and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils.

When the flames passed, Lilith lifted her head, the soldier beneath her miraculously still alive, though barely conscious. The trench around them was scorched black, charred bodies lying in twisted heaps where her comrades once stood. Her hands shook, not from fear, but from the overwhelming weight of the carnage around her.

Above them, Valkyrie gunships screamed across the sky, their multi-lasers cutting through the Ork horde in bright, red beams. But even the combined might of the Imperial Guard’s air support seemed to do little more than anger the xenos invaders. The Stompas’ was still standing, its cannons still roaring, and the Orks; an unceasing tide of green continued their advance.

“Get him out of here!” she shouted to a passing soldier, pointing to the man she had just stabilized. “Take him to the aid station! Go!”

The Guardsman nodded, his face pale with fear, but he hoisted the wounded man over his shoulder and began to retreat, stumbling through the debris and smoke.

Lilith’s every instinct screamed for her to run, to escape this madness but she couldn’t. Something inside her just wouldn’t allow her.

The vox crackled to life again. "All remaining units, fall back to defensive position Delta-5. Medicae teams, triage the wounded. We need every gun we can get back into this fight!" Colonel Sturnhammer’s voice was unmistakable, his iron will pushing them to keep fighting despite the impossible odds.

Lilith scrambled out of the trench, her eyes scanning the battlefield. The bodies of both human and Ork littered the ground, torn apart by the brutal combat. The earth itself seemed to bleed, black and red mixing into a grotesque mire beneath her boots. The smoke was so thick now that it blotted out the sun, casting the battlefield in an eerie twilight.

"Delta-5 is overrun!" someone screamed. "We’re all going to die!"

The fear was spreading, infecting the remaining Guardsmen like a plague. And Lilith couldn’t blame them. In the face of such overwhelming force, what hope did they have?

As she sprinted towards the fallback position, her medicae satchel bouncing against her hip, a series of las-blasts zipped past her, narrowly missing her head. She dropped to the ground, her body hitting the dirt as a massive Ork Nob charged through the smoke, its crude armor clattering with each step.

The Nob swung its massive chain-axe, cutting down Guardsmen with savage glee, its guttural laugh echoing in Lilith’s ears. For a moment, she froze, the sight of the hulking brute paralyzing her. It was covered in blood with both its own and that of its victims and its tusks gleamed as it bellowed in rage.

Lilith fumbled for her las-carbine, her fingers slipping on the trigger as panic took hold. But before she could fire, the Ork Nob was hit by a hail of lasfire, its body jerking violently as the energy blasts tore through its crude armor. With a final roar, the beast collapsed, twitching as it hit the ground.

"Move, Lilith!" Sergeant Thorne’s voice broke through the haze of fear, and she felt his hand grab her arm, pulling her to her feet. "We have to fall back! There’s no holding this position anymore!"

Lilith nodded, her legs moving mechanically as she followed Thorne through the battlefield, dodging falling debris and the endless hail of gunfire. The medicae teams were already overwhelmed, their stretchers overflowing with the wounded. Many wouldn’t make it. She knew that.

As they reached the fallback position, Lilith could see the hastily constructed barricades which just little more than piles of rubble and debris is being used as cover. The Guardsmen who still held their weapons had dug in, firing wildly at the advancing Orks. But the xenos didn’t care. They never stopped. They never relented.

Lilith found herself next to a makeshift triage station. The wounded were everywhere, their screams piercing the air. She knelt by a soldier whose leg had been crushed beneath a fallen beam, his face twisted in pain. His breathing was shallow, and his pulse weak. Lilith knew there was little she could do for him. The wounds were too severe.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her hands working mechanically as she applied a bandage to the crushed limb, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

The soldier’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused. "Are… are we winning?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Lilith paused, her throat tightening. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. Instead, she offered a weak smile. "The Emperor is with us."

The soldier nodded, his eyes closing as he slipped into unconsciousness. Whether he would wake again, Lilith didn’t know.

A sudden burst of light filled the sky, and for a brief, horrifying moment, Lilith thought the sun had returned. But no, it was the Stompas’ main cannon, firing again. The blast was so powerful that it sent a shockwave rippling through the air, knocking her to the ground.

She gasped, struggling to breathe as the dust and debris settled around her. The triage station was gone, obliterated by the sheer force of the blast. All that remained were charred corpses and twisted metal.

There was no hope. The battle was lost.

Lilith’s vision blurred, tears mixing with the grime and ash on her face. She had never felt so helpless, so utterly powerless. The might of the Imperium was crumbling before her eyes, crushed beneath the unrelenting weight of the Ork horde.

But then she remembered the silver Aquila pinned to her chest, a gift from Sister Mercy. She touched it, her fingers trembling. It was a reminder of her faith, of the Emperor’s protection. Even in the darkest moments, He was with them.

With a deep breath, Lilith pushed herself to her feet. The battle wasn’t over yet. Not while she still had breath in her lungs. Not while there were lives left to save.

"Medicae!" a voice called out, frantic. "We need help over here!"

Lilith turned, her heart pounding. There was no time for despair. No time for fear. She had a job to do. She had a duty to fulfill.

Grabbing her medicae satchel, Lilith ran towards the sound of the voice, the weight of the war heavy on her shoulders but her resolve stronger than ever. The Emperor protects, she told herself, over and over again. And as long as she could still stand, she would do His work.

The battle for Armageddon raged on, the air thick with smoke, blood, and the endless din of war. As Lilith ran toward the desperate calls for help, the chaotic rhythm of the battlefield pounded against her temples. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind, sharpened by the horrors of combat and the constant threat of death, drove her forward.

The sight that met her next made her stomach lurch; a crater, freshly carved by an artillery shell, filled with bodies. Some were twitching, still alive but barely. Limbs dangled unnaturally, bones poking through flesh, blood pooling in grotesque rivers. She forced herself to focus, to push past the horror and do what she had been trained to do.

A Guardsman was slumped against the edge of the crater, his breathing shallow, his chest riddled with shrapnel. His hand weakly grasped at his chest, blood oozing through his fingers. Lilith dropped to her knees beside him, her medicae instincts taking over as her hands moved with purpose.

“Stay with me, soldier,” she urged, pulling out her last vial of coagulant spray. She applied it to his wounds, watching as the bleeding slowed. His face was gaunt, his lips cracked. There was so much blood, more than she could stem with the limited supplies she had left.

“I…” the Guardsman rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to die.”

Lilith swallowed hard, her throat tight with the weight of the countless souls she’d failed to save already. “You won’t,” she lied, pressing a bandage into his chest. “You’re going to make it.”

He tried to nod, but the movement was weak, his eyes glazed. His breath rattled in his chest like dry leaves caught in the wind. She felt for a pulse but is faint and flickering. He didn’t have long.

Her fingers brushed the Aquila pinned to her chest once more, as if willing it to give her strength. “The Emperor is with you,” she whispered, even though she wasn’t sure she believed it anymore. How could anyone believe in a god who allowed this?

A deafening roar snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up just in time to see the Stompas’ flamethrowers ignite again, washing fire across the battlefield like a tide of hell itself. Screams filled the air as Guardsmen were caught in the blaze, their bodies consumed by the hungry flames. The sight was sickening, but there was no time to mourn the dead. There were always more in need of saving.

“Lilith!” Sergeant Thorne’s voice called from somewhere in the smoke. “Fall back! The enemies are pushing through!”

Lilith wanted to argue, to tell him that there were still men here who needed help, but the words caught in her throat. What could she do? Her supplies were running out. Her strength was fading. They couldn’t hold this line any longer.

With one last glance at the wounded Guardsman, whose eyes had already closed for the final time, she turned and scrambled up the side of the crater. Her boots slipped in the blood-soaked mud, but she clawed her way to the top, her lungs burning with the effort.

When she reached the surface, the full scale of the devastation hit her. The Imperial line was in tatters. The Orks had broken through in several places, their war machines crushing everything in their path. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, human and Ork alike, and the once orderly trenches were nothing more than smoldering wrecks.

Sergeant Thorne emerged from the smoke, his armor scorched and his face smeared with dirt and blood. “Lilith! We need to regroup at the command post. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

She wanted to argue, to say that they couldn’t abandon the wounded. But as she looked around, the truth was undeniable. The battlefield was lost. If they stayed, they would pointlessly die.

Nodding, she fell into step beside him as they made their way through the maze of shattered trenches and craters. Around them, the few remaining Guardsmen were in full retreat, their lasguns firing sporadically at the advancing Orks. It was all they could do to slow the tide.

“Are there any reinforcements coming?” Lilith asked, her voice barely audible over the din of war.

Thorne shook his head grimly. “Not soon enough. We're cut off. The command post has fallen back to the second line, and the reinforcements from the other sectors are still on the way. We must hold this on our own for a week”

The words sent a chill through her. Cut off. Alone. Trapped behind enemy lines with nothing but their dwindling ammunition and whatever scraps of courage they had left. And to think that this is just the first day.

The smoke thinned as they approached what had once been an Imperial outpost, but even this supposed sanctuary was in ruins. The command post was a husk of burning wreckage, its walls shattered by Ork artillery, the banners of the Imperium lying in tatters on the ground. Lilith’s heart sank.

The remnants of the Steel Legion were gathered here, their faces grim and hollow. The medicae station was barely operational, with fewer than a handful of medics tending to the dozens of wounded. There were too many. Far too many.

Colonel Sturnhammer was there, his bionic eye scanning the battlefield as he barked orders. His armor was battered, his augmetic arm visibly damaged, but his spirit remained unbroken. He caught sight of Lilith and Thorne and motioned them over.

“Report,” the Colonel barked, his voice a mix of fury and exhaustion.

Thorne saluted. “We’ve fallen back, sir. The Orks have breached the trenches. Delta-5 is lost. Casualties are… severe.”

Sturnhammer nodded grimly, his gaze hard. “I’ve called for orbital support, but they’re tied up elsewhere. We hold here, or we die here. Understood?”

The weight of his words hit Lilith like a blow to the chest. This was it. Their last stand.

"Understood, sir," Thorne said, his face a mask of steely determination. He turned to Lilith, his voice softer. "Get to the medicae station. Do what you can for the wounded."

Lilith nodded, her legs moving before her mind could fully register the command. The station was little more than a hastily erected tent, filled with the moans and cries of the injured. The smell was overpowering scent of blood, sweat, infection. The medics inside looked as exhausted as she felt, their hands stained red, their eyes hollow.

She knelt beside a soldier whose arm had been blown off at the shoulder, the stump barely clamped by a rough tourniquet. His breathing was shallow, his face pale. Infection was setting in that she could see the red lines creeping up his chest, his body slowly succumbing to the rot. There was nothing she could do to save him now.

She injected him with a painkiller, her voice soft. "The Emperor is with you."

His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, there was something like peace in them. "I’ll see Him soon," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Lilith’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to nod. “Yes. You will.”

She stood, her hands trembling as she moved to the next soldier. And the next. And the next. Every face she saw was the same broken, defeated, waiting for the end and yet, they are still fighting the inevitable. There was no hope left in this place, only the slow, inevitable march toward death.

Outside, the sound of lasguns and the screams of Orks grew louder. The final wave was coming. She could feel it. They all could.

Colonel Sturnhammer’s voice boomed over the vox once more. “Steel Legion! The Emperor demands one last sacrifice! We stand and fight! We hold the line!”

Lilith closed her eyes, her hands clutching the silver Aquila once more. The Emperor protects, she told herself, but it felt like a hollow promise now. She had done everything she could, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Almost everyone, including her was undertrained and are new to this hell. Lilith realizes that everyone are practically throwing away their lives.

The Orks were coming. They would overwhelm them, crush them beneath their boots, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

And yet, she stood. She picked up her las-carbine, her medicae satchel still slung across her back, and she moved to join the remaining Guardsmen at the barricade.

If this was the end, then she would face it. For herself, for Sister Mercy, for Sister Victorine.