Warhammer// Krieg- March of the Unreturning

Boot.
Step.
Boot.
Step.

Mud to the knees.
Ash in the lungs.
Sky choked black
by artillery suns.

No names.
No past.
No future given.

Only orders.

Only duty.

Only death to be earned.

Gas masks whisper borrowed breath,
every inhale tastes like death.
No faces. No fear. No sound.
Just the march across broken ground.

Forward.

Always forward.

Even when the line is gone.
Even when the guns fall silent.
Even when the world is ash.

We advance.

Shovels bite into frozen earth,
digging graves before rebirth.
Trenches carved like open scars,
measured distance, counted yards.

Artillery speaks—
we listen.

Shells fall like judgment rain.
Bodies break without a name.
Still we rise from cratered graves
like something death itself enslaves.

WE DO NOT RETREAT.

—We advance.

WE DO NOT QUESTION.

—We obey.

WE DO NOT FEAR.

—We are already dead.

Born in fire.
Raised in ruin.
Krieg remembers.

Krieg endures.

Every step a penance paid.
Every life already weighed.
We were made to settle debt
the Imperium won’t forget.

No medals.
No songs.
No victory claimed.

Just numbers.

Just sacrifice.

Just the line holding… one moment longer.

Cathedral guns begin to roar,
iron hymns of endless war.
Basilisks sing holy fire,
turning flesh to funeral pyre.

March.

Through wire.
Through flame.
Through the screams of the unnamed.

March.

Through fear.
Through pain.
Through the never-ending rain.

March.

Until the body fails—
and then continue anyway.

Commissars do not need to shout.
There is no doubt to root out.

We know our purpose.

We are already spent.

Bayonets fix in silent prayer,
no hesitation anywhere.
Charge into the killing field,
not to survive—

to fulfill.

FOR THE EMPEROR.

Not cried—
accepted.

We break against the enemy line,
wave after wave, no design.
Not strategy.

Attrition.

Not glory.

Submission to necessity.

If one step forward costs a thousand—
we pay it.

If a trench takes ten thousand lives—
we take it.

If the world itself demands us all—

we give it.

Boot.
Step.
Boot.
Step.

The march does not end.

Even in death—
we advance.

Krieg does not stop.

Krieg does not falter.

Krieg does not remember fear.

We were born to die for this.

And we will.

Without hesitation.
Without regret.
Without end.

cathedral-crusher / war-industrial / god-emperor core. Heavy dark metal
Pure might. Pure authority. No mercy. Male singe