I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 165 What?! Sicarius?!

In stark contrast to the suffocatingly tense atmosphere at the Imperial General Headquarters, the headquarters of the Third Legion of the Dead in Pedidia was filled with a... rather leisurely atmosphere.

The holographic sand table continued to operate, faithfully reflecting the expansion of the green poisonous fog at the front lines and the advance of the troops. However, the officers responsible for monitoring it huddled together in twos and threes, discussing recent official announcements on the forums or which lucky person had drawn a good piece of equipment.

In the central area of ​​the command post, the regimental commander, Ghost Face, who should have been strategizing, was sitting with his legs crossed, slamming a card on the table with a smug smile on his face.

"Long live the Nilfgaardian Empire! Haha! I've won again!"

Across from him, Jason, a burly man wearing a hockey mask, silently watched his utterly defeated deck, saying nothing. Michael, watching from the sidelines, did the same.

Just as Ghostface was triumphantly declaring his victory and preparing to collect his spoils—a bag of Jason's treasured spicy snacks—Freddy's severely burned face came closer and shoved a data panel right in front of him.

“Before you celebrate your meaningless victory, you’d better take a look at this.” Freddy’s voice carried a hint of schadenfreude.

"What is this?" Ghostface, still basking in the joy of being a Gwent master, grumbled in dissatisfaction, but still reluctantly glanced at the contents of the data panel. "Oh, the highest order from the Imperial Command, instructing us to push forward at full speed and cooperate with the upcoming airdrop of Ultramarines... Why don't you just notify the officers at all levels about such a trivial matter? Why show it to me?"

“A small matter?” Freddy let out his signature sinister laugh. “I’m just giving you a friendly reminder… If there aren’t any major changes to the Ultramarines personnel, then according to the original story, one of the Ultramarines who were airdropped this time is an officer named Cato Sicarius.”

"Bang!"

Ghost Face tumbled off the chair, landing flat on his back. But with an agility completely unlike his fall, he instantly scrambled to his feet, his sharp, distorted voice echoing throughout the command center like an alarm:
"What?! Sicarius?!"

These four words seemed to possess some kind of mysterious magic, instantly shattering the tranquility of the command center.

"What?! Sicarius?!"

An executive committee member who was passing by and was about to collect his share of nutritional paste suddenly turned around.

"What?! Sicarius?!"

A dozing communicator, who was standing in front of the communicator, suddenly sat up straight and turned around.

"What?! Sicarius?!"

An officer who was seriously studying tactics in front of the holographic sand table also turned his head away, his voice cracking with excitement.

In just three seconds, the entire command center transformed from a relaxed internet cafe into a pot of boiling water.

"Hurry up! Stop playing cards, you bastards!" Ghostface lunged at the table, his hands sweeping the Gwent cards into a storage box like a bulldozer. "Jason! Michael... Ugh, why should I call names? All of you bodyguards, get to the front lines! All of you! You absolutely must! At all costs! Get me Sicarius's autograph!"

As he issued orders, he beat his chest in deep regret and wailed in anguish, "Damn it! Why did I ever become a lousy legion commander on a whim! Now I can't even go to the front lines, and I can't personally ask Sicarius for his autograph!"

As soon as Ghost Face finished speaking, a chorus of voices urging to join the battle erupted in the command post.

"Commander! I want to go too! My chainsaw is itching for a fight!" "And my commander! I suddenly feel full of power and want to go to the front lines to serve the Emperor!"

"Commander! My loyalty to the Emperor is suddenly overwhelming. I desperately want to go to the front lines and kill those aliens myself!"

"No way!" Ghost Face roared at his agitated subordinates, forcefully suppressing the unhealthy atmosphere. "You all have to stay here with me!"

He cleared his throat and added righteously, "This is absolutely not because I want you to experience the same pain as me! It's entirely to ensure that our legion's command system doesn't collapse at critical moments! Understand? This is for the greater good!"

On the other side, above the murky clouds of Gelblin City, squadrons of Thunderhawk gunships were tearing through the sky with overwhelming force. Their heavy armored hulls rumbled with a dull thud as they rubbed against the upper atmosphere, their fuselages trembling slightly, foreshadowing an impending steel storm.

Inside the troop transport bay of the gunship, the red combat lights stained everything with a bloody hue. Ultramarines clad in blue power armor stood like silent statues, magnetically secured to their seats. The air was thick with the unique odor of engine oil, ozone, and purifying incense; the only sounds were the roar of the engines and the steady hum of the life support systems.

In the chilling silence, Cato Sicarius, then just a sergeant in the Eighth Company, was unaware of the fervent "welcome" he was about to receive on the ground. He sat upright, helmet on his lap, his handsome, resolute face devoid of any superfluous expression. He simply waited silently, mentally rehearsing every detail of the impending airborne operation.

Numi, another sergeant traveling with him in the Thunderhawk, broke the pre-battle calm.

“Brother Sicarius,” Numi’s voice came through the built-in speaker in his helmet, clear and steady, “Do you know anything about the ‘Deathbringers’ Astral Army who are cooperating with us in this operation?”

“No,” Sicarius shook his head honestly. “In fact, before this expedition, I had never even heard of the world of Pedithia. But it sounds like you, Brother Numi, know something about it?”

“I only heard about it from casual conversations during my voyage.” Numi gave a hearty laugh, which looked particularly bold under the red light. “It is said that the Peditians generally believe that life is a race. The starting point is birth and the finish line is death, and all of them are running non-stop in this race, eager to cross that finish line.”

Sicarius tilted his head slightly, a hint of interest in his eyes: "A very interesting culture... How did it come about?"

“It’s said to have originated from a protracted warp storm. That storm severed Perditia’s connection with the Empire for thirty standard years. During those thirty years, they waged an endless war for survival against various aliens, heretics, and rebels inhabiting the planet,” Numi explained. “It is precisely because of this brutal history that their unique culture has been shaped. Today, on Perditia, there are only workers and soldiers; there is no third profession. Because for them, nobles and bureaucrats are like those who participate in a race on horseback. Their speed certainly far exceeds that of mortals running on foot, but…”

Numi paused here deliberately, keeping everyone in suspense.

Sicarius's expression turned somewhat strange. He instantly grasped the logic and continued, "But they'll die even faster?"

“Yes.” Numi laughed, a hint of approval in his voice. “I must say, compared to the eternally silent Krieg Death Legion, these Peditians seem to have an innate sense of dark humor.”

Just then, the Thunderhawk gunboat's fuselage suddenly dipped, beginning its descent in preparation for re-entry into the atmosphere. Inside, warning lights indicating "preparing for airdrop" began flashing, followed by a buzzer sound.

Sicarius put his helmet back on, the visor clicking shut with a crisp, resolute sound. The strange anecdote about his allies was instantly banished from his mind, replaced by the cold, hard logic of battle and an unwavering resolve to win.

Like the other Ultramarines, he checked the feed system of the bomb gun and felt the power emanating from the power armor.

The storm is coming.

(End of this chapter)