I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 194: They've already planted tactical nuclear weapons in the command post, so what else can I say? You can have Prandim then.
Inside a fortified command post on the surface of Plantim, the atmosphere was oppressive. Officers and staff clad in the distinctive sky-blue armor of Altram were efficiently and silently tidying up star charts, data panels, and various classified documents. A metal case slammed shut with a dull thud.

Soon, the new owner of this command post arrived.

The door was pushed open, and a squad of suicide soldiers clad in full-body black armor walked in. Each of them looked identical, completely covered from head to toe in black armor and gas masks, raising the question of how the suicide squad could so quickly distinguish soldiers from officers on the battlefield.

The soldier at the very front, facing certain death, gave a standard Eagle Salute to the highest-ranking auxiliary corps commander in the command post. The commander returned the salute with perfect precision, but his eyes held a complex mix of emotions.

“We are here on orders to take over this command post,” the voice of the man facing death came through the speaker on his mask.

The commander nodded and pointed to his busy subordinates: "In another ten minutes, all the important documents will be ready."

The person facing death nodded and was about to turn around to check the facilities when he stopped in his tracks because of what the group leader said next.

"So it was you who suggested to the Ultramarines that we retreat completely?" the commander said.

“Yes,” the player admitted frankly, “the battle between the Tyranids and the Deathbringer Legion will turn this planet into a true death world. You are no longer fit to stay here.”

"So what? We won't thank you!" The captain gritted his teeth, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that they cracked. "Plantim is where I was born and raised! I should be here, dying alongside any enemy who dares to invade her!"

“Then you should hate Tyrion.” The Deathbringer’s tone remained calm. “It was the massive invasion of these aliens that forced us to resort to such extreme measures. If it were just to deal with some cultist riots, sending a few hundred Deathbringers to patrol the Lower Nest slums for a year or two would have been enough. There was no need for this.”

The commander said coldly, "So I'm just not grateful to you... Holy crap, Emperor, what the hell is this?!"

His eyes widened suddenly, staring intently at the doorway. There stood a mechanical priest in a red robe, guiding several soldiers on their deathbed as they laboriously carried in a rough metal cylinder flashing a red warning light—it was a tactical nuclear bomb.

“A tactical nuclear weapon.” The man facing death glanced strangely at the distraught commander, as if he had asked an unnecessary question.

"Of course I know this is a tactical nuclear weapon!" The regimental commander finally blurted out a curse. He pointed at the deadly weapon, his voice trembling. "I'm asking you why you brought a tactical nuclear weapon to the command post!"

“The Tyranids will definitely try a decapitation strike,” the one facing death said matter-of-factly. “If our conventional defenses can’t hold off their decapitation strike force, we’ll activate this tactical nuclear missile and take them down with us.”

After overhearing their conversation, the mechanic priest chimed in reassuringly, "Don't worry, Commander. There's no need to fear the Tyranids accidentally detonating it underground. Nuclear weapons have very high detonation requirements. If the correct encrypted instructions aren't received, simply hitting the outer shell will only detonate the conventional explosives on the outside, and its power... well, it's only equivalent to a slightly larger high-explosive charge."

The commander's facial muscles twitched violently twice as he watched the mechanic priest begin scanning the ground with a detector, seemingly searching for the best spot to dig a hole and bury a nuclear bomb.

He whirled around and yelled at the staff officer behind him, "Are you all packed up?!"

The staff officer, who had been watching in shock as the sacrificial victims began to work, snapped back to reality: "Reporting, sir! Everything's ready!" The commander waved his hand and gave the final order: "Plantim is yours... We're withdrawing!"

On the scorched earth of the front lines, in a hastily dug trench, the grim atmosphere had vanished.

Two suicide soldiers clad in black armor squatted on the ground, using ammunition boxes as a table, intently playing an ancient game of chess. The pieces were makeshift, constructed from discarded bullet casings and fragments of alien armor. Though rudimentary, the two were locked in a fierce and evenly matched battle. Around them, six other suicide soldiers from their team stood in a circle, watching with great interest, occasionally offering tactical instructions like, "Move the knight! What kind of move is that, you bishop!"

A series of footsteps, noticeably heavier than those of ordinary people, came from the rear of the position, and everyone looked up at the same time.

Upon seeing their class monitor's familiar figure, one of the spectators was the first to greet him: "Hey, class monitor, you're back."

The squad leader didn't respond to that question. His eyes, hidden behind his gas mask, scanned the room: "Where are Xiong Da and Xiong Er? Why aren't they here?"

"They're acting as sentries, one on the lookout and one on the lookout, over there," a player pointed to the corner of the trench.

"Very well, since you've placed the sentries as I instructed," the squad leader's voice suddenly rose, filled with suppressed anger, "then I'd like to ask, why is it that when I logged off for just over ten minutes to replenish my nutrient solution, I found myself lying in the company headquarters when I logged back in?!"

Everyone looked at each other, and for a moment, there was complete silence. Finally, a player named [Flying De] stepped forward, coughed twice, and tried to explain.

"Ahem, squad leader, it's like this. You just logged off, and someone sneaked up on our position. We saw he was wearing civilian clothes and said he was delayed for some reason and fell behind the main force, hoping I could take him to the evacuation rendezvous point. We thought we were all fellow humans, so we let him come."

"Who would have thought that as soon as this guy got close, a bug popped out of his stomach with a 'poof' sound. The scene... to be honest, we were all stunned and didn't react for a moment. After you logged off, you couldn't move, so the bug pounced on you. That's when we realized what was happening and quickly opened fire, but... but since we're all newbies and our aim isn't very good, we accidentally... killed you too..."

The class monitor almost fainted from anger at this bunch of clowns.

"How many times have I told you! This is a battlefield! A battlefield! Any creature that gets close, unless it has a name above its head and isn't an Astartes, is an enemy! Open fire! Not to mention that command has already announced that Plantim has evacuated all mortals except for us!"

After a barrage of harsh words, watching the rookies lower their heads and remain silent, the squad leader felt a deep sense of exhaustion. He couldn't expect a group of newbies with less than a hundred hours of total game time to make the right decisions under such high pressure.

Just as his anger subsided and he was about to give a few more tactical instructions, a weak voice muttered from the crowd.

“But… he doesn’t have any white trim on him,” one player whispered in protest. “What if he really is a civilian who was left behind?”

The squad leader's anger, which had just begun to subside, reignited as if a gallon of gasoline had been poured on him.

(End of this chapter)