I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 240 Insects, open the door! We've come to your funeral!
In an instant, the previously somewhat sluggish position suddenly became like an anthill that had been doused with a spoonful of hot oil, instantly boiling over.

"Holy crap! All-out attack?"

"It's finally here! I've been waiting for this day for ages!"

"Tank Daddy! It smells like Tank Daddy! I want to be a Tank keychain!"

"Hey bro, wait for me! I just respawned and I'm running here naked!"

A cacophony of shouts and cries echoed across the position, but in stark contrast to this chaotic verbal communication was their astonishingly efficient action. Countless men emerged from their foxholes, makeshift bunkers, and trenches, rushing at breakneck speed to supply points to check their weapons and replenish their ammunition. Within minutes, the entire position transformed from a deathly silent dormant state into a high-speed, operational war machine.

Reinhard stood still, watching everything silently. He watched the men rushing to their deaths, shouting at each other in a slang he barely understood, and heading to the battlefield with a passion he couldn't comprehend. Their movements were completely devoid of the discipline of the Imperial Army, yet amidst the clamorous chaos, there was a kind of savage yet efficient order.

Soon, the prepared suicides surged towards the assembled armored units like a tidal wave. They nimbly climbed onto the chimera armored vehicles, and once the seats were full, they didn't hesitate to lie down on the roof armor, securing themselves with their hands or ropes; they even more unceremoniously climbed onto the broad hull of the Leman Rustank, gripping the turret handrails, track guards, or any protrusion they could grab, pinning themselves firmly to it.

In short, nobody wants to stay on the ground with their own two legs.

Because in the war logic of those who are willing to die, when faced with the classic coordination problem of "tanks and infantry becoming separated," they would never allow the tanks to slow down and wait for the infantry to catch up. Their solution is simple and brutal—just make the infantry run, run for their lives, run until they die, then respawn at the front line and keep running. Rather than going through this painful cycle, they'd rather be part of the tank from the very beginning.

When BUG and his team arrived at the rendezvous point, the sight before them made him take a deep breath.

Hundreds of Lemanrus main battle tanks and chimera troop carriers formed a steel forest, their engines roaring low and belching acrid black exhaust fumes, their tracks grinding against the ground with a chilling vibration. And within this steel forest stood an even more awe-inspiring, more sacred force—the Astartes.

It was no longer just Reinhard and those dozen or so familiar figures.

Looking out, hundreds and thousands of Space Marines stood silently between the armored formations, their power armor forming a magnificent and intricate tapestry of heraldic symbols. Space Marines from different chapters gathered here, their shoulder armor etched with distinct insignia, each suit of terracotta armor telling a glorious yet bloody story of war.

Some were calibrating their explosive pistols with steady and precise movements; others were polishing the teeth of their chainsaws with the warband's prayers, chanting incantations; and many more stood silently like statues, their invisible killing intent and pressure freezing the surrounding air.

"Wow, what a sight!" BUG climbed onto the roof of a Chimera, looked around at the spectacular scene, felt a surge of excitement in his chest, and thought, "I can't wait to attack."

BUG felt this way, and Reinhard, standing not far beside him, felt the same way. The visor of his helmet swept across the entire assembly area, finally settling on the distant Terran front shrouded in purple mist.

The Astartes valued honor above all else. Battle, especially grand and glorious battles, were the meaning of their existence, the only way for them to prove their loyalty and worth to the Emperor. It's hard to say whether it was the death-seeking warriors yearning for thrills and the release of violence, or the Space Marines pursuing glory and fulfilling their mission, who longed more for such a battle worthy of being recorded in history.

Thirty minutes of preparation time flew by under the influence of adrenaline.

The clamor at the assembly point gradually subsided, replaced by a heavier, more oppressive silence. Only the low rumble of hundreds of engines, like the suppressed breath of a behemoth before battle, made the earth tremble slightly.

Reinhard stood on the roof of his vehicle—a Land Raider—his red visors like two burning embers, staring ahead.

Before, around, and behind him stood the colorful Astartes phalanxes from various battle groups, the embodiment of the Emperor's wrath. And around them, and along the wider battle line, were countless Leman Rustanks and Chimeras, their bodies laden with, lying on, or standing with bizarrely shaped bodies of those going to their deaths.

"Countdown... five, four, three, two, one!"

"Attack!" The commander's voice boomed like thunder through the command channel, reaching everyone's ears.

However, at the same time as his command came a voice that was completely unexpected by everyone.

"Beep—beep beep—click—!"

A high-pitched, sharp, and penetrating melody, carrying a strange and festive feel reminiscent of a wedding or funeral, suddenly pierced the grim atmosphere of the battlefield!

A man on his deathbed stood arrogantly atop the towering turret of a Leman Rustank. He wasn't wearing a helmet, and with a suona (a traditional Chinese wind instrument) between his teeth, he was puffing out his cheeks and playing a strangely exciting yet comical charging tune.

This unconventional scene even startled the Astartes present for two seconds.

Needless to say, the people who were going to their deaths immediately erupted in chaos.

"Holy crap, there's a bugle call for the charge?"

"Where did this guy get his instrument?"

"And it was played on a suona! What a talent! That one shout sent those bugs on the other side flying!"

"The feast is starting! The feast is starting! Brothers, let's go!"

As if the sound of the suona was the most effective starting pistol, the entire steel torrent roared forward the moment it sounded! The chorus of thousands of engines instantly changed from a low growl to a furious howl, and the massive armored formation, like a steel tsunami, rushed headlong toward the distant horizon.

The vanguard of the armored regiment quickly charged into the area modified by the Tyranids. The ground here was covered with a large amount of Tyranid-specific plants, making it slippery and tough. Countless tendon-like vines stretched out from the ground, trying to entangle the tank tracks.

If it were a pure infantry force, it would probably be unable to make any progress against such a bizarre "plant" defense line and would be caught in endless trouble.

But for this torrent of steel, all of this is meaningless.

The Leman Rustank's heavy body was the best herbicide. Tough vines snapped with a teeth-grinding tearing sound under the crushing tracks; massive succulents were smashed to pieces by the main battle tanks, their foul-smelling sap splattering everywhere; as for the spore clouds, they were simply torn apart by the armored vehicles, offering no resistance whatsoever. The entire armored formation was like a red-hot iron, easily scalding through this thin biological barrier, plowing wide, straight channels of scorched earth into the fungal carpet.

After crushing this biological modification zone, the scene before them suddenly opened up, then became deathly silent.

They reached the epicenter of the nuclear explosion.

The earth possessed an eerie, glassy quality, reflecting a ghostly light through the purple, poisonous fog. Twisted metal debris and massive, still-warm impact craters dominated the landscape. Radioactive dust swirled in the air.

It was in this desolate wasteland that the main force of the Tyranids revealed their true colors.

(End of this chapter)