I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 253 The Will of the Hive: I Need to Regroup My Forces

"Sigh..." A player, seemingly on his deathbed, leaned against the tracks of a Leman Rustank that had been turned off. His helmet lay carelessly to the side, revealing a face smeared with mud and blood. He pulled half a nutrition bar from his pocket and slowly gnawed on it, his tone full of complaints. "I thought after fighting the Tyranids in the trenches for so long, we could finally have a big battle, but then we stopped again and started digging trenches again. When will this ever end?"

"Is this what you call a little while?" Another player, who was cleaning the barrel of his laser gun, couldn't help but complain. "Dude, have you lost your memory? We've been charging forward for a month without sleeping a wink, covering over a thousand kilometers! You think that's not enough for a big battle?"

"More than a thousand kilometers..." the complaining player counted on his fingers. "That's not fast at all. On average, I only advance about 30 kilometers a day, which is a little over one kilometer an hour. This speed is not even as fast as me running."

"Holy crap, is this even faster?!" The player cleaning the gun barrel almost threw a nutrition bar at him. "We're fighting the Tyranids, not doing a weighted long-distance run! Do you think we're just strolling around?! Didn't you notice that the Tyranids are completely exhausted from our onslaught? In the last few days of this month-long assault, the aliens' resistance has clearly decreased. Many times, we just charge straight in; they haven't organized an effective defense at all!"

“That makes sense…” The complaining player scratched the back of his head, a look of sudden realization on his face. “Sigh, if that’s the case, if we just stop here, aren’t we giving Tyrion more time to catch his breath? Will there be no fighting for the next few days? That would be so boring.”

A passing squad of Astartes, fully armed, was preparing to construct a defensive line in a designated area when they overheard the conversation between the two suicide soldiers. Their steps were heavy and rhythmic, yet still agile. One of the Space Marines whispered to his comrade beside him through the built-in communication channel in his helmet, “The suicide soldiers really love war; they were born for it. No wonder Pedithia has all sorts of Orks, Chaos, and Dark Eldar—they're the ones who have the last laugh.”

“I can feel their joy; they really enjoy the war,” another Space Marine chimed in. “Whether they get killed by the enemy or the enemy gets killed by them, it doesn’t matter to them. In their words, killing one is enough, killing two is a huge bonus.”

“Be careful what you say, my brother,” the squad’s Ultramariner captain, whose helmet bore the markings of his company and rank, warned in a low voice. “It’s best not to speak ill of friendly forces behind their backs. Besides, they aren’t just pure warmongers. When Plantim was first destroyed, I could see that many of those who went to their deaths felt regret. Their fighting spirit stemmed from their devotion to the Emperor and their loyalty to humanity, only their expression was slightly different.”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” said the Space Marine who had started the discussion, his tone tinged with remorse. “It’s just that those who went to their deaths were too resilient. Their… eagerness for battle made me lose my composure. Perhaps, this is just another extreme of mortal faith.”

In this brief, eerily calm moment, the earth suddenly began to tremble. The distant horizon, previously shrouded only in leaden-gray clouds, was now enveloped by a dense, overwhelming fog of purple spores. The fog churned and rolled, spreading rapidly toward the human defenses like a living thing, within which countless blurry, alien silhouettes were vaguely visible.

"Alarm! All personnel on high alert! The Tyranids are launching a massive counterattack!" The piercing alarm instantly echoed throughout the temporary defense line, shattering all complaints and idle chatter.

The two players who had just been complaining about "not having any battles" jumped up almost reflexively. They quickly put on their helmets, grabbed their weapons, and their faces instantly lit up with an almost ecstatic expression.

"Holy crap! A war has broken out!"

"Hahaha, I knew Tyrion wouldn't let us down!" They roared excitedly, their adrenaline surging. For them, battle was the greatest reward, and death was merely a temporary respite.

However, the Astartes reacted quite differently. They quickly took their fighting positions, loaded their explosives, and the joints of their power armor emitted a low servo-like sound. But at the same time, a strong sense of doubt welled up within them.

They knew what the two men who had just died were talking about; it wasn't a secret. The Tyranids had been overwhelmed by the humans' long-term offensive and were struggling to organize enough troops for defense. In the last few days, their resistance even weakened significantly. So why did the Tyranids suddenly launch such a large-scale counterattack as if they had been planning it for a long time, as soon as the humans stopped? This didn't make sense.

The Ultramariner captain was the first to understand the situation the moment he heard the alarm and witnessed the swarm of insects approaching from afar. Though his face was hidden beneath his helmet, his voice carried a knowing weight: "No wonder we didn't encounter any significant resistance in the last few days..."

His voice was clearly transmitted to the team members through the built-in communication channel.

"Terren realized that the hastily assembled forces could not withstand the onslaught of our assault, so he simply abandoned those areas and put up a symbolic resistance, using space to buy time to regroup the scattered Zerg swarms, and then organize forces further back to gather strength. After all, they occupied most of the planet, so there was plenty of depth and space to regroup their forces."

Upon hearing this, the other Astartes instantly understood. Images flashed through their minds of the areas they had "easily" breached, the Tyranid swarms carelessly abandoned, and the seemingly "weak" resistance. It turned out the Tyranids hadn't been exhausted; they were deliberately luring the enemy deeper, preparing to build up a lethal counterattack from afar!

In an instant, a mixture of lingering fear and relief welled up in the hearts of all the Space Marines.

They stopped, and Tyrannosaurus immediately launched a counterattack. It was clear that Tyrannosaurus's swarm was almost fully organized and ready for battle.

If the Supreme Command had not made the decision to halt the advance, but instead continued to press forward, with the mortals' armored forces nearly exhausted and their supply lines stretched to their maximum, they could very well have been sent back a considerable distance by Tyrion's long-planned punch, potentially leading to the annihilation of the entire army!

"May the Emperor protect us..." an Astartes whispered.

"Everyone, take your positions!" the Ultramarines captain commanded in a deep voice, his tone carrying a chilling killing intent. "Now that they're here, let these alien insects taste the steel of our defenses!"

(End of this chapter)