I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 6 The Players' First Death

The search through the pile of corpses didn't last long. About ten minutes into the countdown, all players had successfully found a usable laser gun.

Most of these weapons are battle-damaged versions, each with its own unique "personality": some are missing stocks, making shoulder firing particularly awkward; some have scratches and dents all over their casings, as if they might fall apart at any moment; and others have skewed sights, clearly indicating that they need to be fired by feel. Fortunately, their system panels all display "[Quality: Worn]", so at least there is no risk of them exploding.

While selecting weapons, two or three players seemed to recall the famous Warhammer meme – "Imperial Loyalty in melee combat." They took a little extra time, deliberately removing bayonets from corpses and wedging them into the muzzles of their newly acquired laser guns. Ruan Wenbo was one of them; he felt that in such a chaotic battlefield, it was always good to be prepared.

Holding their respective "new equipment," the players instinctively lined up in front of Commissar Walter, as if awaiting inspection.

Walter stared at them, paused for a moment, then his forehead veins bulged, and he roared, "What are you all doing standing in front of me?! Get some cover! Want to be sitting ducks?!"

Startled awake by the shout, the players realized this wasn't some high school military training exercise. They scattered, each searching for a place to save their lives. A few hid behind half-collapsed precast concrete walls, while most jumped into the deeper-looking craters and trenches, leaving only their heads and half-broken gun barrels sticking out.

Just as all the players were getting ready and holding their breath, the cultists' attack arrived at the perfect time.

First came the sound.

A piercing, distorted horn sound came from afar, as if to tear eardrums apart. Then, at the edge of the horizon, thousands upon thousands of voices converged into a terrifying torrent of noise—frenzied prayers, bloodthirsty war cries, and hymns to the dark gods.

Then, they appeared.

Like a swarm of ants, countless ragged figures emerged from the distant ruins and billowing smoke. Wielding industrial machetes, nailed steel pipes, and various homemade weapons, their faces twisted with fanaticism, they trampled over the corpses of their comrades and charged recklessly toward the Asgardian Army's positions.

"Fire! Free fire!"

Commissar Walter blew a sharp whistle, and the automatic cannons and heavy shells on the position roared first, plunging bloody paths through the cult's throng. But the gaps were quickly filled by the endless stream of people following behind.

The players were completely stunned by the devastating force. They frantically poked their heads out and pulled the triggers at the dark mass of people. The red laser beams shot into the enemy ranks haphazardly, occasionally taking down one or two targets, but mostly hitting empty air or being blocked by the bodies in front of them.

"Bang!" "Bang!"

Several players, preoccupied with unleashing their firepower, were kicked hard in the backside twice. Commissar Walter, his face dark, walked past them and roared, "Conserve ammunition! Burst fire! Do you want your guns to overheat and become burning sticks?!"

Just then, a soldier in a planetary defense force uniform, clearly a conscript hastily pulled into the battlefield, suffered a mental breakdown after witnessing this hellish scene. He screamed, threw down his weapon, and turned to flee.

"boom!"

A crisp blast of a mortar shell rang out. The deserter's head exploded like a watermelon, and the headless corpse staggered forward a couple of steps before collapsing to the ground.

Commissar Walter expressionlessly sheathed his smoking explosive pistol, his cold gaze sweeping over everyone on the position, including the dumbfounded players.

"Is this what a political commissar's daily life is like..." a player murmured in the team chat. Beyond the shock, they also sensed the extent to which the battle situation on Planet Pedytia had deteriorated.

After the initial shock and fear, the players gradually entered a mechanical cycle: aim, fire short bursts, find the next target, and aim again. They intuitively felt that their firepower was truly a drop in the ocean against the ever-surging sea of ​​people.

Just then, Ruan Wenbo, who was hiding in a bomb crater, suddenly felt a rhythmic, slight vibration coming from the ground beneath his feet. He frowned, listened intently, and could even hear a rustling sound coming from deep within the soil.

He was about to shout a warning, but it was too late.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Inside the position, several sections of the ground were suddenly blasted open from the bottom up! Soil and rubble flew everywhere, and cultists covered in mud crawled out of the dug tunnels like groundhogs, instantly rushing into the position and coming face to face with the players.

The sense of security from long-range shooting vanished, and the battlefield instantly turned into close-quarters combat.

The Oglin player, who had struggled to hit his target even after countless attempts, suddenly let out an excited roar. He tossed aside the laser gun that had been toying in his hand and, brandishing a fist thicker than a man's thigh, punched a charging cultist so hard that his chest caved in. For Ruan Wenbo and the other players who had prepared bayonets beforehand, this choice seemed incredibly wise at that moment.

A cult member roared and charged at Nguyen Van Bo, brandishing a rusty machete. His adrenaline surging, Nguyen Van Bo almost instinctively thrust his laser gun forward.

"Pfft!"

The sharp bayonet plunged effortlessly into the cultist's chest and abdomen. However, the expected scene of the enemy falling did not occur. The cultist seemed to feel no pain; he glanced down at the bayonet embedded in his body, a more bizarre and fanatical smile spreading across his face. He uttered incomprehensible gurgling sounds and, still with the bayonet in his hand, continued forward, reaching out to grab Nguyen Van Bo's neck!
A chilling fear gripped Nguyen Van Bo's heart instantly. He tried to pull his gun back, only to find the bayonet firmly stuck in the other man's muscles and bones.

Just at this critical moment, an NPC veteran with a long scar on his face roared, "Recruit, stop spacing out!" He turned to the side, and with a precise shot, his laser gun instantly blew the cultist's head off.

Warm blood and brain matter splattered all over Nguyen Van Bo's face. Only then did he come to his senses, gasping for breath, and forcefully pulled the bayonet from the corpse.

The battle on the other side was even more brutal. A player with the ID "Quick Gunner" was cornered by a cultist. In a panic, he completely forgot Commissar Walter's earlier warning and frantically pulled the trigger at the enemy who was right in front of him. The laser beam burned a large hole in the cultist's body at point-blank range, but his laser gun also emitted a dangerous buzzing sound due to the overload of energy.

"boom!"

With a muffled thud, the overloaded laser gun exploded. The overloaded energy core transformed into a small ball of plasma flame, instantly engulfing both the "Quickdrawer" and the cultist. When the light faded, only two charred humanoid silhouettes and a molten section of the gun barrel remained.

In contrast, Oglin's side was nothing short of a one-sided massacre. He was like a living meat grinder; any cultist who approached him was either punched away or torn apart like a rag doll by his limbs. His presence greatly relieved the pressure of the breached lines.

After a bloody struggle, the sudden internal attack finally ended when Commissar Walter used his chainsaw sword to cleave the last cultist who crawled out of the tunnel in two.

The battlefield reeked of ozone and the smell of roasted meat. The players, still shaken, tallied their spoils. In this surprise attack, they had only lost one "quick-draw" player who had perished alongside the enemy.

Ruan Wenbo walked to the charred corpse. Out of curiosity, he extended his bayonet and gently poked at the unrecognizable body.

The moment the knife tip touched the corpse, Ruan Wenbo's vision blurred for a moment, as if the game screen had dropped or stuttered.

The next second, something incredible happened.

The charred corpse seemed to have been rewound, the melted flesh and equipment rapidly reforming. A second later, "Quick Gunner" reappeared unharmed, sitting up abruptly, panting heavily, his face still showing signs of shock.

"Holy crap, that's so exciting!"

The surrounding players immediately gathered around, curiously examining their "resurrected" companion.

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling?"

What is the penalty for death? Losing equipment?

The "Quick Gunner," still shaken, glanced at the system log and his expression turned strange: "Death penalty... it says all NPC relationships are reset, and current faction merits are cleared..."

“We just killed a monster and the experience bar didn’t pop up. Could it be that these are the only two things we can farm?” Ruan Wenbo realized the seriousness of the situation. “Then we have to start all over again. Luckily, you still have your equipment on you, so you won’t lose it if you die.”

"Not necessarily," a player next to me analyzed. "Maybe there will be fixed respawn points in the future, and we'll have to run a long way after we respawn to retrieve our equipment from our own corpses. Isn't that how Project Zombie Destruction works?"

"That makes sense!" Everyone nodded in agreement. "Hopefully, the game planner can act like a human being and have some conscience."

Their discussion didn't last long, as Commissar Walter's cold voice broke the silence once more, interrupting their brush with death.

"What are you all standing around for? Block up these entrances! Prepare for the next wave of attacks!"

(End of this chapter)