I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 101 The Legendary Captain
On the main battlefield, the bustling construction scene resembled a large-scale construction site. Players wielded their entrenching tools, digging foxholes with all their might.

"This damn sand!" BUG, ​​one of the members, complained loudly as he dug with all his might, "Every time I shovel down, half of the sand next to me immediately fills back up!"

"Thank goodness, at least this is the leeward side," [Assimilation Complete] next to him wiped the sand off his face. "If it were the windward side, one shovelful would probably leave nothing behind."

"Sigh, so why don't we just drive our tanks and ram the greenbeards?" BUG leaned against his entrenching tool and took a breath. "We have a lot of Leman Russ main battle tanks now, right?"

“That’s only for cultists and gene stealers,” Assimilation said. “Are you planning a blitzkrieg against the Greenskins? Or are you suggesting an armored bullet war against them? I have to admit you have a vivid imagination. Our tanks were all bought with merit points; every single one is a treasure.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” BUG realized. “With the sheer number and organization of the Greenskins, if they really pulled out a tank massacre, it would probably turn Kursk into a meat grinder. We don’t have that many tanks to build right now. It’s already a miracle that the temporary workers in the rear can produce any decent shells.”

"Speaking of which, those two Space Marines must be awake by now, right?" BUG looked around, trying to spot two outstanding figures in the crowd. "Why aren't they here?"

"What are they doing here now, digging foxholes with us?" Assimilation looked at him like he was an idiot. "What do you think Space Marines are? Some kind of giant humanoid engineering machine?"

“Hmm…” BUG seriously imagined a scene of a giant man, 2.3 meters tall, wearing power armor, wielding a huge entrenching tool that matched his size, and creating a standard foxhole with a single shovel. “…That’s a bit grotesque.”

"But speaking of large construction machinery, we should have that, right? Why aren't we on the front lines?"

"Can you use your brain before asking questions? I feel like I've become the scathing commentator in some kind of comedy comic," Assimilation said listlessly, pointing to the rugged sandy land in the distance. "How are you planning to transport those heavy construction machines over here? Those things aren't as durable as the Leman Rustank. If they get stuck in the sand, they'll be crying."

“By the way, I think I have heatstroke,” Assimilation suddenly stopped what he was doing. “It’s so damn hot here. The sweat just starts to dry as soon as it comes out. I feel like my back is covered in salt. Can you help me?”

“Okay.” BUG nodded readily, raised his laser rifle, and fired a shot at Assimilation’s face.

"boom!"

With a soft thud, Assimilation collapsed to the ground. The others, who were engrossed in their work nearby, merely glanced at it before continuing to dig their foxholes, unfazed.

A few seconds later, the resurrected [Assimilation Complete] trotted over, letting out a long breath: "Great, fully resurrected!"

He didn't start working immediately. Instead, he skillfully dragged his still-warm corpse and threw it into a deep crater blasted out with explosives a hundred meters away. The crater was already densely packed with thousands of corpses, the remains of players who had chosen to commit suicide to resurrect and reset their data due to excessive physical exhaustion, heatstroke, dehydration, or other abnormal conditions. Since dying at this point wouldn't result in any loss of equipment, the players naturally did whatever was convenient for them.

Fortunately, everyone here is a player. If any native human from the Empire were to see this scene, it would be truly horrifying. No matter how heroic the sacrifice, this is no way to do it.

However, thanks to the players' advantage of always having full stamina, the digging progress remained extremely fast, even accelerating as players became more skilled. Once the foxholes were completed, the players finally felt a sense of security. But this was far from finished; the next step was to dig trenches to the left, right, and rear, connecting the individual foxholes into a complete defensive system. This process was extremely painful, but the jagged trenches finally began to connect the isolated bunkers.

Meanwhile, the players sent to the observation posts hid in the shadows of rocks or sand dunes, scanning the distant horizon inch by inch with high-powered binoculars. Their walkie-talkies remained silent, only being broken in case of an emergency.

Players on the position quickly filled sandbags with the excavated sand, which were immediately used to reinforce the trench walls and build machine gun nests. Excess sand was dragged away on canvas and spread out to avoid forming obvious mounds. Finally, a huge desert camouflage net was erected above the trenches and command post, and the net was filled with any dry grass and shrubs that could be found.

Finally, after four Terran hours, this sturdy and concealed defensive line was completed. From the air, it blended almost seamlessly into the surrounding desert environment; from the front, all the enemy could see were rolling sand dunes.

Despite being covered in sand, the players remained alert and at their posts. Heavy machine guns were cleverly positioned at flank firing positions, their firing arcs perfectly covering the ridgeline of the dunes. The artillery battery behind them had also calculated the preset firing parameters and was ready to provide fire coverage to designated areas at any time.

If a normal Astronautical Army were to undertake a project of this scale, it would be impossible to complete it in just four Terra hours; even four more Terra hours might not be enough.

Just then, a call sign, mixed with some static, came from the radio in the regimental command post: "Hello, can the ground troops hear this? This is 'Zobayan'."

JK immediately grabbed the communicator: "We're on the ground, we can hear you. Something's happened?"

The reason we didn't send Valkyries to scout before was to avoid alerting the Orks too early. But now that the battle barges have descended from the sky, the Valkyries' little activity is no longer a problem.

“Hmm,” Zobayan’s voice came through the communicator, with the roar of Valkyrie engines in the background, “I see two groups of Orks fighting each other, it’s huge, really huge! So huge that the green stretches beyond the horizon, I think I’ve stumbled into the Orks’ main battlefield!”

"Where is that group of green-skinned men you saw three days ago heading towards the battle barge?" JK immediately seized on the key point and asked urgently.

"I'll go check it out now... Hmm? What's that?"

Suddenly, Zobayan's surprised and uncertain voice came through the communicator.

"Holy crap, I got hit!"

Then came a series of ear-piercing metallic tearing sounds, explosions, and Zobayan's final scream, after which communication was completely cut off, leaving only the hissing of electrical current.

JK put down the communicator expressionlessly, sighed, and hung up: "I told you he should change his name."

(End of this chapter)