I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 131 How many people are struggling with illness and suffering?

Herbert even thought how wonderful it would be if all citizens of the Empire had the same awareness of being ready to die.

Think about it: in this dark and vast galaxy today, how many humans are struggling with disease, old age and endless suffering, ultimately dying meaninglessly in some dark corner, instead of dying gloriously on the battlefield like a true citizen of an empire?

Whenever Herbert thinks of the workers who lost their lives in factory accidents, the residents of the city's underclass who rotted in disease, and the nameless who silently perished in famine, he feels a great sense of regret and sorrow.

What a waste it was. A tremendous waste of the empire's most precious resource—human life and soul. Every soul that could have given its life for the emperor ultimately perished in meaningless suffering; it was a desecration of the emperor's glory.

Those who face death see it as their final destination. This is the attitude humanity should have when facing this cruel universe.

Just then, a figure descended in front of Crona and Herbert with the whistling of a gravity parachute. It was a suicide paratrooper. He didn't even salute, but merely glanced at them through the visor of his gas mask before saying bluntly, "Prepare to board the Valkyrie. We're going to raid the next boss. You guys should still be able to fight, right?"

"This level of warfare is just a warm-up for me," Crona grinned, the bloodstains on his giant axe still wet.

“Me too,” Herbert nodded, his psionic energy still pulsating at his fingertips.

The wolf guards behind them responded with a chorus of howls, the Fenris war wolves' thirst for battle.

The paratrooper gave them a thumbs up, then turned to activate his parachute and fly away.

However, just half a meter off the ground, his body suddenly went limp, as if all his bones had been removed. The thrusters immediately lost their effectiveness, and he crashed heavily to the ground, motionless. Perhaps the stimulant he had been injected with during the battle had worn off, or perhaps the accumulated nuclear radiation had finally reached its critical point in damaging his cells.

The space wolves and Herbert were both stunned for a moment.

Herbert instinctively wanted to go forward to check the situation, but as soon as he took a step, a thin red laser beam descended from the sky and struck the head of the man lying on the ground, dead without fail.

The one who fired the shot was another paratrooper, still circling in the air, ready to die. He seemed to have simply spotted the ground while surveying the battlefield and, without hesitation, fired a follow-up shot.

Alright, no need to check the situation now. Herbert stopped in his tracks; he knew the person under the helmet was absolutely dead.

Just then, a Valkyrie assault transport plane roared down, its heavy fuselage crashing to the ground, the rear hatch slamming open. To avoid delaying the battle, everyone had to suppress their shock and quickly board.

The fighter jet jolted violently and took off again.

Inside the cabin, a wolf guard peered through the partially closed doors at the rapidly receding ground and finally couldn't help but mutter, "I still can't get used to their view of life and death... Just a moment ago they were comrades-in-arms who had faced life and death together, how come they turn around and act more decisively than when dealing with aliens?"

No one answered him. A silence fell over the cabin, broken only by the roar of the engines. The wolf guard seemed to realize he had said something foolish, and he too fell silent.

The Space Wolves' lightning-fast raid took only two Terra days in total.

Within just two days, all the war leaders of the savage orcs of any significant size were beheaded, and their massive hordes crumbled completely. Of course, behind this glorious victory lay the devastation of massive nuclear bombs, the perfect cover provided by the fearless paratroopers on the flanks, and the overwhelming torrent of the suicide troops on the main battlefield.

This operation did not attempt to completely eradicate the Greenskins. Firstly, it was simply unrealistic. Thanks to the inaction of the previous thirty years, the total number of Greenskins on Peditia had reached an alarming level. Cleaning them up in a short time would probably require the use of Whirlwind Torpedoes.

Secondly, Ruan Wenbo had no intention of completely eliminating it. You see, no matter how complex the terrain of the Nest City is, once the Deathbringers have gathered all the population together, the cultists and sly foxes will lose their ability to replenish their strength. Sooner or later, they will be reduced to the point where they can no longer meet the needs of new players.

That's right, Ruan Wenbo plans to use the Greenskins as a training ground for new players. As for the risk of things getting out of control, he was a little worried before re-establishing contact with the Empire, but now it doesn't matter—after all, Pedithia will still be a major taxpayer, only the original tax revenue item has become the Death Legion. If contact is lost, the Empire will definitely be the first to panic.

With the ability for players to respawn infinitely, even if all the players are new, it shouldn't be a problem to hold out for a year or two. Moreover, new players will become veteran players after dying three or four times on the battlefield.

Getting back to the point, without the help of those who sacrificed their lives, it would have been impossible for just over two hundred Space Marines to quickly resolve such a large-scale Orcish crisis within two days, even if they had one exceptionally powerful Wolf Lord among them. They would probably have had to request orbital bombardment from the Imperial Navy.

Nguyen Van Bo—whom both Herbert and Crona now consider the undisputed supreme commander of Peditia, both administratively and militarily—expressed a strong desire to them before the operation began: the situation would absolutely not spiral out of control to the point where naval orbital bombardment would be necessary.

After all, if the Imperial Navy were to launch a large-scale attack on land, there would most likely be only one explanation—the planet would be ordered to be exterminated.

The Deathbringers simply use tactical nuclear weapons more frequently; their goal is to purify the Xenomorphs, not to turn Pedithia into an uninhabitable dead world.

Although in the cold and cruel forty-first millennium, many people believed that the harsh environment of the dead world was conducive to tempering human will, and many Space Marine chapters even specifically selected the worst-born and most heinous villains when recruiting new recruits, believing that only in the darkest mire could the most resilient soul be forged.

However, Nguyen Van Bo, from another universe in the 21st century, clearly does not agree with this kind of social Darwinism at all.

The environment and the living standards of the people in Pedittia should certainly be improved as much as possible.

Moreover, there are stark counterexamples to this social argument in the history of the Empire. Take Macragge, for instance, where the standard of living is exemplary within the Empire, and civilization and order shine brightly, yet the Ultramarines' fighting spirit has not weakened in the slightest. They remain among the Empire's most steadfast and powerful defenders.

Perhaps this is because Robert Guilliman, the great Primarch who built Macragge, was one of the few among the twenty-one superhuman brothers to have mortal foster parents and receive a quality and normal education from them.

(End of this chapter)