I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 132 The Great Laws Enforced by the Empire

After the war against the Greenskins ended, Herbert was inspecting the Middle Nest.

It was called an inspection, but it was really just a casual stroll.

The cleansing of those who went to their deaths was so thorough that even Herbert was slightly shocked. Walking through this area that had just been baptized by blood and fire, he could hardly sense any remaining psionic energy from the heretics. It was hard to imagine that this place had once been occupied by the Genestealers cult. After all, those cunning heretics were masters of concealment and infiltration.

How did the people going to their deaths manage to distinguish themselves from innocent imperial citizens so precisely in such a short time?
Of course, this question might be a complete waste of time for those facing death—they don't need to distinguish between them; if they see a white outline, they'll just shoot them.

It was precisely because of this thorough and meticulous elimination that Herbert saw virtually no place where he needed to personally uphold imperial glory. However, this also provided a rare moment of respite. He planned to routinely take a couple of rounds to confirm everything was alright, then call it a day and focus on figuring out what was going on with the unusual energy emanating from those two Astartes.

As he was absentmindedly walking through a huge factory area, a commotion caught his attention.

Herbert saw several players dressed in death-defying gear dragging a relatively well-dressed person out of a factory gate while cursing and swearing.

Although the person's clothes were somewhat wrinkled and stained, the quality and tailoring far surpassed those of ordinary hive dwellers. In this era where the entire Pedithian main hive had become a giant workshop, someone who could maintain such cleanliness and appearance clearly held a high status.

The players dragged him to an open area and began punching and kicking him without saying a word. The man curled up on the ground, groaning in pain. Then, one of the players raised his laser gun, pointing it at his head, and it seemed he was about to die.

"and many more!"

Herbert's inquisitive instincts kicked in instantly, and he shouted almost subconsciously.

The players paused, instinctively turning their heads. When they saw the iconic Inquisition Rosette on Herbert's chest, obvious surprise appeared on their faces: Why was an Inquisitor suddenly meddling in this?
The man being trampled underfoot initially showed a flicker of joy on his face when he heard the warnings. But the moment he struggled to lift his head and recognized Herbert, that joy instantly transformed into utter terror and despair.

He began to struggle frantically, screaming with all his might, "Quick! Kill me! Shoot me now! Shoot me..."

His outburst made the other players less inclined to kill him immediately. One of them impatiently kicked him again, which quieted him down temporarily.

Herbert had already strode over to the group. He frowned, his gaze sweeping between the desperate "decent man" and the other players, and asked in a deep voice, "What did he do?"

“That idiot…” A player pointed his chin at the person on the ground, his tone full of disgust, “He confiscated a batch of guns and grenades and then sold them to some scoundrel. Those grenades blew up our class’s chimera! And there was my dog ​​on that chimera! We only found our way here by following the serial numbers of the seized laser guns.”

“I see.” Herbert nodded, his face expressionless. “If that’s the case, then you can’t kill him with a laser gun. That’s against Imperial law, and vigilante justice will cause trouble.”

"What do you mean?" The leading player frowned, his grip on the gun tightening.

Herbert could clearly sense the discontent and barely concealed hostility emanating from these players. He had no doubt that if he insisted on saving this guy, these fearless daredevils would certainly not hesitate to turn against him. But he wasn't surprised—what could a group of people who saw death itself as their destiny have to fear?

And he wasn't worried either.

Herbert wasn't there to save this guy. His mercy wasn't so great as to extend to a traitor who had aided the enemy.

“What I mean is, you shouldn’t have shot him,” Herbert said casually, pulling a tough synthetic fiber rope from his toolbox.

Under the bewildered gazes of the players, he crouched down and wrapped the rope around the respectable man's body. He tied it skillfully, the knots simple yet strong, ensuring the man could not escape, while cleverly avoiding the neck and other places that could cause a quick death.

“According to Imperial law…” Herbert stood up, walked to a Chimera armored vehicle parked to the side, and tightly wrapped the other end of the rope around the tow hook at the rear of the vehicle, “…you should punish him like this.”

After doing all this, Herbert easily flipped over and sat in the driver's seat of the chimera. Then, leaning out of the driver's window, he said to the stunned players, "I'm too lazy to walk the rest of the way... Do you want to get in?"

The players exchanged bewildered glances, then their faces lit up with sudden realization. They understood what Herbert was up to.

"Awesome, bro, you're really good at this." One of the players gave him a thumbs up and jumped onto the roof of the chimera first. The others followed suit, finding their spots and settling in.

Herbert smiled slightly and replied, "I just have a slight understanding of some of the Empire's legal provisions. If anyone should be praised, it should be the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of the Interior—this is one of the few things these two departments have done well."

As soon as he finished speaking, he slammed on the gas pedal.

The chimera's engine roared deafeningly, and its heavy tires began to spin.

At the rear of the vehicle, the traitor's pleas and explanations were instantly replaced by a heart-wrenching scream. His body was roughly dragged, rolling and scraping against the rough gravel, leaving a rapidly widening trail of blood.

Amidst the incessant screams, Herbert, piloting the Chimera, sped off towards Ruan Wenbo's command post amidst the excited cheers of the players.

By the time Herbert's chimera came to a stop outside Nguyen Van Bo's temporary command post, the agonizing screams that had followed had already ceased.

The lump being dragged behind the car was completely silent. It was less a corpse and more a mangled, bloody mess, utterly ground down by the high speed and rough ground. Given its pitiful state, reduced to less than half its original mass, such complete physical destruction meant that even the most resilient Nurgle would have no chance of rising from this rotten flesh.

(End of this chapter)