I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 161 Overwhelming with sheer numbers is the right way of military strategy.

After the players paid a heavy price, with dozens of deaths among their heavy-firepower soldiers, in order to successfully eliminate more than a dozen enemy marksmen, the enemy deep within the ruins seemed to lose their composure.

"Sh-!"

Another whistle pierced the thick smoke, and the enemy's tactics changed accordingly. They completely abandoned their pointless luring tactics; each time they peeked out from behind cover, it was accompanied by a cold and precise attack. Gunshots rang out, men fell, and they vanished like ghosts into the shadows, giving their victims no chance to lock on and retaliate.

It must be admitted that in this brief but intense exchange of fire, it was clear that the enemy's individual soldier quality far surpassed that of the soldiers who were going to their deaths.

They move swiftly, like ghosts darting through ruins, never revealing any unnecessary position; their marksmanship is precise, each energy beam slicing through the air seems to have its own life, always finding tricky gaps in the armor, and every attack inevitably takes a life; they are disciplined, their roars from who-knows-where seem to be commands imprinted deep in their souls, enabling the entire unit to switch tactics in an instant.

In such extremely unfavorable circumstances, the suicide squad often needs to unleash thousands of bullets, hundreds of laser beams, and sacrifice dozens of lives, along with a carpet bombing of grenades, just to be lucky enough to take down a single enemy. Even now, after all this intense fighting, players have no idea who they are actually fighting.

But so what?
We who are willing to die are willing to pay the price! Using endless lives to make up for the exponentially high casualty ratio, and overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers, this is the true path of military strategy! If you don't like it, don't play!
Two hours of Terran time slipped away in a brutal tug-of-war. Gradually, the attacks from the city ruins thinned out, eventually ceasing completely. Realizing this, the players also gradually reduced their firepower until the last heavy logging rifle fell silent. The bustling battlefield abruptly returned to deathly silence, broken only by the whistling sound of the wind rustling through the steel skeleton and the faint rumble of artillery fire from the main battlefield in the distance.

"What's going on?" A platoon leader squatted behind a half-broken wall and asked in the communication channel with some doubt. "They're not fighting anymore? Our platoon has only confirmed a few dozen kills. The entire company's total kill count is only a little over three hundred, right?"

He had no idea that at that moment, on the other side of the ruins, the enemy commander was already frustrated by the players' unconventional fighting style.

It was absolutely certain that in the short two hours of fighting on Terra, this strange human force had been precisely sniped by its own people at least several thousand, and the vast majority of them were in extremely threatening key positions such as heavy gunners.

But for some reason, no matter how hard its people attacked, even when those humans started dragging their warm corpses to form breastworks as cover, the heavy logging rifles on their positions were always in someone's hands, always roaring tirelessly. On the contrary, every fatal attack by their own side would expose their position and attract the enemy's relentless, overwhelming fire, resulting in casualties among their people.

This alien commander clearly didn't realize that, in order to deal with an army of superhuman beings like the Deathbringers, choosing to wage a positional war of attrition was absolutely the worst possible option.

For any normal astral legion, if there exists an alley that requires four men to stand side by side to defend, then as the battle progresses, the soldiers will become exhausted, injured, and demoralized. In this situation, a normal legion has only two choices: either retreat to a narrower passage that only requires two men to defend, or send four more men to rotate with those in front and conserve their strength.

But for those abnormal suicide bombers, just four of them could hold this alley forever. As long as they don't want to lose it, this position will never be lost. The only solution is to rely on overwhelming burst firepower to wipe out all four suicide bombers in an instant. But then... you'd have to seriously consider what kind of high explosives these four suicide bombers are strapped to their bodies.

"Sh-!"

Just as the players were wondering if the enemy had already silently retreated, an even louder whistle came from ahead. This time, the enemy finally emerged from the layers of city ruins.

The dying finally saw clearly the creatures that had been their enemies—long, thin, humanoid beings with skin covered in a layer of mucus that gleamed oily in the dim light. Half their faces were occupied by hard, keratinous beaks, and their bodies were covered with sparse, dull feathers, making them appear to have evolved from some kind of bird. But heaven knows why a bird would evolve into a land creature and grow limbs so similar to humans…

"Krutians!" A knowledgeable player immediately shouted out the name of this Tau Empire auxiliary force in the communication channel.

Before the words were even finished, hundreds upon hundreds of Kruts burst forth with astonishing speed amidst the ruins. Using all four limbs, they darted and weaved, moving at high speed through the rubble with a reverse-joint posture. Even with the players firing at maximum, they only left a dozen or so corpses in their path. Most of the Kruts broke through the line of fire with ease, plunging into the position of a squad.

Close combat!

The suicide bombers didn't hesitate to drop their laser guns and draw their chainsaws and combat knives, attempting to fight to the death. But the cruel result was... they were completely outmatched. Even with the maximum dose of combat serum injected directly, maximizing their physical potential, players could barely last a dozen seconds in a brutal one-on-one melee before being sliced ​​into pieces by the Krut.

Even more chillingly, some Krutians have begun to devour the still-twitching corpses of the players, tearing at the flesh with their beaks and making a sickeningly loud sound, as if they want to learn the secrets of these fearless humans by gnawing on their genes, just as they have done to other enemies in the past.

The squad leader, having huddled at the very back of the position, survived to the end. He witnessed this barbaric and bloody scene, showing no fear on his face, and calmly muttered over the comms: "Holy crap, they're just starting to devour people alive, is that even possible?"

He calmly watched the last Krut man lunge at him, his beak still stained with bits of flesh from his comrade. Once he felt he was close enough, he gently pressed the detonator with his thumb.

(End of this chapter)