I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 162 Eating those who have died will cause stomach ulcers!
The explosives detonated by the squad leader transformed into a miniature sun, its blinding white light instantly engulfing the small area. Accompanied by a deafening roar, a shockwave carrying fragments of metal and flesh violently spread outwards. In this frenzied, mutually destructive baptism, at least ten Krut soldiers who had surrounded them were instantly blasted into charred pieces, or lost limbs in the impact, completely incapacitated.

Meanwhile, the players on other positions were not idle either.

The Krutians, in motion, are like ghosts, difficult to hit. But now, they're stationary on the very ground we just lost, feasting on their prey. How can we still not hit them?

"Fire! Plow that land flat for me!"

Without the slightest hesitation or pause, a deluge of heavy logging gun bullets and grenades rained down on the area that had just been friendly positions. The hail of bullets tore through the air, sending dust billowing from the ruins, and tearing the Krut people who were eating into pieces.

One of the promethium flamethrower soldiers even aimed his flamethrower nozzle directly at that spot, and a roaring fire dragon swept across, the scorching promethium completely igniting the position, turning it into a burning hell.

Although the people of Krut reacted extremely quickly and escaped before the fire spread, the relentless barrage still managed to save several more alien lives from the players.

"Chirp—!"

A sharp, high-pitched whistle, like a bird's call, pierced the battlefield. Upon hearing this signal, all the Krut soldiers still attacking immediately abandoned the fight and retreated at an even faster pace than they had come. Their figures vanished in a few leaps into the layers of city ruins, leaving no trace.

This sudden turn of events left the players somewhat bewildered. They had just been caught up in the excitement, thinking the enemy was finally about to launch a decisive, all-out attack.

Everyone felt a sense of frustration. They had been prepared to fight to the death and make a big splash here, but the Krut people's sudden attack and retreat left them with nothing to show for their efforts, leaving them stuck in a limbo and extremely uncomfortable.

One of the men facing certain death reached out and touched his full-face helmet, wondering over the comms channel, "What's going on here?"

However, in Chief Krut's eyes, all of this was in accordance with the hunter's sanctity. Understanding your prey is an essential lesson for becoming a good hunter. In that brief but bloody battle, it had already accumulated too many doubts about these crazed humans.

The seemingly reckless charge just now was primarily intended to allow the tribesmen to devour the flesh and blood of these humans, obtain their genes, and thereby understand their secret of being fearless and even indifferent to their own lives.

However, Chief Krut was soon disappointed.

Those tribespeople who successfully devoured the flesh and blood of the dead did not sense anything special in their genetic memory. The physiological structure of these humans was no different from that of the normal human species they had previously hunted; they had no special organs, nor any hidden power.

Even worse, its people struggled to digest the flesh and blood, quickly beginning to vomit violently, expelling large amounts of colorful, viscous liquid with a chemical odor. Based on this, the chief could only conclude that these humans were addicted to injecting themselves with various combat drugs, resulting in their bodies being filled with toxins; consuming them would likely cause the tribe to develop stomach ulcers!
These humans are ruthless to their enemies, but even more ruthless to themselves. The unwavering resolve to detonate explosives and perish together with the enemy, the cold-bloodedness to indiscriminately bombard what was once friendly territory, has led Chief Krut to abandon any proactive offensive plans and instead adopt a passive defense strategy, utilizing the terrain to his advantage.

The Krutians remained still for a moment, but the ones going to their deaths immediately sprang into action.

They showed no intention of taking a break. Once they confirmed the enemy had ceased their advance, the platoon leader immediately ordered over the radio: "First Platoon! Head out to scout! Find out if those Indian bastards have gone into hiding or have really retreated!"

The results quickly proved that launching an offensive against the Kruts, who held the advantage in complex terrain, was not a good choice. This platoon, which had voluntarily left their cover and entered the unknown area, was immediately ambushed by the enemy. After a fierce battle, the platoon frantically hurled a massive amount of grenades, hand grenades, and laser beams at every visible cover, window, and slope within their field of vision, before all members were picked off one by one by the Kruts hiding in the shadows, and were neatly transported back to their platoon leader, who was still in the rear positions.

Fifty newly resurrected players stood before their platoon leader, the atmosphere somewhat awkward.

"How many did you take down?" the platoon leader asked in a deep voice.

The fifty players stared at each other, looking at one another. Finally, a grenade launcher raised his hand somewhat nervously and whispered, "Reporting, platoon leader... I took one down..."

"On a?"

The platoon leader finally couldn't hold back any longer; this casualty ratio was simply too ugly, even for those who were going to their deaths.

He immediately switched to the officers' communications channel, his voice filled with barely suppressed anger: "Gentlemen! This battle is unwinnable! My platoon just gave it their all, covering that much ground with firepower, and all they managed to take down was one! Report this immediately, call in bombers to drop nuclear bombs, let's go back to our old ways, nuclear strike!"

There was a moment of silence in the channel, then another platoon leader's voice rang out, tinged with helplessness: "Why don't you look up at the sky? The Tau Empire's Air Clan and our air force are practically fighting tooth and nail. I don't think we'll be able to gain air superiority anytime soon."

Looking up, the platoon leader saw the contrails of fighter jet engines and flashes of fire from explosions flashing across the high clouds, like shooting stars in broad daylight, cruel yet magnificent.

"How about we try calling in a wave of conventional artillery fire first and see how it goes?" someone suggested.

This compromise proposal was immediately approved by everyone. The platoon leader then immediately ordered, "Communications officer! Contact the artillery positions at the rear!"

The company's communications officer immediately knelt down, extended the walkie-talkie antenna on his back to its maximum length, and began adjusting the frequency to call out: "Heilong, Heilong! This is the 7th Company, observer coordinates: grid QL (3452, 2433), requesting artillery support, please respond if you hear me!"

Amidst the crackling of the electrical current, the call went surprisingly smoothly, and a steady voice quickly came through the receiver: "Seventh Company, Black Dragon received, please send target information."

"Target coordinates: Grid QL (359, 257), repeat, Grid QL (359, 257). Requesting rapid firing of high-explosive shells to execute suppression mission, over."

"So wide?" The other person's tone was clearly surprised; this coordinate almost covered a large area of ​​ruins in front of them.

The correspondent sighed helplessly, "Because we don't know exactly where those Indian birdmen are hiding! They're like rats!"

"...Received. The shelling will arrive in five minutes. Take cover. Over."

(End of this chapter)