I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 195 Then it's not surprising.
Amidst the squad leader's roar that could have blown off the top of a trench, and with his subsequent explanations of firsthand experience and hard-won lessons, these novice players finally realized just how important the tactical guidelines on the forum truly were.

Seeing that this group of rookies was finally starting to look like something and no longer resembled a bunch of armed picnickers, the squad leader finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Just then, a series of heavy footsteps came, so loud that the ground trembled slightly.

Two Oglin players, named "Big Bear" and "Little Bear," walked over from the other end of the trench, dragging a mechanical priest dressed in a red robe along with them. Little Bear spoke first, his voice booming, "Look what we found!"

"Alright, alright, put me down right now!" The Mechanic player struggled in mid-air. "Can't you see my ID above my head?!"

"Nonsense, of course we saw it," Xiong Er replied matter-of-factly. "If we hadn't, we would have just opened fire. Why would we have bothered bringing you here?"

"Tch, I won't stoop to Oglin's level." The mechanical priest player muttered, straightened his robes after being put down, and then enthusiastically approached the group, "Good afternoon, brothers. May I ask which one of you is your class monitor?"

"I am," the class monitor replied instinctively, remaining wary despite being a fellow player. After all, unsolicited kindness is always suspicious.

"Very well, I've heard so much about you." The Mechanic player casually made a polite remark, then glanced around the position. "It seems like your heavy firepower is a bit lacking. I only see heavy lumberjacks and grenade launchers."

"Standard equipment, but none of this counts as our personal merits," the squad leader said. "Besides that, there's a thermobaric bomb already buried under the position. But this is only enough to deal with the Blade Bugs and Samurai Bugs. If the Executioner Licatt or something comes along, we'll probably be chopped into mincemeat."

Upon hearing this, the Mechanic player smiled confidently: "Don't worry, now that I'm here, you will never again suffer from the fear of insufficient firepower."

As soon as he finished speaking, the Mechanic player abruptly pulled open his red robe. A jaw-dropping scene unfolded—his robe and his mechanically modified torso were densely covered with all sorts of plasma weapons! From plasma pistols to plasma cannons, and even some experimental models whose names he couldn't recall, there were at least a hundred at a glance! The eerie blue glow of the coils nearly blinded everyone.

The squad leader was so shocked that his jaw almost fell off with a "click." He hurriedly and frantically put his jaw back on through his helmet.

"What does this mean? Why is there so much plasma?"

"Hmph." The other party smiled smugly, took out a metal nameplate from his pocket, and showed the class monitor the special gear symbol on it.

"Riza?" The squad leader's expression changed slightly beneath his helmet. "Then it's not surprising, then it's not surprising..."

"Class monitor," a newbie player next to me whispered, "what's Riza?"

“A world of forging,” the squad leader replied in a low voice, “is full of mad scientists obsessed with plasma weapons. It’s said that every year, tens of thousands of mechano-priests in Riza blow themselves up trying to improve plasma technology…”

"Wow..." The other newbies looked at this Mechanic player with admiration in their eyes.

"I alone account for about one percent of the priest deaths in Riza each year," the Mechanic player boasted proudly. "But because of this, my innovation and understanding of plasma weapons are progressing at a much faster pace than that of normal priests. Now, my research has entered the practical testing phase, and you are fortunate enough to be my first selections. I hereby announce that your class's weapons have been upgraded! Forget those sissy flashlights, everyone come up and pick a plasma weapon!" The novice players immediately cheered and excitedly stepped forward, each picking a plasma weapon that exuded a dangerous aura. Even the two Oglins stepped forward and took one.

The squad leader remained motionless. He looked at the Mechanic player and asked the question that had been bothering him: "How do you manage to die a hundred times a year and still maintain your priest status?"

“Some players have already become sages,” he said casually. “As soon as I die, I just go find him and take the qualification test immediately. Death only resets my physical body, not the knowledge in my brain, so I can usually pass smoothly.”

After saying that, the mechanic player scratched his metal head with some distress: "But this will make me owe people favors, and I'm owing more and more favors now. I'm not worried about having too many debts... Sigh, are you going to take it or not? If you don't take it, I'm going to the next shift."

"Take it! Why wouldn't we take free plasma?" The squad leader immediately reached out and picked out the largest-looking plasma gun with the thickest coil from the pile of "mobile arsenals." After all, in the brutal universe of Warhammer, bigger is better, and more is better.

Everyone was satisfied as they switched to the brand-new plasma weapons, tossing aside their old laser flashlights and lovingly stroking the cold metal and the dark blue coils on the guns.

After taking what he needed, the Mechanic from Riza closed his red robe, now adorned with deadly weapons, concealing the armory that could stop anyone's heart. He glanced at his air quality analysis data and said in a synthesized voice, "Speaking of which, why is there a faint stench here? Is some corpse rotting somewhere?"

The squad leader paused for a moment, then realized what was happening. He turned sharply to the other players, his voice carrying an ominous premonition: "Did you guys... not throw the bodies from that incident into the acid pit?"

The newbies looked at each other, their eyes darting around, and finally they all lowered their heads, like a flock of quails that had done something wrong. No one spoke, but their silence said it all.

The squad leader knew he had guessed correctly, but he no longer had the energy to shout and yell. He just took a deep breath and waved.

"Hurry up, throw them all into the acid pit. Even Tyren's blood is made of micro-Zerg. If we leave it alone, who knows what kind of monsters will hatch? It'll cause trouble. When we get back, I'll teach you how to open the Ant-Cow cans."

The moment the words were spoken, the previously lifeless atmosphere was instantly ignited.

"Long live the monitor!"

"Oh, oh, oh! Opening the can!"

"Long live the Emperor!"

The newbies erupted in thunderous cheers. They swarmed to the corner of the trench, clumsily lifting the several already rotting corpses, and marched in a grand procession toward the acid treatment pit behind them, humming off-key marches as they went.

(End of this chapter)