I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 216 Wow, he's a veteran!
Standing on that still slightly churning, fleshy ground, Agman boomed his voice like thunder through the megaphone of his helmet: "You wanted to lure us here, and now we're here. And you?"

His voice carried far, piercing through the purple spore mist that filled the air. Then came a deathly silence.

Agman was now absolutely certain that this was a carefully laid trap by the Tyranids, a classic example of luring the enemy deep into their territory. But he showed no intention of ordering a retreat.

The prerequisite for luring the enemy deep into your territory is that the enemy has the capability to wipe out the lured troops. But who will they be facing?

They were a full 1,100 fully armed, battle-hardened Astartes! They were 3,000 clever Oglins equipped with tower shields! They were hundreds of thousands of fearless and unwavering warriors who went to their deaths!
Agarman believed that with their current strength, even if Tyrion used a massive amount of biomass to create another Norn messenger, the result would only be that it would be completely crushed by this torrent of steel and flesh!

The silence didn't last long; the ominous atmosphere made every player and Space Marine instinctively grip their weapons tighter. Just then, a sharp whistling sound came from the sky.

The human forces reacted immediately. The Oglins raised their shield towers high above their heads, while the suicide squads sought cover. Ironically, after a series of bloody battles, the hallmark of the Tyranid attacks on Plantim was no longer the piercing screams of the swarms or the dense shadows on the horizon, but rather the whooshing sound of bone spikes, spore projectiles, and various live projectiles tearing through the air.

And when a real battle breaks out, the Terran's bombardment, like the soldiers going to their deaths, is relentless. In fact, compared to the occasional "battlefield surprises" of the carefree soldiers accidentally hitting friendly fire, the Terran's bombardment, with its unified planning and the will of the Hive, is virtually free of such errors.

Looking at the death rain composed of bone spikes and acid sacs in the sky, and the swarm of insects surging like black waves on the ground, seemingly about to devour and overwhelm everything, Agman simply watched all of this coldly through his helmet, a contemptuous smile curving his lips.

"That's it?"

"boom--!"

The Tyranid waves collided violently with the phalanx of the assault team. The Tyranids at the very front, upon hitting the Oglin's impenetrable shield line, were as if they had struck a wall of sighs, instantly pulverized by the immense impact.

From the sky, the entire commando unit would appear as a solid reef protruding from the sea. Despite the relentless onslaught of Tyrannosaurus's waves, which crashed and shattered it, the reef itself remained steadfast and unmoved.

Even the suicide squads composed of mortals attacked by Tyrion were not in a good situation.

A tank-like executioner roared into the ranks of the suicide squad, its massive scythe claws unleashing a storm of blood with every swing. However, several quick-witted suicide squad players immediately rushed forward. Instead of directly confronting the behemoth, they moved around it like bullfighters, wielding tactical knives and skillfully maneuvering, constantly drawing its attention and keeping it completely at bay.

Just as the executioner was getting increasingly annoyed by these "flies," several other men, facing certain death, brazenly pushed an automatic cannon right in front of him, their audacity reaching almost face-to-face.

"Fire!"

The heavy shells, fired at close range, effortlessly tore through the executioner's thick armor, and the relentless, rapid-fire bombardment reduced half of its body to a pulp. With a mournful cry of despair, the behemoth crashed to the ground.

The surrounding victims immediately erupted in cheers and applause.

A new player looked at one of the men fighting the executioner with admiration and said, "Holy crap! Bro, that was amazing! How did you do that?" "Hehe, basic stuff, nothing special," the player said smugly, wiping his gas mask and practically wagging his tail. "When you've been playing this game for over a decade like me, you'll be able to do that too."

"Holy crap, you're a veteran! My apologies for not recognizing you!"

"I admire you so much, veteran!"

Just as this player was contentedly enjoying the praise and ridicule from other players, a stream of acid fell from the sky and landed right on his head.

"Fuck-"

With a soft thud, the player who had just been enjoying applause from others suddenly turned into a skeletal skeleton emitting blue smoke, and collapsed helplessly to the ground.

"Oh my god, my seniority is finished!"

The surrounding survivors let out a strange cry and scattered instantly like mercury spilling onto the ground, continuing to resist the next wave of Tyranid attacks without looking back.

In fact, if this player had remained vigilant, he could have easily dodged the projectile attack with his skill. For example, the other players who were helping him restrain the executioner successfully dodged in advance, without wasting even a few seconds to respawn or reassess the situation.

This lesson teaches us that it's best not to get distracted on the battlefield.

Agman stood firmly at the front line, his explosive pistol spitting out death with a cold and precise rhythm. With each short burst, a Tyrannical warrior attempting to cross the line or a Licat leaping from the shadows was inevitably blown in the head, turning into a splattered mass of flesh and blood.

As he calmly changed magazines, he activated the megaphone on his helmet again, his booming voice, filled with undisguised sarcasm, echoing across the entire battlefield: "Why are you still using the same old faces? Nothing new! You're not even as good as the AI-controlled dolls we use in training! At this level of intensity, we could fight you all day!"

Tyronn did not respond to this.

The Hive Will is utterly devoid of emotion and utterly indifferent to the casualties of these lower creatures. They continue to stubbornly and tirelessly crash against the reef formed by the Oglins and Astartes, wave after wave, like a tide manipulated by an invisible hand.

Countless Tyrannosaurus Rex were instantly pulverized upon impact with the tower shield, their filthy bodily fluids and shattered carapaces splattering everywhere. But their brethren would immediately trample over their corpses and continue this suicidal charge, constantly crushing and surging forward.

Soon, a gruesome ramp made of Tyranid corpses piled up in front of the battle line, but this ironically provided a better path for the subsequent Zerg swarms to attack. The battle turned into a pure war of attrition, a clash of wills.

(End of this chapter)