I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 219 If you don't come to Macurag, Macurag will come to you!
Under the cover of a rearguard line formed by hundreds of thousands of fallen warriors, as impregnable as steel reefs, Agman's assault team successfully withdrew back to human-controlled territory. The deafening battle cries and the shrieks of the Zerg gradually faded behind them, eventually swallowed by the silence behind the lines, but the lingering sense of carnage seemed to still haunt the power armor of every Space Marine.

As soon as Agman returned to the temporary command post, before he could even remove his helmet, EGO was already before him. The commander of the Suicide Squad on Plantim eagerly asked, "How was it? Did the raid yield any useful information?"

At this moment, Agman's thoughts were still immersed in the hundreds of thousands of mortal warriors who had volunteered to become a wall of flesh and blood, buying them time to retreat. He was slightly taken aback when he heard EGO's purely result-oriented question, but he quickly recovered and composed himself.

“Yes, we have indeed obtained a lot of information,” Agman’s voice was a little hoarse, “but whether it will be useful is another matter.”

Then, Agman recounted his experiences during the raid from beginning to end, including the unfortunate brother who died in an accident, and the strange black flower of flesh and blood found on the fallen soldier's body. After listening attentively, EGO crossed his arms and fell into deep thought.

After some time, he said, still puzzled, "According to what you're saying, I get the feeling... that Tyron is going to put down roots in Prantim?"

EGO displayed a strategic situation map of the entire planet on the holographic sandbox. Countless red dots representing Terran biomass and blue dots representing human defense lines intertwined, forming a stalemate with jagged edges.

He said in bewilderment, “Strange, this war is getting stranger and stranger… Shouldn’t the Tyranids be bandits who eat up planets and run away? How have they become stationary bandits? They’re polluting the land and corpses in this bizarre way, as if they’re transforming the ecological environment instead of simply devouring them.”

EGO finally gave up on this thought process that was beyond his comprehension. He waved his hand, as if to chase away these worries, and muttered, "Fine, if they want to fight like this, then we'll fight like this. Anyway, our forces are inexhaustible. We can just keep at it until the universe reaches heat death..."

At this moment, Agman finally couldn't hold back any longer. He interrupted EGO's somewhat frivolous thoughts: "Don't you care about the warriors under your command?"

"What?" EGO was momentarily confused by Agman's question. He looked at the holographic sand table, thinking that Agman was referring to the overall situation of the battle between the various defensive zones and the Tyranids. "All the suicide bombers have reacted by now. The front lines are fighting the Tyranids who are trying to advance. The strategy is at a stalemate. You don't need to worry about a repeat of the situation where a large number of positions were lost due to a surprise attack like before."

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Agman shook his head, emphasizing his words. “I’m talking about the hundreds of thousands of people who went to their deaths with our commando team! Not a single one of them came back to cover us. Don’t you even ask them a question?”

EGO then realized what was happening.

For these players, death is simply a black screen followed by a few seconds of respawn. Even if hundreds of thousands or millions die, it's just a fluctuating number on the battle report; there's no real "loss of manpower."

But for a Space Marine company commander, a native of this world, EGO's indifferent attitude was somewhat chilling. Those were hundreds of thousands of living, breathing Astronaut soldiers! Even if they considered human life worthless, shouldn't a commander at least inquire about the details of the losses after such a massive casualty? Hundreds of thousands of straws piled together would still form a small, impressive mountain!
EGO immediately switched into acting mode. The casualness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by solemnity and reverence. He gazed at Agman and, in a tone as if reciting an epic poem, solemnly said, "To die in the life-or-death struggle against the Xenomorphs, they died a worthy death. I am happy for them and strive to ensure that all those who go to their deaths can die in a more meaningful way."

Agman stared at him silently, his red visor on his power armor helmet revealing no emotion. After a moment, he sighed softly, “Maybe… I was being a bit dramatic. Let’s change the subject. What should the commando team be doing now? I don’t want to stay here doing nothing.”

Seeing that he had successfully gotten away with it, EGO smiled and said, "That's exactly what I wanted to tell you. You don't need to worry about those positions that are in a stalemate or where we have the advantage. I'll send you a list of those positions that are at a disadvantage and on the verge of collapse. You lead the assault team to be the firefighters and give them a hand..."

Beyond Plantim's flesh mill, in the distant depths of space, the balance of power in the war is shifting decisively due to this protracted stalemate.

Macurag. The homeworld of the Ultramarines, the heart of the Ultramar system, the brightest beacon on the eastern frontier of the Imperium of Man.

At this moment, the solemn and tranquil order that once characterized the planet's azure orbit has been shattered. Hundreds of enormous shadows are slowly emerging from the planet's synchronous orbital dock, like a horde of ancient behemoths awakening from their slumber.

Battlecruisers, attack cruisers, frigates, destroyers… a fleet large enough to strike fear into the hearts of any enemy is assembling. Their hulls are painted with a sacred U-shaped insignia, gleaming against the deep cosmic background like a nebula of steel.

At the very forefront of this nebula, leading the entire fleet, was the legendary Queen of Glory-class battleship, the "Radiance of Macragge".

This colossal ship is itself a fortress-monastery flying through the void, its bow like a sword piercing the darkness, its hull arrayed with massive cannons and light spears like the armor of a god. It was once the vessel of Primarch Robert Guilliman, a symbol of the Ultramarines Chapter's supreme glory.

Prantim's long-term persistence has given Macragg ample time—a precious time sufficient to mobilize the entire sector's defenses.

The Ultramarines made the most of this time, which had been bought with the lives of countless warriors. They recalled patrol fleets scattered across various star systems, called back combat companies on missions, assembled hundreds of sub-corps that had come to protect the Primarch, and wound up every gear of the war machine.

They retracted their fists, assumed their stances, and prepared to unleash their full power to deliver Tyron's strongest and most lethal blow.

On the bridge of the "Radiance of Macragge," Chapter Commander Maneus Calgar stood before his command throne, gazing through the massive armored observation window at the enormous fleet below, poised for battle. A torrent of data constantly refreshed on his tactical helmet display, each dot representing a warship brimming with pure fury.

The defenders of Plantim had bought them the opportunity to fight. Now, it was their turn to end the war.

(End of this chapter)