I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 226 Not a Matter of Life or Death, Just Grabs and Scratches

Reinhard sat cross-legged in a relatively clean corner of the trench, his massive frame making him look like a statue crammed into the mud. His fingers swiped rapidly across the holographic screen of the tactical data panel, recording observation data from the past month. Just then, BUG approached, its heavy footsteps causing Reinhard to look up.

"Sir, what are you doing?" BUG asked curiously.

“Record it,” Reinhard replied succinctly, casually turning off the data pad's screen and retracting it into the card slot.

His gaze fell on BUG. The ordinary soldier in front of him was wearing a heavy suit of armor, with a huge metal backpack on his back, and a thick pipe connected to the promethium flamethrower in his hand.

"What are you doing?"

“We were just about to burn these flowers and plants,” BUG shrugged, kicking the purple vines that had spread along the edge of the trench and pulsated like veins. “You’ve seen how these things have grown more and more luxuriantly over the past month. We can’t handle the ones that are too far away, but at least we have to burn this patch of ground right here.”

“Is there any pattern or experience involved?” Reinhard asked, his brain automatically categorizing and analyzing the information. “Isn’t once a month a bit too long? I’ve been here for at least a month before I saw you preparing to carry out this task.”

“This is mainly a logistical problem…” BUG said helplessly. “If I could, I would like to burn it every day. But the promethium fuel isn’t delivered every day, and the supply officer said we’re using it up too quickly. I can’t possibly spend my own money to buy promethium to burn this unprofitable stuff, can I?”

Reinhard shook his head slightly, dismissing the latter part of the bug's statement as a common complaint among ordinary soldiers. Where could an ordinary soldier possibly purchase a strategic resource like promethium?

Looking at the sergeant squad leader who always managed to surprise him, Reinhard remained silent for a long time before finally asking, "Don't you find it strange? An Astartes, spending the past month writing and drawing, barely firing a single shot, leaving all the fighting to you?"

Bug paused for a moment, then a surge of joy filled him. This personal question, unrelated to the war, could it be… that he had a chance to unlock a side quest involving this Space Marine?

So he thought about it carefully for a moment, and tentatively said, "Isn't your Emperor's Scythe a sub-organization of the Ultramarines? I've heard that the Ultramarines like to work with documents, codes, and data tables, which is normal, isn't it?"

“That’s true in theory, but rather than cold legal texts, we, the Emperor’s Scythe, are more inclined to embrace the primal war impulses that the Gene Seed brings us…” Reinhard’s explanation was abruptly interrupted by a piercing, air-tearing whistling sound.

"Holy crap!" Bug, who was always on the front lines, almost instinctively jumped into the bunker. "Terren's bombardment! The big ones are coming! Take cover!"

Heavy spore bombs slammed into the area around the position. Although they failed to directly kill the Suicide Bombers and Space Marines who reacted in time, the violent explosions and shockwaves successfully wrecked the already rudimentary trenches, sending dirt and rubble flying everywhere.

“Sir, get ready,” BUG said to Reinhard, peeking out of the bunker, wiping the mud off his mask. “This time you can’t just handle paperwork; you have to get to the battlefield.”

The Tyranids demonstrated their reasoning behind BUG's statement through their actions. A dense purple spore fog surged towards the position like a tsunami, and at the forefront of that fog, a slayer the size of a small siege tank charged forward with heavy steps, its four massive bone scythes gleaming with a deadly cold light in the fog.

The experienced players who had quickly ducked into the anti-tank bunker also got up. When they saw the scene, they were not afraid at all; instead, their eyes lit up as if they had seen a rare loot.

"I'll tie the molten metal bombs, you cover me!" "Get lost, get lost, I'll tie them! I have plenty of molten metal bombs!"

"How dare your son steal credit from his father?! This is mine!"

Why did you skip the discussion and so tacitly jump into the struggle for execution rights? And even the opportunity for a suicide bombing attack has to be fought for... Reinhard once again marveled at the uniqueness of this group of people who went to their deaths.

“We don’t need to resort to such extreme measures as self-destruction.” Reinhard intervened in time to stop the fanatical soldiers. He stood up, his massive body like a mountain, and said confidently, “From now on, follow my command, and we can take care of it at minimal cost.”

“No, sir,” BUG immediately shook his head, “some things…”

He didn't finish his sentence. At that moment, four swift black shadows suddenly darted out from the thick fog on the side, lunging at the two! They were four Tyrannical warriors! Reinhard's superhuman senses hadn't even realized when these Tyrannical warriors had gotten so close until they launched their attack!

But this distance is enough for a Space Marine.

Reinhard's left-hand explosive pistol roared instantly, a single explosive round precisely shattering the head of the foremost samurai. Simultaneously, he drew his combat dagger with his right hand, twisting his body at an incomprehensible angle, the dagger tracing a deadly arc as it severed the claws of the second samurai, then plunged it into its throat. In a flash, he kicked the third samurai away, his explosive pistol firing again, blasting him apart mid-air.

The three powerful Tyrannical warriors were cleanly and efficiently dealt with in less than two seconds.

Reinhard turned to look at BUG, ​​bracing himself for the sight of him being torn to pieces. Instead, he saw BUG thrust his tactical knife deep into the head of a futilely struggling samurai bug.

Bug struggled to pull out his tactical knife, taking away the last bit of life from the Samurai Bug. He shook off the brain matter and bodily fluids from the knife, turned to Reinhard, and exclaimed in amazement, "Wow, that's it? Awesome, sir! If it were me, I would definitely be dead."

Reinhard's gaze, however, fell on BUG's side. There, a deep gash, several centimeters long, had been cut open by the Samurai Insect's bone blade, and blood was gushing out. Logically speaking, after suffering such a severe injury that could expose internal organs, he should immediately be in hemorrhagic shock, accompanied by a series of death-threatening symptoms such as confusion, dilated pupils, and disordered vital signs.

But BUG was now standing in front of Reinhard as if nothing had happened, which made Reinhard seriously doubt the other's mortal identity once again. He reminded him in a deep voice, "You are injured."

"It's nothing, I've taken some medicine, it can suppress both internal and external bleeding and abdominal bloating," BUG said nonchalantly, even patting the armor next to the wound. "It's not a matter of life or death, just a scratch."

Just then, another whistling sound tore through the air. But Reinhard saw that BUG didn't even dodge this time, so he remained standing and didn't make any evasive movements.

These shells were clearly fired by the Deathbringer's artillery. They landed precisely in front of the position, but instead of exploding, they released large amounts of the Deathbringer's signature dark green poison gas. Tyrande's purple spore fog began to tear at and devour the Deathbringer's gas, the two deadly gases colliding violently. And when the Deathbringer's poison fog finally gained the upper hand and replaced Tyrande's spores, Reinhard was surprised to find that his visibility had actually increased.

“Although we didn’t mean it that way at first, we later found that our gas was indeed very effective against Tyrannosaurus’s spore cloud,” BUG explained, his voice sounding somewhat muffled behind the gas mask. “Anyway, we’re used to being in this gas all the time, so it doesn’t matter.”

(End of this chapter)