I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 235 Base Swap Tactics
The question of where the Astartes went can actually be explained in two words: they moved to a new home.

Yes, if Terran can use high-level units to behead humans, why can't humans turn the tables and behead Terran? Not to mention that the officers and soldiers of the Death Knights look almost identical, making them very difficult to distinguish; while Terran's node creatures, as long as they are the largest and most stylish on the battlefield, you can't go wrong by attacking them.

From their inception, the Astartes were positioned as the elite spearhead of the Imperium. Since the Horus Rebellion, the massive Space Marine legions were reorganized into chapters of only a thousand men at their peak, their expertise lying in special missions such as decapitation strikes and raids. To send them into positional warfare against enemies numbering in the millions? Unless they were chapters exceptionally skilled in this area, wouldn't that be utterly foolish?

They should certainly leverage the Astartes' agility and superior individual combat capabilities. Keeping them crouching in trenches alongside the dying would be a huge waste of their fighting strength. Moreover, it's not fair to say they have any particular advantage in the field—given the Astartes' unusually large physique, engaging the Terrans in a somewhat cramped trench would make them easy targets for the now-ranged Terran swarms, who prioritize long-range firepower.

Although the Astartes' terracotta power armor is much more durable than the insect's carapace, who would wear a bulletproof vest and deliberately take bullets? Perhaps many who are going to their deaths would do so, but the Astartes here are clearly not of Peditian origin, and their genetic seeds all come from Guilliman rather than Vograim, so they don't have a penchant for taking hits.

At this moment, a dozen Space Marines were quietly stalking through the deep purple spore fog, their power armor's servo systems switched to silent mode, almost blending into the environment.

"The fighting among those going to their deaths is fierce," Reinhard whispered through the helmet's built-in communication channel. The sounds of explosions and roars from afar were clearly audible, even from several kilometers away.

“Focus on the mission, Reinhard brothers,” the leading Ultramarines sergeant replied in a deep voice, his tone steady and firm.

Clearly, this sergeant had great confidence in the suicide squad and wasn't worried at all that the position would fall without them, leaving him and his men with no way to retreat. This was understandable; in his view, the suicide squad had held out for so long with their original rudimentary defenses, and now that they had moved to a new position with terrain and fortifications several times better than before, how could they possibly not hold out?
Moreover, in the previous battles, he had personally witnessed the almost insane resilience of this mortal army. They treated death as a resource to be used, building walls with corpses and exchanging their lives for the lives of the insects. He had full confidence in such an army.

His confidence in leading these fellow warriors from different chapters to slay Tyrannosaurus Rex in such low visibility conditions speaks volumes. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to convince these Space Marines from various chapters.

Where does this confidence come from? It's simple: the Terran ranged units are constantly firing massive artillery barrages, which means there must be a high-level node creature directing it from the rear. We'll follow the sound of the artillery fire, sneak over, and take that thing out.

It was a very simple plan, but not a single Space Marine objected. On the ever-changing battlefield, variables are endless, and the simpler and clearer the plan, the better.

If someone really wants to pull off some intricate scheme, one step after another, to prove their unparalleled wisdom... then the likely outcome is that they'll end up like Tzeentch, whose grand plans almost always go wrong, and in the end they'll still stubbornly insist that "everything went according to plan."

His only real success was probably instigating Magnus to destroy the Web... but to be fair, that plan wasn't exactly that complicated. And while I've been chatting with you all, the Astartes have quietly bypassed the Zerg's vanguard and arrived on a bio-modified land.

Enormous, tumor-like biological cannons were deeply rooted in the earth, each pulse unleashing deadly acidic spores. And at the center of these war behemoths, they had successfully located the node creature in command.

How could it locate its target so precisely within this dense fog? Because that thing was constantly emitting a blue psionic light, like a blue light bulb with a wattage of several hundred watts. If it weren't for this spore mist obscuring it, it would probably be clearly visible for several kilometers around.

It was a grotesque combination of brain and tendons, its enormous head taking up almost four-fifths of its body, its brain tissue practically exposed, its complex grooves pulsating in sync with the ominous blue psionic light. Invisible psionic commands rippled from its body, precisely controlling the firing timing of each biological cannon.

This... is obviously quite normal. After all, coordinating hundreds or thousands of blade worms and gun worms to carry out complex tactical infiltration and artillery coordination is something that would be impossible for a creature at this stage if its brain tissue was not well-developed and its psionic field was not strong enough.

The enemy has appeared, so what should we do next? The Astartes all turned their gazes to the Ultramarines officer leading the team.

This put the Ultramarine Sergeant in a difficult position. If the target was simply muscular and armed with sharp weapons, that would be one thing; if everyone rushed in and fought to the death, the outcome would be uncertain.

But the creature before him was clearly of extremely high psionic power. As a seasoned veteran, he instantly analyzed several assault plans, but the success rate of each plan was pitifully low. He could feel the intensity of that psionic energy; it was a pure, overwhelming force of will.

If they rushed forward rashly, it wouldn't need to do anything else after it reacted. It would simply use its psionic energy to freeze these dozen or so people in place for a few seconds, and then the surrounding bio-cannons acting as guards would turn around and fire a volley. How could these dozen or so Astartes possibly survive?
Space Marines are the Emperor's Spear, not mindless berserkers. Every brother's life is precious and cannot be wasted on a reckless charge. At this moment, the sergeant even felt a pang of nostalgia for the Oglins who went to their deaths. If those big guys were here, there would be nothing to say; they would just charge in and be done with it, without having to think about anything else.

After a brief moment of thought, the sergeant made the safest decision.

"Keep quiet, don't make a sound," he ordered all his comrades through the communicator. "I'm contacting the rear and requesting artillery and Thunderhawk gunboat support."

(End of this chapter)