I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 244 A Political Commissar's Day (Part 3)
Regan Montoya was a man of action—or rather, as a commissar, it was impossible for him not to be. Once he decided to delve deeper into this peculiar unit, he immediately began his investigation.

In his view, the foundation of an army lies in every soldier at the lowest level. To understand the full picture of those who "went to their deaths," contacting the soldiers who served them was an essential first step. So, he left the command post and began to patrol the regiment's camp alone.

The scene before him constantly challenged the military knowledge he had built up in the academy.

The soldiers huddled together in small groups; some were cleaning their weapons, but most were playing cards, chatting, or even sitting in groups watching some poorly made entertainment on data tablets, occasionally bursting into laughter. Their posture was slouching and unsteady, showing no semblance of military bearing. A lazy atmosphere permeated the air; were it not for their uniform armor, Regan would have almost thought he had stumbled upon the infamous Saffra chemical dogs' camp.

But the more this was the case, the more Regan felt that the "Death Squad" was not as simple as they appeared on the surface.

Putting everything else aside, the fact that the Deathbringers and the Tyranids have been fighting each other on the planet Plantim for years is astounding. How can an undisciplined and unrestrained army fight against a ferocious alien enemy from space for so long on a planet that was once a prosperous agricultural world but has now become a world of death?
They'll probably collapse completely during their first contact with the landing ship.

Every person has a motive for doing something. Beauty, money, power... these worldly desires can all be driving forces. But if someone is indifferent to these things, then their desires and motives are clearly on a higher level than these mundane things. And such a person is certainly more dangerous and more worthy of vigilance than those who crave beauty, money, and power.

There must be something deeper holding this unit together.

Just as Regan was pondering how to probe the deeper desires of these soldiers who were going to their deaths, several soldiers walked up to him and interrupted his thoughts with playful smiles: "Political Commissar, we saw you wandering around here all by yourself. Is something wrong?"

This was something Regan hadn't anticipated. He really didn't know whether to call these suicide bombers incredibly audacious or overly outgoing. Taking the initiative to strike up a conversation with the political commissar—was this something a normal soldier would do?
In fact, the people going to their deaths not only dared to talk to the political commissar, but they also dared to talk to the judges. The judges would even say "See you next time" warmly before leaving.

Of course, Regan didn't know that from the players' perspective, you, an important NPC with the title of "Political Commissar," were wandering around the camp alone, occasionally showing a thoughtful expression. It was as if you had a golden exclamation mark above your head. Why wouldn't they come up and try to trigger the quest?

However, Regan reacted quickly, immediately realizing that this might be an excellent opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of those who had gone to their deaths. He went along with it, saying, "I have indeed run into a problem... I've been here for so long and haven't eaten yet, and I'm a little hungry now. I'd like to have a meal with you all. No need for any special treatment, just your usual food will do."

Regan's words were clearly the result of careful consideration.

First, he had indeed not eaten for some time, so his request was reasonable. Second, eating together was not an unreasonable request and would not arouse the other party's suspicion, so it was easy to get their agreement. Finally, and most importantly, people are often most relaxed at the dinner table, and you might be able to extract some important information from their casual conversation.

However, to Regan's utter surprise, such a simple, reasonable, and even approachable request elicited a look of difficulty from all the men facing their deaths.

“Um…” the first person to speak stammered, “Are you… are you sure you want to eat with us? And you really want to eat what we usually eat?” He emphasized the words “what we usually eat”.

“Yes, although I am the political commissar, I don’t think I need to receive special treatment when it comes to food,” Regan said righteously. “Since you can eat it, I don’t believe I can’t!”

The men who were about to die immediately turned around and huddled together, whispering among themselves.

"What the heck? Why did he have to make such a request? What are we going to do?"

"How about we just make him some nutritional paste or porridge and that's it?"

"No way, he said he wanted to eat our usual food, which doesn't match the mission description. What if this NPC shoots us? Even if he doesn't, the mission is definitely going to fail."

"Should we really feed him what we usually eat? Wouldn't he die on the spot? Then the mission would fail?"

"Sigh, let's just take it one step at a time. Maybe he'll change his mind after he sees what we're eating? Let's take it with us first."

Seeing the dilemma of those facing death, most people might wonder what rare delicacies or bizarre dishes these guys usually eat, and then have second thoughts.

But Regan is a political commissar. Can a political commissar be an ordinary person?
So far, he wasn't afraid; instead, his resolve strengthened. As a political commissar, retreat and fear were the first words crossed out of his vocabulary. The more the soldiers tried to conceal their actions, the more it indicated that an important secret was hidden behind it.

He had initially only intended to gain a glimpse into the unit through a small part of its daily operations, hoping to analyze it from everyday details. But now, this meal itself has evolved from a window into a puzzle that must be solved.

What exactly were they eating? Was it some kind of grotesque plant or animal unique to the planet Plantim? Or some alien creature forbidden by Imperial dogma? Or perhaps... something he couldn't even imagine?
Regan's eyes sharpened. He was now genuinely curious about what these mysterious and eccentric creatures ate. He had to see for himself.

And Regan will soon find out that his three conjectures—[the unique flora and fauna of Plantium], [the alien creatures not permitted by Imperial dogma], and [the completely unimaginable things]—are all correct in a sense.

(End of this chapter)