I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 49 Lord Eugrim delivers a crushing blow to the Cult of Genestealers

The order was given, and the line of the suicide squad, like a steel serpent, began to advance once more through the dark underground tunnels. The vanguard, naturally, was the 7th Platoon, who excelled at close combat and charging.

The cold metal, the dripping pipes, the distant roar of unknown machinery—everything seemed the same as before. However, as they rounded a massive, load-bearing column supporting the superstructure, the vanguard of both sides collided without warning.

On one side were Astral Army players dressed in standard military uniforms, carrying weapons, and exuding an aura of "I am a loyal lackey of the Empire."

On the other side, emerging from the shadows was a horde of monsters with extremely obvious mutations and distinctive features that were impossible to mistake.

There were no shouts, no warnings, not even a hesitant glance. Neither side had any possibility of misinterpretation, so they immediately started fighting without a word.

"For the Emperor!"

With a roar, the leading player scouts didn't fire. Instead, they drew their gleaming combat knives and buzzing chainsaws. The roar of the chainsaws' engines instantly drowned out all other noises, replacing the gunfire that should have been heard. Without hesitation, they charged towards the horde of deformed monsters.

The vanguard of the Genestealer cult on the other side was a living, breathing alien spectacle, crawling out of a nightmare. Their main components were first- and second-generation hybrids and mutants.

Leading the charge were the first-generation hybrids closest to their alien ancestors. These creatures were deformed and terrifying, hunched over, charging at high speed in a posture somewhere between crawling and running. Beneath their pale or purplish skin, the twisted outlines of muscles were faintly visible, and their backs and shoulders were covered with scattered, insect-like chitinous scales. Most horrifying were their arms; almost all first-generation hybrids possessed three, or even four, arms. The two main arms might still be gripping rusty automatic or explosive pistols, while the additional one or two appendages emerging from their ribs or shoulder blades had evolved into sharp, scythe-like bony claws. Their large, smooth heads were hairless, replaced by cold, lifeless, obsidian-like compound eyes that reflected only a bloodthirsty desire.

Following closely behind are the second-generation hybrids, whose form is closer to human than that of the first-generation hybrids. They can now walk upright with difficulty, but still retain obvious alien features. They are generally taller than normal humans, their skin is covered with unnatural textures and spots, and their foreheads are high and bear the marks of hardened carapace. Most of them have only two arms, but their fingers are long and sharp, with nails like blades. Unlike the pure bestiality of the first-generation hybrids, these second-generation hybrids have an inhuman cunning and intelligence in their eyes. They will use cover and their weapons to provide suppressive fire, offering cover for their brethren in front.

Among this vanguard force, the most conspicuous and terrifying were undoubtedly those known as "abnormalities." They were "failed products" of genetic mutation, yet also the purest tools of destruction on the battlefield. These creatures resembled bloated, massive lumps of flesh, their bodies covered in asymmetrical, wildly proliferating muscles; one arm might be twice as thick as another. They wielded heavy industrial implements—massive power hammers, buzzing rock drills, or metal pipes snapped directly from walls. They were intellectually deficient, uttering meaningless roars, their eyes filled only with pure brute force and brutality. Every step they took sent a heavy thud through the metal ground as they charged purposefully towards the players' lines, ready to smash everything in their path into a bloody pulp with their "weapons."

The gene-stealers let out sharp howls; most of the intelligent hybrids among them believed the battle would end quickly. After all, they held an absolute advantage in both numbers and individual skill—especially the incredibly strong aberrations and the ferocious, swift first-generation hybrids. To them, these mortal astral soldiers were no different from lambs to the slaughter.

In fact, the skirmish ended very quickly—but it was they who were ended.

At the eye of the storm was an Oglin wielding a massive iron bar.

The leader of Class 7, player "Big Eagle Police," was like a runaway battering ram, plunging headlong into the densest array of gene stealers with an agility and precision completely disproportionate to his massive size.

He displayed a chilling combat intelligence that was completely unlike anything Oglin possessed.

A mutant roared, swinging its heavy power hammer in a deadly arc, the resulting wind pressure making the air whistle. Any normal Oglin would likely have chosen to take the hit head-on. But Eagle didn't. Just as the power hammer was about to strike his abdomen, the core muscles of his massive body suddenly engaged, pivoting on his heels and stepping back, his body slightly to the side. This exquisitely executed dodge allowed him to narrowly avoid the blow that would have cleaved him in two. As he retreated, his massive iron bar swung upwards, using the centrifugal force of his spinning body to smash precisely and ruthlessly into the mutant's protruding head. A tooth-grinding sound of bones and carapace shattering filled the air as the mutant's head was smashed into its own chest cavity.

His mastery of his strength was unparalleled. Against the thick-skinned, muscular mutants, he would unleash his full power, each strike heavy and powerful, whipping up a fierce gust of wind. But against the relatively "fragile" first- and second-generation hybrids, the force of his iron club swings would abruptly diminish, leaving no room for excess. A swift sweeping blow would be just enough to shatter the second-generation hybrid's skull, yet he could instantly retract his weapon, never revealing a weakness due to excessive force. His attacks seemed meticulously calculated; any more force would be a waste, any less would be insufficient to deliver a fatal blow.

He processed the chaotic information on the battlefield at lightning speed. In the midst of the fierce fighting, his ears suddenly twitched slightly, catching the almost inaudible whistling sound of a grenade slicing through the air after a metal pin snapped open. It was a fragmentation grenade thrown from behind the lines by a cunning second-generation hybrid. Without even turning around, Eagle Policeman swung his massive iron bar like a baseball bat, tracing a perfect arc through the air, and with a crisp "bang," accurately deflected the grenade still in mid-air.

The grenade landed back in the gene stealers' own crowded formation, accompanied by a loud bang and several screams. The shockwave from the explosion sent several hybrids flying.

With just one man, the Great Eagle Guard was like a red-hot blade slicing through butter, completely shattering the formation of this gene-stealing vanguard. When the dust settled, his massive figure stood amidst the wreckage, purple blood still dripping from his iron rod. This alien vanguard, capable of inflicting heavy losses on any conventional astral legion, had nearly two-thirds of its members fall beneath his single iron rod.

(End of this chapter)