I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 5 Friends of the Imperial Guards
The metal carriage jolted violently along the rough road, throwing the players around like sardines in a can. The silence brought by the commissar's reprimand didn't last long. After confirming that the other party didn't seem to really intend to kill them to silence them, the players began a new round of discussion in hushed tones.

“Speaking of which,” one player lowered his voice, cleverly avoiding the commissar’s hearing, “we still don’t know how to level up in this game, do we?”

This question is like a pebble thrown into a pond, immediately creating ripples.

“Yeah,” another person chimed in, seemingly busy working on the virtual panel. “I’ve practically worn the panel out of my hand, and there’s nothing there except for my body data and ID. No experience bar, no skill tree, nothing at all.”

Ruan Wenbo steadied himself against the cold metal wall, and after a moment of contemplation, said, "It's normal for the mechanism to be imperfect during the closed beta... However, I do have a guess."

All eyes were on him.

“Since the production team has made every aspect of this world so realistic,” Ruan Wenbo slowly expressed his thoughts, “wouldn’t it be like in reality if we want to ‘upgrade’?”

"Reality?" The Oglin player in the corner scratched his head, looking puzzled. "What reality? The Warhammer world isn't realistic either."

However, other players quickly grasped Ruan Wenbo's implication. One player's eyes lit up, and he interjected, "You mean... we have to climb up the ranks in the Astral Army system on our own? To become stronger, we have to earn merit and receive rewards; to get new equipment, we have to get it ourselves; to become a Space Marine, we have to find the Geneseed and the Chapter's Trials ourselves?"

This speculation caused a moment of tension in the carriage.

"Isn't that a bit too hardcore?" one player questioned. "No guidance, no clear goals, you have to figure it all out on your own? How many people would be willing to keep playing like that?"

“This game has been hardcore from the very beginning,” Ruan Wenbo shook his head, but his tone was very firm. “Don’t forget, just that scene in the trailer where chunks of blood and flesh were thrown at you was enough to scare away a lot of people, wasn’t it?”

Deep within the subspace, beyond the perception of mortals, Bit quietly observed all of this.

This mortal named "Soft Doctor" guessed correctly.

The existence of players is itself a product of its sudden whim. It doesn't place too much hope on these fragile souls; their wisdom and power are insignificant on a cosmic scale.

However, their sheer numbers and immortality could offer a lifeline to the desperate humans of Peditian. Bit had no doubt about this. Simply by helping to hold a front line or clear an area overrun by aliens, the immortal players could achieve far greater results than an equal number of ordinary human troops.

However, when viewed from the perspective of the entire Milky Way galaxy, this effect becomes quite limited. Even if tens of millions of players are gathered at once, their influence can at most determine the fate of one or two planets. Not to mention the tedious journeys from one galaxy to another, which often take years or even decades, and would probably cause more than half of the players to log off.

Unless one's future power becomes stronger, strong enough to tear apart the veil of reality, allowing players to log in and out at will in any corner of the galaxy at any time.

Then they will no longer be simple "reinforcements," but a ghostly force capable of appearing at any critical historical juncture and turning the tide of history...

Thinking about this, Bit's mind experienced a strange fluctuation.

Then...wouldn't this just become the second Cursed Legion?
An immortal and indestructible ghost army composed of countless mortal souls, obeying its commands.

Now that's great, mortals also have their own cursed legion.

Bit temporarily relegated these somewhat eccentric ideas to a corner of his memory. Now was not the time to ponder such distant questions.

Its attention returned to the swaying troop carrier and to the ten vibrant yet fragile souls.

The rear hatch of the troop carrier slammed down, accompanied by a piercing metallic scraping sound, and a wave of heat mixed with gunpowder smoke, ozone, and a strong smell of blood rushed out.

Before the players inside the vehicle could even complain, they were kicked out one by one by Commissar Walter.

"Get out of the car! Quick! Get moving!"

What unfolded before them was a vivid depiction of purgatory. They were behind a makeshift position, with metal bunkers and sandbags scattered across the scorched earth. In the distance, blinding beams of energy occasionally ripped through the dim sky, each explosion sending the earth trembling. And close at their feet, piles of corpses dressed in identical uniforms lay.

"By the Emperor! You guys are way too much like recruits!" Commissar Walter covered his face, letting out a groan of near despair. He looked at the ten guys in front of him, who were looking around like headless flies, and felt his temples throbbing.

Just as Ruan Wenbo had anticipated, the worst-case scenario unfolded. Walter extended his gloved hand, pointing to the gruesome carpet of corpses, mud, and shattered equipment, and declared in an unquestionable, commanding tone, "Your weapons are right there!"

Almost simultaneously, a bright red system notification popped up in the view of all players.

[Urgent Mission: Battlefield Preparation]

[Mission Objective: Find yourself a usable weapon within 15 minutes.]

[Task countdown: 14:59]

[Failure Penalty: You will face the Emperor's enemies bare-handed.]

"Holy crap, is this a hellish start?"

"Looting equipment from corpses? This game is too overpowered! I'm reporting it, it's abusive towards players!"

Despite their constant complaints, the players forced themselves to endure the nausea churning in their stomachs and charged into the pile of corpses as the countdown ticked down. They clumsily rummaged through the bodies of their predecessors, whose deaths were varied and bizarre. Some corpses were half-melted by energy weapons, while others were blasted to pieces, their faces frozen in the terror of their impending demise.

Ruan Wenbo was among them. He held his breath, trying to avoid looking at the distorted faces, focusing all his attention on finding a weapon. Soon, his luck seemed to be on his side; next to a relatively intact corpse, he found a laser gun that appeared to be almost undamaged.

A surge of joy filled him, and he quickly picked up the gun. The gun felt heavy in his hand, with the cold, metallic texture characteristic of metal. And the instant he gripped the handle, a detailed data panel appeared on the right side of his field of vision.

Mars Mk3 "Short-Barrel" Laser Gun

[Type: Weapon]

[Quality: Damaged]

[Attack Power: Relatively High]

[Attribute: Burning]

[Special effects: None]

[Note: As a standard weapon for many Astral Legions since the M36, she is extremely robust and easy to use, described as a "guardian's friend" in the Imperial Infantry Beginner's Handbook, to the point that she can still fire even with a damaged internal power supply structure... as long as you're not afraid of a barrel explosion.]

Ruan Wenbo stared at the last line of notes and fell into a long silence.

He imagined himself holding this "Friend of the Guard," and the moment he fired at the enemy, the barrel and half of his face exploded together.

He silently and carefully put the gun back in its place, then continued searching for the next one.

Commissar Walter, who had been supervising from the sidelines, noticed this. His tense face relaxed slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"Thank goodness..." he thought almost to himself, "These guys aren't too stupid. At least they can tell the difference between good and bad laser guns, so they won't blow themselves up with the first shot."

While a competent Astronautical soldier only needs to glance at the subtle energy burn marks and distortions on the gun's casing to know that its power supply is unstable, these greenhorn recruits still need to foolishly hold it and examine it for ages.

But in any case, being alive is better than being turned into a charred corpse on the spot. Commissar Walter sighed and turned his gaze to the increasingly heated battle line in the distance. Time was running out for these new recruits.

(End of this chapter)