I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 57 An Unprecedented Son of Freedom

The fourth-generation hybrid gene stealer's crimson eyes were fixed on the battlefield before him. His eyes, bloodshot from exhaustion and rage, looked particularly ferocious in the dim firelight.

The air was thick with the stench of blood, burning flesh, and the stench of scorched limbs. Whether they were ripped apart and pierced thieves or unrecognizable, armor-shattered Astragalus soldiers, their corpses were piled up like mountains, layer upon layer, covering the entire central reception hall.

The blood had now completely stained the ground, converging into winding streams that slowly seeped between the twisted metal wreckage and the shattered bricks.

The ferocious firepower from both sides—the roar of automatic guns, the hiss of laser guns, and the deafening explosions of grenades—completely destroyed the room.

The once spacious and bright reception room is now just an unrecognizable ruin, with exposed steel bars resembling struggling bones, and charred walls covered with bullet holes and hideous scars left by explosions.

No one can tell what this place was originally like. Even the designer himself could only face this shocking mess and futilely search his memory for any trace of the past.

The battle lasted only an hour. During that hour, the total number of enemies never exceeded thirty, but strangely, it never dropped below twenty.

Waves of Astragalus soldiers poured in like a flowing river, one after another filling the gaps left by the fallen. Logically, this utterly foolish piecemeal tactic should have only subjected these human soldiers to more firepower and greater casualties, ultimately leading to their collapse in despair.

However, the harsh reality was that his own side was already on the verge of collapse! The number of cunning thieves who had died in the first half of the first floor, including the central reception hall, had reached five hundred—almost half of his forces! Every fallen clansman was a wake-up call deep within him. His forces were nearing a dangerous breaking point; if things continued this way, the entire first floor might be lost.

"Retreat!" The fourth-generation hybrid could no longer endure this drain. Its crimson eyes trembled violently as it made its decision. Through the telepathic link, a sharp and urgent command instantly reached the depths of every cunning individual's mind: Evacuate this place, completely abandon the central reception hall!
In response to the enemy's retreat, the players' first reaction was not hesitation, but rather, like enraged beasts, they immediately gave chase and attacked relentlessly. Smoke billowed from the muzzles of their bomb guns, and the red light of their laser guns flickered erratically. Once the enemy was out of sight, they immediately and without hesitation advanced, their steps rapid and resolute.

This is clearly the instinct of those facing certain death—a fanatical desire to tear the enemy to pieces at all costs. For players, being "bullied" is absolutely unacceptable; if the enemy dares to attack, they must immediately retaliate in kind, tenfold.

The moment the central reception room was abandoned, the battle spread like wildfire to the rear half of the first floor. However, the players soon discovered that the knowledge that the fourth-generation hybrid gene-stealers could hold out for another hour was not unfounded; in fact, it could be said that it was an overestimation.

First, the rear half is almost three times larger than a simple central reception room, and it is divided into several rooms.

These areas are not flat plains, but rather contain numerous facilities that hinder players' progress: collapsed metal cabinets, scattered abandoned pipes, and various mechanical wrecks of unknown purpose, all intertwined to form natural obstacles.

To pass, manual clearing is necessary, and during this time, there will definitely be cunning individuals who will emerge from the shadows like ghosts to harass and interfere, forcing players to focus on dealing with them.

High-powered explosives can certainly clear these obstacles, but most players will not choose to use precious explosives easily when they encounter situations where they can clear them manually, rather than having to blast them open like load-bearing walls.

After all, merit points don't come for nothing; each point represents the fruits of their hard-fought battles on the battlefield. Many players cherish their merit points, hoping to accumulate them to buy a cool weapon in the shop, such as an incredibly sharp power sword or a powerful heavy bomb. Before purchasing these coveted items, they clearly don't intend to squander their merit points carelessly.

The fourth-generation hybrid also keenly noticed this. It saw the occasional hesitation of the human soldiers when clearing obstacles, and their reluctance to use explosives easily.

It certainly couldn't understand things like "merit" or "shops" in this matter, and based on instinct and experience, it made a self-righteous conjecture: the Star Guardians didn't have enough high-powered explosives!
A glint of surprise flashed in its crimson eyes, and its taut nerves suddenly relaxed, engulfing it in a brief but exhilarating surge of joy. In that moment, it felt it had succeeded again! Perhaps these humans weren't so difficult to deal with after all; they still had a chance!

However, this naive fantasy was quickly shattered by cruel reality—for the players as soldiers, this back-and-forth, step-by-step urban warfare might be exciting, full of tactical fun and adrenaline-pumping thrills, but for the two squad leaders in the rear, they were bored to the point of being bored out of their minds… no, they were practically bursting with boredom.

The two looked at each other, one picking at his nails listlessly, while the other checked his laser gun for dust, muttering impatiently from time to time.

"If it weren't for the fact that I could collect the merit points for reviving squad members while lying down, I definitely wouldn't be doing this. This is just too damn boring!"

But they absolutely cannot go to the dangerous front lines. As junior commanders, their lives are much more "valuable" than those of ordinary players. If they die unexpectedly in battle, they will be immediately resurrected by their next-ranking company commander, Nguyen Van Bo, who is in a safer position on the outer perimeter.

At that point, not only will the players under their command be dissatisfied, but they will also slow down the overall progress of the battle. If it really causes widespread anger and they want to punish an "unqualified" class leader, there's no need for any official reporting or other procedures; the players themselves can handle it:
The person who had incurred public wrath was killed with a single shot. Then, the higher-ups—in the current player's eyes, Company Commander Ruan Wenbo—did not recognize that he could inherit his previous identity, and instead made the executed player join the ranks of those going to their deaths as a newcomer, with all previously accumulated merits being wiped out.

However, regarding the origin of the merits, players have an interesting misconception, or rather, Bit has intentionally misled them in various ways, leading them to believe that it's an imperial reward for killing enemies of humanity.

But in reality, the essence of merit is not like that. Its distribution is entirely based on how much dynamic information their wartime actions generated, and Bit then awards merit to players based on how much stronger he became after acquiring that dynamic information. From beginning to end, this has absolutely nothing to do with the Human Empire; Bit merely altered the numbers on the player's panel…

It could even be argued that if Bit didn't keep enough humans as "nourishment" or "experiments" for efficiently producing dynamic information, and instead waited for internal human conflicts to shift from secondary to primary after the external enemies were eliminated, leading to a large-scale civil war, allowing them to reap the benefits of information without doing anything, then the merits gained by players turning around and attacking humans would be at the highest level—because that would generate the most complex, dynamic, and valuable information flow.

Of course, even if the merit gained from fighting humans is indeed the highest tier, most players probably wouldn't choose to cooperate with the aliens to turn around and fight humans; they would simply quit the game—after all, it's not a must-play game. If the developers are making things unpleasant for them in this way, forcing them to play the traitor, wouldn't they just quit?
If a player encounters a game about the War of Resistance against Japan, and finds that they can only play as a member of the Concord Army, would they still reluctantly continue playing?

No, of course they would choose to give the development team a good dressing down and send every single relative of their entire family tree to the crematorium. Ultimately, players are normal 21st-century humans, not psychopaths infected with the Blood Cross. They will understand the game's content and make choices that align with their own beliefs—in a sense, this is also a manifestation of players' disregard for authority; within the game, they will only do what conforms to their own thoughts.

Even if they can be guided, it's essentially because the guidance aligns with their beliefs, and players choose to accept it. However, if the guidance differs from, or even contradicts, their beliefs, players will choose to reject or even attack it—it's fair to say that in the Warhammer universe, they are unparalleled, unprecedented Sons of Freedom.

(End of this chapter)