I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 44 Friction Om Messiah

After his initial rage, the cult commander began to reassure himself: "It's alright...it's alright...let them come. These muscle-bound, simple-minded imperial lackeys, even if they manage to break through all the defenses and take this elevator, they can't do anything!"

His thoughts were not without reason.

This is no simple device that you can operate by pressing up or down buttons. This is the heart of the Nest City, an industrial marvel that runs through kilometers of thick earth's crust and plastic steel, an extremely complex crystallization of human industry from a dark millennium era. Its activation sequence is so intricate as to resemble a religious ritual, and its internal mechanical structure and energy logic are enough to shut down the brain of any untrained person.

Generally speaking, apart from those mechanical priests who integrate their bodies with machines, no one knows exactly how to operate this behemoth.

While the players, living on 21st-century Earth, are generally well-educated, their compulsory education clearly hasn't taught them how to operate a giant elevator in a gothic-style hive. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they'll be trapped inside, only to be overwhelmed by the arriving cultists in this inescapable death trap.

However, players always have their ways. They've created enough impossible miracles already, so one more won't make a difference.

"boom--!"

With a loud bang, the heavy alloy door of the control room dented inward, then was kicked away by a brute force, spinning and crashing into the opposite wall.

The cult commander, his face contorted with rage, grabbed an old, explosive pistol from under the table, thinking that even if he died, at least he could trade one enemy for another. But when he looked up and saw the enormous figure blocking the entire doorway, the rage on his face froze instantly, and he was then relievedly smashed into a bloody pulp on the wall with a club.

Eagle Police shook off the bits of flesh from his stick, his massive body squeezing into the control room. After scanning the room and confirming there were no more enemies, he strode heavily to the elevator control panel, which was covered with shimmering runes and complex instruments.

In his player view, a clear "Start" prompt floated above the most prominent button on the console. Without the slightest hesitation, he extended his large, fan-like hand and decisively pressed it.

Then, from the perspective of other players, an extremely bizarre scene appeared.

There stood Oglin, the man known as Eagle Policeman, before the incredibly sophisticated-looking control panel. His massive, thick fingers moved with an agility and precision far beyond his physique, rapidly adjusting the illuminated surface. He would sometimes turn a precise knob, sometimes press a few flashing runes; the entire process was fluid and technically beautiful.

The fact that he himself is an Oglin makes this scene incredibly bizarre...

"How about Oglin who can operate the console?" one player couldn't hold back any longer.

“I suggest Tzeentch come over right away, promote him to God’s Chosen, and oust Carlos from his position overnight,” JK said seriously from the side.

Just then, a soft "hum" was heard, and the control panel in front of the Eagle Police suddenly flashed red, the rune sequence that had just lit up instantly went out, and the entire startup process came to an abrupt halt.

The eagle policeman slapped his massive head with a thud.

"What?! How come there's a mini-game for just pressing a button?!"

These words caused a moment of silence, which immediately piqued the strong interest of the other players.

"A mini-game?"

"What kind of mini-game is it? Can we try it out?"

The eagle policeman immediately made way. A quick-thinking player squeezed forward, took over the control panel, and eagerly prepared to play.

As soon as he placed his hand on the control panel, a holographic projection immediately unfolded in front of him.

At the center of the projection was a circle emitting a soft white light, and inside the circle floated a small, bright blue sphere that constantly trembled slightly, as if it had a life of its own. A progress bar appeared below the panel, displaying "Elevator Energy Calibration".

The game rules became clear instantly: control the ball and keep it within the white circle until the progress bar is full.

The player took a deep breath and gripped the virtual joystick that popped up on the control panel. He felt confident. However, as soon as the game started, he noticed something was wrong. The blue ball's tremors were completely erratic, sometimes pulsating steadily like a heartbeat, and other times jerking violently in one direction like a startled rabbit. He had to concentrate fully and use extremely precise force to correct the ball's position.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead as his fingers made millimeter-level adjustments to the joystick. Several times the ball nearly touched the edge of the white circle, only to be pulled back with narrow escape. The progress bar moved slowly but steadily forward… 70%… 80%… 90%…

victory is in sight!

Just as the progress bar was about to reach 100%, the blue ball suddenly experienced an unprecedented violent spasm and slammed into the inner wall of the white circle.

"Zi la——!"

A piercing crackling sound of electricity rang out, the holographic projection vanished instantly, and the control panel fell silent once more.

The player froze for two seconds, then leaned back abruptly, took his hands off the joystick, and exclaimed in disbelief, "Holy crap, what kind of anti-human design is this?!"

Needless to say, this little game is Bit's doing. He mercifully helped players remove the impossible task of launching the console through real-world operations, and then added a mischievous little game.

"Get out of the way, let me try!" Another player eagerly pushed past the one who had just failed and confidently sat down. "It's just a balance ball, right? I used to be a pro at this..."

Before he could finish speaking, his confidence vanished with a bizarre lateral drift of the blue ball. A few seconds later, accompanied by the same ear-piercing crackling sound of electricity, he too was defeated.

"Holy crap, what is this thing?" The player was also dumbfounded; he couldn't even make it past the halfway mark.

What followed was a relay race filled with frustration and resentment in front of the control panel. The dozen or so players from Class 7 took turns going up, each one sitting down with a strange sense of confidence that "I can do it," only to get off with a face full of bewilderment that said, "This is not scientific."

The news spread quickly, even attracting players from other classes to come and watch. The small control room was packed with people, crowding around the console, turning it into a veritable arcade.

"Left! Left! We're going to crash!"

"Don't shake! Keep your hand steady!"

"Oh no, another one..."

Amidst the rising and falling commands and sighs, one player after another was "killed on their first encounter" by the unruly blue ball. Some tried to find a pattern, only to discover that the ball's tremors were completely random; others tried to control it with brute force, but this only made the ball's resistance more intense.

Finally, under everyone's watchful eyes, JK calmly sat down at the front of the stage. His hands were as steady as a rock, and no matter how wildly the blue ball bounced, it was restrained in the center of the white circle by a gentle yet firm force. Just as the progress bar was about to reach its maximum, he made an extremely quick adjustment, defusing the ball's final, violent impact.

[Energy calibration complete, elevator system activated]

A deep, drawn-out buzzing sound rang out, and all the runes and lights on the control panel instantly illuminated, emitting a soft white glow. Immediately afterward, a slight but distinct tremor began to emanate from the entire underground facility.

"Rumble, rumble..."

A heavy metallic scraping sound echoed from the depths of the elevator shaft, like a steel behemoth that had slumbered for centuries awakening. Emergency lights along the sides of the shaft illuminated one by one, outlining the massive elevator platform. Gears meshed, hydraulic pumps pressed, the energy core hummed… a symphony of countless industrial sounds converged, and finally, the enormous gate, large enough to accommodate a Leman Rustank, slowly rose with a sickening metallic groan.

A relatively "fresh" air from the middle nest rushed in, dispersing the filth and acrid smell of the lower nest.

The elevator started moving.

Bit's mini-game, designed to simulate interaction with precision machinery and test players' focus and micro-management skills, has earned a resentful nickname from players after countless failures: "Rubbing Om Messiah's G-Spot".

(End of this chapter)