Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

More than a bolt from the blue, it was literally a bolt from the blue.

The expressions of the seventeen Astartes were quickly turning into a kind of confusion. Their superhuman minds seemed unable to accept this shocking fact in an instant. He Shenyan never expected that they would be able to accept this kind of thing for a while.

——For example, this is equivalent to asking you to recognize your father again.

Considering the influence of the Primarchs on their respective children, this matter is probably more serious than recognizing their father again.

The mage raised his head and stared at the reliefs on the church ceiling.

The sculptor himself is very skilled, and he made the scenes of many Astartes fighting demons lifelike and lifelike. This church is the only remaining native product on that planet, and has not been changed in any way by the mages.

After a while, Ezekiel spoke. It was as if something was stuck in his throat, and his voice was dry. Low Gothic, the common language of the empire, sounded almost like High Gothic to him at this time.

Generally obscure and difficult to understand.

"This... Sir, do you have any evidence?"

He Shenyan looked at him, his resolute face inevitably showing some wavering. He shook his head: "I can't tell you more specific things, but I can reveal some...

..Hmm, a small guess.”

"The destruction of the home planet will lead to the loss of files, and in a large-scale battle, the losses will be heavy, and it is not uncommon for all the veterans to die in the battle for the sake of tradition."

He tapped his fingers on the wooden tabletop of the bulletin board and said thoughtfully: "The history of the war group has been lost, and you have covered your flaws tightly. It is normal for you not to know what happened to you.

But... I'm still surprised that you think your primarch is Guilliman."

As he spoke, he actually laughed. His words towards the Primarch of the Ultramarines were more like talking about friendship between peers than addressing the only remaining Primarch. This attitude inevitably made some of the people in the audience laugh.

Astartes was a little angry.

He Shenyan took in all these things. He did not comment, but said lightly: "Sooner or later you will have to accept this matter - besides, there is no need to hide your secrets so carefully. On this ship

, no one can label you as heretics."

His words were filled with absolute confidence, almost arrogant, and he seemed to have no regard for the Inquisition at all.

Ezekiel took a deep breath: "Sir, with all due respect, who are you?"

"Who do you think I am, that's who I am."

The mage stood on the bulletin board and said this nonchalantly. The light blue fluorescence on the outer layer of the battleship shone on him through the stained glass, and his face became blurry for a moment, leaving only two golden flames still burning firmly.

Ezekiel fell into a trance, and there was a tingling sensation in his cerebral cortex, and then he directly 'saw' something.

At this time, a figure made of white light spots appeared next to the man, with huge wings on his back. Ezekiel could not see his face clearly either. He only felt a feeling that combined love, compassion, guilt and pain.

His eyes were like substance. He stared blankly in the direction of nothingness, almost crying.

A huge sorrow completely attacked his heart. Ezekiel could hardly breathe. He stood up abruptly, his helmet fell to the ground and rolled on the dark red carpet. His brothers were beside him.

They stood up and looked at their company commander nervously. Then, they found that he was bleeding and crying.

Two lines of crystal blood slowly slipped from his eye sockets. Ezekiel fell to his knees weakly, and screamed in pain from his throat as if his soul was being torn apart - the sound made people doubt whether he was already dead.

.Because only the souls wailing in hell will be in such pain...

He Shenyan turned his head. There was nothing to his right, but the Master nodded towards it and showed a smile, as if to say hello.

Two minutes later, Ezekiel stood up again.

The two lines of blood and tears were still on his face, gradually seeping into his skin as if they had condensed, leaving two dark red hideous tear marks, and even made his skin hiss in the process.

But Ezekiel seemed unaware of this. He came to He Shenyan and knelt on the ground with one knee: "...Is that Him?"

"I don't know anything." The mage blinked at him, and then said with a smile: "It seems that you have good qualifications...and besides."

The smile disappeared in an instant.

"Third Company of the Crimson Blade Chapter, I recruit you to serve on this ship in the name of the Empire - we are surrounded by enemies, there may be no support, we may die tomorrow. And there may not even be anyone.

Would you like to know that we fought hard for the empire here?"

Ezekiel and his brothers looked at each other.

Their answers don't even need to be explained.

----------------------------------------

No, I'm not a traitor.

Givadoron was sitting in his room. According to his special request, the intelligent array on the ship arranged an empty room for him without any furniture.

There isn't even a light here. It's more like a prison cell than a resting place.

Givadoron is in the cell.

He closed his eyes tightly, veins popped up on his forehead, and he gritted his teeth as if he was enduring great pain. After the battle, he discovered a fact that was hard for him to accept.

The Butcher's Nail is gone, but its impact cannot be eliminated so easily. Givadoron is completely unable to contain his rage during the battle. He is always in a strong self-destructive tendency, as if

If He Shenyan hadn't pulled out his hand and put a magic shield on him, he would have probably been dead by now.

He completely abandoned defense and just waved the old chain sword, attacking the demons crazily. He ignored their claws and weapons, ignored their power and weird witchcraft. Even from

The venom spitting out from their depraved lips and tongues was also ignored by this warrior.

All he longs for... is death.

And this rage has not ended even now after the battle. Givadoron discovered this as early as when he was talking in the communication channel. He bit his tongue continuously and rubbed the wound with his canine teeth.

, the blood and the constant small pain made him a little more accustomed to that kind of anger.

Givadoron only wants one thing now: to wake up and then die for the empire to wash away the shame on himself.

He couldn't forget the legion when he was still a war dog, and the legion after that... It was okay to live in a hazy state before, but now that he can think normally without the Butcher's Nail, he couldn't bear it anymore.

A gap opened in the tight wall, the light from outside the bridge came through, and a tall figure walked in.

Angron looked at him and suddenly stretched out his hand to pull him up from the ground.

"How did you perform in the battle?"

"Primarch, I..." Givadoron was so ashamed that he couldn't say a word.

Angron did not let him go easily. He looked at Givadorun sternly: "Are you a coward, Givadorun?"

Astartes suddenly raised his head, his eyes red: "No, I'm not!"

"Then why do you act so indifferent and only want to die?" Angron scolded him angrily. "Your duties and service are not over yet! You have not been declared medically dead, and you can still swing the sword - tell

I, Givadoron, are you a coward?!"

"I'm not! The Primarch!"

"No, you are!" Angron looked at him angrily. "What I see is a coward hiding in the dark and feeling sorry for himself, a loser who doesn't even dare to take responsibility and can only run away!"

His roar resounded throughout the room: "Death is His gift! Only after you have fulfilled your duty can you end your service, Givadoron! Your service is not over yet, your service has just begun!

"

Angron reached out and grabbed his shoulders: "Look at me!"

"Your brothers have been corrupted by the demons of the warp. Their original noble forms have now become blasphemous and despicable, and their wills are no different than those of beasts. You may be the only sane one among them. Only you can end their misery.

fate, but now you only think about whether you can die selfishly?"

Givadoron looked at him, looking at Angron from another universe. There were no traces of the Butcher's Nails on the back of his head, but the anger that filled his face was still genuine.

Givadoron was silent for a long time before he spoke tremblingly: "But, I am a traitor, the original body."

"You are not, Givadorun." Angron let go of his hand.

"The World Eater Givadoron is dead, and now standing here is the captain of the first company of the World Eaters - the Legion will be revived, and we will rise from the ashes. The shame and betrayal of the past require us to

Pay with blood! With your blood, with my blood, with the enemy’s blood!”

Angron looked at him and said word by word: "Soldier, your service starts from now on."

As if instinctively, Givadoron collided with his feet and stood upright. The gray light faded away from his face, replaced by a sincere expression like a new life - he answered firmly and calmly

: "As you command, primarch!"

----------------------------------------

"It seems your conversation went well?"

Angron bumped into the mage on the deck, and the first question he asked made the primarch lose face.

"...You eavesdropped on our conversation?"

"Perhaps it cannot be described as eavesdropping, Angron, you both have quite loud voices. For a mortal like me, it is difficult not to hear." He Shenyan said seriously.

Angron decided to ignore this topic. He was never known for being articulate, and simply talked about another matter directly: "What do those people of the Crimson Blade Chapter say?"

"I have to remind you again, my friend." The mage's face became a little strange. "They are loyal, do you need to change your title?"

His vague words made Angron frown. Before the original body could figure out what his obscure hint meant, his vision was filled with white light - a soul with wings on its back stood in front of him, curious.

looked at him.

"...."

Angron took a deep, deep breath.

"It seems that what our father said is true. It turns out that parallel universes really exist." He smiled gently, with a kind of kindness on his illusory yet real handsome face.

"You cannot drag me into this illusion without permission." Angron's tone was cold. Considering what Sanguinius did to the Empire in another universe, his reaction was not surprising.

Prejudice is one of humanity's most deeply ingrained habits - even in the Primarch, it is difficult to change. These superhumans possess the power granted by the Emperor and are stronger than mortals, but they are still not beyond the shackles of emotion. Rather, they

The emotion is the strongest.

"I just want to talk to you. I noticed that you have a deep prejudice against my children. A conversation should help us solve this small problem." Sanguinius still smiled, not caring about Ange.

Lang's cold tone took it seriously.

"I know what you want to say, just save it. Until they prove themselves, I won't-"

"——According to your logic, as a brother I have never met, you have to prove yourself first before I can trust you."

Sanguinius gently used his logic to get around him, and he blinked: "You know, you have done a lot of great things in the history that I know well."

"...Aren't you dead?" Angron changed the topic again.

Sanguinius's smile became a little sad: "Yes, of course I am dead. Sanguinius has passed away and can never come back. But I still have a little bit of spirit floating in the subspace.

Think of it as making a final contribution to the empire."

fart.

Can 'a little bit of spirit' bring me closer to the illusion? You liar who lies without drafting... Angron glanced at him and said impatiently: "Enough is enough.

I'm going back, I don't have time to waste with you."

"Don't worry yet, my brother."

"I'm not your brother." Angron bared his teeth and spoke in a long voice.

The angel was indifferent: "You can't change this established fact, Angron. However, since you don't want to hear me call you that, I won't force it on your ears."

"Listen, Angron. The Emperor knows what the mage and you want to do, but he cannot come in person or contact you. In this universe, our father has too many things to care about——

That chair is torturing him more and more, I am very suspicious...Forget it, just pretend I didn't say it."

The angel's voice became illusory, and Angron felt a push. He was pushed out of the illusion, leaving only Sanguinius's words still echoing in his ears: "Remember, be careful in everything."

Angron lowered his head and opened his right hand. There was a white feather lying in the generous palm.

"That archangel is really generous..." He Shenyan was a little surprised.

Angron threw the feather to him casually, and he knew with his toes that it was definitely not for him, and he had no such despicable thoughts of corruption.

He just asked: "Generosity?"

"yes."

The mage lowered his head with pity, looked at the feather in his hand that shone faintly, and said softly: "To do this to a group of heirs who don't know their identity, maybe I shouldn't say that he is generous.

"