Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

The disease...is leaving me.

This fact horrified Death Guard Sauron Cordero - he had never felt this way in the past ten thousand years. The gift of a loving father was always with him.

In his veins, in the surface of his rotten and sore skin and in his diseased and pus-filled muscles. Whenever he breathes, the putrid smell will pass through the already deformed nasal cavity and trachea, transforming it into something special and sweet.

breath.

But now, all he breathed into his lungs was the thick smell of smoke.

He wanted to move, or at least leave the ruins. But he couldn't. The corroded armor and body were horribly damaged by the falling explosion. He was pressed under the ruins, and his lower body disappeared without a trace.

Sauron Cordero's mind was filled with the fear of the disappearance of the gift, so he didn't realize that he was still alive at this time. It was simply a miracle of Nurgle's hand.

If he hadn't been a Death Guard, he would have died long ago.

Then, in the ruins that had been ravaged by war for three weeks and were damaged completely by the explosion caused by the crash of the transport ship, footsteps suddenly sounded.

Heavy - like a hammer forging red-hot steel.

An emotion different from the previous fear spread in Soren Cordero's heart. He searched in the darkness through the eyepieces that had grown with his eyes, but found nothing. He could only hear the sound of

The footsteps became heavier and heavier, like a foreshadowing of death.

The footsteps stopped not far away from him.

Cordero's eyes widened and his hands began to fumble in the darkness. He had to find his weapon, otherwise there was only one thing waiting for him.

He couldn't find it.

The ruins above his head were easily pushed away, and a dark figure stood in front of him. The firelight of the still burning wreckage of the transport ship not far away illuminated his armor. The gloomy bat-shaped helmet made Cordero almost let out a cry.

scream.

It's him!

The people who were more monsters than them stared at him without saying a word or even talking. After staring at the not-dead Cordero like this for more than three minutes, he looked away and a cold voice sounded under the night sky.

, echoing with the tide from death.

"Your companions are all dead - only you are not. This is unreasonable."

Common sense? At this life-and-death moment, Cordero felt an urge to laugh in his heart. He knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't restrain the impulse. Unreasonable?

You are the most irrational thing! You should not exist, you damn thing - your existence is a blasphemy to the world!

He stared at the black figure standing in front of him with hateful eyes, but the latter had no reaction to it, or even didn't care at all, and just continued to speak.

"Falling directly from a thousand meters altitude, the explosion and my psychic energy will kill everyone on this transport ship. According to calculations, your survival probability should be less than one percent, and this number is infinitely close to zero."

"However, any coincidence in this universe can be carefully designed, so..."

He turned his head, stared at Soren Cordero, and said softly: "What are you waiting for?"

- He's not talking to me.

Soren Cordero discovered this fact in an instant. His diseased brain was no longer capable of such a fast reaction speed. But it was the blessed mind at this moment that made him understand a certain fact...

.

He's not talking to me, yes.

Fear spread crazily in my heart, almost pouring out of my throat.

He began to cough non-stop, as if he wanted to vomit his lungs out of his throat. The exposed twisted spines and turbid yellow blood vessels trembled, and the putrid smell became stronger and stronger...

...

After reaching a certain point, the upgrade blessing that Sauron Cordero originally dreamed of, his ultimate reward, came in another form into his body that could no longer survive.

A black figure is quickly breaking away from his rotten body and standing up. He is tall, fat, and has layers of skin that are as white as white jade. There is an uncomfortable sarcastic smile on the swollen dead face, and the eyes are

It stands out and is so white that it makes people feel disgusted.

This... thing, standing among the ruins and corpses, waved to Crane Samples who was standing opposite him.

"This is our first meeting. I didn't bring any gifts. It's really rude. Please forgive me."

"You can use your life as a gift."

"ha!"

The thing let out a loud laugh and winked at Crane with an unworldly sense of humor. This action caused a large amount of foul-smelling yellow pus to fall out of his right eye socket, but it had not yet reached the ground and started to rot.

The bad news was eliminated by a sudden flash of blue spiritual energy.

"Ah, this is not good." He looked at the place where the spiritual energy flashed with some pity. "You don't like to see the birth of new life, do you?"

"If the new life born looks normal, I will like it very much."

"Normal? What is normal? I want to hear your definition of normal."

Crane didn't speak, just stared at him, his eyes firm as if trying to discover his true resemblance to his essence from his swollen, dead face.

The thing chattered endlessly, the fat on its body trembled, and green smoke poured out from his mouth and nose, carrying a deadly plague: "It doesn't matter if you don't want to say it, I can do it for you.

Replenish."

He raised his right hand and slid it gently through the air with an elegant movement - this word should not be used for him, but it was indeed very elegant. Like a dancer, or a nobleman waiting for a meal, hungry but still maintaining etiquette.

"Actually, you know well, my friend I met for the first time. In this universe, nothing is normal. The empire you are fighting for is a huge oppressive regime. From top to bottom, it oppresses everyone, doesn't it?

"

"Men, women and children, soldiers or civilians, generals or prostitutes - they are all being oppressed and bound by something. Although there is no difference in essence, the differences in status are shocking.

It’s not equal.”

He grinned: "The lower class people do not have the right to enjoy the sun and survive by eating starch made from the corpses of their dead species. The upper class people can have a life a thousand times better than this, and can squander the lives of the lower class people at will -

What a terrible disease this is.”

With longing, he actually wiped his tears: "I have never seen such a disease spreading in the universe. Countless people are infected by it, die for it, and are willing to do so. You know, I even feel

Your emperor should rather be called the God of Disease."

After saying this, he made a gesture of listening. After a while, he returned to normal and nodded to Crane, who was still silent: "My father was very happy because of my joke.

What do you think? Do you think this is a joke?"

"There's no use trying to anger me."

Crane remained calm, even too calm. He didn't even bother to have a verbal argument with this thing, and simply raised his hand.

An icy breath surged out of the void, and the violent power even caused his eyepieces to be dyed a dead color. The ground around him immediately began to freeze - no, not freezing, but starting from the ground up.

been transformed.

Metal, concrete, wood, and dead Death Guards... nothing escaped, and all areas within a radius of 500 meters were completely transformed into ice with silent death.

[To be honest, I have been using Yeguo to read and catch up on books recently. I can switch sources and read aloud with many sounds. www. Android and Apple are available.]

The great demon born from the corpse looked at this scene in shock, and immediately called out the name of his god without even a second of hesitation.

"My father Nurgle!"

He roared her name wildly, and a green and corrupt light lit up in his mouth, nose, eyes and ears, almost igniting him into a torch - a door opened behind him, which came from the power of Nurgle.

A subspace door was suddenly opened here.

Seeing this scene, Crane stopped using his psychic energy.

He could have strangled the newly born demon here so that he had no chance to escape, but he did not do that. He even simply slowed down the transformation speed of the ice so that he could escape back to Nurgle.

In the garden.

"We will meet again, my friend! Sooner or later!"

At the last moment, this thing did not forget to say its name: "Remember my name! I am the 'maggot-turned-butterfly' Neerugos!"

Crane watched him leave calmly, silently wrote down the name, and then threw a psychic bomb into the door at the last moment before it closed. This technique originated from He Shenyan's extremely dangerous technology.

The garden, which is prone to dirt and disasters, may be facing another cold disaster.

And that Nergos will most likely be punished for this incident... According to his calculations, this should delay his reappearance in the material realm.

With a flick of his cloak, he planned to turn around and leave, but changed his mind at the last moment - how could there be a descendant of Sanguinius here...?

Feeling the group of Astartes approaching slowly with standard tactical movements, Crane frowned, but ultimately did not choose to leave.

What happened in that hive was a bit too complicated. In just one week, he even entered the subspace. Now was an opportunity to contact the empire, and he had to confirm some things.

For example - no, probably not.

Crane's eyes turned gloomy, even though he was like that most of the time.

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

Yinziqil, who rushed back to the temporary headquarters as soon as he received the news, looked calm on the face, but in fact his heart was already in turmoil - what? There is a Primarch in such a remote place?

When he heard the news, he almost had a relapse of Tzeentch's PTSD. Fortunately, he immediately remembered that the thing and its demon were already dead, so his brothers were unlikely to be deceived. What's more, their descriptions

true.

The Empire does have a new Primarch 'clad in black armor and wearing a helmet shaped like a bat', but this is a secret among secrets, and only a few people know about it. The description used by his brothers excludes this sentence

Not a single word was mentioned about the Primarch.

Only Yinzi Kil knows the truth.

Fengfenghuohuo entered the temporary command center, walked through the long corridor, and finally saw the new original body in the command room. He waved to the other brothers to go out, and Yinziqil chose to face him alone.

He bowed slightly, solemnly but without losing etiquette, and retained the elegance of being a descendant of Sanguinius: "The Third Company of the Crimson Blade Chapter——"

"I know your name, Captain Yinziqil."

A man's voice sounded in the room, so calm that it could only be thought of as ice: "Your name has been circulating on the Terra space station for a long time. As one of the heroes of the second Terra defense battle...

.”

Hero? Me?

Yinzikiel felt a huge sense of absurdity and shame - he knew what he had done in the war. He did nothing during the second defense of Terra. Hero? What kind of hero is this? Those dead Astra Militarum soldiers

He is the one who deserves the award the most!

"Sir, I am not a hero...I did nothing during the second defense of Terra."

"This is how the officials of the Ministry of Military Affairs discussed it, ah, and some people from the National Church. They stubbornly believe that the return of Sanguinius has something to do with you, the 'Crimson Tears'."

Kelan turned his head and looked at the two dark red marks on Yinqi Kil's face that looked more like blood than tears, and nodded slightly: "I understand your feelings, but this is a political game, and in the end it will only be

brings advantages."

"Political game?"

"Yes, political games... You are probably curious why political matters have anything to do with you. In fact, it is very simple. The return of Captain Yinzikiel Sanguinius has made everyone in the empire very happy.

But this is not a small matter. In fact, his return touches the sensitive nerves of many people."

Kelan said solemnly: "Ten thousand years, Captain Yinqi Kil, that is a long time of ten thousand years. There are too many things to negotiate, and there are too many interests to exchange. For example, your battle group is equipped with new equipment.

Queuing up to the 46th place, this is the invisible benefit that his return brings to you."

Yinqi Kil's hands were trembling slightly. He had never thought about this before. Crane's words were like tearing off some kind of gauze that had been hanging in front of his eyes, making him feel a complicated bitterness.

And Crane saw through this.

He took a step forward, stretched out his right hand towards Yin Qikir, and shook hands with him. His tone was calm, but more gentle and comforting than before: "Don't think too much, the bureaucracy has been like this since ancient times. Just keep fighting.

Yes, Captain Yin Qijier, this is the best reward you can give him... In addition, I need you to report something to me."

He took out an exquisite silver triangle emblem with a double-headed eagle from his belt: "But I am not issuing this order to you as the original body, but as——"

Crane paused for a while and seemed to be thinking: "——I haven't named this organization yet, but what we do is not much different from the Inquisition. In short, that's it, Captain Yinzikiel."

"I see."

Yin Qijier took a deep breath and prepared for a long speech: "Please ask, I will definitely tell you everything I know."