Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

"Why?"

Perturabo asked in confusion: "Isn't my sincerity enough? I have already——"

"This has nothing to do with your so-called sincerity, Perturabo."

The mage answered calmly, almost indifferently. His indifference puzzled Sanguinius. The archangel didn't understand why he was so indifferent.

"I know that you really want to surrender sincerely, but I don't accept it, understand? I don't accept your surrender. There is only one road between you and us, and that road is called war."

"I can't understand why you insist on doing this and insisting on calling for war."

The Lord of Steel no longer used honorifics, and repeated his request in a low and slow voice: "This whole thing is very simple. Just hand over Honso's body to me, and then, none of you will

Bleeding and even death.”

"Ha! You don't even blush when you talk big. Do you really think you can win?"

Russ sneered and almost broke free from Fulgrim's shackles. Phoenix immediately suppressed him again, with a bitter look on his face: "Ruth, calm down, please."

"I don't need to win you," Perturabo said slowly.

"I just need to make it impossible for you to win - the seventeen warbands among the Iron Warriors who still responded to my call have already marched through the Obscurity Star Territory towards the Ultra Star Territory, and they will stay at the edge of the Ultra Star Territory

In fifteen days, if I go back safely and send them a message, then they will not launch an attack on the Extreme Star Territory."

While speaking, he kept looking at Robert Guilliman. The latter's expression did not change at all, and could even be said to be unmoved.

"There is no use threatening me, Perturabo."

Robert Guilliman isolated his emotions with colder rationality than he did, and answered his brother's cruel plan in a tone that was almost like a pattern.

"The five hundred worlds of Ultramar are the subjects of the empire. They know what this means. If sacrifice is coming, they will welcome it with their heads held high."

"But if I do this, your chances of winning will be reduced."

"Yes, and you will die too," Guilliman replied softly, anger boiling in his eyes.

"If I don't get the results I want, death and living are the same thing."

"Then you die here!"

Leman Russ suddenly broke free from Fulgrim's restraints and rushed forward. At that moment, Jaghatai handed the long knife in his hand to him. The Eagle of Chogoris had obviously been there for a long time.

Premeditated, the action of handing over the knife was quick and gentle, allowing Ruth to hold his knife just right.

The Fenrisian's temperament made him unable to bear a traitor talking in front of him for such a long time, and his other identity also made him have his eye on Perturabo's throat. Even if he can no longer bleed now

, Leman Russ is bound to make his head fall to the ground.

"stop."

He Shenyan calmly raised his right hand, and Ruth stopped in place. He stopped his attacking posture, but did not give up completely. The long knife came out of his hand and smashed into the wall behind Perturabo. He

He lowered his face and stood there, his murderous intent undisguised.

Perturabo looked back at Chagatai's long knife, stretched out his hand, and the knife returned to his hand as if it was being pulled.

The Lord of Steel looked at it for a moment, put his index and middle fingers together, and tapped the sword with his knuckles. Its surface, which had been damaged by Russ's violent usage, immediately returned to intact. Then, he threw it away.

Returned to Chagatai.

"No need to thank me," Perturabo said coldly.

"I have no intention of doing that - I just want to stab you in the heart with it, if you still have it." Jaghatai shot back.

"Before you die, Perturabo, I have one question to ask you. Why is Honso's body so important to you?"

"He's not important."

"Then why did you surrender and retrieve his body?"

"Just by the way." Perturabo pursed his lips into a tight line, his gloomy look began to return, and a hint of anger emerged. Sanguinius narrowed his eyes slightly, flapped his wings slightly, and his brilliance suddenly appeared.

There is some kind of oppressive storm gathering.

"Really? Don't try to lie. You can't do this in front of me, Perturabo. So tell me - why do you have to retrieve his body? Why is Honso so important to you?

?”

"Is this important to you?"

Perturabo asked back: "I am just a traitor, and it has nothing to do with you what I want his body to do. I may just be curious about Fabius Bayer's technology, so I need his body to recreate it."

.I know that Fabius Bayer has been killed by you, yes, this is my main purpose."

He was silent for a moment and repeated again: "Give me his body."

A golden light flashed in the mage's eyes. He turned his head slightly and glanced in the direction of Terra. Then, he showed a rather strange smile: "No."

Perturabo's cheek lines suddenly tightened.

And the mage is still going on.

"The best liars will deceive themselves, and some can even make their own reason completely believe the facts they have fabricated. But you are obviously not one of them, Perturabo. You can't even deceive yourself, and you can't even deceive yourself.

Why are you trying to lie to me? You think Honso is your son, why don’t you just admit it...?"

"He is not."

"Then why did you go to such trouble and even surrender?"

"Because I need his body to replicate Fabius Bayer's technology."

"The clones and enhanced humans created by Fabius Bayer are scattered throughout the galaxy. Many Chaos warbands have technical support provided by him. You can find one at will."

"The technology Bayer used on him was relatively advanced." There was a tremor in Perturabo's voice, and it was because he could no longer suppress his anger.

The gathering of the storm was becoming more and more obvious, and the long metal table in the banquet hall began to creak. The center emitted a soft blue light on the ceiling, causing it to recover, but it continued to tilt up the next second.

"Honso was born during the Horus Heresy, and the technology that led to his birth is probably old. A mad scientist like Bayer will undoubtedly continue to deepen his technology in ten thousand years - so, why do you want to

Need Honso’s body?”

"...Because I need Fabius Bayer's technology!" Perturabo roared. "It's that simple! Damn it! All you need to do is hand over his body to me. Other than that,

There is no need to do anything more and I will surrender immediately!"

"We don't need your surrender."

The mage's soft voice made Perturabo's body tremble violently.

"You are nothing compared to Rogal Dorn, Perturabo."

With that strange smile, the mage said word by word something that even Dorn himself felt was biased. He tried to refute it more than once in the process, but his heart did not allow him to accept such exaggerated words.

'Praise', but Guilliman stopped him more than once.

"You and he are equally good at building, attacking and defending cities. But Dorne seems to be better than you in every aspect. You are equally taciturn, equally tough, and both value the precious quality of 'tenacity'."

"Dorn wins again in this aspect. You betrayed because you felt that you had paid so much but got nothing in return. But he never chose to betray simply because of resentment. Do you dare to say that the Imperial Fist is in great danger?

No sacrifices were made during the expedition? Do you think it was only your legion that suffered?"

Perturabo laughed angrily, as if he was chewing steel when he spoke: "But my legion has sacrificed the most! The qualities I and they have shown are better than Dorne, and better than everyone else's legion! But he has never

He valued me, but he didn’t even want to say another word to me!”

"Yeah?"

"Of course! Go look up the numbers, or go through the war records that he has probably discarded! Just under Terra, under his chair! If you don't want to, I can memorize them one by one.

listen!"

Perturabo roared non-stop: "In the Battle of Skylar, the Iron Warriors' casualties reached 13,000 people! In the offensive and defensive battle with the No Trimarnos system, the casualties reached 20,000 people.

It does not include those who were forced to die due to serious injuries! And——”

"——So, what about the Iron Warriors who died because you executed the Eleven Kill? How many are they and what are their names? Do you remember them?"

The mage smiled happily: "And what about those people who were beaten into fearlessness by your own hands because they questioned your orders, or who simply died?"

"Oh, Perturabo, you come to my ship to act out a father-son drama that is ten thousand years overdue... Why didn't you start acting it out earlier?"

"So many people who were loyal to you once stood on the ground and looked up at you, expecting you to praise them or appreciate their sacrifice, but you just looked up to the sky with resentment, counting on that person because you 'didn't care about anything.

I have sacrificed so much to look at you one more time."

"Okay, what do you want him to say? Compliment your stupid tactics? Those battles you listed that suffered heavy casualties could have been avoided, weren't they? You always prefer large-scale frontal attacks,

Or simply carry out a round of fire coverage and then launch a large-scale frontal attack."

"But that's not how war works. All generals except you don't like to see major sacrifices. Their sacrifices are necessary because they are choices that have to be made."

"Dorn is as stubborn as you, but he never wants a high-priced victory. You are different. I bet you must have felt happy for a moment when you looked at the high casualty figures in the battle report one night, thinking that your

Your father will praise you for this...right?

"You complain that your legion has sacrificed the most, so who single-handedly caused this consequence?"

"You think it's your father, but he has never asked you to sacrifice like this, and he has never asked you to pay more than others. You once complained that no one valued you, and your brothers looked down on you.

You—but what’s the actual situation?”

"Sanguinius once praised your Legion, didn't he? But what did you say? You thought he was just 'trying to look friendly', saying everything he said so that you could continue to die in the war.

....Hmm...Interesting, I wonder what your dead sister would think."

He laughed slowly, lightly, and happily, so much that Leman Russ, who was standing beside him, almost felt shuddering for a moment. Next, he heard the mage gently ask the last question.

.

"Your sister, Kelly Fanny, pointed out these problems to you just like me...and she died, strangled to death by your own hands, Perturabo. So, you still want me to

What to say?"

The storm has gathered here.

The Lord of Steel rushed forward uncontrollably and rushed in front of the mage. He was like a machine that was running out of order, and his joints whined due to excessive force during movement. His face was accustomed to possessing

The gloominess no longer existed at this moment, replaced by a ferocious and sad face.

He was so angry that his whole face was deformed, like an evil ghost. He was also so sad that even this anger could not cover up the sadness in his eyes - he should have roared, but his voice sounded

It seemed to be whining when he went up.

This murderous body made of steel is screaming inevitably.

Leman Russ lost his will to fight in an instant.

The mage smiled softly.

Along with the laughter, there was also a terrifying pressure. The gravity in the banquet hall was changed in an instant. Perturabo's body stopped midway, and his fists were also forced to stop. He was forced to stop because of this.

His angry and clenched teeth were chattering, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move an inch.

The mage snapped his fingers, and a chair appeared behind him. He sat leisurely in front of Perturabo, holding up his face and saying nothing.

A golden light flashed in his eyes, flashing continuously, as if someone was communicating with him.

So he leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"I think you should realize something, Perturabo."

"Ten thousand years ago, you never realized them. Today, ten thousand years later, you have made some guesses, and finally made some small changes. But you still don't know their full picture, so...

.Essentially speaking, you are still the same as you were ten thousand years ago, and you are still a person who has difficulty understanding yourself."

"I can't believe I have to be a psychiatrist again—well, Perturabo. You may not want to hear what I'm about to say, but I suggest you listen."

"You remind me of an ancient disease that mostly occurs in humans who have outstanding talents in certain areas. This disease is called Asperger's syndrome. Personally, you fit one or two of them perfectly.

describe."

He raised his fingers and began to count carefully as if teaching a primary school student.

"First, interpersonal communication is difficult. I am willing to interact with others, and I also desire this. However, I cannot do what normal people can do. I cannot understand other people's facial expressions and body movements. It is difficult to form and maintain good relationships.

In interpersonal relationships, he cannot develop friendships, cannot respond flexibly to various situations, and is often isolated.”

"Second, language communication difficulties. Development is normal, expression is fluent, and one or two languages ​​can be used proficiently for daily communication, but there is no way to communicate well. The ability to observe words and emotions is extremely low, and the reaction of others is not paid attention to.

It is difficult to understand other people’s feelings, humor, metaphors, etc.”

Rogal Dorn, who was standing behind him, took a step back with a sullen face after hearing these words, and happened to bump into Fulgrim. The Chemos man sighed and walked aside calmly.

"Yes, let me put it more plainly, you are sick, Perturabo, and you are seriously ill. If you were just an ordinary person, you would be fine with this kind of illness. But you are

One of the Primarchs has to shoulder very heavy responsibilities... Why the hell do I have to do this?"

The mage stood up with a curse, golden light suddenly appeared, and a thunderous roar resounded throughout the banquet hall the next moment. A burning sword blade appeared in his hand, and the scorching sky fire erupted without concealment.

The next second, he stabbed Perturabo to death with a sword thrust. The whole process was incredibly fast. The Lord of Steel's body was even directly burned to ashes, leaving no time for reaction.

The Primarchs were stunned.

"Ship, Captain?" Leman Russ smiled dryly and took a step back. "Isn't this...a bit sudden for you? I thought you were going to-"

"——What do you want?"

The mage turned around and stared at him with an unkind expression: "Whoever wants to relieve him can go ahead. Anyway, the old man has been calling me endlessly next to Xingju. I think he has recovered well.

Then he can take care of his own son. I'm not a fucking nanny, why do I have to do everything?"

He disappeared from the spot with a bored look on his face. Fulgrim sighed appropriately, pointed to the dishes that were not yet cold and said: "Are you still eating? If not, can you leave from here? I want to be alone.

eat something."

He picked up a glass of wine and let out a long, long sigh again.

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

The pain seemed to be just an illusion. For Perturabo, he only felt heartbreaking pain at that moment, and the next second...

He had already arrived on a burning earth.

There are golden flames everywhere here, and the ground is burned into glass, but the scene reflected is not his reflection, but a black steel. The sky reflects the storm surging in the supreme sky, and a man is facing away from him.

Sitting not far away, his back is extremely calm.

Perturabo felt angry in his heart.

He knew who this man was, so he couldn't accept him being so calm. He ran over, kicked over the table and chairs placed in front of the man, and even trampled on them in anger.

The man didn't say anything, he just watched him calmly. His indifference made Perturabo gradually stop. He was breathing heavily, feeling extremely tired for some reason.

Just like that, he asked: "Why...can you act so calm?!"

The man glanced at him and asked: "Then what kind of reaction should I make to agree with you, Perturabo?"

"I -" Perturabo was stuck. He didn't know how to answer this question. Once upon a time, he wanted to say ten thousand resentful words to this person, but when he came face to face with him, he found that he

I couldn't even utter a single word.

However, this did not last long. The stubbornness in his character took over again. He roared: "You should at least say something!"

"Yes, what should you say?" the man asked again. "What do you want to hear? What should I say to satisfy you? Tell you frankly, I love you very much?"

Perturabo was stunned.

And the man continues.

"No, you won't believe it. Because I never said this, if I say it now, you will only think that I am lying to you. Then you will become even more angry, even more than before. You will be more resentful,

Because you will think everything I tell is a lie."

"Isn't it, you liar?!" Perturabo roared again.

"As for loving you, no, Perturabo." The man shook his head slowly. "I do love you."

Perturabo sneered and said: "Do you think I will believe it? And then withdraw my army that has reached the extreme star field because of your few words? I know what you want to do, I know it very well, father!"

"Actually." The man's eyes became a little sad. "You are already dead, Perturabo. So, even if you want to, you can't tell them your wishes. In addition, I am glad that you are willing to call me that."

I, even if the tone you use is sarcastic, I will accept it."

Perturabo pursed his lips and backed away.

"how could you do this?"

He asked in disbelief, but did not care about the fact that he was dead in his words: "How could you - you, no, you should - how could you do this?!"

"What should I do?"

The man smiled, and this smile was so natural. The prehistoric barbarian took off the laurel crown on his head and gently threw it to the ground. He stood up and narrated in a low voice as a father.

"Should I judge you for your crimes? Or should I angrily refute your actions, list your sins, lay your head on your head and make you confess? I won't do that, Petula

Beau, I don’t want to do that either.”

"But you should!"

What Perturabo said at this moment actually seemed like his position with the man had reversed. He said angrily: "You should judge me! I single-handedly destroyed your empire and ideals, and I allowed you to survive for ten thousand years."

Years ago, I killed so many innocent people, and you didn’t try me?! What kind of emperor are you?”

"The word emperor... is a fabrication. If possible, I would prefer that the emperor does not need to exist." The man replied softly. "And you, you are just an accomplice, and you are still a fool.

Foolish accomplice. You are not the villain, Perturabo."

"Ha!" Perturabo sneered again. "It's Horus, isn't it? Do you need me to remind you what the Iron Warriors have done? Do you need me to remind you what kind of power my legion has? I prove it.

I’ll show you! I’m the one who destroyed your empire!”

"I knew from the beginning what you and your legions were capable of, Perturabo. And Horus..."

The man lowered his head and smiled softly.

"Actually, it doesn't matter whether it's you, Horus, Fulgrim, or Mortarion... it doesn't matter who you are. In the final analysis, your betrayal does not come from yourself.

Will. Like I said, you are just accomplices."

"In the final analysis, this catastrophe that has left countless humans wailing and lingering is actually caused by them and my stupidity and stubbornness. I have thought about it many times. If I could make some different choices, would things have happened?

Would it be completely different today? But I can't think of a situation where I wouldn't have made a different choice."

He looked at the laurel wreath.

"I am your father, but I am also the emperor of mankind. I don't like this name, nor do I like the responsibility it brings. But besides me, who else can save you? You have to face

There are countless hungry enemies lurking in the galaxy, and if I don’t stand up, you will even fight each other on Terra..."

"So I must become the Emperor, I must become a cold machine that treats everyone equally as a tool. My humanity has been revealed many times, and every time, I regret it afterwards. If I want to avoid the death of a flower

, the best option is not to let it grow.”

The man looked at Perturabo, who had fallen silent, and slowly closed his eyes. He did not look at the laurel crown anymore. Above their heads, there were stars. Demons and monsters were surging, wanting to enter the promised land that had just been constructed.

the earth, and obtain a soul within it.

However, a father blocked all these things out with his weak arms.

He swallowed the hot blood that surged up in his throat, suppressing the pain and restlessness in his soul due to the use of power again. He said calmly: "The matter is over, Perturabo, whether you hate me or not, you will not do anything to me."

What impact does the world have anymore? You are already dead."

"But I will not forgive you." Perturabo replied in a slight voice. "I absolutely will not."

He lowered his head, like a child who knew he had done something wrong but was still stubborn. After a while, he asked again: "But why didn't you say it? You could have told me directly...

I trust you, you only need one word to make me let go of my resentment, why...why don't you say it?"

The man opened his eyes, faced Perturabo who was almost speechless, and smiled slowly.

"Did you say anything to Honso?"

Perturabo was stunned.

"Did you say that he was your son? Did you say that in that chess game, he made you proud? You didn't, Perturabo. Father and son are alike, and I regret that he made you proud.

You inherited these terrible qualities from me, I'm sorry, kid."

The golden flame ignited.

Perturabo knelt down quietly. He lowered his head and saw that his hands were trembling. His appearance was reflected on the glass-like ground. It was no longer a steely black, but

A crying child.