Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

[When we talk about Primarchs, what are we talking about? 】

[Superman's body, superman's mind, superman's ability...is that all? They are the greatest work of my lord the emperor, his sons. They are also our hope while everything is falling apart. 】

[But, what else? 】

[Readers, be careful what you read next. I hate to write them down, but my Lord insists. And I'm only his penholder, and I've traded my loyalty and dying life for this opportunity, and you're about to read it. 】

【Back to the topic. Apart from those innate abilities and forged personalities, what are Primarchs? Or, after stripping their talent from them, what's left of them? 】

[From the memory of my lord Emperor, I saw the answer, and saw many answers. And in this chapter, I will only describe about Rogue Dorn. 】

[Rogge Dorn during the Great Expedition was always angry. He is irritable and changeable, sensitive and suspicious. Inwitt was lost to the alien attack and was completely destroyed in the bombing, which he never forgot. What's even worse is that he still has a sense of honor at the moment. 】

[Yes, this is the worst thing. He is not pure enough. Ordinary people can be bad enough and good enough not pure, because we don't have to bear any responsibility. But not the Primarchs, who were born to take responsibility. 】

[Thus, Donne became an anomaly. Among his brothers, even the Iron Lord Perturabo, who had the deepest estrangement from him, would not question Dorn's commanding ability. However, due to his own personality, Donne has caused many stains on his supposedly flawless record. 】

【In order to win glory and win the first place in a certain battle, he may not hesitate to let the soldiers of the legion go to die, to undertake the most dangerous tasks, and tell them from the beginning that they cannot come back alive, they It's cannon fodder. 】

[However, after this battle is over, he will desperately try to reduce the sacrifice of his legion. It is even required that no soldier is allowed to step out of the trench without his order. 】

[This kind of paranoia of opposing each other, which can be called crazy, made him talk among his brothers. You don't need me to say too much, but Perturabo is the most opposed of them all. 】

[The Lord of Steel and his warriors do not pursue honor, they never regard war as a stage to display individual heroism, they just regard it as an indispensable part of the process of human revival. 】

[Thus, what they want is the smallest number of casualties. They care for the mortals who fight beside them,

Try to convince every stubborn commander not to waste their soldiers. There is no doubt that this philosophy of theirs comes from the words and deeds of the Iron Lord. 】

【Therefore, you should be able to understand now—why two seemingly completely unrelated things, rock and steel, become enemies that oppose each other and even become hostile. 】

"It's really an appropriate analysis. I can't help but want to applaud the author who didn't leave his name. His logic is very clear."

Conrad Coates said so in a cheerful tone. He looked happy, which is normal. After his character returned—or rather, after his sanity returned and madness left him, he began to become more and more...

naughty.

An innocuous banter that gets nasty at times, but it doesn't matter. And the reason why his brothers were willing to put up with him was probably because they could all hear what was hidden behind Konrad Koz's seemingly mocking words.

Admit it, some people just don't want to speak clearly.

"I'm more concerned with the Perturabo he paints."

Fulgrim said he looked so interested that he even turned his head and glanced at Angron. "Are you familiar with him?"

The Lord of Red Sand shook his head slowly, then nodded again.

"I don't know how to define familiarity in your mouth. I know his character and what he is. Frankly speaking, I respect him. But, there is nothing more than that. Perturabo and Magnus is a friend, of course, and Ferrus before the betrayal... No, I'm not talking about you, sorry, Ferrus."

The heroic spirit with a burning face showed a smile, saying that he doesn't need to care.

As for the other person named...

Magnus hugged his book and blinked his remaining eye. He asked in a low voice: "...me?"

"Yes, you, the guy who carries books everywhere." Angron shook his head, looking helpless. "Please, can you speak louder? No one here will be your enemy."

Magnus nodded at an extremely fast speed, and Angron's words made his expression relax a bit. He didn't get an answer, but he already had some guesses. At this moment, there is even a little hidden gratitude in the expression of looking at the Lord of Red Sand.

Angron sighed and said nothing.

——He can feel emotions.

"Anyway, that's it," he said slowly. "If you want to know more, Fulgan, I recommend you to ask Lorgar who is sitting over there."

He grinned, and winked triumphantly at the somewhat stunned Jinyan envoy.

'I'm not leaving you alone, brother. '

"..."

Facing the eyes of everyone looking over, Lorgar Aurelion's gaze unexpectedly averted a little. Of course, the Jinyan envoy is not a person who would be stage frightened in such a situation. There is a position of speech officer in his army.

But... the current situation is indeed a bit special.

He took a deep breath and said, "Perturabo...I mean, the Perturabo I know."

The Lord of Steel with his arms folded grunted expressionlessly, his eyes still focused.

"He's somber and serious most of the time. He doesn't talk much, and in meetings he'd probably prefer to keep quiet than talk... His regiment is fantastic. Comrades, as long as there is one breath left, they will never abandon any companion. And his willpower..."

The envoy of Jinyan smiled very softly, "Frankly speaking, I admire his self-control ability."

The Lord of Steel snorted again—if he hadn't known the cause and effect, he might have felt that Lorgar was mocking him.

"What, a tickle in your throat, dear Perturabo?" Curz laughed happily. "If that's the case, well, you probably have a cold. My advice is to get some pills, or see a doctor...you understand?"

"It seems that not talking is really a very difficult problem for you." The Iron Lord responded coldly. "One day, I'll shut you up."

"Oh...but the mouth is on me, my brother."

Curz blinked happily: "I mean, how are you going to control my thoughts?"

He looked at the silent Rogge Dorn again, the eyebrow on the right raised slowly, making his expression very frivolous at the moment.

"...Besides, I think you should pay more attention to our 'stubborn stone' than to me. Look at him. This appearance can scare a group of orcs who attack Inwet-if they really If you intend to do so."

Sanguinius frowned angrily. To him, even if Curz's words were a kind of twisted and awkward concern, it seemed too much.

The archangel vibrated its wings lightly, then pulled out a feather and held it in his hand. His strength was undoubtedly revealed at this moment, and at a certain moment, a warm radiance even descended on the room as if someone had come personally.

Don slowly raised his head.

He opened his mouth, wanting to thank him, but the hoarse voice made the words sound more like a speech before death: "...Thank you, Sanguinius."

The archangel nodded with a complex expression.

Dorne breathed a sigh of relief, and Perturabo looked at him like a winner. Still, even though he was in a false, celebratory moment, he was merely posing as a winner, and he didn't have the exclusive right to speak of a winner.

As for the reason?

Maybe it was because he knew in his heart that it was not his achievements and experiences. The reason why he still has to stubbornly assume a victor's posture... Maybe it's just because he doesn't want to bow his head.

He didn't believe that Roger Dorn would be better than him.

"...Do you want to say something, Dorn?" Horus asked softly.

The expression of the God of Shepherd Wolf is still not pretty, but this does not affect his concern for his brother. Granted, he wasn't quite out of the tangle of fidgeting and fidgeting at the moment...but he was Horus Lupekar.

He cares about each of his brothers.

"I don't have anything to say."

Dawn answered in this way, with a voice as if two rough stones were rubbing against each other.

"I will never let my sons go to die. If it is a mission of death, I will not even let it appear on our conference table. War is ever-changing, and there are thousands of ways in it. There is no possibility. Only The way to take death..."

As he spoke, there was a kind of hatred in his voice. It's so obvious that you don't even need to look specifically to spot it. Vulkan and Chagatai looked at each other quietly, and they both reached a certain consensus.

The Fire Dragon Lord is always smiling, but he has a keen observation ability that was born beside the forge. A blacksmith with poor eyesight cannot succeed. And the latter is the one named the Eagle by the Chogorians.

They can all see how unstable Dawn's mood is at the moment, and this is even the result of being channeled by the power of Sanguinius.

Dawn paused for a moment, the muscles on his face began to tremble, the magnitude was frightening. The horror of this rage was heightened by his short gray hair and stern features, making him look like some sort of vortex of rage.

"I reject him," said Rogal Dorn. "A defeatist, a commander who puts too much emphasis on honor and completely ignores the lives of soldiers, a coward steeped in memories of the past who refuses to come out, a hateful ... enemy."

He even started to use the word "enemy" to describe his half body.

"Go ahead, Center, I want to see the ending, I hope he dies without a place to bury him."

"Hey, hey, wait a minute—wait a minute."

Conrad Curz interrupted the Nexus inappropriately...or rather inappropriately. Facing everyone's puzzled gazes, shaking his legs, he asked the most serious question he had uttered so far in a seemingly frivolous gesture.

"Where is our respected father?" The Lord of the Night asked with narrowed eyes. "Where did he go, Central? Don't tell me, a great almighty creature like you doesn't know where he is... If you really answer like this, I'm afraid I will doubt your ability."

"The aggressive method, a successful attempt, Conrad Koz, you seem to have begun to understand my current personality. Understand, I will start character iteration to adapt to your current impression of me."

The center was silent for a moment, and then, a new projection appeared on the silver wall at the front of the conference room.

stars.

To be precise - the dim stars. A tiny golden light is flickering uninterruptedly and passing by them. Wherever the brilliance went, the stars began to flash light blue light one after another.

"What is this?" Leman Russ asked. "That light...is the captain's power?"

With a kind of hope, he stood up abruptly: "...Tell me quickly, Center!"

"Calm down, Leman Russ. That's indeed the captain's power, but not directly from him. It's what he left behind. The Emperor is connecting them one by one so that when war does come At the same time, there will be no unnecessary casualties."

"Sounds like an enchantment-like spell."

Robert Guilliman commented calmly: "I have seen many similar descriptions in the books that my teacher gave me."

"Anything else you know, Robert? How to cast spells, cost, effects—whatever?" Corax asked.

"...I only had time for a cursory glance."

Corus Corax sighed faintly.

"That's why you're still a magic apprentice, Robert," said the Lord of Crows, complaining. "Knowledge has been given to you by your teacher, but you don't cherish such power...you don't want to learn it?"

"Learning takes time!" Guilliman cried. "And what I lack the most is time—you can't see how busy I was a while ago!"

Corax pointed at Magnus, who instinctively dodged and made an evasive movement.

"Then why is Magnus able to do it? He is starting to study like you, but as far as I know, he has recently started to study how to cast spells."

"Well!"

Magnus backed away in panic, like a man with a chair, he stammered and asked, "You, you, how do you know?"

Conrad Coates smiled maliciously.

"alright."

Leon El'Jonson held his sword—or rather, the hilt—seriously. He interrupted the farce that was about to start, and then started a dialogue with the center in a rather polite manner.

"The center of the magic circle." He said these four words dryly. "Can you, for us, explain what the Emperor is doing?"

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