Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Silence is today's Onkar Rock.

Of course I'm talking crap. No one comes here at all in winter, of course it is silent.

He Shenyan glanced at the ground. He saw the sand that looked like it had been burned by flames, and he could clearly sense the hot breath in the air. He tentatively released his mental power tentacles, and it didn't take long for the earth to vibrate again.

"You're really tall enough."

He Shenyan raised his head, looked at the shadow in front of him and said.

"who are you?"

Aoun's eyes were full of doubts, and he suddenly felt a powerful breath appear on the rocky ground. There was no sign, it appeared extremely suddenly, and after rushing out, what I saw was an ordinary human being.

Ordinary?

Ornn stared at him, the human looking rather relaxed, as if he wasn't standing in front of Ornn, but was walking near his house.

"Hey... I have to say it again." He Shenyan complained half-jokingly, and then introduced himself: "Mage, traveler. From the East... You can call me He Shenyan."

Aoun's voice was like rolling thunder and boiling magma, with a firm tone: "You are not human."

The mage raised his eyebrows: "This... I can't agree with you. What do you think I don't look like a human being?"

He pointed to his face and asked with a smile.

Ornn replied drearily: "There are many...and, human beings can't be so powerful."

"Okay, man. As much as I'd love to debate this with you, I'm not here to have a debate on this subject."

"Aoun."

Looking at the ancient god of Freljord in front of him, the god of melting and casting that is well-respected in their myths and legends, He Shenyan talked about business: "Do you know the void?"

"..."

Aoun was silent for a while, and his body became red, like flowing magma. After wriggling for a while, he turned his body into about the size of a mage: "I know."

He is quite polite.

He Shenyan smiled and continued: "The Freljord people call you the protector of the furnace,

They think you are very different from the other old gods. Unlike your sister, every new birth brings more than just hope. It also indicates a huge threat. Much less like your tyrannical brother. They seem to use you as some kind of spiritual symbol. "

"...The stupid opinion of mortals." Ornn seemed uncomfortable with such compliments, he tapped his horn and said: "The Void is suppressed by the Frost Witch beneath the Howling Abyss...they can't come out. of."

"Perhaps. But any seal is broken, that's the law. I haven't seen the Lissandra you speak of, but I've dealt with the Void. I guess so are you. You should know them. How difficult it is."

Ornn knew what the mage was talking about, and Lissandra's seal would not last long. Those who stare into the abyss are also stared at by the abyss. And the Void is not just "difficult". In the ancient times of the Freljord, He and his brothers and sisters led the savage humans to fight against the abominable alien monsters for hundreds of years.

With so many casualties, Anivia had to permanently alter the Freljord's terrain with her own frost. Turning this place into permafrost, Frost worked for them at first, but then only True Ice could stop them. So Volibear used his thunderbolts in addition to his fangs and claws, and so did Ornn, his flames roaring.

Those days and nights that have long passed have forever changed the land, as well as Him and His brothers and sisters. Recalling the past, Aoun's eyes became a little scary.

He said slowly: "If they really get out of trouble, I will be the first to go to the battlefield."

"Ah, you are more reliable than most of the gods I know. However, I have another suggestion."

"Instead of waiting for them to get out of trouble, why not start first?"

"The Freljord has no armies, and Volibear and I alone can't solve them." Ornn shook his head: "What's more, my brother is probably insane at this time. He is addicted to blood and killing. too long."

"We don't need an army."

Ornn frowned at the mage's words: "What are you talking about—"

As soon as He said his words, He Shenyan's original harmless figure changed drastically in front of him. The air became sticky, and the ground let out an overwhelmed groan. The sun and the surrounding scene disappeared in an instant, leaving only the deep darkness. In his eyes, crimson thunder was constantly boiling, and the power of destruction caused the surrounding space to crumble a little bit.

The next second, Aoun came back to his senses. The surrounding scene did not change, they were still standing on the rocky ground, and the mage was still the same, looking just an ordinary human with no features other than being handsome and excessively pale.

but......

The ancient god gave him a deep look and nodded: "If you have this level of power, killing them is even easy to slap back."

"But, I have a question."

"Why are you doing this?"

Aoun's question did not exceed the mage's expectations. He smiled casually: "Interests, hobbies. As you understand. Don't be fooled by my appearance, maybe I am also addicted to killing, but compared to human death, I prefer to hear the screams of the aliens before they die."

Aoun shook his head and said succinctly, "You don't have that madness in you."

He Shenyan sighed helplessly and said, "You really don't have any sense of humor, man. Of course I'm joking—why are you looking at me like that? Isn't this joke funny? But let's get down to business."

He looked at Aoun, the smile and the helpless look faded away, and there was only peace: "...Do I need a reason?"

Ornn had to admit that he didn't breathe a sigh of relief until he saw the mage in this look. Willfulness is the prerogative of the strong.

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The tall elk in front of him collapsed suddenly, and its body made a dull sound on the ice. Kedar, panting heavily, drew his axe from its neck. The blood splashed, bringing heat in the air, and a lot of blood was spilled on the handle of the axe, but it was absorbed by the hand wraps in the next second.

For the wild animals and humans in the permafrost, the overlord of the mountains is not a bear or a wolf. But these elk, after all, bears and wolves only come out to forage when they are hungry. But the elk will chase you 800 miles away because of a little curiosity. As long as you are hit by the horns on their heads, you can immediately pray to the sheep spirit.

Kedar put the axe by his side and drew a short knife from his waist. He chased the elk for a long time, and they usually roam the mountains in packs during this season. Most of the Freljord's elk are around 4 meters tall in adulthood, and they run with astonishing momentum. This single person is still underage, and it is estimated that he was left behind by the ethnic group.

He couldn't finish eating the elk, so he didn't even remove its chilly horns. Elk antlers are not only a symbol of force in the tribe, but also a precious material. Witch doctors can use their mysterious magic to communicate with the ancient spirits of nature sleeping in the permafrost. After mixing various materials, they can use elk antlers as the main body to give ordinary warriors the power of iceborn temporarily.

The Iceborn were even able to briefly recapture the unrivaled power of their ancestors after consuming the potion.

Kedar widened the wound on its neck with a short knife, and then leaned in to drink blood. It's not that he wants to drink blood like this, but that there is no clean water source now. Even if he wanted to drink the dirty snow water he couldn't do it - he didn't have a pot.

After temporarily quenching his thirst, he wiped his mouth. The traces of blood stained his beard red, looking particularly terrifying. However, he didn't need to care about his image at all. Kedal took the axe and slashed hard on the hind legs of the elk, then rubbed the small mark on the end of the axe handle with his hand.

With a bang, the dark red face of the axe turned orange-red, and Kedar held the axe carefully so that the face of the axe would not come into direct contact with the cut back leg. Then he turned the hind legs a little bit, and after the fur and the meat were roasted, he put down the axe.

Looking at the poor-looking hind legs in front of him, Kedar shook his head regretfully.

His appetite had been in Ionia for ten years and had been raised long ago. Just kidding, what did he eat in Ionia? One dish a day can be eaten all year round. As a fisherman with good craftsmanship, he has no family to support. He can even go to a town not far from the village to eat out every day.

Recalling the drunken shrimp and braised pork in their store, Kedal smashed his mouth and tore off the rotten skin of the front and back legs, and ate it. The original taste of the hind legs of the elk does not even have any salt. It is the original taste of the original taste.

Really fucking authentic.

After frowning and grimacing, Kedal cut off another hind leg, cut some meat strips from the belly of the elk, and hung it on his belt. He threw the elk's body on the spot, and he didn't know who would find it, but that wasn't his concern.

Want to return to Winter's Claw?

Thinking of this question, Kedal was a little lost. He actually just thought about it, the tribe would definitely not welcome him. But he has now fulfilled his oath...where is he going?

After walking for a long time, he rested on a cliff. If you can't find a cave that can shelter from the wind tonight, or a leeward slope. He is about to spend the night on this cliff.

Just as he was thinking so, there were voices and heavy footsteps coming from the road down the mountain in front of him. Kedar stood up with squinting eyes, and his hand had already touched the handle of the axe.

The flickering lights illuminated the surroundings, and a young girl appeared in front of him wearing an animal leather armor with two hatchets hanging from her waist. Kedar did not despise her because of her youth, and women in the Freljord were not easy to mess with. In particular, the girl's long pale blond hair was an obvious feature of the Iceborn, which made him even more careful.

He released his hand from the handle of the axe, not wanting to fight if necessary. Kedar raised his hands and said sincerely: "I have no ill intentions, I am just a passerby. I will be leaving soon."

The girl lifted the kerosene lamp in her hand a little higher, looked at his face carefully, and then gave a short cry behind her, imitating the sound of an owl in the woodland, which she learned a lot.

Kedar put his hand on the handle of the axe again.

A man came from behind her with a long sword on his waist. The beard is neatly tied on the chin, the hair is messy, and the eyes are full of exhaustion. He walked over to the girl, and the two talked for a short while, and Kedal was a little confused about their thoughts.

After a while, the man walked towards him and stopped at a safe distance: "Wilt Ken Ibratar, we are from the Ibratar tribe. Stranger, why are you alone? Immediately Winter is coming."

Kedal knows what he means, Freljord in winter, no one can survive alone. Humans are like that, and so are animals.

He was silent for a while, wondering if he should tell the truth: "...Kedal Lo Darwell. I'm just, alas."

Kedal sighed, he didn't want to lie, and he didn't want to tell the truth, so he said, "Listen, I have no intention of conflicting with you, I'll leave, okay?"

As he spoke, he stepped back. But Wilt suddenly frowned, and he said, "Wait, I've heard this name...you belong to the Winter's Claw tribe!"

These four words seemed to have touched some incredible switch, and a wolf howl came, and Wilt responded with a wolf howl. The cliff was calm again, and the girl walked up to him, her hand on the axe on her waist.

She said sternly: "I am the Warmother of the Ibratar tribe, Variana Loktha Ibratar. Are you really from Winter's Claw, answer me, Kedar Lo Da Will."

Kedar sighed annoyed. He hadn't seen the clan, but apparently his clan had done something good again. Their way of subsistence has never changed, looting while others are busy finding land suitable for farming. While others were hunting, they were also looting. They were either looting or on the way to looting.

They make a living from it.

"Look, I do come from Winter's Claw. But I have nothing to do with them anymore, and I've been banished from the Horde."

The expression of the young war mother changed, no one would joke about being expelled from the tribe, and no one would say such a thing to survive. For a Freljord, being expelled from the tribe was even more unacceptable than dying on a soft bed.

"How are you going to prove your words?"

But she still had doubts.

"I can't prove what I say, and I don't want to prove it. That's it, I'll let your tribe pass. I don't know what Winter's Claw has done to you, but it's none of my business." The axe, holding it against the shoulder, slowly backed away.

Wirth said suddenly: "Are you from Aonkar Rock?"

"...Why do you ask?"

"This road is the road to the rock, and I've walked it many times. If you're from there, have you seen a warm-blooded mage? Black robe, black hair," he asked.

"No, I didn't see anyone along the way."

Variana nodded: "Very well, you can leave. May the flame of the Forged God illuminate the path ahead of you."

Darkmoor left silently, clenching his axe.

"Just let him go?"

Watching Dalke, the young War Mother asked immediately after he had completely left.

"We can't stand a fight, and...my Variana, you're too young to know who he really is."

Wilt seemed to be completely relieved, and the hair on his forehead was even soaked with cold sweat: "Dark Law Darwell Winter's Claw... You haven't heard this name because he is in Ended up ten years ago. But until then, he was Winter's Claw's sharpest minion."

"Why are you afraid of this? Our people are already in ambush, but you don't let them act?"

"Because I have seen him tear up the siege line of ten people and kill them all one by one with an axe. Do you know what his title is? 'The Warrior Without Scars', I can see it again today He...ha."

Wilt let out a cold snort of unknown meaning, raised his head and looked at the night sky: "Are we going on our way, or are we camping now to rest, my war mother?"

Variana didn't speak, she just stared at Wilt, which made the latter a little strange. He scratched his head and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Think I'm too young, don't you? I know you think I'm too young as a partner."

This sudden sentence made Wirth seem to have been hit hard, and he almost didn't catch his breath: "...What? Why do you think like this? I didn't say anything!"

"You said it, you said I was too young to know who he was."

"Isn't that true?"

Variana looked at him blankly, the wolf-like gaze chilling him. Finally, Variana spoke slowly, but asked a very inexplicable question: "Are you full tonight?"

"I'm full, what's wrong?"

"Very well, come to my tent tonight."

After saying this, she turned and left. The pale golden ponytail fluttered in the night sky, obviously out of breath. Wilt yelled, "Where are you going?"

"Let the furnaces camp! You better get ready, Wilt, or you won't be able to walk tomorrow and no one will help you."

she said coldly.

"..." Werther stood there inexplicably, not knowing what he did wrong to make her so angry. And Wilhelm walked slowly from the bottom of the cliff, smiling wildly: "It seems that someone is going to have bad luck tonight."

"what are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Wilt. The tent isn't soundproof, but we know you've been tormented enough by her."

"...I let her, what do you know?"

Wilhelm burst into a burst of indescribable laughter against Wirth's desire to kill: "Oh, it turns out that begging for mercy is also to let her? You are really humble!"

Wilt gritted his teeth, threw a few words out of his throat, and immediately left the place: "...shut up, Wilhelm, you damn old bastard."