Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"He gave me the courage to slay the enemies of mankind."

An Astral Soldier prayed while checking the Canteral-style laser gun in his hand, the standard weapon of the Cadian Legion. Cantrals are extremely reliable weapons against lightly armored targets or foes of normal human size. Against large or armored targets, however, laser guns are useless.

It lacks the stopping effect of traditional kinetic weapons to force the enemy to stop. And the firepower of the laser gun itself is not enough to stop the Chaos Astartes or the orcs. Fortunately, they do not need to fight the Chaos Warband head-on.

It's just a matter of routine - the Imperial Military Department says that a soldier should check his weapons three times a day.

In fact, he was standing in front of a cannon hole, and in front of him was a black column, which was not large and flashed with fluorescence. The soldier has received a full set of training in the past two hours, and has been able to operate the gun normally. Although he was an army man, he didn't have the opportunity to play with naval guns before, but now no one would care about this difference.

There were only three hundred and seventy-five of them, and the captain with the highest rank was still in the infirmary receiving automatic treatment on the ship. Besides, who doesn't like large-caliber firearms?

A sound came from overhead, and a mechanical voice reminded them: "The enemy is expected to enter the range in three minutes, please prepare the gunner."

The soldier turned his head and glanced at his companions left and right. The same look flashed in their identical purple pupils.

"The enemy will be in range in two minutes, please start warming up."

The soldier meticulously placed his hand on the black column, as he had been told during his training two days earlier. After a blur, his vision came to the dark universe, which was a wonderful feeling. The soldier could hear a voice urging him in his ear.

It was yelling: "Shoot! Launch! Shred 'em! Crush 'em!"

He knew that this was the roar of the machine soul.

"It's not the time yet," the soldier said in his heart. "Please wait a moment, Machine Spirit."

The machine soul made a dissatisfied noise, but didn't say much. The soldier breathed a sigh of relief when another voice said, "Ready to fire - fire, fire!"

The soldier's hand suddenly clenched the column, and the veins on the back of his hand burst out. The machine spirit roared frantically in his ear, and in his sight, the picture was constantly shaking. Three hundred and seventy-five blue light beams merged into one, turning into an arc of destruction in the universe, and with just one blow, a ship that was very far away from them was not left with ashes.

If it hadn't temporarily merged with the machine soul, the soldiers wouldn't even be able to see the ship clearly.

He felt heartily pleased, and the Machine Spirit seemed content, and let out a slight sigh in his ear - and then less than a minute later it started screaming again: "More! It's not enough! They're all To die!"

"Excuse me, holy machine spirit, there are no more enemies near us." The soldier calmed it carefully, before getting another disgruntled noise. Then, he let go of his hand and exited this state, his forehead was covered in sweat.

Looking around, so did most of the others. At this time, they seemed to have undergone a rigorous training, and few people wanted to talk when they were tired.

The soldier grinned, and a sound came from above his head: "Well done, soldier. You have successfully eliminated seventeen enemy ships today, and he will be proud of you."

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"This kind of firepower even makes me a little uneasy."

Sitting in the main control room, watching that the Storm-class frigates were easily turned to ashes without even noticing them, Angron said something like a joke.

"What nonsense are you talking about? Of course, the bigger the firepower, the better. Strong is good, and more is beautiful."

"Well, it's just that I'm a little upset because I couldn't shred their bodies with my own hands."

"You're quite honest." The mage laughed.

"We only have three hundred and seventy-six astral troops, but we have fifteen hundred compound magic cannons. One of them is still in the infirmary because he gave himself that bloody potion. Damn it, I Can't even let him get better straight away, or he'll definitely answer right away and rant among the soldiers that I'm a living saint or something."

"Isn't this a good thing? If you want me to say, you are much higher than the rank of a living saint."

Angron is surprisingly easygoing, even capable of making such relatively profane jokes. When not in combat, his sense of humour is quite appetizing to He Shenyan.

"Yeah, a good thing. But not for mortals."

Angron frowned: "They believe in Him as firmly as the Astartes. In fact, each of these soldiers is good. If I say, their willpower does not have to be much worse than the Astartes. "

"No, I'm not questioning whether their belief in the Emperor is devout and their willpower is firm." He Shenyan said lightly. "Just because they're mortals, it's that simple."

Angron was silent.

He knew that the mage did not look down on mortals. He was just stating a simple truth - they were mortals.

In the midst of war, the Astartes have extraordinary strength and elaborate power armors, as well as a variety of powerful weapons. And what do mortals have?

Carapace and laser gun? Those things are close to nothing to the enemies of the Empire, but these brave soldiers still set foot on the front line for tens of thousands of years, which is one of the reasons why Angron has such a high respect for the mortal auxiliaries. He knew very well that without the sacrifice of mortals, Astartes was nothing.

But then again, there are some things that mortals can't know.

It's brutal, but that's how it is. It's not that they don't trust them, or that they don't feel worthy of knowing the truth. But from the perspective of protection... Thinking of this, Angron suddenly understood why the Emperor wanted to hide the existence of the Warp from all mankind in the first place.

This complicated mood made him sigh: "You gave them that feather?"

"Of course." He Shenyan winked at him. "Seriously, Angron. It's really your loss that you weren't there. The third company commander looked like he was about to cry."

"Take your damn bad taste."

Angron clicked his tongue in disgust: "Why do people lose their righteousness the longer they live?"

"You seem to have misunderstood me, and you seem to be implying other people. However, I'm only thirty-five now."

He Shenyan supported his face and touched the stubble on his chin. He said thoughtfully: "Let's talk about it, we will probably have to maintain this fighting intensity every day for the next month."

"Good or bad?"

"The more you kill, the happier the machine soul will be, and the firepower of the gun will be stronger. But overall, this is not a good thing."

He Shenyan said ambiguous words and frowned.

He knocked on the table in front of him, and the rune inscribed on the magic circle in the main control room immediately bounced, forming a light blue light curtain in the air.

This scene inevitably made Angron take a second look - it was the first time he had seen this special technology, um, just treat it as technology.

"look."

The mage pointed to the light curtain, and the route they had sailed so far appeared on it. It could be regarded as a simple map, but due to the relationship near the big rift, the map had already lost its meaning.

Even the laws of physics can be rewritten, and the stability of the real universe has long been a joke. If I insist, this place is now a bus that anyone can enter and leave.

The mage continued: "Although the map is no longer useful, the route we navigate is still somewhat useful. Maintaining such a fighting intensity every day means that we are always in the enemy's encirclement, and it won't take long for the Chaos traitors to realize that we are Existence. Then it's time to really fight a tough battle. After all, they're not stupid."

"Then let's fight." Angron looked at a route shown on the light curtain, with light reflecting in his eyes: "A traitor who has fallen into chaos, a vulnerable waste."

"I appreciate your contempt for them. It is appropriate to despise the enemy strategically, but you must pay attention to the enemy tactically."

He Shenyan knocked on the table: "Eighteen Astartes, one Primarch, three hundred and seventy-six Astral Army, and me, a weak mage. If they assemble a fleet to launch a surprise attack, they will still have to fight in the end. Do jump gang battles."

"Why? Isn't the firepower of the compound magic cannon enough... I understand what you mean." Angron suddenly stopped himself and showed a somewhat dangerous smile.

He Shenyan also smiled slowly.

"Compared to an opponent who has no weaknesses at all, and will be smashed into scum if they don't even meet face-to-face, why don't we leave them with some illusions? Every battle is a tragic victory. Then, in order to please their master, It is bound to send more people. If it fails this time, it will be the next time, and the next time it will not work, it will be another time."

"Fight and lose, lose and fight. Every time we win, they can only say that we are lucky, but they don't think we are invincible. On the contrary, they will think that we are lucky-- — so more people will come.”

He turned off the light curtain, patted the table and stood up: "...Don't you think it's interesting to play with them a little bit like this?"

"Be clear in advance, I hate conspiracy and tricks." Angron said slowly. "But you're right, it's really interesting."

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Ezekiel's room is very simple, even a little too simple. A chair, a table. Not even a bed. He was leaning back on the chair at this time, carefully looking at the white feathers in his hands.

There is no doubt that this is his gift.

After looking at it for a while, he put the feather into the mezzanine of his power armor. He is not at ease where such a precious item is placed, it is better to carry it with him as a relief. But this is not a long-term move. Be sure to return to the battle group before you die, and treasure these treasures.

However, Ezekiel actually knew that their chances of going back were slim.

He stood up and walked out of his room. The wall split apart naturally, revealing an opening for him to pass through. The corridor outside is composed of two colors of silver and white, which are two styles from the imperial ships he had been on before. Ezekiel couldn't say which one he preferred.

The floor of the corridor was made of a metal material he couldn't tell, and a light blue light flashed on the ceiling every few hundred meters. The light also seems to have a sane effect.

The icy Milky Way was reflected outside the porthole, and the material of the window was not glass—the glass was not so transparent, and even gave Ezekiel the illusion that he could touch the vacuum as long as he stretched out his hand. But this is not the case. He has tested it, and even with all his strength, he can't break this unknown solid material.

Astarte sighed in his heart, and he walked along the road to the assigned armor repair point. There was also a thoughtful sign on the door. He stood beside the door, a burst of white light swept across him, and the door opened by itself. He walked in, and a mechanical voice came from above his head: "Please wait a moment, Captain Ezekiel."

He stood on the spot, the surrounding walls were black, and a fine humming sound was coming out at this time. It didn't take long for a light blue magic circle to appear under his feet, and just looking at it made an Astarte like him feel dizzy. Ezekiel looked away and took off his helmet.

He let go, the helmet floated autonomously in the air, spun around, the eyepiece looked at him, he looked at the eyepiece. The voice said: "Please get ready, Captain Ezekiel, your armor is about to be repaired and upgraded. The estimated time is thirty-five minutes - please remain calm during this process."

"I'm ready." Ezekiel said in a deep voice.

"Zi-"

The magic circle made an uncomfortable sound and wrapped him from bottom to top, including the helmet. Ezekiel closed his eyes, and there was an uncomfortable itching from the black carapace that he connected to the power armor, but it quickly disappeared. A sense of stability made his mind gradually relax.

Sparks are constantly emerging from the joints of the armor's shell, and this ancient and sacred power armor has passed through four veterans before it was passed to him. As a small battle group with little background, any power armor is a family heirloom. At this time, this timeless armor is receiving a new life.

The dents and scratches on the outer shell disappeared, the artificial muscle fibers inside became thicker, and even sixty-four runes were inscribed. The paint and colors have not changed, and the various technology crystals on it have not changed in any way - they are just merged with the runes from the mages.

Ezekiel opened his eyes, and a voice came from above his head: "The repair has been completed, and thirty-three damages have been repaired. Your power armor transmission system and servers have been strengthened. If you feel uncomfortable, please go to the training ground. Get used to it."

He tried to throw a punch three times faster than before.

Ezekiel's eyes twitched, and he said, "Please arrange a separate training ground for me..."

Predictably, he didn't even want to sleep tonight. The increase in speed and strength does not mean that he can simply adapt in a short time. His fighting skills also have to keep up, which requires a lot of practice.

But, it's always a good thing—not so much for their enemies.