Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

The smell of incense under the state religion burns very smoothly in this small quiet room. Normal people can't accept the smell here, but the owner of the room is not normal.

The four black walls are made of metal, smooth and smooth, and there are four oil paintings, all purchased from the ronin. Even to the most discerning critics, these four paintings are rare masterpieces.

Painting is good painting, but the owner of the room is not necessarily a good person.

The governor of the planet Calgarth, Lorden Calgarth, who is named after the planet, is an extremely fat tall man, and his pale and puffy face is often arrogant and vicious. This has nothing to do with his identity.

On this remote planet where the sky is high and the emperor is far away, Lorden Calgarth can freely exercise his precious hereditary rights. On this planet, he is no different from a god. There are countless people who will throw their heads and blood in order to get his affirmation. Today, his reign has lasted one hundred and seventy-three years.

Predictably, this decadent reign will continue for a long time. Lorden Calgas has enough financial and material resources to carry out reconstructive surgery for himself to prolong his life. It is really impossible. He can also directly replace the diseased organ.

These planetary governors are about the same - they just need to pay their taxes on time and give some support when the empire comes to recruit. As long as they do, the Inquisition will turn a blind eye to what they have done. But if you don't, even if you're well-known locally and you're a good person, the Inquisition will come on time and on time.

Then cut a hole in your head.

As for who the later successor is, they don't care and don't care. As long as you pay your taxes on time and pay people as needed.

It's brutal, but it's also realistic. The empire is governed by such a large and corrupt bureaucracy.

The door of the quiet room was pushed open, and a fat figure squeezed in. Just these two steps made him panting. He was addicted to the anesthesia of drugs and alcohol every day. Even if his body was maintained mechanically, he couldn't exercise for long.

He didn't even look at the four exquisite oil paintings, he went straight to a corner of the room, raised his hand and pressed the wall. With a soft sound, another door opened at the corner of the wall. Lorden squeezed his body in again with difficulty, he was sweating profusely and looked anxious.

Just then, something interesting happened.

A hand gently nudged him behind his back, and a man asked in a low voice, politely, "Need help?"

Lorden's body froze.

After two seconds,

He screamed, "Guards! Guards!"

Frank stood in the quiet room with interest and watched the unpleasant fat pig cry and struggle as he was stuck in the door because he was too fat. His precious robe was cut, and so was his skin. Oil and parts were exposed from the subcutaneous surface, but there was not much blood.

"You can yell a little longer..." Frank kicked his ass. "After all, soon you'll never be able to say anything again."

Lorden, who was stuck in the crack of the door, was still struggling: "I can give you a lot of things, really, our family has a lot of treasures!"

"No, those are the property of the Empire and have nothing to do with you. Lorden Calgas." A woman's voice interjected, Lorden couldn't see her face, but the voice also made him feel dead. ——Compared to the man's ridicule, there was a contempt in this woman's voice.

That was contempt for not treating him as a living person.

He screamed again, but was a little deprived of oxygen from struggling too much. Although the artificial organs and mechanical transformations in his body worked quickly, allowing this broken and pathetic body to enjoy a little incense air with difficulty, he still felt that he could not breathe.

He was crying and screaming.

In this background sound, the Imperial Inquisitor Bonavia spoke the sentence steadily without any interference.

"Lordon Calgarth, you have betrayed the Empire. Your crimes are well-documented, and you will be executed on the spot without trial. You will be stripped of your status as the planet's governor, and your descendants will be enslaved until they are born. A battle hero can be forgiven. Remember this, the soul of your ancestor Calgath is dishonored because of you."

"boom!"

As soon as a gunshot rang out, the firepower of the bolt gun easily smashed the fat pig to slag. Frank withdrew the bolter, he had to admit—after leaving Terra, the female Inquisitor had begun to make him look a little better.

Work fast and unencumbered by red tape. Often after Frank has executed a corrupt planetary governor or admiral, she can find the next one immediately. Frank didn't know how she did it, and didn't care about the political connections behind this woman.

He only cares about one thing: "Where is the next target?"

"There is no next target, my lord."

Bonavia shook her head: "We executed three fleet commanders and seven planetary governors in a month, and if we continue to kill, this star region will most likely hold a political meeting for us. By then , if they have thoughts of mutiny, we will take full responsibility."

"Then kill it together." Frank's fingers rubbed the bolter's body, and the metal-to-metal collision made him narrow his eyes.

"They're going to have meetings about this kind of thing, it shows they're scared. They're scared, it shows there's something wrong with them..."

"It's not like that, my lord." Bonavia smiled wryly.

"These incompetents we executed were all solid evidence, but because of your existence, the evidence could not be released. What they saw was two judges who came to this sector for no reason and started massacres. It's weird to react."

"These people may not be good at governing the planet, but they must be good players in political struggle." Bonavia persuaded Frank in a euphemistic tone, but the Punisher didn't bother to pay attention to her at all.

He turned and walked out of the room, and there were corpses on the ground—Lordon Calgas was not a fool. In addition to corruption, cult of personality, and forcibly marrying more than 100 people (including men, women and children) in the name of the emperor, he also deliberately won over the psionicists born on his planet.

This is something strictly forbidden by the Tribunal. We can say that you don't pay taxes, and if the amount of compensation after the fact is sufficient, then it is not impossible to negotiate for you to continue as governor. If you don't hand in people, if you can be tough with a gun on your head by a gentleman from the Ministry of Military Affairs, then you are considered capable.

But if you hide the psyker and don't report it....

No one can save you.

The corpses were partly to blame for the reason Lorden was executed on the spot - they were all psykers, seven in all. One of them was particularly difficult, and the one-handed psionic lightning took Frank a bit of work. In order for the dagger to perfectly hit the guy's eyeball, he deliberately aimed for five more seconds.

Frank and Bonavia stepped on the corpses, and outside were the Defenders and Servants lying on the ground. These people are just blind obedience, not a serious crime, and Frank didn't kill them. The psionic power he has obtained after transformation allows him to easily do this kind of thing that was completely impossible before.

Unfortunately, most of the time, he still likes to use a gun.

"My lord, I'm serious." Bonavia still wanted to dissuade him, but whether Primarch or not, Frank was notoriously stubborn.

He just said nonchalantly, "If you can't do it, I'll take someone else. If it can't be done, I just need an instrument to carry with me."

"Get it right, Inquisitor." He paused, staring at Bonavia's burnt face, his voice gloomy.

"Corruption and incompetence are equivalent to betrayal. By my old standards, 15% of the people on this planet need to be shot in the head. Now I only kill these, which is kind enough."

At this moment, another man's voice came from his communication channel, with a little helplessness: "Frank, this is not the earth you know well. We are in a near-future universe and a bunch of feudal-era bureaucracies. Deal, you can't just kill everyone - it's going to be a big meltdown."

"...I respect you, Captain."

After a moment of silence, Frank said so.

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In the orbit of the planet Calgarth floats an Avenger-class heavy battle cruiser, which has been in service for more than 1,200 years. This time-honored ship has made countless contributions to the Empire, and is beloved in the navy as 'His Blade', but her real name is actually quite inconspicuous.

'Quick revenge', that was her name. To be honest, it actually fits her status as an Avenger-class cruiser. After all, this type of ship has a way of attacking it by approaching enemy ships at great speed and tearing them apart with her two full rows of high-speed guns.

There is currently no ship that can escape after being approached by her, unfortunately, times have changed. Everyone doesn't play close-quarters combat anymore, and the ship is gradually retreating from the front line. But she can still contribute to the Empire, like now.

Steve Rogers stood on the bridge with his hands behind his back, staring at the surface of the planet Calgarth, and he sighed imperceptibly: No matter what world, Frank Custer is always this difficult.

He had met the Punisher from another world with Guilliman over Terra a month ago. Although Steve had been mentally prepared, he was still shocked by Frank's behavior.

He knew the Punisher's way of doing things, but he didn't expect that he could still go his own way after changing a universe, and he didn't care about other people's opinions and the consequences of doing so. To his relief, Frank was still willing to listen to some of his advice.

A dignified, tall and strong woman walked behind him, her face was determined, and her beautiful face had a moving heroic spirit: "Sir, with all due respect, how long do we have to waste here?"

"I understand your impatience, Mrs. Cassandra Vallescus. After all, an admiral cannot stay away from his ship for too long."

Steve said softly, "But we've got to do things on that Regent's schedule, don't we? He's strict and precise. I appreciate the precision and the step-by-step, you and I are both soldiers, soldiers. Discipline has to be followed.”

"I understand, my lord, but—a month!"

Mrs. Cassandra sighed, her dark blue prosthetic eye did not blink, in stark contrast to her other eye: "It's been a month, and I think that so many soldiers have rushed to Battlefield, and I and my Third Fleet haven't moved yet, I can't stand it."

"Wait a little longer, ma'am." Steve smiled. "No, Fleet Commander. It is necessary to maintain the stability of this sector. They are an important juncture on our way to launch an expedition. You also know that logistics is the most important part of war, isn't it?"

Mrs. Cassandra nodded, not ignorant of these things. It's just that loyalty to the Empire urges this tall lady at all times, who is more powerful than many men and more beautiful than many women. Because of this, she felt that she needed to take more responsibility for the empire.

That's why she was so restless, unable to tolerate even the slightest bit of behavior that, in her opinion, was a waste of time.

Steve understands her, but he's also a stubborn guy.

Now that the commander has issued an order, everyone should obey.

"Then, I'll go back to my ship first, my lord. I hope that when we meet again, we'll be on the front line fighting those... Please forgive me."

"I don't want to stain my lips with those blasphemous words," the woman said firmly. "May the Emperor's fire destroy them."

After speaking, she left, just as vigorously as when she came.

Steve looked at the lady with admiration, a shadow appeared behind him, and a giant stepped out of it. His face and body were all obscured by shadows, and he looked like a giant bat standing in the dark.

"...You can come in through the front door, you know?"

Steve turned his head and complained.

Batman didn't speak, he reached out a hand from under the wide black cloak and shook hands with Steve in earthly manner. His voice was still hoarse, with an unpleasant gloom: "I know, but I'm used to it."

"It's not a good habit to always show up behind other people's backs." Steve said half-jokingly, then patted him on the shoulder: "Are you done with your business?"

Batman nodded calmly. "Where's your helper? Frank Custer, right?"

"He's fine...it's a little too good." Steve shook his head and pressed his eyebrows.

He turned his head and looked at the icy universe outside, his expression became icy for the first time.

"The war will begin soon," he muttered to himself with that expression.

"Also, it's unlike any battle I've ever fought, it's unbelievably massive, and as shocking as everything that happens in this universe. I wouldn't be able to if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I believe that such a world will still exist.”

But the world is existence, cold, cruel, and hopeless.

Steve's expression quickly returned to calm, hopeless, but there was still a silver lining, and that was enough.

He is willing to fight for it.