Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Lictor calmed down quickly, surprisingly fast. He quickly returned to 'normal' and stood in front of He Shenyan without saying a word. If Fulgrim were to attack the mage, he would be a wall.

Angron glanced at him calmly, and said nothing.

He Shenyan naturally found out about this, he said with a smile, "It doesn't have to be like this, Liktor, he won't attack me."

"...I'm skeptical, my lord."

Lictor said in a deep voice, "I won't ask him about his origins. You might say that he was a Primarch who was 'loyal' to that Angron. But I still remember that he was one of the traitors."

When he said this, his eyes were about to burst into flames of hatred. And Angron's forehead seemed to have a vein beating.

"Whether he is or not, we can see at a glance."

He Shenyan stepped forward. Fulgrim, who was standing in the display cabinet, was still staring at the empty front with confused eyes. The mage raised his hand and gently pressed it on the cabinet door, and the golden flame lit up again. Lictor narrowed his eyes - he became more and more sure of one thing, and couldn't help but get more nervous.

The speed of the flames burning the stagnant stance was fast, but it was only for an instant that Fulgrim was freed from it. His eyes suddenly became smarter, and he glanced around like a panicked child, as if looking for his father.

The muscles all over his body were tensed, and he propped up the commoner. The perfect appearance was made more otherworldly by this fright, but Lictor, who had been watching him, let out a cold snort of disgust.

"You—you..." He seemed to want to say something, but couldn't finish it.

He caught a glimpse of Angron, who was standing farther away in silence, and that familiar face made Fulgrim's expression quickly turn terrifying—first, with a burst of joy, Gein saw the familiar. But he seemed to remember something again, and his expression changed to guilt and... murderous intent.

"...So, Fabius sold me to another Chaos Warband?"

He quickly regained his primarch's proper demeanor, and his previous weakness completely disappeared. The tall giant standing here has an otherworldly perfection, and he frowns, a slight anger and disappointment not only did not destroy his perfection, but instead enhanced it a lot.

"And you, my brother, don't have to hide anymore. Why don't you stand closer?"

Fulgrim said politely that his High Gothic was impeccable, and the pauses between his pronunciations, combined with his melodious voice, made it sound like a poem.

"No one is hiding."

Angron stepped forward, folded his arms and looked at Fulgrim in disbelief.

"Really? But you didn't deny that this is a Chaos Warband."

Fulgrim narrowed his eyes, and the deep murderous intent once again converged on the face of the newborn clone: ​​"It's nice to see you again, brother. You look a little different from what I remember. But, I'm sorry. , I cannot tolerate the existence of traitors, you and these people must die."

Angron glanced at He Shenyan and saw that he had no intention of stopping him. So, a smile slowly appeared on Angron's face.

He is heroic, and his otherworldly charm also makes Angron exceptionally handsome. It's a pity that his smile ruined everything - that appearance is not so much a means of human beings to express goodwill, but more of a roar of a beast before launching an attack.

"And after that? What are you going to do?"

He moved his neck and slowly approached Fulgrim: "What do you want to do, Fulgrim? You are a traitor."

"...I can't deny what I've done, but I've had a new life," said Fulgrim quietly. "Not everyone gets a second chance, I have to turn things around and set things right."

A radiance rose up on his face, and Lictor felt extremely absurd in this situation. He actually heard Fulgrim say: "The Empire will not fall, because I have returned! Father's glory will once again spread to thousands of worlds, and mankind will rise!"

With full of killing intent, he also took steps and approached Angron: "...And you, my brother, you are the sacrifice of my new life."

Angron grinned and laughed wildly: "Then let's try it."

"boom!"

The battle between the two primarchs was simple and unpretentious. Every punch and every kick of theirs was aimed at killing each other, but the momentum was extremely astonishing.

The battle had just begun, and the fists they collided made a loud noise. The aftermath and their strength forced the magic circle above their heads to hum, and the blue light quickly descended, instantly strengthening the strength of the silver ground.

Lictor calmly assessed how likely he would be able to kill these two if he joined the battle. The result he came up with was one percent.

A Primarch is a Primarch after all.

Fulgrim went into battle without saying a word, attacking silently. The attack like running water was extremely terrifying, but Angron became more and more happy.

He laughed loudly and jumped up, finding a crack in Fulgrim's airtight combo. The big hand made of steel grabbed him by the collar, and then slammed him to the ground: "You want to kill me just for this?"

"Oh—you'll see!"

Fulgrim gritted his teeth and was dragged into the ground for a terribly unsightly battle.

He had no such training - as the Emperor's son, as the much-loved phoenix. Fulgrim has always been the symbol of perfection. Even on the battlefield, his demeanor is impeccable. He can kill many aliens just by swinging his blade. Why do he need to roll around on the ground so embarrassed?

But Angron is different.

He was a general, a soldier. Anything that can win he will practice, master, and eventually use in battle. His purpose is very pure - to win.

That's all.

Therefore, Angron easily knocked Fulgrim unconscious. Frankly speaking, He Shenyan did not expect this outcome.

He had expected Fulgrim to hold on a little longer.

Angron let go, and the unconscious Fulgrim fell to the ground between his arms. He smiled disdainfully, turned his head and said to the mage, "It's better not to expect too much from him, it will be better."

"Oh?"

"In the ground battle just now, I deliberately left a few flaws. If he can let go of his so-called demeanor and really fight me personally, then he will last longer."

Angron said calmly: "He cares too much about the so-called perfection, why. Even in such a life-and-death battle, he is unwilling to let go of his obsession with his manners. How can we expect him to remain loyal?"

"indeed so."

He Shenyan smiled lightly and made a gesture.

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I failed. So, I still haven't been able to clear the shame.

Floating in the dark, Fulgrim thought.

A bitter taste spread in his heart. Fulgrim wanted to sigh—if he could.

It's a pity, it's endless, it's dark, and there's nothing.

Is this what death feels like? Not quite what I remembered.

...no, not actual death as I remember it.

Yes, he thought thoughtfully, that was not true death.

That is the process of abandoning humanity and selling the soul. Fulgrim, a human, died in the process, and what was left was a monster with his face on it.

A shameless monster who blindly pursues pleasure.

Fulgrim felt a deep pain every time he read this. Shame, anger, and unwillingness were intertwined within him. He didn't understand why he would indulge in pleasure so easily, and even bring the entire legion into the fall.

What has he made his heirs look like?

It's all my fault.

"Yes, it's all your fault."

said another voice.

There was a flash of light, and Fulgrim found himself in form again. He was standing on a cliff, and a man in a black robe stood beside him. He was familiar to Fulgrim, yet strangely unfamiliar.

He turned his head, and what should have been his face was a golden glow. Like a surging ocean, and like a burning flame.

"Who are you?" Fulgrim asked.

The man didn't answer his question, he turned his head and raised his arms, causing golden ripples in the air. A tiny, mottled golden glow emanated from him, and Fulgrim noticed that his arms were also golden.

"Look, Fulgrim."

"Look at what?"

"Look at the empire today."

A force forced him to turn his head away and his eyes widened. Fulgrim stared at the shattered empire, his eyes traversing countless star fields at this moment, 'seeing' millions of planets in a flash. They are different, some prosperous, some poor. But they all have one thing in common.

stupid.

A foolish belief compels people to become fanatical and obedient, and the master of that belief makes him chill - his father.

Could it be... Horus was right? Father really wants to become a god, and humans are just sacrifices prepared by him?

With such doubts, he continued to look.

The world that was supposed to be progressive and open has become ignorant and backward, with persecution and corrupt and incompetent bureaucracy in the name of faith. Even more than the alien traitor, Fulgrim shivered, because he realized that those people were not traitors.

They were loyal, very loyal—and that was exactly what he couldn't accept.

How did the empire become like this...?

"What do you think, Fulgrim?" the man said again.

Fulgrim was silent.

"Yeah, you won't have an answer. You're just a clone, a ghost from the past. Sooner or later, like your predecessor, it will become a symbol of the corruption."

"Do not!"

Fulgrim shouted loudly. At this moment, the pursuit of perfection and the deliberate maintenance of manners were all gone. Only the most fiery anger and the most determined rejection remain. He stared at the man, his eyes widened and his body trembled: "No!"

"What do you want to say? You are a traitor, Fulgrim. Look at the damage you and your children have done to the Empire."

The man waved again, and Fulgrim saw something new again. This time, he couldn't help shedding tears.

He saw his heirs shouting his name in a terrifying frenzy across the galaxy--they still wore purple power armor, but the purple was no longer noble. Instead, it became a morbid symbol.

Their limbs are twisted and their faces frantic. Playing with their own kind, all kinds of terror were created by them, but they laughed extremely happily. Both spiritual and physical pleasure lure them into their deepest depravity, and the culprit...

"The culprit...it was me."

Fulgrim stared blankly at the sight before him, he murmured.

He saw himself.

A twisted monster half-man, half-snake wielding four poison-laden blades, it shared pleasure and depravity with its offspring. Together they call upon their masters in the blood of men, and in the name of Slaanesh hunger for more joy. The sight made him tremble.

"I..." He raised his head, full of pain: "I."

He wanted to say something, but couldn't say anything.

"Is this the perfection you seek, Fulgrim?"

Before Fulgrim could answer, he continued: "There is no such thing as perfection, Son of the Emperor. It is a made-up term, a foolish vision beyond reach. Only a fool like you would indulge in it. There is no extrication from it.”

Fulgrim wanted to object, but he didn't. In his heart, he knew that this man was right.

"But you're not hopeless."

The man's voice became milder. He stretched out a hand burning with golden flames, looked at Fulgrim, and said slowly, "Come on, Fulgrim. Come and meet them."

Fulgrim took that hand.

His pupils dilated, and all the muscles in his body began to twitch. The bones began to vibrate together, and Fulgrim could clearly feel his organs failing. His eyes became darker and darker, and his heart began to beat more and more slowly. A purple mist gradually obscured his vision.

He began to feel happy, as always. The brain began to become numb and sluggish in pleasure, and thinking became sticky.

This familiar fall. He sighed imperceptibly - am I still going to be a monster in the end? Can't I change anything?

However, an extremely painful voice screamed in his ears: "Save them! Save them!"

Save... who?

"them!"

who are they?

The voice turned into a roar, through the purple mist that nearly enveloped him.

A trembling roar sounded in his ears, making his sluggish brain tremble: "They!"

"them!"

Fulgrim's eyes widened.

The fog was dispelled, and the golden radiance turned into flames to burn it away. A charming sigh came from the void, and Fulgrim felt his heart loosen, like a monster loosening its evil claws.

He looked up—thousands of familiar faces emerged from the darkness, looking at him expectantly, he knew every single one of them. Those familiar faces stared at Fulgrim with sadness or despair.

Fulgrim stared at them as well - oh my heir.

He said sadly: I do not deserve your love, I am a monster, a monster destined to fall.

One of the thousands of people walked out, with a determined face and long hair in a shawl.

Fulgrim recognized him instantly, it was Saul Tarvitz. He died on the Istvan III, at the hands of his own people, at the hands of Lucius, who shared his desire for pleasure. Because he didn't want to join forces with his own father.

Are you here to blame me, Sol?

Sol said: No, father.

He drew his power sword, which was still dripping with blood: I am here to save you.

save me?

The power sword slashed a trace in the air, and Sol Tarvitz's swordsmanship was flawless, leaving a precise scar on Fulgrim's face. He gazed silently at Fulgrim and said: The phoenix will come to Nirvana, Father, this is what you taught us.

Fulgrim looked at him blankly.

Immediately after, one of the thousands walked out, and then another... They walked out one by one, leaving wounds on Fulgrim's body, causing him to bleed. Fulgrim felt a sense of inexhaustible weakness, almost obscuring his vision. He wanted to die just like that.

This is also a good ending to die at the hands of his loyal son who died unjustly. It could be considered an atonement.

But...he didn't.

He is not dead.

Fulgrim was kneeling naked on the ground, and there was no good flesh on his body. Wounds were everywhere, his perfect features were cut to resemble a poor child's portrait, and his heirs surrounded him, watching him sadly.

Then, golden flames rose out of thin air and began to slowly burn their souls.

Do not!

Fulgrim stared at this scene with a split canthus. He couldn't understand all of this. He just stretched out his powerless right hand: No!

But he couldn't stop anything, he could only watch them die again one by one - in front of him.

Saul Tarvitz was the last to leave him, his face turning unreal. Fulgrim's tears and blood were almost dry, but he was not dead. Sol Tarvitz smiled silently, and he said: Father, be born again.

He disappeared, and the sword that had left Fulgrim's first scar tinkled to the ground.

A golden flame suddenly ignited from Fulgrim's bruised body. He endured the pain and inner pain and slowly stood up. His body was once again intact in the flames.

The perfect-looking giant stood blankly on the spot. He lowered his head, picked up the sword left by Sol Tavitz, and cut a long and narrow wound on his right cheek, destroying this flawless face. .

Blood flowed out.

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real world.

He Shenyan opened his eyes, smiled and sighed.

Angron looked at him inexplicably, and the mage said softly, "The phoenix is ​​nirvana, Angron."

Fulgrim suddenly opened his eyes.