Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"What is your name?"

Liktor stood at the designated teleportation location, and faced Ezekiel's question, he just answered lightly: "You don't need to know my name, just give me an order-now, I am under your command. "

"I understand."

Ezekiel nodded and put on his helmet during the countdown at the center of the circle. She covered her face with bright red tears. The next second, they disappeared in place.

There was an alarm from the eyepiece in the field of vision, and the pressure index was rising rapidly. But within acceptable limits, the familiar tension made Ezekiel let out a sigh of relief. A solid touch came from the soles of his feet, and he knew that they had come to the center of the enemy.

He took a deep breath, his lips and teeth collided, and his roar resounded through the breathing grille: "For the Emperor! Kill him!"

They appeared in the middle of the enemy, less than five hundred meters away from the damn wizard - for Astartes, this distance did not even exist.

Lictor was the quickest, and his weapon was gone by the time it was collected. What he was holding at this moment was just an ordinary power sword. Weapons made improvised by the emergency production line on the Vengeance didn't even have time to engrave human skulls and Imperial double-headed eagles.

But in his hands, it is still a deadly weapon.

Cut the flesh and break the bones, behead the heart and destroy the heart. No traitor could make a single move under him, and most of those Chaos traitors who had completely fallen to Slaanesh were easily dismembered by the power sword without even seeing his movements. The skills of the captain of the shield guard were so powerful that they even terrified them - only Lictor knew that he had not used his full strength.

He was swinging his sword with anger. This anger stems from the hatred of the traitors, from the shame that he was "collected", and from the unwillingness of his mission to fail.

Seeing this scene, Ezekiel quickly adjusted his tactics. Using Liktor as a blade, he and his brothers formed a tactical group behind Liktor. Any traitor who tries to get close or use fire on Liktor will be called out with their bolt guns, a highly effective tactic.

But in just three minutes, they left a stump of limbs and broken arms, and they advanced all the way to the wizard.

"Stop your pathetic ritual of depravity, traitor!" Ezekiel shouted sharply. "Perhaps so, I will grant you a merciful death."

The man didn't speak, he looked like a thin old man with only the whites of his eyes. A purple light shone from the inside out on the old skin, which looked strange and ominous.

Ezekiel made a gesture,

A brother behind him, who had been preparing for a long time, immediately pulled the trigger. The bolter roared, and the bullet shattered the old man's head and upper body—he couldn't believe how successful it was.

"No, not right."

Liktor said suddenly, he rushed forward, and the power sword slashed into the air behind the old man.

"clang!"

The sound of gold and iron intermingled came, and a voice giggled. The voice was so disturbing, the maliciousness contained in it made the muscles of Ezekiel's sword-holding arm start to tremble.

A figure emerged from the darkness, and no one knew how long he had been standing there. He seemed to have been behind the old man since the beginning of the world, and the scene that emerged from the air was not at all discordant.

He giggled, and the screaming faces on his breastplate squirm uncomfortably. The monster's ugly, hairless face was covered with scars, and a long tongue stuck out of a mouth full of teeth that had lost its lips.

He licked his chin and said thoughtfully, "Oh...you're a Custodian?"

"This is awesome!"

The monster shouted excitedly, and the sharp, alien-shaped knife in his hand swung violently, changing his moves in the air at a tricky angle, forcing Lictor to retreat a little.

He giggled. "You're going to be one of my best collections... darling, let's have one? How about?"

At the same time, his left hand twisted. The flesh-colored tentacles were mixed with blade-like metallic luster, and in an instant it transformed into a terrifying alien tentacle.

Lictor didn't say a word, and the captain of the shield guard knew that any words would make them happy when dealing with such traitors. Only silence is the highest contempt.

He clenched the power sword tightly, stopped the third company that wanted to help him, and pointed to the sky. Ezekiel understood immediately—it was time to call in the sky for support. Just when he wanted to contact the Vengeance through the communication channel immediately, Givaudron stopped him.

"Don't do that," he said. "I know that thing."

He said extremely solemnly: "That is Lucius the Immortal, and we cannot kill him."

"what?"

Givaudron repeated: "We can't kill him... This bastard died many times, and every time he was killed, he was resurrected from the man who killed him. There must be another way."

Ezekiel trusted him, and the experience of a 10,000-year-old soldier must be taken seriously. So he asked, "So, what should we do?"

"The captain of the shield guard should know Lucius. He is very cautious. Let's clean up the other traitors first, and don't let others disturb them."

the other side.

"I can ignore your little actions. Anyway, I don't like this group of people. It has nothing to do with me when they are all dead."

The monster yawned, and the saber in his hand danced lightly. It's hard to believe that such swordsmanship could come from a monster. He pointed to himself and said politely, "I'm Lucius, what about you, what's your name?"

Lictor still didn't speak, he just stared at Lucius coldly.

The smile on Lucius' face disappeared. "Don't talk, do you? It's okay. When you and I are one, you'll tell me everything sooner or later, darling."

"clang!"

The blades collided again, and Lictor's steps were as steady as a rock. Lucius' hideous appearance and his incessant blasphemy did not affect him in the slightest. He swings the sword - swings the sword and then swings the sword. Perfectly blocked every attack of Lucius.

If it was an ordinary weapon, the power sword in his hand would have already cut the opponent's sword and the man into two pieces. But the saber had obviously been blessed by Slaanesh, and not to mention the eerie purple light on it, the saber would sometimes disappear into the air abruptly. Caused a lot of trouble for Lictor.

However, he could hold on.

-------------------------------------

The smell of burning bodies was pungent and unpleasant, and Fulgrim stood in the empty square with his bare hands. It should have been a fountain square in a wealthy area, but at this time the fountain was spewing blood. The sculptures were also replaced with skinned and rebar-bound civilians.

The roads were full of blood and minced flesh, and all kinds of blasphemous sights and words filled their surroundings.

Fulgrim stretched out his hand and picked up a piece of gravel from the ground—he was not at the same point as Angron's teleportation point, so that would be fine, lest he be mad at the reckless man.

He strolled to the front of the square like a leisurely stroll, and then gently threw the stone in his hand.

"boom!"

There was a loud noise, and the stone rubbed in the air to generate heat, making a loud noise that could almost pierce human eardrums. The primarch's immense power, with his fury, easily shattered the upper body of a Chaos traitor.

The opponent's lower body swayed twice on the ground, and then fell to the ground with a clatter.

His companion, a Chaos Astarte who was injecting a cloudy liquid into his neck, stopped, seemingly unaware of what was happening. He turned his head to see a giant approaching him from the darkness.

"Stop there."

Fulgrim's voice sounded like an ancient well, and a ray of light condensed in his hands. Saul Tarvitz's power sword emerges from his hand. His steps were heavy and graceful, and by the time he fully emerged from the darkness, the Slaanesh traitor froze.

"You—" His voice sounded like someone had blocked his throat with something, which was in line with what they usually do.

Fulgrim stared at him.

He doesn't swing his sword, and he doesn't speak. Just stood there, quietly watching his renegade heir. The other's ugly and scarred face kept shaking, and the flesh trembled. Fulgrim could see that he wanted to close his eyes.

But he couldn't because he had cut off his eyelids long ago.

"Dang--"

The traitor suddenly released his hand, and he threw the sword wrapped in thorns to the ground. The pain that he originally depended on for survival and the potion that can convert pain into pleasure are no longer important, and his whole body began to tremble. In the eye sockets that couldn't be closed, the bloodshot eyeballs trembled uncomfortably.

Fulgrim still stood there calmly.

"I, I, the Primarch—I..."

He fell to his knees, the tear ducts, which had long since lost their function, began to sting frantically. A burst of blood flowed out of his eye sockets, and finally, he lowered his head.

"I'm sorry, Primarch."

"rest in peace."

Fulgrim closed his eyes and waved his blade. He heard a sigh of contentment—not out of anticipation of the ultimate thrill of death, but out of the quiet after all this was finally freed.

Phoenix walked past his dead son, and no one knew what he was thinking.

Behind him, golden flames began to spread.

-------------------------------------

"He manifested, he manifested!"

One of the tech-priests kept repeating, he didn't even use his favorite binary language, he just kept repeating this sentence, and so did most of his companions, which made the commander feel extremely annoyed.

He grabbed the other's collar, and his pupils turned golden at some point: "Stop your behavior, Father Ragotinos, we are not out of danger!"

"Oh... oh?" Father Ragotinos came back to his senses, red light flashed in the transformed mechanical prosthetic eyes, and he nodded: "I understand, Commander Insel, you What do we need to do?"

"Originally, I wanted you to place high-power explosives...but now I don't need it," Insel said.

"We must go to the bottom immediately, where the soldiers are stubbornly resisting. Just now, my people reported to me that many mortal soldiers suddenly possessed extraordinary strength, which greatly relieved the pressure on the front line. So, I think this battle is still to be fought. Where's your stuff? Are you ready?"

"It's natural." Father Ragotinos nodded slowly and rhythmically, his mechanical prosthesis moving extremely fast on the ground, almost as fast as the trotting Insel. Between speaking, he took out a small red square from his robe, which looked extremely delicate.

Father Ragotinos held it dearly and said softly: "But I hope we don't use it, this is a blasphemy to the god of all machines..."

It's strange that you still have things that you find blasphemous.

Between running, Insel glanced at him. The other party was still immersed in that miraculous scene, unable to extricate himself. Insel understood him, but could not tolerate him. Although he himself thought it was incredible and tearful.

But the strong shaking of the planet made him wonder if the traitors had planned a more dangerous plan of blasphemy—the followers of Slaanesh, the most disgusting gang of lunatics. For Insel, if he had to choose his opponent, he would rather fight ten Khorne followers at the same time than one Slaanesh.

At least, the berserkers who believe in Khorne are still willing to fight head-on with you and win an upright victory.

They quickly returned to the ground floor, and the first thing they saw was a huge factory. Many Astartes were running between the walls, driving the servitors to reinforce the walls as cover. Seeing his arrival, one of them quickly greeted him: "Commander, the battle line has stabilized!"

He said somewhat incredulously: "Those Cadians are just... The Emperor forgives me, but I have never seen such a mortal in my life, and ten of them killed three traitors."

Insel glanced at the Imperial Inquisitor in the distance without a trace, the other party seemed very tired and didn't care about their business here.

He immediately lowered his voice, turned sideways to make room for the servitors, and let them do their thing, then said, "Be careful. The people of the Inquisition will definitely settle accounts after the fall, and we must save this group of mortal soldiers."

"What? However, they also witnessed that scene with their own eyes. This is the Emperor's Apparition!"

"It is, but what if someone doesn't want it to be?"

Insel's words made his subordinates narrow their eyes, and his hands were already on the chainsaw sword at his waist. Insel patted him, motioning him to relax. The political struggles within the empire were brutal, and the dark and unspeakable secrets were too numerous to count. Such behavior by the Tribunal is not surprising.

You know, not all judges are loyal to the Inquisition.

"How is the situation on the front line now?"

"The front is stable, and there seems to be a great disturbance behind the enemy's rear. A group of soldiers evacuated from the surface just now said they saw a huge flying dragon soaring in the sky."

"Flying dragon?"

Insel frowned, and after thinking to no avail, he decided to put this matter down first.