Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

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Standing by the lake, He Shenyan stretched out his right hand. The calm lake began to boil, and the water floated and evaporated. The large cube covered by metal below is exposed, and the whole body is dark, which is very mysterious.

STC.

Standard construction templates, invaluable treasures of the empire, high-tech computers, and what Sergeant Priyad paid for with his life.

"I hope you deserve it."

He said, taking a step forward. The surface of the metal cube began to melt away, revealing the large manufacturing machinery and intricate pipes and cables inside. This machine was completely different from today's imperial mechanical creations, delicate and full of complex aesthetics, and did not contain any religious elements.

That's good, very good - at least He Shenyan doesn't like wetware computers very much.

"Then." He Shenyan tilted his head slightly, a priest from the Mechanical Order had been waiting behind him for a long time. "It's your time, Father Ragotinos."

"Respect, reverence, esteemed lord—" There seemed to be something wrong with the sound generator of Father Ragotinos. He hurriedly raised his right hand, and his fingers automatically deformed into a screwdriver. He pulled away a metal plate under his throat, inserted the screwdriver, and after a while of debugging, his voice returned to normal.

"Excuse me, my lord, I really can't contain my excitement."

Father Ragotinos's electrosynthetic voice sounded indifferent, but his own cyborg body was trembling violently.

He took two steps closer, the crimson mechanical prosthetic eye shrank for a while, and then Father Ragotinos fell to the ground, twitching all over: "Oh Messiah--!"

"what happened to him?"

"Sir, we don't know either..." Insel, who was standing beside He Shenyan, replied politely. "They always do."

Father Ragotinos groped the ground with his mechanical hands, as if trying to get himself up. But he failed many times, the emotional processing unit was too excited, and the tiny electric current produced a great load on his operating unit, and even strengthening the limbs could not make him stand up.

The priest knew very well that his situation would continue for some time.

But he couldn't stop, and the discovery was astonishing.

"My lord! My lord!" Father Ragotinos shouted as he lay on the ground, not caring that his rust-red robe was stained with dirt and dust. He raised his right hand and pointed at the huge machine, and the synth sound even stuttered: "That's a complete STC! Complete!"

"Are you sure?"

"100% sure, my lord! If not, let Om Messiah punish me for not being able to read the wonderful binary language any more!"

He Shenyan laughed.

"Let's stand up first, Father Ragotinos, you can't study this STC while lying on the ground like this."

"You- want me to study her?!" At this moment, the priest was very grateful that his sound generator had not been upgraded to add something similar to emotion, otherwise he would definitely sound like he was crying now.

"Is there a better candidate here? You are our only technical priest, stand up, Father Ragotinos, you have work to do."

Ignoring the priest who was trying to stand up with the help of the servo skull, He Shenyan turned his head slightly and said to Insel: "Send two cultivators from the standard squad to be stationed here, and immediately ask for support if you find any situation. In addition, go to inform Shen Shen. Doom, have them also stationed on this planet for air defense."

A cold light flashed in his eyes: "I allow you to fire unrestrictedly on anyone who approaches without authentication."

The Chapter Master nodded, no objection to this - what's the joke? This is a complete STC...

A complete and fully functional STC basically only exists in legends. Nonetheless, any rumours of a complete STC would be enough to cause the Order of the Mechanics to send an expedition to find it.

Rumors are trivial, and the big deal is to settle accounts with those idiots who spread rumors around. But if they can really find a working STC, it will change the entire empire, and the empire will return to its peak, not the rotten and dying look it is now.

Even more than that, the lost technology preserved in it will bring humanity back to its heyday, further expanding the borders of empires, and destroying aliens that threaten humanity.

To sum up, Insel even felt that the two teams were not enough. He even wanted an entire Chapter to be stationed here.

Facing his suggestion, He Shenyan refused: "The research will not last too long, and the Vengeance will not be too far away. We will only sweep around this planet to ensure that no traitors can get close to it. Once When the STC study is over, notify me immediately."

"Understood, my lord, then, I will personally lead the team."

"Go."

Blue light flashed, and he disappeared in place. When it reappears, it has returned to the main control room of the Vengeance.

Rather than leaving the STC on that planet, doing research on the Vengeance is clearly a more reliable option. But that kind of cutting-edge technology does not belong to He Shenyan's research scope. He doesn't know whether he will cause a little damage by teleporting it through magic means, and he would rather leave it on it than make a mistake.

The importance of STC is self-evident. Father Ragotinos alone may not be able to decrypt all the information, but it is complete. This is enough, as long as Father Ragotinos can activate it, this STC can continuously produce all kinds of cutting-edge technologies of the Empire that are tens of thousands of years ago.

What does this mean?

The STC thing came to an end. Frankly speaking, He Shenyan is only interested in one thing now. It's not an easy job.

Khorne wouldn't watch her followers slaughter indifferently, and she would love to see it, but that didn't mean she didn't want to push the mages to the limit. He Shenyan can foresee that Khorne will continue to send the Great Demon and her demon army from the warp to stop him. A war that has never been seen before and will never come later is about to kick off.

And that was exactly what he wanted.

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

Arianto squatted beside a dead servitor, without a helmet, and the only remaining eye was staring at the servitor's head. It may have been a woman before the transformation, and there is a little evidence of its former gender in the chest cavity stuffed with mechanical parts, but it is now irrelevant. It doesn't even remember its own name anymore.

Even lives have been lost.

"How's it going?"

His brother, Targaryen, came from the other side of the battlefield. He was covered in blood and looked irritable.

"Not very good... The time of the death of this command servitor was three hours ago."

"We just entered the battlefield three hours ago."

"Yes, that means someone was here before us and killed it."

Targaryen's irritability was quickly turning into a depression, and he said in a low voice, "Zachary is dead, we don't have a tech sergeant anymore."

"RIP - but, that's okay."

Arianto took the Servant's head off its mutilated body and held it firmly in his palm with his right hand, moving very carefully. The jet-black blood mixed with engine oil dripped from his fingers: "Take its skull back first, and sooner or later we will meet a group of technical sergeants."

"I'm afraid they won't be willing to communicate with us."

"Then send the machine servant to contact them..." Arianto snorted softly. "Exactly, I don't want to talk to these little brats after the second army was founded."

Targaryen laughed after a long absence, the last time he laughed was when the Chapter paid the price of seventeen brothers to kill a Khorne Demon: "Aren't we also a Chapter formed after the Second Army? "

"That's just an excuse." Arianto stepped across the battlefield, the smoke rising behind him. A few rays of early morning sunlight pierced through the thick clouds and hit his armor. "We are the World Eaters, remember that, Targaryen."

"Could it be that you think I'll forget?"

"not sure."

They returned to the vicinity of the transport plane together, and the brainless machine servant in charge of driving had been waiting for a long time. Fifteen brothers, only two of them survived.

Arianto can't say whether this is good or bad. He was saddened by the deaths of his brothers, but also happy for them—the only way to prove their loyalty was to die fighting for the Empire, and the atonement was far from over, even just beginning.

They each took a seat and sat down, with Arianto sitting in Zachley's seat. The technical sergeant obviously didn't care about his seat, the seat was all slanted, but Arianto didn't bother to adjust it, so that's it.

Targaryen sat opposite him, and the transport took off after a jolt. The Servant, who had been transformed by Zachary's hand, steered the old transport plane smoothly and stably, helping them get back to the spaceship to mobilize their manpower, take a temporary rest, and go on to the next mission.

"Sometimes, I feel that we are dying." Targaryen said suddenly.

"Put your blasphemous thoughts away, Targaryen," Arianto said solemnly, but didn't even bother to lift his head. He looked at the blue-gray floor between his legs and said calmly, "Even if you die, you must die worthy."

"I don't see where our value is."

Arianto looked up.

"The Inquisition will soon send its hands to take over the planet, and the corpses of traitors will be cleaned up. The planet may no longer be habitable, but at least it can be used for other purposes. We sacrificed the lives of thirteen brothers for The Empire has taken back a planet. That's what we're worth, Targaryen."

"No," Targaryen whispered. "Our value should be to die in the battle against Angron, not to die here."

"boom!"

Arianto suddenly burst out, stepping over a distance of several meters in one step. He pushed Targaryen hard against the bulkhead of the transport plane. Staring into his brother's empty eyes, he suddenly realized that he was suffering from the terrible aftermath of the butcher's nail being removed.

The reason is very simple, Targaryen's cheeks are twitching wildly, and his eyeballs keep turning nervously. The bloodshot began to spread to the whites of the eyes little by little, the nose was shaking, and the sweat was dripping profusely.

"Crack!" Arianto gave him a slap without hesitation, and shouted sharply, "Remember our past, Corporal Targaryen!"

"Huh—" Targaryen let out a hard breath, sounding like he had inserted a needle into his lung. "Sedative...quick..."

"How many injections did you have today?"

"Three needles... hurry up! Arianto!" Targaryen roared with filial piety, blue veins bursting out on his thick neck, and his eyes were red. His body trembled violently, and he almost broke free from the straps of the chair, and the power armor was constantly warning.

"Quick! Arianto! Quick!"

Three needles, no wonder you're acting so strange, my brother. Arianto silently took out a special tranquilizer from his waist, raised his hand, and plunged it into Targaryen's neck with unquestionable precision and speed. After three minutes, he calmed down.

Arianto sat beside him, turned his head, and asked after a long time, "How do you feel?"

"Not very good, did I just start to fall into that 'empty' state again?" Targaryen's voice sounded very weak.

"Yes, even worse than that. You said something bad, and if those in the Inquisition heard it, we would probably be declared traitors right away."

"Haha." Targaryen smiled. That smile was cold and with some kind of hatred.

"They're bullshit. We fight for the Emperor and his ideals. It's up to him whether we are traitors or not. And he must know whether we are."

Arianto was silent for a while, then changed the subject.

"Strictly control your dose, Targaryen. You can only take five damn shots a day, and if you can't control your emotions and have to increase the dose, you will sooner or later forget as many things as Zachary. Yes, and even forgot his own name in the end."

"We've forgotten thousands of things, my brother, what's the harm in forgetting one more?"

Arianto turned his head and looked at his brother seriously: "Then, I at least hope you can remember your name and your identity. You are a corporal of the First Dalian of the World Eater Legion, Targaryen Mo Relius, you are my brother. We are loyal to the Emperor."

Targaryen hung his head weakly, as if asleep. From Arianto's point of view, he could see Targaryen's horrific scar on the back of his head, and he could hear him muttering, "Yes, we are loyal to the Emperor."

The transport plane left the orbit of the planet, the servants were still driving steadily, and they reached the ship an hour later. Arianto lifted Targaryen from his chair and handed him over to the three incoming servitors.

"Set him up," he said. "In addition, notify the captain to come and meet me. I have something to talk to him about."

The Servant nodded - for a moment, Arianto doubted whether this mindless machine could understand what he meant. Why did it nod? It is a machine.

Is it a designed program?

This meaningless question was quickly put behind him, and wearing blood-stained armor, Arianto took the skull and returned to his room.

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