Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Revenge.

There are 72 hours before arriving in Terra.

72 hours, three days, whether it is long or short.

The engine of the Vengeance roared for four days, and during these four days, the supply of magic power was not interrupted for a moment. It ran over countless reefs or fragments of planets in its path at frantic speed. After they are mercilessly crushed into shattered inorganic matter, they will also be captured by the search and transformation circle around the Vengeance to provide it with energy.

Make the most of it, nothing more.

In the main control room, a fierce quarrel was breaking out.

"Going to Istvan at this time?! Holy Terra is under attack, but you let us go in circles to that damn Istvan?!"

Angron looked at Fulgrim in disbelief, the latter sinking into his chair, and Phoenix looked extremely tired. His eyes were sunken, and his mouth was tightly pursed.

He didn't say a word, but Angron raised his hand in anger and slammed it on the table: "For the Emperor's sake, is your brain broken? Do you need me to look for it? How many doctors will come over to help you take a look?"

"Stop for a while, Angron." He Shenyan made a gesture, and the alloy table top that was marked by Angron began to repair itself. At the same time, the mental tentacles also led him away from the round table.

The mage turned his head, looked at Fulgrim, and asked calmly, "The voice you heard is still calling your name, isn't it?"

"Yes." Fenghuang closed his eyes, his voice sounded like a dream.

"And, over time, I could hear what he was saying. I even knew he was there."

"What did he say?"

"The Old Sage is waiting for you - he called me on Istvan III."

Fulgrim was silent for a while, and then spoke again with difficulty: "I remember the name. Rila the ancient sage... He joined the Third Legion at the end of the Unification War of Terra, in He fought alongside my father before I came back."

"Delusional, you are saying some stupid things that even a lunatic can't say." Angron sneered. "A veteran of Terran who survived the Istvan III. Do you think this is possible?"

"Why not?"

Phoenix asked indifferently, still not opening his eyes: "Your non-commissioned officer, Jivaldoren. Didn't he also persist among a group of traitors for 10,000 years?"

"It's different."

"What's the difference?"

"You want to know why?"

Angron sat up, he put his hands on the round alloy table, his expression was flat: "Because Jivaldoren has never betrayed, he has never betrayed the ideals of human beings. He did not survive by his loyalty to me--and It's his own will!"

"The same is true of Rila, the ancient sage."

Fulgrim finally opened his eyes.

"He has always stood firmly on the side of the Empire and humanity. When the entire Legion followed me into chaos, only a few dared to stay awake and choose the right path. It was difficult, extremely difficult. "

Fulgrim said word for word: "At last, I sit here—I sit before you, and after so much shameful betrayal and blasphemy, I finally have reason and sobriety again, so I am very I understand how difficult it is to choose the right path, and because of this, I firmly believe that the ancient sage Rila will never betray."

"The words of the family." Angron folded his arms and asked coldly, anger condensed in his eyes, as if it would explode in the next instant: "In your heart, is Terra more important, or is your son more important?"

Fulgrim raised his head abruptly, this question seemed to have touched his dead end, making Phoenix's eyes bloodshot: "This is not an equal issue!"

"No, this is it."

Angron smiled instead, sharp canine teeth sticking out from his lips: "You shameful betrayer, Fulgrim. You have never been truly loyal to humans and the Empire, even if your filthy and perverted son clone The same is true of you who has not fallen.

You keep saying that you are fully awake, but look at your request! "

The roar echoed in the main control room: "You don't deserve his name! The man I know will never be entangled in the life and death of one or two children when the empire is in danger. If the ancient sage Rila is still alive, he is in Knowing that you have such thoughts, do you think he will be moved?! No, he will be ashamed of you! Because you are shaken! You are shaken between the empire and him, no, let me put it more clearly. …”

"You're just trying to make up for the mistakes you've made in the past, Fulgrim. You're still striving for perfection, and your nature remains the same."

Fulgrim was trembling, he didn't know if he should be angry, or even why he wanted to say it. Every word spit out from Angron's mouth is torturing his heart, and it also makes Fenghuang really ask himself: Am I really... destined to fall?

A hand reached out and put it lightly on his shoulder. Fulgrim raised his head and saw the mage's calm golden eyes, and his heart suddenly settled down.

He heard He Shenyan say: "We are human beings, Fulgrim. Human beings are creatures dominated by emotions. This is our greatest strength and our greatest weakness."

"Also, making up for mistakes made in the past is not the same as pursuing perfection." He Shenyan smiled. "Don't listen to the nonsense of that mad bastard."

Ignoring Angron's glare, he picked up the power sword that Fulgrim had set aside. It belonged to Saul Tarvitz, and He Shenyan handed him the sword and said softly, "I believe you know what the right choice is, Fulgrim. It's hard.... ..but, think about Saul Tarvitz."

Fulgrim left in a hurry, and his mental state was still not very good - considering that he had been tortured by a ghost from the past for so long, He Shenyan decided to be more lenient with him. More importantly, if he was truly disloyal, he couldn't have picked up that sword.

He Shenyan leaned on the table and looked at Angron with a smile: "You were very angry just now."

"Yes."

The Lord of Red Sand happily admitted: "I am really angry, but those words are not my sincere intentions. I want to use aggressive tactics to make him and me fight, maybe this will make this idiot feel better."

"This won't solve the problem." He Shenyan said calmly. "Unlike you, Fulgrim is sensitive and vulnerable. He seeks perfection because he is inferior - he lives in the shadow of the Emperor. This is the fate of every child, and they are all shadowed by their father, However, it will eventually break free."

"You seem to have a lot of confidence in him."

He Shenyan said strangely: "He is a clone, Angron. His biological age is less than two years old."

The Master spread his hands: "And, not only him, I have confidence in you all."

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There are no complicated decorations on Sol Tarvitz's power sword. It is a round iron-gray weighted ball. The sword grid is a skull that represents the purity of human beings.

It was a blade that cut iron like mud, but it was extremely safe in Fulgrim's hands. The position on the sword was not opened, and he unconsciously rubbed the blade with two fingers as he walked inside the empty first bridge.

There are usually very few people here, and the people on the ship, neither the Astartes nor the Astral Army will come here rashly. As if the convention had become established, this place was regarded as some kind of sacred place by them.

On weekdays, they only operate on the second and lower decks. Fulgrim recalled the report from the Circle Center a few days ago, it said that the refugees had built a small city on the bottom deck.

The vitality of human beings is really strong like weeds. For millions of years, these mortals who were once despised by the emperor's sons have been struggling to survive in natural and man-made disasters.

They have to face complicated taxes, and they have to face those corrupt low-level officials. If not born in Garden World or Guilliman's Ultramar Five Hundred, then most people would probably spend their entire lives in factories from birth to death.

They did not have the so-called "artistic cells" that the Emperor's Children and Fulgrim valued, and did not have the ability to create great works. And never really understood any profound truth. They just work, get married, and have children. Then die.

That's all.

However, they formed the cornerstone of the empire.

Fulgrim stopped, and he suddenly realized how wrong the past self was - he blindly pursued various arts, and even did not allow himself to lose grace in battle. But what's the use of this?

He was able to paint with all kinds of high-quality canvases and paints in his long life because someone was working silently behind his back. The precious wines he drank were also brewed by them. And do those people really have no "artistic cells"? No, probably not.

They just didn't have the chance to show their talent, these people gave everything for the Empire. And until five minutes ago, Fulgrim didn't even subconsciously take them seriously.

Heavy shame attacked him, and Fulgrim raised the sword in his hand and stared at the mirror-like blade. His purple pupils were reflected on them, and when he raised his head again, the weakling between the Son and the Empire had disappeared.

now I understand. We are fighting so that these people can one day get rid of the complicated work, so that their children can also enter the palace of art and pursue a better future. I'm fighting for the future of empires and humanity...not for so-called perfection.

who is perfect? I'm not, not even the Emperor is perfect. Otherwise, how can I fall again?

Phoenix suddenly smiled.