Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Walking quickly in the palace, Angron didn't care about Givaudan's behavior of calling himself a 'brother', he knew what Givaudan was thinking. It is nothing more than that he feels that it is not good to have a bad relationship with the Fist of the Empire, but Angron doesn't care about this at all.

Evil is evil, so what? Fist of the Empire...

He snorted coldly again, and Jiva Doren quickly chased after him, and asked beside him puzzled: "Prime, why do you have such an attitude towards the people of the Imperial Fist?"

"What attitude?"

Jiva Doren was almost scratching his head, unable to say a word while hesitating for a long time. This made Angron smile instead.

He walked into the grand hallway ahead and explained to him as he strolled: "In my world, the Imperial Fists are a member of the Betrayer. I think this sentence should be able to explain it clearly, Jiva Doren. …”

Angron stretched out his right hand, and Jivaldoren put on his helmet.

With the roar of the chainsaw sword, the lightning axe slowly took shape in Angron's hands. Hissing, the golden electric current rang out with the tooth-stinging sound of bones rubbing against each other. In front of them, thousands of brainless corpses infected by the plague of Nurgle are slowly recovering.

"No matter how many times I watch this scene, it will be unbearable, Givaudan, you know?"

"What, Primarch?"

"Infecting civilians on purpose is too rude."

"I agree, Primarch."

Angron let out a roar of filial piety, and a charge rushed into the walking corpses of Nurgle made up of commoners. These corpses, infected by the plague and then resurrected, swelled up one by one. The plague tortured them to death before they were alive, and it did not spare them after they died.

As long as someone nearby is detected, the virus in their body drives them to their feet and continues to spread Nurgle's virus.

Killing them was just a wave of his arm for Angron. Such a simple killing did not make him happy. On the contrary, the Lord of Red Sand felt a little heavy.

Givaudoren followed him step by step, the chainsaw in his hand also waving non-stop. Angron's axe usually only slashes those walking corpses in front of him, and he has to be responsible for Angron's back.

The slaughter continued for a while, and both their power armors were covered in green, rancid sap. That used to be blood.

They moved on, and the palace was huge, very big. Numerous grand corridors and halls make it a labyrinth, and they are all different in style. Some are resplendent, while others are extremely simple. The only thing they have in common is that they all depict a man on the ceiling, either in paintings or engravings.

Along the way, they killed more mindless walking dead. With the deepening, the walking corpse has also changed from a simple civilian composition to a half of the Astral Army and half of the civilians. Just looking at these walking corpses, you may wonder why the Imperial Guards have been trapped in the palace for so many days, but the real situation is actually far worse than people think.

Angron's eyes stared straight ahead, there is no difference between the palaces of the two worlds. In his memory, he only needed to go through three corridors to reach the throne room... A sense of threat had begun to spread in his heart, and at this time, he knew that the main thing was ahead.

Angron smiled slowly.

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

Stirring the huge cauldron, Kugas patiently watched the bubbles inside. It seemed to be able to judge whether the blasphemous liquid was successfully boiled by the creation and death of the bubbles.

Korgath - Nurgle's most favored demon - is concocting a deadly cauldron of plague.

As it continued to stir with its fat arms, it muttered unhappily: "The resistance of the gold can is stronger than I thought..."

While cooking the plague,

It raised its head and glanced at the battle line not far away. Its demon army is fighting back and forth with a group of humans in golden armor. Kugas does not like fighting, and believes that there are many ways to spread the glory of a loving father, but fighting is definitely not among them. But at present, the weakness of the Demon Army's incompetence in combat is indeed a bit fatal.

You know, they can almost get close to the cursed person.

It hesitated for a moment: can I leave the cauldron? That might boil the lake, but they're killing it too fast...I don't want to go to the garden again to get help, it's a hassle.

The cauldron was boiling viciously, and the sound of Gudu Gudu relieved Kugas' anxiety a little. It looked at the green liquid with almost loving eyes, and was deeply proud of its abilities.

"Hmph, when will the blue son of the cursed one come over, the soup Kugas prepared for him will not be of any use..."

While cooking the plague, Kugast raised his head deliberately and shouted to its demon army: "Keep them there, Plague Guard!"

It says a lot of things to inspire the devil, like the one who kills the most enemies it will let it swim in its own cauldron and so on. After doing all this, the offensive momentum of the Demon Army suddenly overwhelmed the golden can. Kugas nodded in satisfaction.

Is that enough? That should be enough. It told itself so, and then sighed.

"Not enough..." it said. "Not enough at all."

All this is predictable. It hates to think so, but it can indeed predict the future - that idiot Rain Father Rotigues died not long ago, and it can vaguely feel it. Then, in the warp, it tried to search for the soul of the brother it didn't like, but found nothing. This made Kugas inexplicably fearful.

How can I not find it?

Could it be that the idiot is really dead?

Kugas refused to accept this, and at the same time comforted himself that its soul must have been shrunk in an unknown position where it was being reborn. It doesn't want to be found because it's too ashamed, it must be.

No, don't console yourself, Kugas, it's simply dead - soul annihilated in the material realm.

"You can't deceive yourself," Kugas said to himself. Honesty is one of the virtues that a loving father taught us. We should be honest, yes, we must be honest.

It continued stirring the cauldron while glancing wearily at the golden cans that were screaming and killing. Depressedly, he slapped the antlers on the top of his head, and the bacteria on it were slapped off and dropped into the crucible to continue to contribute to this indescribable pot of plague.

Its stirring career was forcibly ended half a minute later by two uninvited guests.

A lightning giant axe flew over suddenly, deeply embedded in the side of its crucible, Kugas let out a heartache scream, and watched its plague flow from the cut out gap. land. It didn't even have a chance to recover, because the lightning that danced on the golden axe of the Lightning Great Axe had completely evaporated the plague it had carefully cooked.

"No, no, how could this be? How could this be!"

Kugas roared unacceptably, jumping and jumping, and the fat on his body trembled: "No!

! "

"Your voice is so unpleasant."

A voice interrupted its self-pity and made Kugas uncontrollably growl. It reached out and grabbed it, raising the Plague Sword that it had put aside. Then, panting, he turned around and yelled at the man who came in from the hall, "You rude fellow! How could you do such a thing?"

Angron looked at it strangely, thinking for a moment that he had done something wrong. He stretched out his hand, and the axe turned into golden lightning and returned to him. The Lord of Red Sand looked at the Great Demon Nurgle with antlers on his head with interest, and his face under the helmet suddenly revealed an amused smile.

"Do you know what kind of enemy you have provoked? I am Korgath, the most beloved of Nurgle! How dare you do such a thing, prepare to bear Korgath's wrath!"

"...It's really weak yelling."

Angron's smile vanished, he dropped a comment with a lack of interest, and then jumped up, under the terrified eyes of Kugas, the lightning axe deeply slashed into its left shoulder.

At the same time, it heard the sarcastic words of the black can: "The most favored of Nurgle seems to be weak, you are not the only one, are you?"

Kugath angrily swung the Plague Sword in his hand to force Angron back, while sticking out his long frog-like tongue. The heavy thing stretched out in mid-air into some kind of lethal weapon, and attacked Angron with a fierce sound of breaking through the air. chopped off its tongue.

"Woo! My tongue!"

When Kugas was howling with his broken tongue, Angron did not forget to step back and comment on its offensive: "Just to remind you, attacking with your tongue is not only unsanitary, but also in addition to making your There's no use for a tongue cut off."

The words "unsanitary" stopped Kugas, and the great unclean person roared furiously again: "You take back your words!"

"...God, am I fighting some kid?"

Angron shook his head, raised the giant axe in his hand again, and began to slowly approach Kugas: "Forget it, it doesn't matter. You have to die here anyway. Come on, Kugas—right?"

Like lightning - no, no, Angron really turned into lightning. The golden lightning on the giant axe brought him to Kugas at the speed of teleportation. With a grin, the Lord of Red Sand rotated his waist, and the cold axe blade swung at a speed that Kugas couldn't even see clearly. Down.

The Great Unclean One had only time to raise his hand to block his deadly attack, not even to raise his plague sword. Its left hand twirled and flew into the sky, and before its dull pain nerves could tell it the news, Kugas was kicked to the ground.

"Do you have the patience for that?"

Angron said with a sneer. Somehow he finally let out the anger that he had not been able to fight for so long on the ship, and he was very satisfied with this substitute for his anger.

A great impurity, ha. Some play.

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