Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

As if floating in the dark and disordered universe, Trajan felt himself like a naked baby, without consciousness, without reason, without everything that a human being should have. Only endless pain accompanied him - after an unknown amount of time, he suddenly became self-conscious.

who I am?

With this confusion, the Custodian Marshal Trajan Valloris woke up from his slumber. He was sitting in the middle between the thrones, with the sacred golden throne behind him, but his mind was full of chaos, and he couldn't think of anything.

For the first few minutes of waking up, he had a splitting headache. Can't remember anything about myself at all. He even forgot who he was. No name or identity was known, only a broken thought whistled in his mind.

Mission must be done!

It was a while before he remembered everything in his headache—yes, I am Trajan Valloris.

I have unfinished responsibilities.

He jumped up from the ground, his body more than twice as light as before. This strange lightness made Trajan feel horrified. He had served with this body for a very long time, and he knew every detail well. If he wants to kill, even just move a finger. And now this feeling of being too powerful is actually not a good thing for a soldier.

Only then did he find himself in the middle of the throne room. The power armor on his body was as bright as new, with no signs of damage. Trajan raised his head and gazed at the appearance of the man to whom he had sworn allegiance. A tinge of sourness flashed through my heart.

I don't know if it was his illusion, Trajan felt that the Emperor's appearance was even thinner. His withered skin was pressed against his scrawny body, his lungs could barely see the ups and downs of breathing, and his weak appearance gave Trajan a heartache.

It was almost a subconscious reaction, and the thought of 'approach and check the condition of the instrument for him' flashed in Trajan's mind, so in the next second, the surging power in his body faithfully responded to him. That vast force that was completely incomprehensible to him took his body across thousands of meters in an instant, from the inner door to the vicinity of the throne.

Trajan raised his hands in shock and looked at his hands that were slowly radiating light.

At this moment, he heard the weak voice of the Lord of Humans. It seemed that even using psychic energy to vibrate the air was a difficult task for him now: "Well done, Trajan. You survived successfully."

"I don't understand, Your Majesty, come over?" Tulazhen asked shudderingly.

"He gave you a power... but he didn't take into account that your soul strength was not enough to accept this gift. But you finally re-tempered your soul into its original form with your own willpower. You have survived, on your own, Trajan. Your will is steel. My marshal."

There was a smile in the Emperor's voice, and although it still sounded weak, it was full of energy.

"Then I now...?"

"Well, it's hard for me to say what you are now, Trajan. You're still human, well, there's no doubt about that. As for the rest, let's see what magic our living saint has stuffed into you. It's good. Just right, there's a group of Nurgle demons screaming outside for a long time, you can try them out."

"Demon Nurgle?! Here?! Between the thrones?!"

Trajan used three consecutive questions to express his inner excitement. At the same time, he angrily cursed the Custodians and the Defenders in his heart—damn, what a dereliction of duty! How can they get close to His Majesty?

"Don't be so excited, Trajan. They were not negligent, but my negligence..." The Emperor sighed. "It was my negligence that caused this tragedy to happen. That whole thing happened on Holy Terra."

He sadly uttered a Guterran proverb,

Tula couldn't really hear it, but felt an unforgettable sadness coming over her face.

In an instant, he seemed to have lost all interest in talking, and only used his psionic power to open the door engraved with countless feats for Trajan, indicating that he could do his work.

The Marshal of the Imperial Army stepped out of the door, and the door slammed shut behind him. The noisy battlefield breath rushed towards his face, causing him to take a deep breath and squinted his eyes at the same time.

Grabbing a passing guard, Trajan asked, "Who is taking my place now?"

The forbidden soldier first gave the eagle salute in surprise, and then immediately answered his question: "It's Mowglis, Marshal."

"This idiotic idiot!" Trajan roared, filial piety, he could no longer care about any etiquette. "How on earth did he command that the demons were able to enter the palace?!"

Tula was really in a hurry, and even his voice became sharp. At this moment, Shi Shiran, the 'wonderful idiot' he called him, came over. Gracefully bowed to Trajan amid the cannon fire: "I'm glad to see you are safe and sound, Marshal."

"Really? But I'm not happy to see you—forget it." Trajan sighed. He knew the character of Mowglis, he was definitely a qualified soldier, but some flaws in his character made this guy sometimes live to death.

The Custodian Marshal decided not to think too much of him.

While taking the weapon handed over by others, he moved his neck, which had become stiff from sleeping for too long, and asked casually, "Where's Valyrian? Isn't he usually inseparable from you, why haven't you seen him? "

"Oh, Marshal, please don't say that. You must have misunderstood. Valyrian is a warrior, and I, as the Custodian, have given up my personal happiness. It is absolutely impossible for anything to happen to him."

What Mowglis said was decisive and sound. And the fire that Trajan had just suppressed immediately came up again because of his words. The marshal originally wanted to beat him up, but then he felt that he couldn't do it - this bastard probably didn't know what was wrong with him, maybe he didn't Will also write poems and arrange him after the fact like last time.

Forget it.

Trajan asked calmly: "You'd better speak to me, Mowglis, in Low Gothic. If you try to say those slick sentences in High Gothic again, just wait. No. It will be much lighter than your last punishment."

"Wait a minute, Marshal."

Mowglis nodded graciously, then cleared his throat, and said in fluent low gothic: "While you were asleep, we were aided by a mysterious warrior. The weapons and ammunition he fired were unheard of, a kind of Frozen ammo can make all demons with a radius of 20 meters become frozen, and the other fire ammunition is more domineering."

"We have received a lot of help from him. Originally, I meant to let this warrior continue to carry out guerrilla operations behind the enemy group. But Valyrian insisted on finding him, and I don't know what his madness was."

"Look, you can still talk well."

Trajan showed a kind smile, and then walked towards the front of the front line, leaving only one sentence for Moglis: "Don't worry, the captain of the shield guard has always been very assertive, and he is much more flexible than you in battlefield decision-making. Since he has done so, he will definitely achieve corresponding results."

Mowglis stroked his chest and said, "I agree, Marshal, but where are you going?"

Trajan didn't answer - he just jumped up.

The icy rage surged wildly throughout his body, and a murderous desire that filled his body from waking up made his eyes turn into pure red eyes in just one second. Trajan fell in the middle of the Nurgle demons, and those fat plague carriers haven't even recovered, they don't understand what this human is doing, do they die?

No, Trajan told them with action: I am not here to die.

The standard halberd used by the Custodians spun around in his hand, and the whirlwind of death blew up in an instant. The strength and the disintegration of this deadly weapon made the Nurgle demons rotten but still The tough body didn't get any defense against the sword.

They were touched by halberds and then cut in half, dismembered, and beheaded. That's all.

And the deadly plague they carried had no effect on Trajan at all. Mowglis stared closely at the back of the Marshal, he raised his hand, and the Custodians stopped firing at once. It was a good chance for hand-to-hand combat, but Mowglis was slow to swing his arms and let them charge.

He didn't understand - the marshal didn't wear his helmet, and logically, he should have been infected with the plague the first moment he jumped into the pile of demons... and the kind of gradually rising and What's with the scarlet smoke?

Could it be...?

Mowglis drove the diabolical thought out of his mind, which was after the war anyway. They are now under the Emperor's watch and must not let him down.

He waved his arm down, then put on his helmet. The Wan Fu regiment began to launch a counter-attack charge. The shield guards charged in front, with a shield and a sword in one hand. They were the solid and reliable defense of the forbidden army using the halberd. As long as they don't fall, no one can hurt the companions behind them.

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the edge of the battlefield.

Givaudan was very surprised to find that the Wanfu Group began to counterattack, which made him a little puzzled. These Nurgle demons won't last long if the suppression of fire continues. He also carried a full six enchanted magazines, enough to freeze them all into ice, and then blow them to pieces.

However, the hand-to-hand combat of the Imperial Guards also achieved considerable results. So, Givaudon put down the bolter in his hand for a while, and patiently began to replace the overheated barrel and magazine, intending to conduct long-range sniping. For this, it is necessary to replace the short barrel with a long barrel.

The moment he just took off the magazine, Jivaldoren's hand grabbed the tactical dagger at his waist - a voice came from behind him, with a little complaint: "You really let me A good meal."

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