Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

In the far-flung frontiers of the Empire, in the icy, ruthless darkness of deep space, Steve Rogers is leading a fearless army against a horde of savage greenskins.

The war has been going on for three months, and Steve is used to the duration of the war, but he is not fully used to the intensity of this kind of war.

The last war he experienced was World War II, and it was nothing compared to this kind of large-scale interplanetary warfare. However, he could hold on.

"Let the artillery position on the left support us."

Inside the helmet, he heard his own voice echo. And his vision was wrapped in a green living hell. All over the mountains and plains, green-skinned beasts wearing rough and ferocious armor are shouting and attacking at them.

Their low Gothic sounds like torture, but nonetheless there is no hatred in these creatures' eyes. It's rare, and Steve is surprised. All he saw was a sincerity for the fight.

As if, these creatures just want to fight. It doesn't matter who the object is.

"My lord, the artillery position has just fallen." The officer in charge of contacting him anxiously replied. "A group of cunning orcs attacked them, can't we really use war mechs?"

"Don't let the intensity of the war escalate again. You should know better than me what kind of evolution the orcs will have after encountering advanced technology."

Steve rejected his proposal, and took a step forward while clenching the long sword burning with golden flames.

He raised his hands high, his will moved his nerves, his nerves moved his arms, his muscles moved, and the terrifying force split a huge orc in half in front of him from head to tail. The armor that can resist is like a paper lake.

Seeing this scene, the orcs who were a little shorter than it suddenly cried out in surprise and fear. Some ran back and fell into the salvos of the soldiers behind him, while others rushed towards him without fear of death, even slightly larger in size.

monster.

Steve narrowed his eyes. He had never fought an enemy like this before. It has been three months since the war started, and Steve has been uttering such sighs in the midst of this flesh-and-blood mill.

A cannonball from behind the orc landed in front of him and was blocked by Steve's psionic barrier. The cannonball, which was more like a mix of junk than a cannonball, didn't even splash the dirt, and Steve's outstretched left hand lifted up and flicked his fingers.

The cannonball whizzed past and returned to where it came from.

Staring at the orc heavy firepower position that had just been destroyed, his expression did not relax at all. In the past three months, he has not been able to leave this star field and end the war. Because every planet is full of damned orcs.

It will evolve, the skin is rough and the flesh is thick, and it is not afraid of death. The weapons and armor look like a joke, but they are strong and powerful...monsters.

All over the world, too many to die. And, before they came, these things were already killing each other for fun.

At first, it was proposed to use orbital bombardment to directly wash the surface of the planet. But this request was quickly rejected because their three new ships were... too powerful.

That's not orbital bombing, that's planetary bombing. The most embarrassing point is here. There are four planets in this star field. Before those orcs occupied this place, they were very important resource planets. There are many minerals that can be produced, and it is impossible for the Empire to give them up.

Waste is unbearable behavior.

The orcs were gradually pushed back, temporarily. They would start another attack in just a few hours, and Steve was used to this kind of work. He has been here for five days and has never pushed the front forward. The reason is here, this orc tribe has always been able to organize a counterattack.

Their source of soldiers seems to be endless, which is really strange.

Looking at the scattered backs of their deserters, Steve narrowed his eyes.

A general came to him to report, his face was full of blood and his voice was hoarse: "Report! Seventy-one people were killed in this battle, 120 were seriously injured, and 113 were lightly injured."

Battle damage is acceptable.

But Steve still frowned. For him, the death of anyone was unacceptable. However, he can't help it, how can there be no one who is not dead in war?

"Is the medical cabin still enough?" he asked.

"The last time I met the enemy, it was already overloaded." The general officer still reported meticulously, seemingly without emotion, but his eyes were already full of anger. "Sir, this is not the way to go."

"Relax."

Steve raised his hand and put it on his shoulder, intensifying his tone: "Don't let anger cloud your eyes, every hand of these beasts is covered with the blood of our brothers, so they must It pays for it. But you have to stay calm, go back to rest, time is running out, grab it, get your strength back.”

"I will bring in another batch of medical cabins."

The general stopped talking, silently bowed the eagle salute, and left. Steve sighed, and an Astarte stepped forward, the main body of the armor was blue, and there was a blood-red fist on the shoulder armor.

"grown ups......"

His voice was like two swords rubbing against each other, and that was because of a battle seventy years ago. His vocal cords were damaged by a vicious blade and could only be restored to this state afterward.

"No brother was injured in this battle." He shrugged humorously. "Looks like our luck is finally getting better."

Steve smirked, at the soldier's optimism and humor.

The good luck he said came from a darker joke in their battle group. Once they attacked the orcs, a whirlwind torpedo that had been launched returned inexplicably, destroying their own fortress monastery, not to mention, Six hundred brothers died.

"Do you usually tell jokes like this with your brother, Pablo?"

Astarte, known as Pablo, immediately shook his head: "My brothers haven't told a joke in a hundred years."

"Then you must be very uncomfortable at ordinary times."

"Yeah, after all, they're all like rocks. Well, I'm one of those rare rocks."

Steve hammered his shoulder armor kindly. "Okay, no jokes. Are there enough ammo reserves?"

"That's natural, my lord. After all, we don't have much chance to go to the front."

His veiled complaints were naturally noticed by Steve, and he smiled helplessly: "It's not that I won't let you fight, but it's not yet time. The orcs on this planet are obviously stronger than those on other planets. Some. Your firepower needs to be reserved for critical moments."

"As for now." He waved. "Could it be that our brave astral army is not doing well?"