Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

49. Swollen Face of the Dead (4K)

【Who is a serious person learning magic in Marvel?】 【】

The plague... is going away from me.

This fact horrified Death Guard Soren Cordero—a feeling he had never felt in all the millennia. The Father's gift was always with him.

In his veins, on the surface of his rotting and sore skin and in his diseased and pus-soothing muscles. Whenever he breathed, the rancid smell would pass through the already deformed nasal cavity and windpipe and transform it into a special sweet smell.

But now, what he breathed into his lungs was only the strong smell of smoke.

He wanted to move, or at least get out of the ruins. But he couldn't do it, the corrupted armor and flesh were injured by the falling explosion to a terrible situation, he was crushed under the rubble, and his lower body disappeared without a trace.

Soren Cordero's mind was full of fear of the disappearance of the gift, so he didn't realize that he was still alive at this time, which was a miracle by Nurgle.

If he wasn't a Death Guard, he would be dead long ago.

Then, in the ruins that had been ravaged by the flames of war for three weeks, and were severely damaged by the explosion caused by the crash of the transport ship, the sound of footsteps suddenly sounded.

Heavy—like a hammer hammering red-hot steel.

An emotion different from the previous fear spread in Soren Cordero's heart. He searched in the darkness through the eyepieces that had grown together with his eyes, but found nothing. He could only hear the heavier and heavier footsteps, as if the omen of death.

The footsteps stopped not far from him.

Cordero's eyes widened and his hands began to grope in the dark. He had to find his weapon, otherwise there was only one thing waiting for him.

He couldn't find it.

The ruins above his head were easily pushed away, and a swarthy figure stood in front of him, his armor was illuminated by the flames of the wreckage of the still burning transport ship not far away. The sombre bat-shaped helmet almost made Cordero scream.

It's him!

People who looked more like monsters than they did stared at him without saying a word, not even speaking. After staring at Cordero, who was not yet dead, for more than three minutes, he looked away, and a cold voice sounded under the night sky, echoing with the tide from death.

"Your companions are all dead—you're the only one who doesn't make sense."

Common sense? At this moment of life and death, there was an urge to laugh in Cordero's heart. He knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't restrain the urge. Unreasonable?

You are the most unreasonable thing! You shouldn't exist, you damned—your existence is a blasphemy to the world!

He stared at the black figure standing in front of him with eyes full of hatred, but the latter didn't respond to this, and didn't even care about it at all, just continued talking.

"Falling directly from an altitude of a thousand meters, the explosion and my spiritual power will kill everyone on this transport ship. According to calculations, your survival probability should be less than one percent, and this number is infinitely close to zero."

"However, any coincidence in this universe can be carefully designed, so..."

He turned his head and stared at Soren Cordero with a soft voice: "What are you waiting for?"

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【Who is a serious person learning magic in Marvel?】 【】

—He wasn't talking to me.

Soren Cordero discovered this fact in an instant. His diseased brain was no longer capable of such a quick reaction. But it was precisely this moment of happiness that made him understand a certain fact...

He's not talking to me, yes.

Fear spreads wildly in my heart,

Almost gushing from the throat.

He started coughing non-stop, as if trying to throw his lungs out of his throat. The exposed twisted spine and turbid yellow blood vessels trembled, and the rancid smell became stronger and stronger...

After reaching a certain point, the blessing of ascension that Soren Cordero originally dreamed of, his ultimate reward, came in another form in his body that could no longer survive.

A black figure is quickly breaking free from his corrupted body and standing up from it. He was tall and fat, with layers of skin that were as white as white jade. There was an uncomfortably sarcastic smile on the swollen face of the dead man, with protruding eyeballs and a disgusting whiteness.

This...thing, standing amidst the rubble and corpses, waved to Crane Samps, who was standing across from him.

"I didn't bring any gifts when we met for the first time. It's really impolite. Please forgive me."

"You can give your life as a gift."

"what!"

The thing let out a loud laugh and winked at Crane with unearthly sense of humor, which caused a large pile of foul-smelling yellow pus to ooze from his right eye socket, but it hadn't hit the ground to rot. The badness was dispelled by a sudden flash of blue spiritual energy.

"Ah, that's not good." He looked at the place where the psychic energy flashed with some pity. "You don't like to see new life being born, do you?"

"If the new life born is normal, I will like it very much."

"Normal? What is normal? I want to hear your definition of normal."

Crane didn't speak, just stared at him, his eyes were firm as if he wanted to discover his essence and real similarity from his swollen dead face.

That thing chattered endlessly, the fat on his body trembled, and pale green smoke gushed out from his mouth and nose, carrying a deadly plague: "It doesn't matter if you don't want to say it, I can replace it for you." Replenish."

He raised his right hand and slid it lightly in the air, the movement was elegant - this word should not be used for him, but it was indeed elegant. Like a dancer, or a nobleman who is hungry while waiting for a meal, but still maintains etiquette.

"Actually you know, my friend for the first time. In this universe, nothing is normal. The empire you fought for is a vast oppressive regime. It oppresses everyone from top to bottom, doesn't it? "

"Men and women, young and old, soldier or commoner, general or prostitute—they are all oppressed, they are all bound by something. Even though there is no fundamental difference, the difference in status is shocking. Unequal."

He grinned: "Inferior people don't have the right to enjoy the sunshine, they live on the starch made from dead bodies of the same kind. The upper class can have a life thousands of times better than this, and they can squander the life of the lower class at will— What a terrible disease it is."

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【Who is a serious person learning magic in Marvel?】 【】

With longing, he even wiped away his tears: "I have never seen such a disease, spreading in the universe, countless people were infected by it, died for it, and willingly. Do you know, I even feel Your Emperor should be called the God of Disease."

After saying this, he made a posture of listening attentively, and it took him a while to return to normal. He nodded to Kelan who was still silent: "My father is very happy because of my joke, What do you think? Do you think this is a joke?"

"It's no use trying to piss me off."

Kelan was still calm, even a little too calm, he didn't even bother to argue with this thing, he simply raised his hand.

An icy breath surged out of the void, and the violent power even dyed his eyepieces in that deadly color. The surrounding ground immediately began to freeze—no, not frozen, but fundamentally transformed.

Metal, concrete, wood, and dead Death Guards... Nothing escaped, and all areas within a radius of five hundred meters were completely transformed into ice with silent death.

The big demon who was born from the corpse watched this scene in shock, and immediately called out the name of his god without even a second of hesitation.

"My father Nurgle!"

He roared her name, and green and corrupt light lit up in his mouth, nose, eyes and ears, almost lighting him up like a torch—a door opened behind him, from the power of Nurgle. A gate of subspace was abruptly opened here.

Seeing this scene, Kelan stopped urging his psionic energy.

He could have directly strangled the newly born demon here, so that he would have no chance to escape back, but he didn't do that, and even simply slowed down the transformation speed of the ice, so that he could escape back to Nurgle's land. in the garden.

"We'll see each other again, my friend! Sooner or later!"

At the last moment, this thing did not forget to say its name: "Remember my name! I am Nerugos, the Butterfly of Maggotization!"

Crane watched him leave calmly, silently wrote down the name, and then threw a psychic bomb inside the door at the last moment before it closed. This technology originated from He Shenyan is extremely dangerous, and Nurgle's troubled garden is afraid that it will usher in another cold disaster.

And that Nerugos will probably be punished for this incident... According to his calculations, this should delay the time for him to reappear in the physical realm.

Flicking his cloak, he was about to turn around and leave, but changed his mind at the last moment—how could there be a son of Sanguinius here...?

Sensing the group of Astartes who were slowly approaching here with standard tactical actions, Klan frowned, but finally did not choose to leave.

What happened in that hive was a bit too complicated. In just one week, he even went into the subspace. Now it was an opportunity to contact the empire, and he had to use this to confirm some things.

Like—no, probably not.

Crane's eyes darkened a bit, although he did most of the time.

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【Who is a serious person learning magic in Marvel?】 【】

Yin Qijier, who rushed back to the temporary headquarters as soon as he received the news, was calm on the face, but in fact his heart was already turbulent - what are you doing? A primarch in this remote place?

When he heard the news at that time, he almost had a relapse of Tzeentch's ptsd. Fortunately, he immediately remembered that the thing and its demon were dead, so his brothers were unlikely to be deceived. What's more, their descriptions are true.

There is indeed a new Primarch in the Empire 'in black armor and with a bat-like helmet', but this is a secret among secrets, and only a few people know about it. The descriptions used by his brothers didn't mention a single word about the Primarch except for this one.

Only Yin Zekiel knows the truth.

He hurriedly entered the temporary command post, walked through the long corridor, and finally saw the new primarch in the command room. Waving his hands to signal the other brothers to go out, Yin Zekiel chose to face him alone.

He bowed slightly, dignified without losing etiquette, and retained the elegance of being a son of Sanguinius: "The third company of the Crimson Blade Chapter—"

"I know your name, Captain Yin Zekiel."

A man's voice sounded in the room, so calm that one could only think of ice: "Your name has been circulated on the Terra space station for a long time, as one of the heroes of the second Terra defense war... .”

hero? I?

Yin Zekiel felt a huge sense of absurdity and shame—he knew what he had done in the war, and he didn't do anything in the second Terra defense battle, hero? What kind of hero is this? Those dead soldiers of the Star Militia are the ones who should be rewarded the most!

"My lord, I am not a hero...I did nothing in the second Terra defense battle."

"The officials of the Ministry of Military Affairs discussed it like this, ah, and some people from the state religion. They stubbornly believed that the return of Sanguinius had nothing to do with you, the 'Crimson Tears'."

Kelan turned his head, looked at the two dark red marks on Yin Zekiel's face that looked like more blood than tears, and nodded slightly: "I understand how you feel, but this is a political game, and in the end it will only brings advantages."

"Political game?"

"Yes, political games... You are probably curious about why political matters have anything to do with you, but it's actually very simple, Captain Yin Zekiel. The return of Sanguinius makes everyone in the empire happy, But it's not a small thing. In fact, his return touches a lot of sensibilities."

Crane said solemnly: "Ten thousand years, Captain Inzekil, that is a long time of ten thousand years. There are too many things to negotiate, and too many interests to exchange. For example, your battle group is equipped with new equipment. The matter of queuing up to No. 46, this is the invisible benefit that his return brings to you."

Yin Zekiel's hands were trembling slightly, and he had never thought about it. Crane's words seemed to tear off some kind of tulle that had been hanging in front of his eyes, which made him feel a complicated bitterness.

And Crane saw through that.

He took a step forward, stretched out his right hand to Yin Zekiel, and shook hands with him. His tone was calm, but more gentle and comforting than before: "Don't think too much, the bureaucratic system has been like this from ancient times to the present. If you continue to fight Yes, Captain Yin Zekiel, this is your best reward for him... Besides, I need you to report something to me."

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【Who is a serious person learning magic in Marvel?】 【】

He took out an exquisite silver triangular emblem with a double-headed eagle embossed from his belt: "But I am not issuing this order to you as the Primarch, but as-"

Crane paused for a while, as if thinking: "—I haven't named this organization yet, but what we do is not much different from the Inquisition. In short, that's it, Captain Yin Zekiel."

"I see."

Yin Zekiel took a deep breath, and prepared for a long speech: "Please ask, I will know everything."

82 Chinese Network

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