Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Some things, if you don't see it with your own eyes, no one will choose to believe it.

For example, there was an Eldar on board the Black Templars—and it was not a slave who was temporarily detained and executed when the time came.

She wasn't a slave, and she could even be said to be their leader in a way.

At this time, the leader was sitting cross-legged in Cato Sicarius' room, leisurely eating a large bowl of ice cream.

What? You want to ask how the second company commander feels?

Simple, he felt—

"I feel terrible, Ms. Liz," Sicarius said, frowning. "Why on earth did you bother to come to my room for ice cream?"

"Because I'm afraid." She said as if it was a matter of course.

Fear? Where on your body can you see this word?

Sicarius restrained his urge to sigh, and said: "We have discussed this issue many times, the Black Templars will not do anything to you... Seriously, you You should leave my room quickly. In four Terras, Lord Steve's ship will arrive to dock with us."

"Ah, I see."

Liz nodded as if suddenly realized, and stuffed another mouthful of ice cream into her mouth. The precious sweetness stimulated her taste buds, and Liz couldn't help squinting her eyes.

With such a cat-like satisfied expression, she said: "You are afraid that that guy sees me in your room, aren't you? Afraid that I will have a bad influence on your reputation?"

"I don't deny that there is a factor in that."

Sicarius said with a straight face, "But you shouldn't be in my room. This is, my, room."

"Seriously, Sicarius—"

Liz looked at him for a while, and suddenly smiled: "——you should think about the matter of reputation. We are allies now, and communicating with allies is a legitimate and relationship-promoting exchange activity, don't you think ?"

Sicarius looked at her coldly, completely unmoved. He now only felt that he was an idiot for believing that this Eldar was really ignorant of the world and afraid of the Black Templar a few days ago. She was totally acting!

"That's right,

I was just acting. "

The Queen of the Night continued to eat the ice cream in her hand without image. The bold way of eating did not affect her speech at all: "But, I am indeed very interested in you. The commander of the second company of Ultramarines, the commander of a combat company , a legend with great military exploits..."

Her voice was nice, and what she said was almost flattering. But Sicarius was well aware that she wasn't engaging in politicians' favorite mutual flattery at all.

She is beating the ingredients to make the meat better.

From her posture, eyes, and even words. Sicarius, who is also a warrior, already felt his nerves swell, which is the only performance when facing a strong enemy.

He calmly looked back at Lilis: "You want to kill me?"

"If I were still in the arena, I would not hesitate to let someone put you in full armor into a gladiatorial fight. I would cut off your bones with my own hands, and savor that feeling...but I'm no longer who I used to be."

... Liz said scary words, but her face didn't change, and what she said meant that she was sure she would win.

She seems to be more interested in ice cream than Sicarius now: "Inniyed has enlightened me, I am not what I used to be... I don't have to satisfy myself with one-on-one gladiatorial combat , I have better things to do."

something better?

Sicarius looked at the spoon she raised and the scoop full of ice cream, and the corners of his eyes twitched: "You mean eating ice cream?"

"more than!"

Lalis became excited in an instant: "So many desserts—! You humans are really geniuses in this area, Yonied, you have more than five hundred different desserts to eat! This is simply a gift! "

Well, she's finally starting to act like a psychopath now, instead of a weak, uninformed little white flower or sheep...

Seeing her like this, Sicarius felt relieved. Based on Liz's identity and experience, if she has no mental problems, Sicarius may feel that something is wrong.

However, your God has given you a revelation to eat more sweets?

Sicarius finally couldn't hold it back, and sighed: "Well, Ms. Liz, a sweet tooth is better than a murderous hobby...Now, please leave my room, I don't want to talk about it anymore Once again."

"don't want."

It was rejected without hesitation.

Not even a thought, not a moment's pause.

The unbearable Sicarius stood up and went out the door without saying a word——If you don’t leave, why don’t I leave?

Four Tyras... He has never felt so busy, Master Steve, when will you come?

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

Steve rubbed his cheeks, and put down the book in his hands wearily. On the way to join the Black Templars, he has been reading and has hardly rested.

Learning is very important.

He always kept it in his mind.

However, he can't keep learning - some things haven't been resolved yet.

Standing up from behind the desk, he flexed his shoulders and arms. This is a habit left over from the past. If you stretch yourself often, you will not be easily injured. Of course, he no longer has such worries. But I still do this stretch regularly.

Old habits die hard.

After a little movement, he walked out of the small library. There were two Crimson Fist fighters standing guard in the corridor, and one of them was still holding a cup of hot coffee.

They seem to enjoy drinking this black coffee and don't add any flavoring to it. Steve once tasted it and commented that he would rather drink sulfuric acid than this stuff.

You must know that the black coffee produced by Wenzhen is a special enhanced version for the taste buds of Astartes, and this bitterness has surpassed the limit of bitterness that natural products can bring. Considering certain traditions of the mother group Imperial Fist, this may not be as simple as 'like', they should regard it as some kind of challenge.

Some kind of challenge to hone yourself.

"Ah, my lord, you are out."

After the Crimson Fist holding the coffee said this, he took another sip with a solemn expression, and grinned. It looked like he didn't intend to give up before he finished drinking.

….Steve laughed dumbfounded, and simply stopped: "Is it very bitter?"

It took a while for the Crimson Fist to speak: "It is indeed bitter, my lord. But, after the bitterness dissipates, it is pure sweetness and an endless aftertaste. Only through wind and rain can we see a rainbow."

"Have a cup of coffee, and you drink yourself into a philosopher?" Another Crimson Fist standing guard snorted coldly. "If it wasn't for my taste buds..."

"Yeah, you have a problem with your taste buds, but you just don't want to use the medical cabin to treat yourself."

"How can something as important as the medical cabin be used at will?!"

"Come on, Dorn taught us to always be honest, admit it, you just dare not."

"Let's go to the ring, I'll let you see if I dare..."

"Heh." Crimson Fist, holding the coffee, let out a sneer. "You want to use force if you can't say it? You reckless! No wonder you never fail in mock battles."

Steve couldn't help smiling, shook his head, and waved them goodbye. Along the way, he saw several Crimson Fists holding coffee and drinking non-stop. The special mellow smell of black coffee wafted throughout the corridor. It even drifted all the way to the door of the cab.

Pushing open the door, he stepped into the cab. Pedro Canto has obviously been waiting here for a long time. Like everyone else, he was also holding a cup of black coffee.

"No, don't get up and greet me, just sit down, Pedro."

Steve pulled a chair, sat down and tapped on the table, a light blue light curtain unfolded, and a big countdown jumped out at the most conspicuous position.

02:45:37

"Well, have you contacted them?" Steve asked.

"Of course, my lord. The ship of the Supreme Admiral Helbrecht is moving slowly according to the standard route, and our docking will not go wrong." Pedro nodded, then raised his head, and slammed the cup of black coffee drink up.

Putting down the glass, his face was already twitching. The pure bitterness is not enough to make him like this, but this is Wenzhen's product after all...

Steve looked at him sympathetically, shook his head, and said to Wenzhen, "Wenzhen, where is Frank now?"

The light curtain changed, and Frank's face appeared on the screen. It was still the same ice face, but Steve could see a feeling of lack of energy.

"Captain, what do you want me to do?" Frank even became a little slow in tone.

"...Why do you have such an expression?"

"It's just a little boring, Captain." Frank raised his hand and let the combat dagger in his hand take a measure. "These days I've been holding a dagger and trying to fight imaginary enemies, and it's understandable that I'm a little bored."

Steve couldn't help but click his tongue.

"Well, I just want to tell you that we are about to dock with Sicarius and the others. We will join their mission. Of course, this is conditional."

Frank's eyes lit up: "What's the premise, Captain?"

"You have to follow orders, I mean, you can no longer just mess around on the battlefield like you used to."

"I can do it under command, Captain, you can assign me any task. But..." Frank was rarely silent. "It's best not to let me act with other people."

….Steve and Pedro looked at each other, he asked: "Why?"

"I was in the Marine Corps in the beginning, and I knew what teamwork was all about." He shook his head. "However, when I became the Punisher...this kind of thing has nothing to do with me anymore."

"The people I deal with the most are intelligence dealers. I basically don't talk to people unless that guy has the information I want... Most of the time, I like to disguise myself as a dumb person."

He said something more terrifying with a deadpan expression: "Then, something even worse happened. I died, I came back to life... and I have some special powers. Anyway, I want to That's all for now, Captain. I'm no longer fit to fight alongside anyone else."

"You are too pessimistic."

"No, it's not pessimism, Captain, it's because I know my nature." Frank pursed his lips. "When a friendly soldier is standing in front of an enemy, I will definitely not hesitate to shoot the friendly soldier."

Steve rubbed his brows. He knew Frank's symptoms. When he was in the Veterans Mutual Aid Association, he knew many similar people. To elaborate, this is a type of post-traumatic stress disorder caused by war.

"This is a mental disorder, Frank, have you considered taking medicine or entering the treatment cabin control?"

"No, Captain, I don't want to control it." Frank shook his head.

"May I ask why?"

Pedro stood up consciously, intending to leave the conversation he was not meant to be part of. But Frank stopped him: "There's no need to leave, Pedro. There's nothing to hide about this."

"I once had a wife and a child," he said curtly. "And then they all died."

"My daughter was the first to die. She was four years old. The bullet shattered her stomach and she was lying on her back on the Central Park lawn. When I got there, she was almost dead. Then , My lungs were also punctured, and I fell to the ground, and I could clearly feel the pain. Unlike you, Captain, I would still be hit by bullets."

Frank narrated almost numbly, as if he was talking about another person: "I turned to look at her, and the expression she showed at that time was by no means the expression that a four-year-old girl should look at the world. After all, she was watching I was beaten to pieces, and even my internal organs were still wriggling."

"Then she looked at me as if she wanted to call me but couldn't and she died."

"The last one died was my wife. A bullet went through her heart."

"I endured the pain using techniques I learned from the military, and for a few minutes I wished I'd died, but I didn't. So I crawled towards her. The direction she fell was facing us , I don't know if it was some kind of nasty joke, but she was looking at me."

Frank blinked: "...yes, she was looking at me until the last moment. My wife has beautiful eyes, deep blue, like a lake. I used to joke about it Write a poem and fail."

"Okay, Frank, I get it—" Steve tried, trying to stop him from opening his scars. "—you've said enough."

..."It's not enough, Captain, I have to let you know why I don't want to act with other people. This is necessary. We are in an army, and the soldiers in the army must trust each other."

Frank looked at him stubbornly, and after a few seconds, Steve relented.

He nodded.

"The reason why I no longer act with others is because I have lost the ability to protect others. If we want to fight together, we must look after each other's backs. And I obviously don't have this ability. As long as I step on the battlefield, I would become a machine driven by instincts forged."

"To sum up, Captain, I will follow your command, but I will not act with others."

He hung up the call, and Steve rubbed his eyebrows again with a headache. Pedro on the side frowned, thinking.

Pedro Cantor didn't know Frank's specific identity-yes, he knew that Frank was a new Primarch. But what else?

Gone.

That's all. Frank Castor was alone, and the only Inquisitor who could keep up with him had stated that he would not join Frank in battle. He has no hobbies, no needs, and even as a soldier, his preference for weapons is superficial.

Pedro knew he was interested in the Fist of Dorn power gauntlet he was carrying, but never really said he would try it out. As a Primarch, Pedro couldn't refuse if he wanted to.

But he didn't.

And what Frank Castor said just now gave him a glimpse of his past. A guess began to take shape in Pedro's mind... He gradually realized that Frank might have been one of the mortals just like them.

He was not born a Primarch.

A mortal, witnessing his wife and daughter being shot dead face to face... This kind of mental trauma may be lifelong.

"Oh." Steve sighed and interrupted his thoughts.

Turning his head, Pedro saw Steve leaning back in his chair, his face full of worry. He asked: "My lord, what's the matter with you?"

"It's nothing, I just thought of something bad." Steve pursed his lips. "We're all soldiers, Pedro, but we still have our lives, don't we?"

"War does not destroy our humanity. No matter how indifferent it may seem, there are still some things in this world that we care about. These things are anchors and the key to maintaining our humanity...but Frank is different. His The anchor point was artificially destroyed in the beginning."

Steve raised his head, stared at the ceiling of the cab, and remained silent for a long time before continuing: "A solitary person is either a beast or a god. For us, no matter what kind he is, it is not a good thing."

Pedro didn't answer. He didn't think he was qualified to judge a Primarch.

"That's it for now... Anyway, we're going to continue." Steve stood up. "Winzhen, please call Brother Anjade to the cab."

About eight minutes later, there were rhythmic and dense footsteps in the corridor, and a dozen seconds later, someone knocked on the door of the cab.

"Come in, Brother Angard."

….The door opened, and Anjade, who was wearing a newly restored Seiko Faith Power Armor, appeared at the door, but did not enter immediately. He said meticulously: "Salute to you, my lord, and hello to you, Captain Pedro Canto."

Standard Imperial Fists style.

"Don't worry about these cumbersome etiquette, come in, Anjade-how do you feel on the boat these days?"

"It feels very good, my lord. I have to say, Captain Pedro Canto, your brothers are a group of respectable monks, they are completely loyal to the God Emperor, and all of them are of extraordinary strength. In the group arena It caused me quite a bit of trouble.”

He had a straight face, so that Pedro didn't even know whether he was speaking ironically at the first time.

"...Thank you for the compliment, champion. I'll pass it on to them."

"Thank you, Commander Pedro." Anjade nodded mechanically. "My lord, why are you looking for me? I will do my best."

"Don't be so exaggerated, Anjiade, I just want to tell you that we still have—well, the pattern, showing the time."

The dimmed light curtain lit up again, and a beating countdown appeared on it.

01:57:43

"We will join Marshal Helbrecht's ship in one more Dotera, and you may return to your warband, Brother Angard."

"Really? Thank you for your information, my lord."

Anjade nodded steadily. He was very happy, but he didn't fully show it on his face: "May I ask a small question, my lord?"

"Of course, what do you want to ask?"

"Will you join us in the next mission?" he asked eagerly and frantically. "I know it's rude to say this, but, my lord, I beg you to lead us forward! You are the Primarch, and you will surely lead us to invincibility!"

Steve is slightly embarrassed, but Pedro is instantly alert. What do these words imply? Why does it seem like the Black Templar is coming to snatch a job?

The Chapter Master of the Crimson Fists narrowed his eyes, remaining calm, intending to continue watching his cousin perform.

"This—" Steve said hesitantly. "—Although I do intend to join your mission, I am only a soldier, and I do not intend to take over your command."

Anjade was taken aback, and immediately turned his head, looking almost questioningly at Pedro. The latter felt a toothache.

What are you looking at me for?

Anjade quickly let him know why: "Chapter Master Pedro, why don't you hand over command to Master Steve? He's a Primarch!"

The tone was almost questioning.

Pedro was obviously choked, the hat was buttoned just right, and he didn't know how to answer for a while. It was Steve who helped him out.

"No, I asked for it myself, Pedro." Steve smiled gently. "Don't talk about this, after the rendezvous, we are going to intercept the orc named Tearface, have you heard of it before?"

"I have heard a little bit, my lord."

.

Use a knife to scratch the wallpaper to remind you: Remember to collect it after reading it

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