Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

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"Come closer to me, Sergeant!"

With a bright red jacket with gorgeous gold trim stretched tightly on his back, Sergeant Heisenberg of the 617th First Sons Regiment of Vostonia crawled a few steps towards the place where the caller was with difficulty, Then he had to lower his head because of the powerful artillery fire, leaning against the back of the bunker to avoid for a while.

"I can't make it through, Commander!" he shouted. "Their firepower is too fucking strong!"

"Watch your words, Sergeant!" the regimental commander enraged. "You are a member of the eldest son group, I will never allow you—damn, what is that?!"

Having no time to care about the double standards of the regimental commander, the sergeant quickly poked his head out to take a look, and then immediately retracted his head.

"...I think it's a person, Commander," Heisenberg shouted. "That must be a person!"

"Nonsense! It does look like a human being, but who has eighteen legs, six meters tall, and eight faces on left and right shoulders?! In the name of the Emperor, Firstborn, shoot! Don't let that ghost Things are approaching the line of defense! We can no longer back down!"

The sergeant immediately poked his head out from behind the simple cover, and the m35 rested on his shoulder in a standard posture. His burst shot lasted fifteen seconds, and then he immediately retreated behind the cover.

It's not that he's afraid of death, it's that he's out of bullets.

While changing the magazine, Heisenberg tried hard to move towards the regimental commander. During the process, he bumped into a soldier who was shooting because of his excessive range of motion. The latter turned his head and glared at him, not retreating in the slightest because of his military rank.

"Excuse me, soldier, keep shooting!" Heisenberg apologized, and then continued his actions and behavior.

He didn't know what the leader told him to do, but he had to go there.

This is an order.

Any soldier of the Firstborn - no matter what his rank - who received an order would take it as if it had come from the Emperor himself. They would not disobey orders, even if the officer told them to charge the khorne's bayonet.

After some difficult crawling (and sometimes wriggling), Heisenberg finally made it to his commander, who was an old man—or rather, a middle-aged man who was almost old. His weather-beaten face was now full of scowls.

"Sergeant, we're fucked!" the regimental commander cursed again.

"Ms. Cassandra is crazy, and her people are crazy. Well, some of them may be normal, but they are either dying or crazy! So are we!"

"I don't think that's the point of the question, Commander."

Heisenberg leaned out from behind the bunker quite calmly, and fired alternately with the retreating commander to maintain the integrity of the line of fire. Needless to say, this is a tactical quality that has been engraved in the bones. The arrogance of the eldest son group is not groundless.

"Then tell me, what's the point?"

"The point is—wait a minute, that thing seems to be dead."

"died?!"

The regiment leader changed the magazine, poked his head out to observe carefully, and beamed with joy: "Good job, children of Vostonia! Stay vigilant, scouts, and pay attention to their movements!"

"clear!"

"The point is..." The sergeant tried to continue the conversation. "How are we going to tell the living saint what's going on here?"

"You always get to the point of the matter with such precision, but I don't think we have a way of informing him."

The head of the regiment replied very calmly: "The Holy Ring is an Oberon-class battleship - before that, I only knew that there was such a thing, but I never knew that it was so big. Now we are two regiments You are all huddled in the stern of the ship and you still want to approach the bridge and use the thinker array to send a message to the living saint?"

"Whimsical!"

"But we have to try it, hey, political commissar, are you right?"

The sergeant grabbed the political commissar beside them, who opened his hand palely, took out a cigarette tremblingly from his jacket pocket and lit it.

He said vaguely: "My lord, I don't even know how the two of you are still in the mood to chat!"

The sergeant spread his hands: "Otherwise, what should we do? Get out from behind the bunker and run to the bow?"

"That's death." The political commissar glanced at him. "Of course, fighting them is no different than dying. They have new weapons and equipment—those things make me envious. The light gun can't even polish the armor, what a hell."

The political commissar cursed angrily.

"However, this is the strangeness of the whole thing. They clearly have the ability to kill us directly, but they didn't choose to do it immediately. What's the reason?"

"I don't know what a group of lunatics are thinking? They must have believed in chaos, and their brains have become abnormal. As for me," the leader pointed to his face. "I believe in the Emperor! I don't know what they are thinking!"

"At least try, Commander Valcke." The political commissar said helplessly. "We may be doomed, but the expedition fleet cannot just step into a trap so easily."

】

His words silenced the man known as Valk for a moment.

"...I'm here to contact Commander Horatio of the 618th Regiment. As for the 619th Regiment, they should still be on Pablomis 2 right now, resting with the Cadians. Damn, May the Emperor bless them."

The political commissar, with a cigarette in his mouth, squinted his eyes and made a gesture of an eagle salute, and spoke with the sergeant vaguely.

"May the Emperor bless them."

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

Pablomis II.

Outside the newly raised barracks, the howling cold wind frantically blew over the bodies of the guards on guard. They stood unwaveringly in the wind and snow, holding the R-1 formula tightly in their hands. They know nothing about the future, but this does not prevent them from enduring the cold and snow.

In the barracks, the command room.

"We can't get in touch with the fleet, Captain."

The Cadian saluted, with worry in his violet eyes: "What should we do?"

"We'll wait, soldier."

Tobias Gilbert, the head of the Cadian 982 Regiment wearing Skyhawk armor, replied blankly. He's always been that way, and has been for a long time. He was gazing at the humming black tower through the glass of the barracks, barely taking his eyes off it.

"wait?"

"Yes......"

Tobias turned his head. Even in this situation, the expression of this iron-blooded colonel did not fluctuate at all.

"We wait—there must be something wrong with the fleet, no need to think about it. But we have established defense lines and bases on Pablomis 2 and 3, which can last for a long time. Let's meet up, and at that time, we can contact them and explain the strangeness on the Holy Ring."

"But, Captain Cassandra..."

"The Emperor bless her," said Tobias firmly. "If the Emperor does not, she is a traitor."

The communications soldier didn't say anything more, saluted and left. A few minutes later, a request for communication came from the head of the 619th First Sons of Vostonia stationed here with them. They hadn't changed into Aquila armor, so the voice on the other end sounded choppy.

This is due to the influence of the wind and snow.

"This is Tobias Gilbert, please."

"This is Colonel Felix Siona of the 619 Firstborn Regiment, Commander Gilbert, can you contact the Holy Ring?"

"Unfortunately, we can't."

"Ah, damn it!" Colonel Siona cursed, his voice gradually superimposed with the howling of the wind and snow outside. "We've been calling for over two hours and still no answer!"

"So do we, Major. But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to settle the matter, at least not yet—besides, how are you and your troops doing?"

"Except for the non-combat attrition caused by this damn environment, everything is fine. There are still 1,300 people in the 619th regiment who can fight. Why do you ask this question?"

"Because, I think we need to think about the possibility of war ... and orbital bombing."

He did not express his concern to his soldiers, but the tone used by Tobias Gilbert at this moment was undoubtedly difficult.

"Something must have happened on the Holy Ring. Judging from Madam Cassandra's style and temper, it is impossible for her to ignore the communication request when she knows that there are two regiments on Pablomis II. Even if she Forget it, neither will the Thinker Array and the servants in charge of it."

"You mean...?" Leonardo's voice also became a little difficult.

But this time, it wasn't because of the snow.

"Yes, it's what you think it is..."

Holding the handle of the communicator, Tobias said slowly: "There may be a rebellion on the Holy Ring, a rebellion that we don't know the cause of, and we don't know the outcome. But we must do our best to Bad plan - you better order your men to start digging trenches and digging bomb shelters in the barracks now."

"If—I mean if, orbital bombing does come, that's the only thing we can do."

His words silenced Felix Leonardo on the other end of the communication for a while.

After that, he cursed in a low voice: "...I see, Captain Tobias, may the Emperor bless you and your soldiers, and may the Emperor bless Lady Cassandra and the Holy Ring. I'll start immediately with the soldiers digging trenches and dugouts."

"You too, Major, may the Emperor bless the 619 Firstborn Regiment."

Tobias hung up the communication, and the lines of his cheeks became hard again. He walked out of the room and issued his order. The Cadians quickly moved in the snowstorm.

And above their heads, the huge shadow of the Holy Ring oppressed the clouds loomingly. Few people would look up at the sky in the snowstorm. Few people are prepared for threats from overhead.

So what's going on with the Holy Ring?