Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Parked in subspace, of course, can be regarded as a rare experience. However, if anyone thinks this experience is good, he is probably not human.

Or rather, not a clean human being.

Most people who think this way have a mark or tattoo of the eight-pointed star of chaos on their heads. If not, then you'd better look at his eyes and teeth and take a good look.

If you notice that his teeth have become sharper, and the holes sometimes look like sharp spikes, then you can start praying to the Emperor.

Owen, the maintenance worker, wiped his face with a dirty towel around his neck, and he thought of this passage again. He couldn't help remembering.

These were the words spoken by a drunk man with a broken hand in a tavern in a certain hive city. He was pretty drunk at the time, but he could just keep saying the same thing over and over, with a disturbing smirk in between.

He ignored people's strange eyes and just kept shouting this passage. Someone scolded him, someone threatened to call the guards, but he ignored it, almost as if he was being manipulated by something.

Six years have passed, and Owen was lucky enough to be a fairly skilled maintenance worker on the ship of the Iron Warriors, but he still remembers the man with the severed arm in the dirty tavern.

His expression at that time made Owen wake up several times in nightmares, and Owen never saw him again after that. Some say he was taken away by guards, but others say he was retaliated against. Those shadowy beings hiding at the bottom of the hive decided to punish him for the truth he told.

How the truth is, no one knows. Owen didn't want to get to the bottom of it either, he just thought of that man from time to time, like now. He picked up a large piece of broken metal with a huge bullet hole in it, rotting a huge hole in the middle, with sharp-looking edges.

Owen carefully touched them with his fingers, and unsurprisingly felt a slight pain. He looked at this piece of metal with pity, feeling a little sorry for its tragic state. The metal plate was quite dutiful in its job, but it was met with unexpected disasters.

This is the world we live in.

The maintenance worker shook his head and threw it into the waste pile behind him. After the work is done, they are transported away. The furnace in the lower cabin will reshape them, but then they won't be part of the ship. They have lost that qualification.

"Owen, what do you want to do after work?"

"Do nothing.

"

"Really?"

His companion patted his forehead nervously, and the motor oil on his palm was smeared all over his forehead by his movements, making him look a little silly: "Do whatever you want, but I want to sleep well One sleep. I can't take it anymore, I'm going to give the Emperor a good prayer and sleep well. I've been having nightmares these days."

"Then I wish you luck and hope you sleep well."

Owen answered smoothly while busy tidying up the damaged cables in the hangar. Workers' dormitories are often accompanied by stuffy heat and body odor. Some people are very quiet, while others make loud noises without hesitation.

But it doesn't matter at all, there is no day and night on board. Not to mention the violent noise it made when sailing. In the first year on board, Owen could hardly fall asleep every day. He himself didn't know how he survived it, it was as if he had suddenly opened up one day, so he was able to fall asleep in such an environment.

He worked for a while, carefully counting the number of cables on the wall he was responsible for. Sometimes, they disappear for no apparent reason. No one can explain why, but no one wants to care, just fill in the missing parts.

Owen thought the same way, he was just a maintenance worker, not an engineer, so he couldn't control so much.

More than half of the four-hour maintenance time has passed, and the wounds caused by the forced boarding have been repaired. In this regard, you can completely trust a skilled maintenance worker.

But the cable part needs subsequent steady debugging. Due to the poor environment, Owen feels that this time it will probably be the same as before. Engineers mostly just noted what was broken and repaired it after leaving the Warp. Just as he was busy counting, there was a strange grunt in his ear.

He turned his head, and the companion who was in charge of this corridor with him had disappeared. He looked down at the ground, which was empty, his companion's toolbox lying on the ground, with a few screws rolling beside it.

The hairs on his neck stood up, and fear climbed up from the soles of his feet like a chill.

Owen couldn't help swallowing, squatted down, picked up the hammer he put in his toolbox, and then backed away. The indicator light above his head was still flashing red alternately. Previously, it would not transform to its normal color. He didn't make a sound, just wanted to get out of here and report to an Astartes.

As early as boarding the ship, he had been told that if anything happened to him that he could not understand or doubted while sailing in the warp, he had to report it immediately. He backed up a little bit to keep himself at a faster speed without making any sound, and then he bumped into someone.

That should be personal.

From where his back touched, a sticky feeling spread to his back through the green uniforms worn by the maintenance workers. Owen's right hand holding the hammer began to tremble. Half a second later, he turned his head abruptly, raising the maintenance hammer high in his hand, but failed to swing it down.

Two seconds passed, and the hammer fell to the ground with a clang. A burst of white light suddenly appeared, and then the four legs began to move in an orderly manner. Stiff and rigid, the back of the maintenance worker gradually disappeared into the depths of the corridor.

"Yes, my lord, there is nothing wrong with thirty-nine hours. I have reconfirmed the sailing route. As long as the speed is still maintained, we will definitely be able to reach that planet within thirty-nine hours."

"That would be great, thank you for your work, go and rest."

After hanging up the in-ship communication with the navigator, Hong Suo finally breathed a sigh of relief. The navigator and astropaths are all fine, which is great news.

Geller's position had been broken for a while before, and he launched an inspection on them as soon as he realized this. The method is actually very simple, as long as he can swear to the statue of the emperor, he has not been banned. corrupt.

If it was placed 10,000 years ago, Hong Suo might have punched himself twice, but he has seen too many things beyond the scope of reason now, and he knows that sometimes, you really need a little ignorance.

"It seems that we are lucky."

Saul Tarvitz smiled slightly, stroking the double-headed eagle on his chest, as if he was looking for some kind of unforeseen support: "I hope we can always be surrounded by good luck."

Bjorn jumped out at just the right moment.

"I have a bad feeling, Captain."

"Are you sure you want to play this game with me at this time, Bjorn?" Saul Tarvitz glared at him angrily. "You're not that crow-mouthed Tarnmeyer from Fist of the Empire, why are you following him?"

"Although Tarnmeyer has a crow's mouth, at least he tells the truth every time, Captain. And I, I haven't reached his level yet."

Bjorn laughed, an unnoticed golden glint in his eye. Unfortunately, this smile only lasted less than half a second. Lone Wolf raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, the low temperature brought by the cold gauntlet made him squint his eyes.

After a few seconds, he said in a low voice, "I really feel that something is wrong, Tarvitz."

This time, he didn't call Saul Tarvitz 'Captain' with a little affection.

Saul Tarvitz frowned—he had known since the Great Crusade that some warriors possessed an inhuman intuition, and among them the Space Wolves happened to be plentiful.

Although their personalities would sometimes turn these spoken warnings into a not-so-funny joke, those examples after being enlisted in large numbers made it impossible for him not to take Bjorn's words seriously. Again, this is the subspace.

Here, anything can happen.

"Give your opinion."

Saul Tarvitz made a gesture, and then glanced at Mephisto and Sicarius. The Blood Angel was still calm, but the Ultramarine's expression had become serious.

Before Bjorn could speak, he asked, "Are you sleepy, Elder Bjorn?"

"Don't put those two bloody words after my name, you stubborn kid. I'm not sleepy, I just feel something is wrong."

Frowning, Bjorn stood up and began pacing restlessly. The war blacksmith stared at him without speaking, but turned his head and glanced at a steel warrior standing by the door. The latter understood immediately, left the room, and began to mobilize manpower for inspection.

"What's wrong?" Saul Tarvitz pursued. "I trust your instincts, Bjorn—so, what do you think is wrong?"

"Damn it, that's what pissed me off the most."

Bjorn muttered: "I don't know what's wrong, this is the problem, Tarvitz. I just feel it"

He turned his head, looked at Mephisto, who had been silent all this time, and asked abruptly, "Hey, Blood Angel."

Mephisto didn't respond to his words, and after half a second, his body suddenly leaned forward. Cato Sicarius, who was closest to him, responded immediately, and the Stormblade was already unsheathed. At this moment, the nerves of everyone in the room tensed up.

They all knew what a powerful psyker out of control could do.

But Mephisto sat back abruptly. He rubbed his forehead and smiled jerkyly: "I'm fine, everyone. I'm just a little tired because I used a lot of psionic energy in a short period of time."

His explanation is full of flaws, so naturally no one will believe it.

Bjorn watched him cautiously, holding his axe, and was about to say something, but a violent jolt interrupted his intention. And at this moment, Mephisto slowly stood up from the chair, walking very stiffly, as if

A flash of lightning exploded in Bjorn's mind - almost as if he wasn't familiar with the body.

Mephisto turned around, as if he knew what he was thinking, and even blinked at him, golden light flashed in it. Bjorn's hair stood on end at this moment, but he hid his reaction well.

He already knew why Mephisto was like that just now.

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