Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

Arianto thought he would pounce directly on him, and even without weapons, he would bite his throat open with his teeth.

But he didn't, he just looked at this man carefully - unlike the Angron in his impression, the giant standing in front of him had roughly the same face as the tyrant, but it was completely different in details.

For example, he doesn't have the Butcher's Nails.

Those thick scarlet cables that passed through the scalp and took root on the surface of the brain disappeared. His expression was not very nervous, but seemed extremely calm. If it were the Angron he knew, he would be neurotic in between conversations.

His face twitches, and the pain will make him angry.

The Butcher's Nail would turn this rage into the urge to kill everything - and on several occasions, Angron actually did so. Many World Eaters sergeants died innocently at the hands of their genetic father, without

Reason, no explanation.

"My lord..." Givadoron whispered. "He doesn't know who you really are."

"I am Angron, who else could I be?" the Lord of Red Sand said calmly. "Do you want me to deny who I am?"

Givadoron bowed his head humbly.

Angron turned his head and stared at Arianto's face: "What is your name?"

"my name?"

Arianto suddenly laughed: "You asked me, my name? My noble lord, have you forgotten who I am? I am one of the two thousand people who were besieged by you personally! Istvan III

What happened on board, what you did with your own hands...how dare you forget?!"

Angron frowned: "Istvan III?"

Givadoron's lips moved. His usually calm, stone-like face now had a rare expression: "That was...a betrayal, sir.

"

He narrated in a low voice: "It started out as a virus bomb. Horus used a spear of light to detonate it in the atmosphere. We had to hide in the bunker and wait for the continuous fire storm to pass, and the cost was the entire Isth

All six billion mortals on Tephan 3 died."

"Then, they fell from the sky. We didn't have heavy firepower. He came with his men himself, and the betrayers got off the gunboat with him - after strafing. Our men suffered heavy casualties, but Captain Erlen was okay

Reasonable, he asked us to engage in trench warfare. We only had two thousand men, but he brought a full five thousand men and countless heavy firepower."

Talking about the past, Givadoron's face finally showed hatred: "He once swore to fight alongside us! However... he decided to send us to the ground at the beginning of this battle.

, so as to kill them all. Just like a child crushing ants in the sand table."

"Him!" Arianto roared. "What him? Him?!"

He raised his hand tremblingly and pointed at Angron: "You have to use 'you'! Use this term, Givadorun, stupid Givadorun! What is wrong with your brain? It has become like those

Can mutants also only refer to themselves in the third person?"

The one-eyed Astartes yelled at Angron: "You did it! Coward! Slave! You can't even think of joining forces with this traitor to confuse my mind. We are all the same! God, I really hope you can

Die in Nuceria!”

What kind of hatred could make him say that he hoped his genetic father would die in Nuceria?

Angron's mood was unexpectedly calm. He didn't feel angry about this, only pity - what did that monster do to you?

"I am not the object of hatred in your imagination that you have accumulated for ten thousand years of anger and hatred." Angron spoke seriously. "Nor am I the miserable tyrant you know."

He crossed his arms and said, "I am Angron, yes, but not the one you know. I come from another world, and I have never betrayed."

"My lord!" Givadoron looked at him in shock.

"Why not?"

Angron turned to look at him and asked: "Why can't I tell these loyalists my true identity? Will anyone stop this? They have been loyal for ten thousand years and have been tortured in pain and hatred.

For ten thousand years, I have to face the doubts within the empire and the swords of my former brothers. If I don’t tell them the truth, who am I?”

"The intention to attack has subsided and defensive measures have been lifted."

The center of the circle interrupted them at an inappropriate time, a blue light flashed, and Targaryen, who was standing stiffly on the spot, fell to the ground and began to breathe heavily.

Givadoron knew how he felt. Once, when he was sparring with Ezekiel's team, he did not report it, which caused the center of the magic circle to also take defensive measures. They were frozen for five minutes, even if

With superhuman resilience, it took him half an hour to regain his energy afterwards.

That is definitely not a good experience. Your will and body are all continuing to function. You want to respond but you can't move at all, as if your body has died. But your brain is still tirelessly issuing commands to your body——

The feeling of being unable to accept an order is terrifying for a soldier.

"...Wait a minute, Arianto."

Targaryen gasped weakly, and the freezing effect just now seemed to have made him better. At least now he no longer needed a shot of the Inquisition's special sedative, and his sanity had returned to his brain again. When he was not sick, Targaryen

Gillian is much more rational than Arianto most of the time.

"Don't worry yet. At least I think if they want to attack us, we have no chance to survive until now."

He took another deep breath and refused Arianto's support. Targaryen stood up on his own, his old power armor buzzing: "...What do you mean when you say you are from another world?"

"literal meaning."

"Great, I have a few questions."

"Ask." Angron nodded seriously as before. "I will try my best to answer your questions."

"If what you say is true...in that world...we...what happened to us?"

The ancient war dog from the past spoke these words in a trembling voice. Ten thousand years of blood and tears were all condensed into these few words. Angron did not dodge, and met his gaze, calmly,

He answered word for word: "I am proud of them."

"From the moment I returned, I knew that I would be proud of them. They are disciplined, have strength but do not exceed the rules, and honor is always in their hearts. They are indeed like this. Not only do they make me proud of them, but the empire

The people also regard them as heroes and protectors, but they do not regard them as gods. We are liberators, but not idols."

"Great." Targaryen murmured. "Great, even if this is the devil's illusion..."

He turned his head and looked at Arianto, showing a smile that was uglier than crying: "What do you think, brother? If our fate is not like this, can it be like what he said?"

Arianto said nothing.

Just when they were all silent, Angron raised his head. He looked at the center of the magic circle with blue light flashing on the ceiling, and suddenly gritted his teeth and said: "If you have seen enough of the show... you might as well spare the time."

Can you help them with your snack-holding hand?"

"Don't slander me, Angron. We are in a hellish place like this. Where can we get snacks?"

The mage flashed in the center of the room, with a smile that couldn't be concealed: "Besides, I'm not watching the show."

"Didn't you watch the show? Then why did you come over immediately when I mentioned you?" Angron asked with a sneer.

"How dare I take the call of a primarch lightly?"

"You are still a living saint!"

"False name, just a false name." He Shenyan was still smiling, and then immediately changed the subject. "I already know the problem of these two monks. The one who removed the Butcher's Nail for you... the Dark Spirit Tribe

, well, let’s just call them the Dark Eldar.”

When it came to business, he immediately became serious: "They are obviously not good at their craftsmanship, and the traces of witchcraft still remain in your brains. The Butcher's Nail itself was violently dismantled, and your so-called sequelae include brain damage.

Factors include the dark forces left behind by witchcraft that are causing trouble in the brain."

He Shenyan began to talk eloquently: "For laymen who have seen ghosts, I despise this kind of two-handed knife who casually wields two knives with little knowledge. It is simply disgusting..."

"Can't you just get to the point?" Angron sighed heavily.

"The point?"

He Shenyan looked at him inexplicably: "The point is that I can cure it, so what's so difficult about it?"

"Then why did you say such a long list?"

The mage shrugged: "When people live in this world, they have to find something to despise. We all need to store some sense of superiority in our hearts to survive, don't we? I am not exempt from vulgarity. You have to let me express my feelings. After all, they do

It was really bad.”

Angron didn't know what to say for a moment.

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

Lying on the cold operating table, Arianto was a little nervous for no reason. Angron, a complete stranger, said that this man was a living saint. At first, he and Targaryen didn't believe it. Until they saw He Shenyan's face behind him.

There was a fleeting golden glow, and the two of them looked at each other and immediately decided to believe it now.

It’s okay if you don’t believe it.

However, his nervousness had nothing to do with He Shenyan. His nervousness came from Angron, the Lord of Red Sand, standing beside them, standing between the two operating tables with his arms folded, looking at He Shenyan seriously.

They prepared surgical instruments on the spot and gave them encouraging looks from time to time.

It's so weird. Arianto thought, am I really not in a hallucination? Is Angron trying to comfort us?

"Aren't you a mage?"

"Yes what's the matter?"

"Then why...are you preparing these surgical instruments?" Angron's eyelids twitched. He Shenyan was using magic power to make a series of medical instruments such as scalpels and surgical hammers at the scene. However, considering that Aspen

Due to the size of the Tats, those enlarged instruments would be more appropriately called torture instruments.

"I can't do craniotomy on them, right? You can bear it, but they can't."

"No...I mean, can't you just use magic to solve this problem?"

"Unfortunately, we can't."

When it comes to related majors, He Shenyan can always give you a lot of convincing explanations.

"I want to, but I can't. The brain is the most important organ of human beings. It can even be said that there is no other organ. In mysticism, the brain is also called the tree of Kabbalah. The magic power is produced from here. Although I don't

We know who came up with such cruel technology as the Butcher’s Nail, but the designer who deserved a thousand cuts mistakenly associated the Butcher’s Nail with mystery.”

"I won't tell you more about this, because you can't understand it anyway. Let's talk about the so-called dark spirits. The traces of dark witchcraft they left behind are intertwined with the brains of these two monks. I must give

You two need to perform a craniotomy and directly come into contact with the traces of dark witchcraft to eliminate them."

"Of course, I can also insert my hands directly into your brains and let you feel what it feels like to have your brains held by hands without anesthesia. What do you two think?" He asked with a smile while lying on the bed.

Arianto and Targaryen on the operating table.

The two looked at each other again: "No, let's do craniotomy. Sir, we can bear it."

"Don't worry, it won't hurt." He Shenyan smiled like a spring breeze. "I have anesthetics here."

His anesthetic meant directly using psychic energy to knock them out. Angron couldn't bear to look away and decided not to mention the anesthetic.

After they all fainted, He Shenyan threw aside the surgical chain saw he was preparing to use for craniotomy, stretched out his index finger, and made a circle on Arianto's scalp, and his scalp and skull automatically

A gap opened, and there wasn't even any blood.

"You don't need a scalpel at all?!" Angron couldn't help but roar in a low voice when he saw this.

"It's just a sense of ceremony...don't talk."

Two golden lights lit up in He Shenyan's eyes. A golden ray of light extended from his index finger and slowly crawled to Arianto's still trembling brain. His brain had many defects, but fortunately they were all on the surface.

, it is not difficult to repair. The real difficulty lies behind.

He closed his eyes, and the dark psychic traces left by witchcraft opened a tiny subspace crack in the monk's brain. As we all know, witchcraft was invented by people without psychic powers in order to communicate with the subspace.

The evil rituals are essentially to cut a small opening in the material realm through sacrifices or cruel rituals in order to borrow the spiritual energy in the subspace.

And now... there is such a small opening in Brother Arrianto's brain, and the energy of the subspace is continuously flowing out from it.

He Shenyan's expression became a little gloomier: "I take back their comment that they are not good at learning - it's not bad to be able to do such a thing without damaging their sanity and life."

His voice was soft, but his teeth were gritted: "How many people have to die to have such a skill?"

Angron pursed his lips. He knew nothing about psychic powers, but judging from the mage's expression and words, he could somewhat understand the current situation.

The Lord of Red Sand took a deep breath: "Can it be cured?"

"Fortunately, I'm here." He Shenyan glanced at him. "If it had been anyone else, these two would have been labeled as heretics and executed immediately."