Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

Inside the palace facade.

This place should have been solemn and elegant, with sculptures standing in the square gazing at the passing imperial troops - that's how it should be. Now, the place is crowded with refugees.

There was a roar of people, the cries of children and the comforting sounds of mothers. You couldn't see many men. They either died while covering the escape of their wives and children, or they were prompted to strengthen the defenses. The stench spread in the air.

It was in the air, almost everywhere. The refugees were hungry and filthy, the air was suffocating, stiff and retching.

But it is also completely sad, heartfeltly sad. As long as you see the faces of those mothers who are trying to cheer up for their children, and the words of their prayers to the Emperor...

An Astartes pushed through the crowd.

His armor is blue with gold lines. The honor mark belonging to the Ultramarines shines on his right shoulder. Some military medals jingle on his breastplate. The heavy turbo accelerator on the jump pack makes

His steps were a little heavy, but this warrior still maintained their demeanor.

He felt the eyes around him. Those eyes full of speculation and suspicion seemed to be asking him: Why didn't you save us from the disaster of the war? Their eyes made this soldier feel like he had a knot in his throat. He wanted to explain to them, but he couldn't.

.

He can't, because they can't understand - these people often can't read a single word, and may not be able to write their own names from birth to death. But they know how to spell the Emperor, and even memorize many of His words. Even if he

Even if he tried to explain it to them, they might not understand. Astartes didn't know what to think about it.

What should I think? He asked himself, but couldn't get an answer. He simply threw it away. Astartes breathed a sigh of relief after squeezing through the crowd. The sour smell was insignificant to him.

The helmet's breathing grille helped isolate him from the influence of those smells, but the looks from the people around him made it difficult for him to straighten his back.

There is still a grand corridor to pass before reaching the operating room of his company commander, Cato Sicarius.

Behind the corridor was once the museum hall, which was used to record the ancient people with amazing talents in the history of ancient Terra. Their inventions and creations laid the foundation of the current empire. Therefore, they are forever remembered. Over tens of millions of years, countless people

Pilgrims come from all over the galaxy to pay homage to them.

As for now, it's a place used as a field hospital on a temporary basis.

Astartes saw rows of refugees leaning against the wall of the corridor. Most of them were well-dressed and slightly disheveled. They were crowding around the servitors distributing food, surrounding them. There was a bastard.

My pocket was already filled with the distributed dehydrated nutrition packets, but I still wanted more at this time.

He was angry from the bottom of his heart - your compatriots are suffering and starving outside. They are all women and children, but you men are crowded here... like maggots!

He couldn't say any vulgar words, he just felt disgusted. Very disgusting.

Astartes deliberately increased the sound of his footsteps, and was satisfied to see the scum, cowards and trash running away in fear. He did not grab their collars and ask them to distribute the food, nor did he scold them for their behavior.

Obscene - he can't do this, he has a more important mission.

I can't waste time again.

Walking quickly through the corridors, there are many people lying in the museum hall. There are soldiers of the Astra Militarum, civilians, pilots of war mechs, and Astartes. The medical sisters preside over this temporary hospital. They serve the Empire

All citizens provide therapeutic services, help the poor, heal the sick and injured. All comers are welcome. Astartes always feels that compared to him, they are the real angels.

Angels should know how to save, not just kill like him.

A nun wearing a white hood and a mask, only revealing a pair of agate eyes, saw him and hurried over: "Are you the master of the second company of the Ultramarines?"

"Yes, Sister."

"Your company commander is—well, forget it! The Emperor bless him, please follow me!"

The nun's heavy tone made him a little uneasy. He took off his helmet and followed the nun step by step into the museum hall. The constant monotonous sound of medical equipment could be heard around them, and some nuns looked anxious.

They ran past them, covered in blood. From time to time, they heard moans full of pain.

The Astartes looked around. The place was filled with those who were most seriously injured. An Astra Militarum soldier had lost half of his body, and the other half was covered with traces of burns. His flesh and skin were burned into pieces.

Black charcoal lay on the simple camp bed, twisting and turning, leaving traces of blood one after another.

They passed through people who were undergoing operations, mourning, or dying. When they came to a simple room isolated by white curtains, the nun turned her head, looked up at him, pursed her lips and shook her head: "Sir,

You'd better go in and see for yourself."

Hearing these words, Astartes clenched his right fist suddenly, but his face did not reveal anything. He nodded calmly to the nun, then held his helmet, pushed open the curtain and walked in.

His captain, Cato Sicarius, was lying there. He had lost one of his right legs, and there was a huge wound in his abdomen, with his internal organs and ribs exposed. Seeing him coming, Sicarius turned his head.

He spoke as if he couldn't feel the pain, but even his voice was trembling.

"Samuels, you're here. How's the situation? Is the damn thing dead?"

"It's dead, Captain. After you plunged your sword into its brain, Captain Marius jumped on him and the Destroyer Squad backed him up with a volley of fire. The Captain used his Power Fist to knock you out

The sword hammered into its brain. It died."

"Very good." A smile appeared on Sicarius' pale face. "Then, our sacrifice is worth it. What information did you bring me?"

"No information, company commander. I just came to see you."

Sicarius frowned and his voice suddenly rose: "The war is getting intense...cough! Cough cough!"

"The war is getting intense. You don't have any information or things that I need to decide on. Why are you here here? Cough!"

He coughed, and his exposed internal organs trembled, and blood spattered out and dripped on the sheets. But he still kept talking.

The medical equipment started beeping nonstop, and a nun hurriedly ran over. She stared at the medical equipment and made sure there was nothing wrong with it. After a while, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She said sternly: "Captain Sicarius, what did we tell you?"

Xiumiers swore that it was the first time he saw a shrinking expression on his company commander's face. Cato Sicarius, who had never wavered in the face of the Lord of War, actually stuttered a little at this time: "I -

—Uh, nun, this, this is not my problem."

"Yeah?"

The nun turned to look at Samuels. He suddenly stood up straight and said, "I apologize, nun."

After a sincere apology, they were given a stern education by the nun for five minutes. These doctors, whose mission is to treat illnesses and save lives, don’t care who you are. As long as you cause trouble to them, just wait to be scolded. After she left, Xiu

Mills was relieved. He didn't want to have an argument with a medical nun.

"Come here, Samuels."

Sicarius waved to him in a low voice, and Shoomeers did as he was told. He walked over, and his company commander weakly raised a hand and placed it on top of his right armpit. He tapped it lightly.

Knock: "How is Commander Marius doing?"

"Captain is fine. We are repairing the outer wall of the palace, and the brothers of the Imperial Fists have taken over our posts."

"You don't have any information?"

"This is indeed not intelligence, company commander."

Sicarius said no more. He turned his head and waved his hand: "Go away quickly, you brat."

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

Marius sat on a stone with a tired face. It should have been part of a building. As for now, no one cares what it is. Surrounded by pharmacists who are walking around, they are bringing back the brothers.

Their gene-seed was sent to a transport plane responsible for transporting it back to Macragge's Glory.

A think tank is reporting to him.

"The latest news from the Father of Genes. He appreciates our results, but also feels that we should not take such risks. At the same time, he issued the latest order to us to go to the middle level of the hive city for support."

"Support? Support whom?"

"A team of Battle Sisters...and Lord Steve Rogers."

Hearing these words, Marius adjusted his sitting posture to make himself look more solemn. He nodded and motioned for the think tank to continue.

"The father of genes didn't believe the explanation, but I believe it should be related to the ancient ruins of the power plant there..." The think tank touched his bald head and sighed worriedly. "We haven't seen anything since the war started.

Any demon belonging to Nurgle, Captain, I am very worried."

Marius didn't answer him directly - he was actually thinking about this question too.

The majority of the demons on the battlefield are the demons of Khorne, which is normal. Those demons of Slaanesh are huddled in their hives practicing their disgusting arts. There are not many demons of Tzeentch, which makes sense.

...But why can't I see the demon of Nurgle?

This is completely unreasonable. Although they are not as keen on killing as the demons of Khorne, they will not miss any opportunity to spread the so-called blessing to humans...

After much thought, Marius could not come to a conclusion. He simply put the problem aside for the time being. The Chapter Leader of the Ultramarines stood up and issued an order to the think tank with an expressionless expression: "Mobilize the soldiers.

...We will head to the hive immediately."

"As you command, Chapter Commander."

Think Tank bowed slightly and began to use psychic communication to connect with the brothers present.