Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

There are still twenty-nine hours until the Vengeance arrives on Terra.

Guilliman is donning his power armor. The famous Armor of Destiny is extremely gorgeous. The Imperial Sky Eagle, the human skull, the logo of his Legion and the sigil of the Five Hundred Worlds shine in gold on this armor.

His left fist is a powerful power glove called the Hand of Dominance. It is an ingenious and violent weapon. Combined with the strength of the original body itself, it can even knock down a Titan with one blow. It is also equipped with a larger-caliber weapon.

bolter. In his right hand he holds a power sword, a replacement for the Akasei dagger after it was lost.

The servitor, this unconscious and brainless machine, stretched out its hand, which was twice as long after modification, and its limbs were made countless times more precise to polish Guilliman's Armor of Destiny.

But he, who was already fully dressed, had no intention of waiting for them to complete this unnecessary process. The original body looked at the poor thing with a human form with complicated eyes, and gently pushed it away. The servitor tilted.

The head, its brain unable to comprehend what the Primarch meant now, went up again and tried to polish his armor.

"That's enough," Guilliman said softly and lowly. "Your work is over."

He gently pushed it open again, the force he used reminded him of when he had unwrapped a candy wrapper for a child in the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar.

If possible, I don’t want to see the existence of servitors again. I can say directly that I don’t like servitors. In my position, if I say this, reforms will immediately begin within the empire. But I can

You say? Servants are indispensable...

I also don’t like the sins our huge empire has committed in order to survive. In order to survive, we abandoned humanity, abandoned morality, and even abandoned the bottom line for a time... When these noble qualities have left us

At that time, what are we left with? And what makes us different from those traitors and demons?

Human nature, morality, and bottom line, aren't these things that make us better?

These complicated thoughts flashed through the original body's mind, and he closed his eyes gently. The director of the think tank walked in from the side. Different from the usual jingle, he did not wear any military medals. Diglis usually saw

Honor is his life, and he never forgets to wear his military medals wherever he goes.

"Diglis." Guilliman asked with his eyes closed. "Are the legions ready?"

The Director of the Think Tank noticed that the word used by the Primarch was not "chapter" but "legion". This violated the Codex Astartes he created. Could it be that the Primarch used the wrong word?

Diglis didn't know the answer, he just replied: "My lord, the five to ten companies are ready to attack. The remaining fearless elders in the battle company have also woken up from their slumber. The tenth company's

Captain Antilochus has already gone to the ground to investigate the situation in accordance with your order."

Guilliman pondered for a while. The director of the think tank did not dare to speculate on the thoughts of the original body. Even if he treated them very gently, this involved some of Diglis's own principles. He had issued it a long time ago

I swear that I will never use psychic profiling or mind-reading on anyone in the Chapter.

"...Let the Sixth Company ride their combat motorcycles to support Marius inside the hive. They must see people dead and corpses alive. We must find out what happened at the power plant. At the same time, notify

Brothers of the Imperial Fists, the Phalanx is relatively close to Mars. Let them send people to Mars to communicate with the Adeptus Mechanicus."

Guilliman still had his eyes closed, and his breathing was very calm and long, as if he was brewing something: "It is no longer time to hide and tuck in. I want the Adeptus Mechanicus to support Terra with all its forces. If the person responsible for communication does not

Agreed...let them find Belisarius Call."

"It's a matter of life and death, Diglis. Use psychic energy to link us. I'm going to give a pre-war speech."

The director of the think tank nodded silently.

Robert Guilliman finally opened his eyes, and his voice began to ring in the hearts of the Astartes who stayed behind on the Flare of Macragge, with unprecedented fatigue.

"This is Robert Guilliman speaking."

"Have I done all that I can do? I don't know. I must admit, Ultramarines - I am just as confused as you are, and I have the same confusion in my heart."

"I still remember the scene I saw when I woke up. You surrounded me. For ten thousand years, you never gave up the possibility of saving me... Without you, I would not be standing here."

Digoris felt some warmth trying to escape from his eyes. For them, there was nothing better than this. Communication from the original body must be one of the many goals that an Astartes pursues throughout his life. And psychic communication

The reactions of other brothers inside were similar to his.

"However, the empire I saw when I woke up was very different from the one I had originally remembered. Superstition and ignorance are filled in the hearts of our people, and corruption has completely spread to the entire empire. I am disgusted by this phenomenon, but I

Nothing can be done."

Guilliman's candidness was astonishing. He told all his thoughts without hiding a single thing.

"Yes, you may be surprised. You may think that as the original body, as his son, and as a demigod, I should be omnipotent. Just like what happened when I woke up

Like those miracles, my presence can heal anyone infected with Nurgle's plague."

"But I'm not omnipotent. On the contrary, I hate my incompetence. I hate that I can't change the current situation of the empire, and I hate that I can't make it better. Ultramarines... I can only

He’s just a human being.”

Guilliman's voice became lower and lower, and the emotions of the Ultramarines also dropped with his voice. At this moment, what Guilliman had been brewing finally exploded.

It was a storm, it was thunder, it was the first light of the sun piercing the dark night - "So?"

His voice was very calm: "Do I have to stop fighting for this? Do I have to give up for this?"

Digrith heard his primarch say: "No, never."

"Let us fight to the death, gentlemen."

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

Using the power of the Star Torch and directly eating part of the power from the completely boiled Star Torch are two completely different experiences. The former is not dangerous, and the Star Torch will even actively provide energy for him. The latter...

..extremely dangerous.

What exactly is the Star Torch? According to the Emperor's official explanation, it is a 'lighthouse' that 'illuminates the future of mankind'.

However, the Star Torch is actually just a system that relies on the Emperor as its controller, with 10,000 psykers trained by the Star Torch to function continuously on weekdays, and a hundred psykers daily used as fuel to burn. Just a giant firewood pile.

This is the essence of the Star Torch. It was built in the m30, and countless souls were sacrificed to power it over ten thousand years - think about it, how many soul fragments are floating in it?

But now, He Shenyan took the initiative to eat part of it.

He must do this.

In those short and vague psychic communications, He Shenyan could hear in his voice how weak the emperor was now. The worst part was this, no one knew whether this was also the case. One of Tzeentch's plans.

He did not send his monsters to appear on the frontal battlefield. Most of those deadly glibs were fighting the Custodes between the thrones. Tzeentch himself was also distracting the Emperor's remaining energy in the warp. .

Terra is now in extreme danger, there is no doubt about it. If He Shenyan doesn't come, the Emperor is not helpless - he can stand up from that chair. But what may happen after that is probably except No one in Tzeentch is happy.

There are still twenty-nine hours before they can reach Terra.

He Shenyan breathed out gently, changed his posture, lowered his legs, no longer suspended in the air, but stood down-to-earth in the main control room.

That part of the Star Torch's power was boiling in his body, and billions of different voices were shouting at him in his brain...

Some of them volunteered, and some were captured. Their identities varied. Some were sons or daughters of nobles, proudly dedicating themselves to the Empire. Others were illegal psykers born on remote worlds, and were caught with resentment. On Terra, everyone has different identities and different classes. However, all of them are now a thing of the past.

They had been dead—dead for a long, long time. The ancient undead were chattering to him. To be fair, it was quite noisy.

The mage raised one hand, and every finger on his right hand was trembling. He retracted four fingers with difficulty, and only raised his index finger. A bit of blazing white light emerged from the tips of his fingers.

He closed his eyes, and the chattering of the undead was 'shielded' in an instant. This idea only flashed in his mind for less than a second, but the psychic power had already faithfully implemented it. He Shen Yan's soul power is stronger than all of them combined. When the strong want to speak, the weak have no right to speak.

He Shenyan suddenly realized this, and his inappropriate sense of humor came into play again, and he almost laughed out loud.

So, it turns out that I have become an oppressor?

Am I?

He didn't think too much, just sighed slowly. The distance of twenty-nine hours cannot be artificially smoothed, and the navigation in the universe pursues extreme precision. Just like the universe itself, it is cold and ruthless. However, Terra The current situation no longer allows them to sail smoothly for another twenty-nine hours.

He wants to find another way, he must find another way.

Therefore, He Shenyan sincerely said to those billions of souls: "I need your help."

After a moment, a female voice answered him first. With the unique lisp of broken soul fragments, she almost communicated with him using unfinished phrases: "God...why do you need help?"

?”

"I'm not a god." He Shenyan said to her patiently, and at the same time to the billions of souls. "I'm just a human being, just like you."

Another man's voice took over the female voice. He sounded like an old man, and his words were much smoother than the female voice. But they were equally vague: "There is nothing we can do..."

The mage was silent for a long time before saying the following words.

He was almost frightened by his cruelty: "I need you to die again - die forever, and your soul fragments will explode through my hands to provide power for my ship...

..allowing us to support Terra."

There was a roaring sound like a tsunami, and countless resentment and anger surged from the power of the Star Torch. Most of these angry people were unregistered psykers who were forcibly brought to Terra, and some of them

People don't even know why they endured such torture until they die.

He Shenyan lowered his eyes and said to them in a voice so calm that he could hardly hear any emotion: "This is for the empire."

"The empire gave me nothing! I've been picking up rubbish in the mud and eating it since I was born!" one person shouted.

Another person agreed and cried: "I was beaten by you, and my mother was beaten to death by those who took me on the boat! I don't even know whether she is dead or alive!"

"fraud!"

A huge roar like a mountain collapsing rushed straight towards He Shenyan. In the spiritual field of vision, they crowded half of the sky, with deep anger and hatred on every face, uniformly.

He scolded He Shenyan angrily.

"Hypocrisy! Why don't you sacrifice yourself first?!"

"I won't risk my life for you! I've already died once! My debt has been written off!"

He Shenyan closed his eyes and said nothing.

He is not a person who likes others to sacrifice for him - if he had the means, how could he choose to let these people who died once die again?

His behavior was understood as a sign of guilty conscience. In exchange for more and more fierce scolding, He Shenyan just endured it all silently until the old man's voice came out again.

"Then come on." He said. "I am willing to sacrifice again. Your Excellency, I can feel your situation. You are very weak...right?"

"Yes." He Shenyan answered him gently. "I used some very dangerous methods to support Terra, and the excessive use of power has made me extremely weak now."

"Then come, Your Excellency." There was a smile in the old man's voice. "Being able to devote yourself to the empire once again, what could be better than this?"

Then came the female voice, who spoke out a long word with difficulty: "Only...death...is...to."

A young man's voice was very passionate: "For the empire!"

A very arrogant voice spoke in awkward Gothic: "I am a noble, how can I escape?"

Their voices were becoming clearer and clearer, and their faces gradually began to appear in front of the mage's eyes, replacing those resentful faces. He saw them - saw each of their faces clearly.

Old people, young people, women.

Beautiful, ugly, ordinary.

All of this disappeared in their shouts... A breeze blew over He Shenyan's face, and he only heard a firm and unparalleled word.

"For the Empire," they said.

Angron rushed into the main control room. He had crashed in. The center of the magic circle was buzzing, accusing him of the atrocities he had done to the door. The Lord of Red Sand anxiously looked at He Shenyan, who was closing his eyes and crying.

Minutes ago, he suddenly felt a palpitation in his heart, and something originating from the original instinct made him run wildly.

"What!" he shouted.

"Don't be so loud, Angron..."

The mage closed his eyes and turned his head, speaking softly to him, his voice full of sadness...and then, it transformed into a power that made his heart surge.

"For the empire." He heard He Shenyan say.