Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

Sol Tavitz looked at the information in front of him, his hands trembling - he was a model among the legion. In terms of combat skills, he had reached the pinnacle, and after experiencing so much, after resurrecting from the dead, he was originally

I thought I would never lose my composure about anything again.

He miscalculated.

Everything that happened after Yin Stefan 3 was presented to him by Wen Zhen. It was written in black and white, pure and clear - Nathaniel Garrow's message, the rebellion, the fall of the legion, the split, and the war.

All around...

Then, there were those five big characters that made him unable to take his eyes away.

Defense of Terra.

Even with his superhuman brain, Sol Tarvitz spent a precious hour digesting this shocking news. In his worst scenario, Sol never thought that Terra would be surrounded.

...even on the verge of destruction.

This is worse than the situation they suffered at the time.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm down, he continued to look back. As a result, the title of the next chapter made him almost fall off the chair.

...The Emperor is above.

Sol Tarvitz's eyes were fixed on the top-secret information, and he took in the words line by line - the collapse of the Webway Project, the almost death of the Emperor, the sacrifice of Prime Minister Malcador...

.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

Tavitz stood up. He didn't know yet that he was called a 'hero who glorified his own legion', but even if he knew, he probably wouldn't care much about his image at this moment.

In the general public's perception, the Astartes are the Emperor's angels of death. They are superhuman beings without emotions, dedicated to killing - from a certain point of view, this is correct. However, Aspen

The Tarts are not without emotion.

They just suppress it in their hearts, and the suppressed emotions will eventually burst out. The emotional counterattack will be extremely violent, even enough to make people like Sol Tavitz cry.

He was weeping for the empire and humanity, and his heart was full of sorrow.

It happened that at this moment, a person opened his door and walked in. The footsteps were soft, but the sense of presence was so strong that it was incomprehensible.

Thor turned his head, his expression immediately turned to embarrassment - his genetic father with a scar on his face, Fulgrim, the phoenix of Chemos, was looking at him with a smile.

"How do you feel, Thor?" Fulgrim just asked in a gentle tone without asking why Thor was crying.

"...Not bad, Primarch."

"Is that all?" Fulgrim's expression looked a little disappointed. "I thought you were crying with joy - wait, you didn't see the back, right?"

"Ah?" Sol Tavitz looked at him blankly. "I, I don't understand, my father, behind, behind?"

Fulgrim sighed and waved to him: "Come, come here."

Phoenix led his heir to the table, picked up the information on the table and quickly flipped through it. He quickly picked up a document titled "The Beginning and End of the Second Siege of Terra" and handed it to Thor.

·Tavitz.

"Take a good look, Thor, and you will know the whole story."

After saying that, Fenghuang raised his hand and touched the long and narrow scar on his cheek, and smiled: "...Including how I came back, it's all included. Ah, by the way."

As if he remembered something, he raised his hand, pulled out a power sword from the void, and handed it to Sol Tarvitz.

"Your sword, Thor."

Tarvitz stared blankly at the power sword lying quietly in the hand of his genetic father. Fulgrim's voice was quickly leaving him, becoming ethereal and ethereal, yet as heavy as a thousand stones.

"...I hope you know that I'm proud of you."

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

A man in a black robe is walking on a chaotic planet with a dark face. He is in a bad mood. This does not even need to be said, it can be seen just by looking at it.

And this planet is hopeless - demonic pollution is everywhere, and followers of Slaanesh have built strange buildings here using the flesh and blood of innocent people.

If you look carefully, you can even find extremely high sense of beauty and artistry. These things are unquestionable masterpieces of art - if you think so, then you are probably not far from depravity.

Needless to say, the man in the black robe, who else could it be if it weren't for He Shenyan? Everyone's aesthetics is so monotonous that he only wears black robes every day for more than ten years.

But there are many reasons for his bad mood, not only because of the irreversible pollution of Slaanesh, but also the reasons on the White Tower Council Forum.

The mage stopped, and a civilian who was not yet dead was kneeling on the ground, panting hard. He did not notice the mage's arrival, even though he was standing in front of him.

This civilian's back was hollowed out, and blasphemous words were carved into his pale bones. His face was so pale that he looked strangely pale, and his eyes gradually turned an ambiguous pink-purple color.

He Shenyan lowered his head, bent down, and leaned close to his ear, listening quietly to his murmuring voice.

"The Emperor...bless..."

An almost imperceptible sigh sounded. He Shenyan raised his right hand and punched lightly. It seemed weak and weak, but the color of the world suddenly changed at this moment.

The thick dark clouds that had turned into sickly colors were blown away by the violent wind, and the art based on flesh and blood was completely shattered at this moment - the storm roared, venting its anger on this suffering land.

own anger.

A wisp of fly ash fell into the Master's outstretched palm. He stared at the ash without saying a word. But heavy pressure came in an instant, and the earth cracked. The fallen who were enjoying the pleasure suddenly felt like this at this moment.

Thorny back.

——Then, a voice sounded in their hearts. Whether it was the cultists, the Chaos war gang, the Slaanesh demons, or even the civilians who were not dead...at this moment, they all heard the voice.

Those words were not spoken in a language they were familiar with, but the heavy will contained in them did not require any translation or explanation. Any creature with intelligence could understand it immediately.

The demons suddenly changed their colors, and many of them had even abandoned the corpses in their hands that had not been completely desecrated, and planned to escape back into the subspace, but it was too late.

Golden flames fell from the sky, turning the ground into boiling magma. The extreme hatred caused the demons to scream in extreme agony. Their chaotic nature could not resist this spiritual energy, and could only gradually die in pain and fear.

The cultists and Chaos warbands soon followed in their footsteps, and the pain was no less painful - the remaining human essence within them allowed them to endure an even longer period of torture and pain.

He Shenyan was floating in the vacuum, staring at the planet that was gradually being ignited into gold, without saying a word until it completely turned into an artificial golden sun before leaving.

He did not forget the promise he had made - the hunt began.