Warhammer: I don’t want to be a can of worms! ! !

Chapter 256 247. Dispute

"Are you a psyker?"

The Pale King moved his eyes away from the golden floor. Mortarion narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at his [brother], Magnus.

He was tall, taller than Mortarion, taller than any Vulkan he had ever seen.

He is tall and strong.

Zhang Yang has fluffy red copper hair like the mane of a real beast, unusually red skin, wearing ivory white and sandalwood green silk robes, a golden feathered cloak hanging behind him, some incense burners, and wax seals fixed of parchment dotted with it.

A huge ebony horn bent upwards, and a large book fixed with a gold chain hung at his side.

What disturbed Mortarion the most, however, was the smooth patch of skin on Magnus's face where his right eye should have been.

Was their creator, the Emperor, a king who loved to create imperfections?

No, not possible.

If Mortarion could still understand the birdman's flashy wings with a sneer, he could not understand Magnus's incomplete left eye.

Of course there is another possibility.

Even though Mortarion denounced sorcery, Mortarion actually knew those blasphemous knowledge when he was a child, under the influence of his adoptive father.

If the Emperor had not specially designed a half-blind man, then there was only one possibility. Neither war nor pain could create such a smooth loss, and it was destined to leave scars.

Magnus used sorcery, he traded a part of himself for something.

He is a wizard.

He is a wizard.

Mortarion casually lowered his hand, close to the alien pistol and lantern on his waist. The Primarchs were not welcome to bring large weapons to this banquet. Except for the Primarch guards, the Primarchs only brought small weapons.

He wanted to look back to check Hades' status, but it was too obvious, so Mortarion had to give up.

He should trust his Archon. Hades was far more cautious when it came to dealing with psychic powers than he let on.

He maintained his posture, waiting for Magnus's answer.

Perhaps he shouldn't be so cautious, Mortarion thought, realizing that, so far, the gathering had not been a disaster, and that the Angel and Guilliman had shown him another possibility.

Maybe he should be optimistic.

"Yes, I am a psyker."

Magnus laughed with unparalleled pride and pride,

"I'm very lucky that our father gave me this gift to have it, to use it, to study it, and I can see the light and see the wonderful light that comes from those miracles."

The Emperor had created a wizard son, Mortarion thought irritably. Why was he insisting on letting his son suffer this misfortune if there was already Malcador?

Fortunately, he didn't have a whim to install a pair of chicken wings on Mortarion, or such a death-inducing talent.

But now it seems his brother is proud of the mutilation.

Mortarion thought, this poor, ignorant fool, doesn't he know that psychic energy will only bring destruction in the end?

Didn't anyone remind him? The Emperor just watched his son slide into the abyss?

Faced with Magnus's words, Mortarion responded vaguely and waited cautiously.

"Psychic energy sometimes emits beautiful light, but in nature, the more beautiful things are, the more dangerous they are. Magnus, we should not be so optimistic when we face psychic energy."

The angel took a sip of the wine in his glass and said calmly.

Among the several primarchs present, only the angel noticed Mortarion's nervousness just now - Mortarion did not like psykers.

"Angel, when you are admiring the sunset of Baal and those magnificent natural miracles, are they dangerous? These are miracles gifted by nature to mankind, and the miracles of the etheric space are far more intoxicating than the sky of Baal. They are the miracles of God. Traces are the treasures given to the wise by the etheric space.”

"You shouldn't use miracles to describe subspace. There are no gods in the world."

Dorn interrupted in time, and he frowned. The original body of the Imperial Fist had always disliked the power of psychic energy, which was full of variables and threats.

"That's just a metaphor, Donne. Not everyone is like you, giving a precise definition to every word. When it comes to describing psychic powers, knowledge is emotional, not just cold. definition."

"Actually,"

The angel said slowly,

"The sunset on Baal is deadly. It is Baal's toxic radiation field that creates the scenery in Baal's sky that is far richer and more layered than other planets."

Magnus made an annoyed noise;

"Perhaps I should change the example, except for Baal, to the sunsets on other, harmless planets, such as the sunset on Macragge."

Guilliman blinked in surprise and spread his hands towards the angel to show that he had no ill intentions at all and that he was just an innocent victim.

"The sunset on Macragge is beautiful, I admit that, but I prefer the dawn on Macragge."

"I agree with Guilliman's point of view. I also like the dawn of Macragge. People get up and work under the call of the sun in order."

Dorn spoke. He had been to Macragge. In fact, Guilliman and he both preferred the order side and had many common topics. Working with Guilliman was always simple and relaxing.

In the same way, Macragge under Guilliman's rule is as full of vigor and hope as Guilliman himself, and everything is in order.

"That's just an inappropriate metaphor! We don't need to dwell too much on whether the sunset on whose home planet is beautiful-"

Magnus realized that this was getting further and further away from the topic of psionic power that he had hoped for. Unlike Khan or Perturabo, his other brothers always seemed to ignore his topics, with their concerns about psykers The insensitive malice is specifically reflected in targeting Magnus himself.

"Barbarus is dirty."

"Because of psychic powers."

Mortarion, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke, interrupting Magnus and surprising the Primarch present.

Magnus opened his one eye wide and looked at Mortarion,

"Psionics contaminated her and she was dying. The psionic Overlords unleashed sorcery on her, and people were the Overlords' currency to please the filthy Warp."

"In Barbarus, one of the most common and lowest-level witchcraft is the resurrection spell. The overlords select strong humans, then cut off their strongest parts, sew them together with twine, and then communicate with the subspace to provide these body parts. Give them new life and make them puppets.”

The smiles on Guilliman's and Angel's lips froze, but Mortarion still spoke calmly,

"Witchcraft is evil, psionics are ugly."

"Except for those who died in the war, all the lords on Barbarus will sacrifice themselves to the warp in madness and lead to blasphemous destruction."

"Stay away from it before you are swallowed up by psychic energy and sorcery."

Mortarion looked calmly at Magnus's one eye. Some broken dark golden fragments shone in Magnus's eyes, while his eyes were light golden.

he repeated,

"Stay away from him before you are consumed by psychic powers and sorcery, Magnus."

"I don't know-" Why the Emperor would inflict such suffering on his son, he may be a tyrant, but you don't have to listen to him.

But before Mortarion could finish his words, Magnus suddenly stood up and looked at Mortarion angrily.

His red hair flew in the air, and he seemed to grow larger, two huge ebony horns pointing furiously at Mortarion.

"What did you say?"

"As a person who only saw the ignorant tyrant ruling you with spiritual power, you chose to deny everything one-sidedly?"

Magnus walked up to Mortarion and looked down at him.

One of Magnus's red hair fell into the bean soup in front of Mortarion, and the beantoad let out a scream and sank back into the swamp.

Mortarion took a deep, deep breath, his breathing mask letting out a dying groan.

Magnus is taller and stronger than him, and he also uses psychic powers.

Mortarion wasn't sure he could defeat him. Maybe there were some other brothers who hated psychic powers and they could work together.

Mortarion stood up from his seat silently. He was also very tall. Although not as tall as Magnus, the oppression of the Lord of Death should not be underestimated.

Fortunately, he was at the very edge of the long table. With just one big step, there would be no more obstacles between the two of them.

Someone was screaming, but it didn't matter. The surrounding noise became muffled and tinny, the private communication channel buzzed, and Mortarion stared at Magnus.

Dorn seemed to roar at them to stop, and Guilliman's calm voice became panicked for the first time.

Mortarion didn't hear the birdman's voice, but it didn't matter, he didn't care.

Angel swung the wine glass and looked over there. Now, the seat was empty.

"Apologise, for insulting psionic powers and psykers."

A dull roar came from Magnus's throat,

"I shouldn't expect anything from you, you're another primitive at the end of evolution."

"No."

Mortarion said softly.

"I stand by my opinion that psykers are worthy of the gallows, and even now we and the Empire have to need them."

What responded to him was the ripple of psychic arcs at the end of Magnus' arms.

Mortarion spread his hands.

Yes, code