Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

The Astartes have superhuman powers, no doubt about that.

Otherwise, how could they be called the Emperor's angels of death? All kinds of honors and honorable titles can be crowned on their heads, but for Kronos, he no longer needs those things to prove his bravery.

He is part of the legend himself, so to speak.

Cronus Tiberius is the legend itself.

Astartes have no blood or tears, and most of them die without shedding a single tear. For superhumans like them, perhaps there is only one thing that can affect their emotions.

At this moment, Kronos was staring at He Shenyan in a daze, his detached face was expressionless, and there were no so-called emotional fluctuations in his blue pupils. But those two lines of tears were real. They slowly slipped down and dripped onto Kronos' shoulder armor, and then continued down to the sacred prayers hanging on his armor.

"...is that true?"

I don't know how long it took before Kronos asked with a trembling voice.

"I'm not bad enough to joke about such a thing, Kronos."

Astarte lowered his head, and his voice was so low that he felt unfamiliar: "I know - I just, can't believe this is true."

He Shenyan's reaction was expected, and the mage is not the kind of person who especially likes to see others embarrassed. He simply changed the subject: "How are you doing here?"

"Not bad." Speaking of his actions here, Kronos couldn't help smiling.

The military literacy of the Noxians and their dispositions were simply born for war, but that wasn't what pleased Kronos the most. It's the sense of honor that they haven't lost under any circumstances, and that's all the more important.

If a person loves fighting itself and has to fight all year round, his heart will change somewhat. It is inevitable that human beings will always be changed by circumstances. But such changes often don't change for the better, even for Kronos.

The war had changed him forever, and so had these mortals. But he had the blessing of the Emperor, the strict rules of the Legion, and his own superhuman willpower. With these things, he can restrain himself, but mortals do not have these things. In this case, the sense of honor is particularly important.

It was the sense of honor that kept them from killing women and children and becoming as degenerate as some of his brothers. From another point of view, it is also the sense of honor that saved them.

"There's only one fly in the ointment, though," Cronos said.

"Oh?"

Astarte rubbed his eyebrows in annoyance: "Noxus currently has only one battlefield, which has led to a large number of soldiers who have nothing to do. In order to let their excess energy be consumed, I have to open a new battlefield. A military arena."

From his eyebrows and the following narrative, He Shenyan could see that Kronos was helpless about this matter.

After all, it's not the same as friendly exchanges. Combat in the military arena is often extremely brutal, and the Noxian nature and culture make them extremely worship the strong, and the fallen will not complain about the victor even if they are killed.

"What about you? Your vacation should be fine, right?" Cronos asked. The short parental chats didn't seem to impress him; on the contrary, Kronos seemed interested in the wizard's vacation experience.

"Forget it..." He Shenyan rolled his eyes.

He snapped his fingers and said one thing at a time: "The one thing I did the most during the whole vacation was to tease a little girl, let her run errands for me every day to get cold beer, and then cast a spell to turn the beer into juice. Give her a drink."

"Besides... I also turned a former cosmic overlord, a lunatic with some mental problems, into an earthling, and let him go to the countryside to farm."

For some reason, Kronos suddenly regretted asking this question.

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Thanos walked into a convenience store, the owner was a black man, and stood behind a specially reinforced counter looking at him through the glass: "What do you want, man?"

"I heard you have something special to sell here."

The black man gave a lukewarm laugh. "That depends on whether you're special, man—you know what I mean?"

"Makily introduced me."

"Which Maquili?"

"Don't you know?" Thanos asked rhetorically. "Makiley, who owns a fishing gear store, on East Third Street."

The black man nodded: "Of course I know the bastard, just to confirm. Come with me."

After that, he walked out from behind the counter and took Thanos to the back door of the store, not forgetting to close his own door before leaving.

After coming out of the back door of the convenience store, they walked all the way for about ten minutes before crossing the alley and arriving at a very secret garage.

The black man took the electric key out of his pocket and opened the door. Then, what appeared in front of Thanos and him was a whole wall of weapons.

The black man clapped his hands triumphantly, the gap between his front teeth was wide and looked rather comical: "Man, these are all high-quality goods, my personal collection. For Maquili's sake, I let You pick two."

"Do you have any recommendations?"

"It depends on what you need."

The black man came into the garage and turned on the light. He casually picked up a silver large-caliber revolver from a side shelf, with a brown grip, looking extremely beautiful: "'python', large-caliber, one shot can knock people down, no body armor Use. The kinetic energy can directly fracture the person who is hit."

He gestured and grinned. He put down the gun with a smile, turned around and picked up another shotgun, and sniffed the gun with enjoyment: "M870, reliable old man. Stupid, you can make the person standing in front of you fall like wheat being reaped."

"Is there a fully automatic one?"

Thanos' sudden remark made the black man narrow his eyes. He touched his chin and said, "Dude...you should know that automatic weapons are illegal in this state, right?"

"yes."

"Then you know, we just killed a dozen school shooters last year, right?"

"I know."

The black man gave a lukewarm laugh again: "I brought you to my small warehouse for Maquili's sake, man, you have to tell me one thing - although I never ask people What are you buying guns for, but you don't even think about doing some **** against humanity with what I sold you, do you understand?"

Thanos' expression remained calm, and he asked, "Do you know Mrs. Jackson?"

The black man's eyes changed a little: "...I know, what's wrong?"

Valley Horse

"I found out which **** are responsible, and now I'm going to kill them."

"Can't you call the police?" The black man was still a little suspicious.

Thanos smiled: "If calling the police helps, I will. But trust me, calling the police won't get them the punishment they deserve, on the contrary, it will only make them more mad."

Staring into Thanos' eyes, the black man made sure of one thing: he wasn't lying.

At least in the case of murder, he didn't.

The tense atmosphere suddenly disappeared, the black man scratched his head in annoyance, and suddenly stretched out his right hand: "Buck, Buck Eugene."

"Thanos Lofis."

The two shook hands, and Buck turned his back and dragged a black suitcase from under the row of displayed weapons. With a serious expression, he stuffed the box into Thanos' arms: "Open it when you go back, there is an instruction manual in it, and an idiot can assemble it against the instruction manual. There are still two hundred rounds of bullets in the box, enough for you. "

He picked up the python revolver, took a large travel bag, and threw the revolver and shotgun in it, followed by a bunch of boxed bullets. After doing all this, Buck said with an unhappy expression: "Count your eight hundred dollars—cash, is there a problem?"

"No."

Thanos paid the bill cleanly, and they went back to the convenience store. Buck has changed his expression. He threw a bottle of wine wrapped in a kraft paper bag to Thanos and said, "Take it as a thank you gift from me, man."

"What thanks?"

"Thank you for avenging Mrs. Jackson," Buck said through his teeth. "I haven't been drinking for many years, but if you make it, and I see the news on TV, I'll have a drink."

Thanos smiled, turned and left the convenience store.

At six o'clock that night, he took a detour back to his home. After locking the wooden door, Thanos threw the travel bag on the ground, put the black suitcase on the table, and slowly opened it. What caught his eye was a prototype of a firearm, to be precise, the parts that were separated.

Buck wasn't lying, there were instructions. But Thanos didn't need this thing, he installed this delicate treasure. Holding it in his hand, the short but powerful feeling made Thanos a little nostalgic. He hadn't used a gun for a long time.

Included with the gun are three magazines. Thanos just sat in his living room, turning off the lights and starting to reload.

He wasn't very angry, just felt a faint puzzlement.

Human networks are a good thing, at least for Thanos. Those flawed loopholes were easily broken through by him. Through monitoring and hours of hard work, Thanos easily found out who the murderer was. What he didn't expect was that the murderer was not a serial killer passing by, but three high school students in the city.

They are well-off families, they spend their days looking for fun, and they only need to wait for the right time to inherit the family's wealth accumulated over the generations. Under such circumstances, they will naturally develop a mentality of 'the world is in my hands'. Thanos didn't quite believe they would do such a thing until he hacked the three bastards' phones.

The chats there made him more confused: Why would three teenage children think like that?

They don't talk about sports, they don't talk about games, they don't talk about their parents, they don't talk about the beautiful girls at school, they talk about murder and blood and stuff like that all day. The most incomprehensible thing for him was that the direct reason these three children wanted to do such evil things was just to join a secret 'fraternity' organization.

Killing is just a pastime and a proof for you?

Thanos thought again of Mrs. Jackson's face, the way she had berated him.

He thought, he was beginning to understand why the mage wanted to turn him into a human and leave him here. But he hadn't yet understood what the books were for.

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The buildings of the people of Demacia seem to always be so magnificent, and their architectural style is in the same vein as them. They are all flamboyant and rigid, and the Noxians would contemptuously call them "fancy", and not everyone among the Demacians liked this style.

But who cares what the few people think?

With this thought in mind, Marsino walked among the distinguished guests of the banquet with an impeccable perfect smile on his face. His etiquette, clothing, appearance, and even the magnitude of every handshake and bow are very good. But only he himself knew what was on his mind.

If he insisted on saying it, Marseno hoped that everyone here would die. God knows how much he longed for this to happen right away.

damned...! Our soldiers are being slaughtered one by one by Noxian barbarians on the front lines, and you are having such a feast in the rear!

His eyes swept across the delicate tableware, even a fork here can sell for a lot of money.

"Ah, isn't this our young Lord Marseno? Come, Marseno! Come here!"

A warm voice beckoned him over, Marseno turned his head and saw a lady with gray hair, but still very well maintained, beckoning warmly to him.

Marseno immediately greeted him. With a perfect smile, he gave the lady a close-up salute: "Hello, Mrs. Dubois."

"Why are you so outspoken, Marseno?" Madame Du Bois patted the back of his hand with a cautious look, then took his hand affectionately and led him to a secluded corner .

Here, they can talk quietly for a while.

Almost as soon as he arrived here, the smile on Marsino's face disappeared, and he asked blankly, "How is the front?"

Mrs. Dubois still had that smile, but there was no smile in her eyes: "The line of defense has been breached, and the Noxians will arrive in Xiongdu by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Everyone in Marcia can see their **** black and red armor."

"What about the domestic situation?"

Mrs. Dubois took a sip of wine~www.readwn.com~ still smiling: "It's not the same as it is? Even here on the front line, aren't they having a banquet?"

"I don't understand, does His Majesty the King really have no reaction at all?"

"There's nothing he can do...Marseno, there are too many people like your father and my husband holding power. For them, there's nothing more dead than what they're about to drink. A sip of red wine in your mouth."

Marseno looked sullen. Both he and the woman were from a political group in Demacia. They want to save this decaying country, but there seems to be nothing they can do about it.

"Should we just watch the Noxians break our gates?"

"Don't be so pessimistic, Marseno," said Mrs. Dubois, smiling. "At least...we have some resistance."

"Sit and wait to die?"

"There will be other ways... Marseno."

Mrs. Dubois drank and muttered to herself, "Yes, we still have a way."