Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Popular recommendation:

Sitting in his tent, Shane rubbed his fingers on the cold armrest. His tent and this iron chair are both specially made in size. In order to fit his body shape, the logistics staff of the empire have put a lot of thought into it.

There was nothing superfluous in his tent, it was empty, and there was nothing else but this iron chair.

This chair is the style he specially requested, and it will not make people feel comfortable to sit on. On the contrary, this chair has square lines and sharp corners like a sword. Just looking at it is dazzling, and after sitting up, it can only give people an endless sense of coldness. Sion heard that in order to achieve this effect, the craftsmen put some pure ice from the Freljord inside the chair.

He was sitting in the dark, thinking.

Sean didn't plan to go into battle himself.

At least not when it comes to Demacians. If Thane decides to fight in person... well, the war will be over in a matter of hours -- and without suspense.

However, the battle a day earlier had already taught him the quality of the Demacians. They are very tenacious, indeed they are the elite among mortals. The armor doesn't fit Sion's aesthetic, but he has to admit that Noxus' existing mortal weaponry will have some difficulty against their sturdy plate armour.

Not to mention the weapons in their hands. Demacia has a unique geographical advantage, they are backed by forbidden magic stones, and they can also mine special steel. After being enchanted by their artisans, the famous Runesteel of Valoran was born. Weapons made of this steel are not only sharp and unusual, but also have a particularly powerful magic-breaking effect.

The reason he doesn't play is simple, he has to train.

Not long after the Legion was founded, there were both recruits and veterans. It was the time to get in, and in his opinion, the Demacians were an excellent training opponent. This legion would be with him for a long time, and it would be impossible not to let them get enough training.

Shane is very clear that Valoran has never been a mortal world - those evil things that are really hidden in the dark haven't come out to make waves. Thinking of this, his expression became gloomy.

inhuman...  

"General, the legion is ready."

Darius, who was only half his height, came in and interrupted his thoughts. Even though Sean was sitting, he had to raise his head to speak.

Shane nodded: "Let's do it, Darius. Besides...you should know the information of those 'magic seekers' very well."

Darius nodded, killing intent in his eyes. He was born in the port city of Bercilico, and he and his brother Delevingne were orphans on the streets. Before being recruited into the army by General Cyrus as an adult, every day of his life was an uphill battle.

He and his brother would use force against the older children, who were also orphans. In addition to the first time, there are human traffickers and city guards. The chaos did not end until the Noxian occupation of Bercilico. Darius, who had been accustomed to darkness since childhood, knew very well what those seekers had done to the poor girl.

And the most irritating thing is not this.... That girl is a lucky one. Before her, how many innocent people were persecuted by the seekers? It seems that the Demacians are not as bright as they appear to be.

"Very good." Sean laughed, and he began to tap his steel chin again, which seemed to gradually become a habit of his. He grinned and said with a wicked smile, "Exterminate them all, the wolves are about to be dispatched."

Darius' face showed a smirk similar to his: "Yes, General. The wolves will devour the Demacians..."

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

Demacia, Castle of Dawn.

"It seems that the matter is settled, Your Majesty."

Demacia's field marshal, Tiana Crownguard, was leaning against the wall, folded his arms to the Demacian prince, and the scheduled Jarvan IV was speaking. They have been under house arrest for half a month.

"You don't seem to be worried about our current situation at all, Master Marshal."

After all, Jarvan IV didn't seem worried. He even had the leisure to carve wood with a knife.

"There's no need to worry...they will pay for their stupidity. I guess you think so too, Your Majesty?"

Jarvan IV raised his head slightly, and the years treated Tiana Crownguard very tolerantly. She was almost forty, but she was still beautiful. Wearing gold and silver armor and a blue cloak around her shoulders, the fly in the ointment was that her sword was taken away.

"No, on the contrary. I'm actually very worried." King Jarvan IV smiled slightly, his left hand exerted force, and the wooden wither was quickly broken by him: "But, it's just a death."

"They won't necessarily kill you."

Jarvan IV shook his head: "They have killed my father, I don't think they have the guts. What's more, is there any way we can do it? At this moment, I prefer to keep it up rather than useless struggle. Demeanor, die decently."

Tiana Crownguard had to admit that if she hadn't been very familiar with the prince's character, he would have really fooled her.

Her face became a little displeased: "...I don't even want to tell the truth, Your Majesty?"

Jarvan IV stared at her for a while, then shook his head gently: "Master Marshal, why do you just don't want to believe that I really don't—"

With a creak, the door was opened, interrupting their conversation. A man came in, dressed in repulsive flamboyant clothing, not the traditional Demacian gold, silver, and blue, but a very garish purple and red. The arrogance on his face almost solidified, and he even wore a wig.

Tiana glanced at him in disgust: "...what's the matter with you, Huttle?"

Huetel smiled slightly and bowed in a standard aristocratic ceremony. He said in a disgustingly slow tone: "Ah, Master Marshal, you are astonishingly beautiful. Even if you are imprisoned here, you will not lose the slightest."

King Jarvan IV immediately made sure of one thing: this **** was intentional, and as we all know, Tiana hates being complimented on her appearance the most. In her opinion, she did not become a marshal because of her beauty.

Sure enough, Tiana frowned: "If you're here to scold you, Huter, then you've succeeded."

Hueter waved his hand pompously: "Oh! No, no, I don't have that hobby..." He turned to King Jarvan IV: "Your Majesty, can you take a step to speak?"

Jarvan IV replied with a deadpan expression, "Let's talk about it here."

He didn't even look at Huertel, and he didn't even use the words "Sir Huuttle", his contempt was beyond words.

However, Huttle also seemed indifferent: "I can tolerate your little offense, Your Majesty the Prince - after all, I can't compete with a dead man."

"Just say what you want to say, you **** mouse." Jarvan IV cursed coldly.

Huttle smiled: "In about two hours, you will see the Noxian attack. I believe you have seen what the Noxian did yesterday, huh, he is really strong and terrible, isn't he? ? That gang of barbarians always find some tall, over-the-top people and throw them into the army. …”

"However, it doesn't matter. We have found a way. As for what way, I can't say - I want to leave some suspense for the two of you."

He pointed to the large floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the room: "Want to know why the two of you were specially moved to this room today? Because the scenery here is the best, you can see the whole process clearly later."

The smile on Huetel's face became brighter and brighter: "When the Noxians break through the inner city walls, they will be surprised. Because the Dreadnought Vanguard has not returned, and the Dragon Eagle Knights who belong to the royal family have not been dispatched. . . ...you know where the best part is?"

He laughed: "I don't even need to give them a reason at all! Because you and your father won't show up either, and then they'll take things the way I want."

Tiana asked calmly, "Then how are you going to deal with the Noxians?"

"This is what I want you to see." Huttle's smile gradually subsided, and he said slowly: "Let's wait and see, you two. The show is about to begin."

He turned and walked out of the room, and said to the two heavily armed guards standing at the door, "Watch them...you'll know what to do when it's done."

The guards nodded, and the flamboyantly dressed man walked away with a relaxed pace. He came all the way to the main hall of Castle of Dawn, the golden throne shining like new. The blood that had gushed from Jarvan III's throat had disappeared, and Huttle stared at the throne for a while before sitting on it.

"How do you feel?" A demon seeker in a black robe walked out from the dark of the hall~www.readwn.com~ Hueter seemed to have anticipated his existence, and replied sternly: "This is The chairs are uncomfortable."

"yes?"

"Could it be that you find it comfortable to sit on the throne? No, Jarvan III looks like a seventy-year-old at fifty, this chair...." An intriguing smile patted the armrest of the chair, and then said, "It's a curse."

The mageseeker didn't say much more about the chair. He turned to another matter: "When should we activate the colossus?"

"Are the preparations ready?"

"The magic of three hundred mages should be enough to keep him alive until the Noxians are killed."

Huttle nodded. He leaned on the throne with a lazy attitude as if he was the real owner of the chair: "Then... let's start the show."

The magic seeker nodded slightly, then stepped back. Only Huttle was left to sit on the throne.

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

This wasn't the first time Darius had fought the Demacians, in fact, he had fought the stubborn **** too many times. It's just that this is the only time a war has been waged against the gang in their capital.

He had expected that things wouldn't be easy - Demacians have always been known for being stubborn and disciplined, and this could be called the Great Patriotic War, and they would only work harder than before.

But...that's better.

Thinking of this, a sly smile appeared on his face unconsciously, and that appearance became more and more similar to Sean.