Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

The atmosphere in the room was very solemn.

Cato Sicarius looked at his nose, nose and heart, and his stance remained solemn and meticulous. The red cloak behind the Seiko power armor is extremely heavy, and the right shoulder armor is covered with the emperor's holy prayer. He said nothing, waiting for the Primarch's order.

To his surprise, Guilliman said nothing.

The Lord of Ultramar just sat behind his desk and sighed deeply. Those government documents that needed to be signed by him were piled into small piles on the desk. He looked extremely tired at this time, without the armor.

"... Thousands of years have passed, no, a full ten thousand years."

"Look at what they have become? Blind faith, ignorance, decadence." The expression of the Lord of Ultramar is not like anger, but a kind of pain after the ideal has been shattered.

"The rest of the empire is in chaos, religion prevails. The title of a god, however, is the one who hates it the most. I didn't expect that even the rich Ultramar would become like this. —If what you say is true, Sicarius."

Guilliman finally showed his due anger: "...if the information you brought is true, then, I ask you to go back to Ultramar and bring five hundred of your brothers-I Make them aware of one thing."

The primarch's tone was neither gentle nor heavy. He is like a wise man who sees through everything, and like an empty man who wants nothing: "They have autonomy, they don't have to pay tithes to the empire, they are completely self-sufficient. They live rich, civilization progresses, they don't have to Relentless fighting..."

"I gave them the best, but they say such things?"

A storm was brewing in Guilliman's voice, and Cato Sicarius lowered his head slightly and said hesitantly, "Perhaps it was just proposed by a few people, Primarch."

"There are five hundred worlds, and if there are more than half of the leaders who are against it, their words will not be brought to me by you. Sicarius, don't lie to yourself."

Guilliman seemed to have completely calmed down, but Cato Sicarius knew that he was just covering up his emotions.

Although he is not familiar with his genetic father, as his heir, he can still feel a little bit of his emotions. Guilliman did not calm down so much at this time, but rather drove those anger into the depths of the sea in his heart.

It's just calm on the surface.

"Go." Guilliman closed his eyes, his second company commander saluted silently, and then left here, leaving Guilliman the time and space to be alone.

The primarch did not open his eyes, his eyes were tightly closed, and the quivering arc of his lips was enough to explain his mood at this time - after a long time, he opened his eyes and looked at his office. Even in terms of his size, this office cannot be said to be small.

He was in the glory of Macragge, with heavy blue cloth and several murals hanging from the walls of his office. Originally there were more, even making his office look similar to the palace. But Guilliman had those decorations removed, leaving only a few.

What is depicted on the painting is simple.

Kill heretics, execute traitors. Saving the world and its people, the heirs of his legion have faithfully and recklessly carried out his will during the ten thousand years of his slumber, becoming role models for the Astartes in the Empire in the form he imagined.

I should be relieved.

Guilliman said to himself.

But he couldn't be comforted, because there were more, heavier, more tragic things that forced him to grow gloomy and angry. He is a qualified statesman, a demigod, but also a human being. Emotions are something he cannot avoid.

"...Father, the helper you hired did a great job." He raised his head and looked at the ceiling of his office, where a mural was carved separately. A haloed being sat on the throne, staring at him coldly.

"Three brand new Primarchs, and at times, I suspect that I am dreaming. Although I cannot fully disclose their existence to the entire Empire, my new brothers have certainly helped me a lot. They let me plan the Indomitable Crusade early. It has been a long time, and it has gone well.”

"But I still can't let go."

Guilliman seemed to be talking to himself, but also to the man.

"...sometimes, when I wake up from meditation or sleep, I feel that Horus is laughing at us. He declares your intention to become a god, and starts a rebellion on this ground. The appearance is really the same as what he said, you really... become a god, and you can even conjure me three new brothers from nothing."

"He must be laughing at us." Guilliman smiled bitterly.

He didn't want to recall the news from Ultramar anymore, and soon, he threw himself back into handling government affairs. Efficient like a machine, silent, fast and precise. Only he himself knew how he felt at this moment.

His own world, his well-cared-for hometown - asked him something not long after he woke up.

The facts they demand are too blasphemous, too betrayal.

Guilliman never imagined that he had dealt with thousands of rebellions, and one day he would deal with his own homeland—admittedly, that request was not really a betrayal, but a title of Lord of Ultramar. It was just the Emperor of the Ultramar Empire.

Between dealing with government affairs, he just wanted to laugh.

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"...I really don't need someone screaming and reciting my title every time I enter the room, it's really annoying."

Steve reluctantly spoke to the warrior in front of him. The other party was huge. Because of the special armor, he looked almost as tall as the unarmored Steve. The hands are two huge power fists, which are very terrifying.

The warrior was not wearing a helmet, revealing his weathered face. The short white hair and the blood-red prosthetic eye on the right eye are even more terrifying, but the tone of his speech is very respectful.

"It's part of etiquette, my lord," he said meticulously.

Steve grimaced: "I'm just a new recruit - I didn't do anything, why are you putting so many weird titles on me? And it's only read in small councils. Seriously. Yes, Marius, it's so strange."

The Ultramarines' current Chapter Master, Marius Calgar, gave a stiff smile. It wasn't that he wanted to laugh so horribly, but simply because he hadn't laughed in a long time and wasn't used to it.

"Okay, my lord, I admit, it's really annoying. But for mortals, this kind of elaborate etiquette is part of their pure faith."

He said wisely: "Every link is necessary, and at one time, I wanted to cancel this link. However, after that, mortals were quickly shaken."

"What is there to shake?"

Karius shrugged, somewhat heavy and terrifying due to the power gloves in his hands: "Mortals have their own considerations, and I think we'd better not interfere with each other's thoughts. I respect them , as they respect us."

"Since you've talked about this..." Steve smiled helplessly, shook his head and said, "I would seem a little ignorant no matter how much I refuse."

They sat in a small conference room on the Glory of Macragge, and the two of them were more like chatting than talking about business. Karius knows everything about this new original who also loves blue... No, the original cast Astarte can be said to be inexhaustible.

"Let's continue our last topic." Steve took out a huge kraft paper from his arms, and he took the quill on the table a little unaccustomed to, planning to record something.

"Well..." Karius pondered for a while before speaking: "Actually, you don't have to care so much about the organization of our legion and the traditions and habits of all aspects."

"Oh?"

"After all, you are one—" Karius made a gesture and said very euphemistically: "You always have to build your own legion. Although you want to learn something from us, it is inevitable that there will be no one in the future. gossip."

Steve laughed. "I didn't plan on that, Karius. I'm just a soldier, commanding a legion? Forgive me."

He sighed: "I'm a very failed leader and often betray the trust of others. If it wasn't for one of my friends who often helped me, my small team would have fallen apart. This also made me realize that, Maybe, I shouldn't be a leader, a mere soldier is more suitable for me."

That's too wasteful.

Karius didn't say this, but it was his true feelings - to let a Primarch be only a soldier? The Emperor is on...  

At this moment, the door of the conference room was pushed open. Cato Sicarius came in, holding his helmet in his arms, his face heavy. He first nodded to Steve, gave a simple salute, and then said to Karius: "Captain, the Primarch has asked us to send five hundred brothers to Ultramar."

"......what happened?"

Karius immediately realized that things were unusual—Ultramar had just ended the war, and although it was the time of employment, they themselves had many Astartes stationed there. Now, there must be something else to draw five hundred from the Ultramarines.

Cato Sicarius sighed and repeated the words of the group, and Karius raised his right hand.

Then he slammed it on the table, and the hard round table made of alloy was immediately beaten into scrap iron.

His growl can even be heard from the corridor outside: "I'll lead the team myself!"

Steve's face became very weird - good guy, with his little understanding of the world, the sentence he just heard...seems, probably, should, probably wanted Keeley Mandang emperor?

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"The Emperor... Bless."

Malotti struggled to dodge the acid rain overhead, careful not to reveal what was in his arms. He dashed to and fro in the dilapidated shanty town, not letting a shred of acid rain fall on his skin. Despite this, he still looked very embarrassed.

But his mood was high.

Only he himself knew what was in his arms - the hope of the planet.

His angels of death had all died a few days ago, and the remaining civilians were anxiously waiting for another rain of fire to fall from the sky. They knew that this time, the people who came would not be like His angel of death. But they have no way, no possibility of escape.

All the defenders of the planet died, and most of the buildings on the planet's surface were destroyed in the continuous artillery fire. The same goes for the landscape, and the weather—acid rain started pouring into the sky two days ago. Those who get it first itch unbearably, and then die quickly.

Festering out of shape.

Malotti rushed into his house and slammed it shut. His heart was pounding and his arms were shaking. He took a deep breath and took out what was in his arms - it was a head.

A man's head.

He half-closed his eyes and opened his mouth, the light blue brilliance in his eyes was still strong.

Although he lost his vocal cords, he was still able to speak: "Where is this place?"

"This is my home, my lord."

"You—" the head's blue eyes looked at him, and said mechanically and numbly: "—I remember you, you were that commoner. Did you cut off my head as I said?"

"Yes, yes, my lord." Marotti wiped his hands uneasily, nodding his head: "I did, I did everything you said."

"Then." The head sucked in a breath, and some jet-black blood gushed out as the nose twitched. His expression became painful, and he seemed to regain some of his sanity: "I can't stay awake for long, listen, commoner. I'm... Forget it, my identity doesn't matter."

The blue light in his eyes burst out suddenly, illuminating Marotti's dimly lit home as if it were daylight, and also illuminating his dirty face, only then did his head realize that Marotti was still a child.

"You, are you still a child?" he asked, trembling.

"Yes, my lord, but I'm fifteen years old, my lord." Malotti nodded, not knowing what the head meant. But he is an adult, and if an adult asks, he must answer honestly.

"...Anyone else in your family?"

"No, my lord, it's just me."

"Damn, I—" The head hesitated, he closed his eyes, but it didn't take long before he opened them again.

"Listen, boy, I don't want to deceive you. If you do what I say, you will die, and you will die very painfully. I can't assure you that this will work out, I can only assure you, I will die with you."

"I'm only afraid of the dark, my lord, as long as the place is not dark," Malotti replied. "They say there are candles under the Emperor's seat! I haven't seen them a few times, but I like them."

"Pick me up," said the head. "Then look me in the eyes and don't think about anything."

Marotti did so.

His consciousness sank into an azure sea, and it was dark all around, but Marotti was not afraid. He could feel that there was a man holding his hand, which seemed to be the adult.

His trembling voice sounded in Marotti's ear: "Oh, Emperor, bless me, bless your people, and bless this poor child to go to your seat..."

Then, the flames burned.

Malotti's soul was shattered in an instant, and the pain and screams caused the psionicist's soul to grow a lot - he was full of power again, UU read www.uukanshu.com In the real world, Malotti's body He fell to the ground without making a sound.

He was too thin to make a sound while falling to the ground.

Psykers are full of power, but more painful than ever. He watched with tears as the child's soul disappeared without a trace. He knew that his soul could not go to the Emperor's seat.

I lied, sorry, kid.

He clenched his fists, betting his whole body's strength and his soul's burning, and slammed into the warp's never-extinguishing star-torch brilliance.

The flame of the star torch did not turn away from him just because he was a citizen of the Emperor. The psionic flame also began to burn his broken soul. From the moment of death, he felt the pain again.

But he doesn't care.

"For the Empire!"

These were his last words.

In the real world, the head became fly ash, leaving only a blackened trace on the table.