Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"left."

Givaudan's voice came from the communication channel, so cold that it didn't look like he was in a battlefield.

Ezekiel pulled out his chainsaw from the head of the traitor who had shouted the name of Khorne a second ago, and he turned to the right without hesitation. Immediately afterwards, a bullet from a bolter flew from behind him, blowing the head of a Khorne Berserker who was trying to sneak up on him.

"I owe you one time." Ezekiel said on the communication channel.

"No need."

Givaudoren's answer was quite indifferent. The veteran's shooting skills were quite accurate, different from the strafing scheme that other Astartes chose when facing multiple enemies. Bullet, a traitor. Efficient and cool.

His melee combat style can be described as two people.

Holding the bolt gun in his left hand, he called them precisely one by one. Jiva Doren heard the sound behind him, and the chainsaw sword in his right hand turned upside down. The extra power of the power armor increased his strength and speed by another level.

The chainsaw sword, which was so worn that it could not even be seen painted, roared loudly, and the spinning blade stabbed into the waist of the traitor who was rushing from behind. He ripped open his belly armor with ease. Givaudon released his right hand and hit the traitor's eyepiece with an elbow, then turned around and shoved the chainsaw sword completely into his abdomen with his foot.

The Chainsaw still roared, and Jivaldoren looked at the Khorne believer who was still trying to get up. The opponent's bright red armor bears the pattern of the Skull Lord, as well as some blasphemous words. One of the sentences made the veteran narrow his eyes.

There was a heavy breathing sound from his breathing grille, and Givaudan sent a bullet into his head. Then he pulled out his chainsword—his bolter had run out of bullets, and there was no time to reload. The veteran dodged a brutal axe blow with a quick roll that didn't match his huge size.

A gigantic Chaos Terminator approached with a powered axe with a human head on the handle, and his voice was familiar to Givaudron: "Your fighting style...reminds me of a man ."

Jiva Doren silently clenched the chainsaw sword in his hand, and he stretched out his right hand to stop Ezekiel who wanted to come to support him. The old soldier's voice remained calm, but with something inexpressible: "Do your thing, Ezekiel. Leave it to me here."

The third company commander gave him a deep look, then turned his head and left.

"I know you, right?"

The Chaos Terminator's voice was like a knife stuck in his throat, he laughed ho-ho, and put the power axe against his shoulder. He didn't care about the corpses of his companions on the ground. He used his feet to run over their broken limbs and broken arms. Blood and minced flesh poured out from under his feet and turned into a sticky substance that smeared on the deck of the ship. above.

Jiva Doren still didn't speak, just raised the chainsaw sword with one hand, across his chest, and put the other hand on the hilt. The familiar gesture made the Chaos Terminator laugh.

"Givadoron--! Sure enough, it's you! Ten thousand years have passed, and you are still in this pathetic appearance!"

"Compared to you, I'm not sad."

"Oh, is it so?"

The laughter of the traitors echoed on the damaged bridge, surrounded by corpses and burning flames, and battle cries and screams were heard not far away. The sound of the bolt gun and the chainsaw sword was so loud that for a moment, Jivaldoron almost thought he was back on the battlefield.

"You're neither like me, a complete traitor. Nor like everyone else who remains loyal to the carrion. You're not pure enough, Givaudron, and that's what makes you sad."

"You are very self-aware of yourself, traitor."

"Ah...I never said I wasn't, but do you have the courage to admit one thing? Admit that the person sitting on the throne now is no longer who he was?"

Givaudan bowed his knees slightly and assumed an offensive stance. In the next second, he started to run—the blood was still rushing in his veins, and his two hearts were beating strongly, giving him unparalleled strength and speed. Almost in an instant, Jivaldoron was on the traitor's face.

The chainsaw cut across his fragile right thigh joint at a tricky angle. Givaudon never expected himself to be able to defeat a Chaos Terminator who had lived for 10,000 years by simply relying on the chainsaw sword. He had to rely on tactics, strategy and a little luck to survive this battle.

The power axe fell from the sky and slashed with enormous force on the only remaining left shoulder armor of Jiva Doren. The other party seems to have deliberately withdrawn his strength, just stuck on his shoulder armor and stopped moving down.

He heard the traitor say in a nostalgic tone: "Sometimes, I think of the days when we practiced against each other. Before Angron returned, we looked forward to his return for countless days and nights, and with Rigorous training requires oneself to be a role model."

"Don't you miss that time? When we were still war dogs..."

Givaudon was not affected by his words at all. He let go of the chainsaw and wanted to retreat - but the traitor seemed to have expected it, and his power axe suddenly pressed down at this moment, slashing mercilessly. Givaudan's left arm was broken, and part of his left body was even chopped off.

The sound of heavy breathing came from inside his grille. Givaudan seemed to be fine, and he took this opportunity to immediately retreat 100 meters. The traitor stood where he was, took the chainsword stuck in his right thigh, and threw it in front of Jivaldoren. His blood was still running on the chainsaw.

"You're getting weaker," he said. "Of course, it's also possible that I've gotten stronger—but, in the final analysis, it's you who got weaker. You know, I never beat you in a match at the time."

"...Sure enough, it's you, Hahn."

Jivaldoren took off his helmet, without looking at his empty left arm, which was still bleeding. He threw the helmet on the ground and picked up the chainsaw again. His calm face was exposed, but for the first time the traitor behaved like a Khorne believer.

He roared in disbelief: "Where's your butcher's nail?!"

"Someone removed it for me." Givaudan replied calmly. "Yours is still there, right? I guess you're used to it, just like I used to be, and..."

A sarcastic smile suddenly appeared on his face: "It's starting to happen, am I right?"

"Ah-ah-ho-"

Chaos Terminator began to tremble all over. He slammed his helmet with his fist like a sick man. The force was so strong that the sharp horns on his helmet were broken. He still kept going until he knocked off the helmet.

His face is extremely terrifying, his mouth is full of sharp teeth, and his forehead is engraved with a pattern of Khorne. Evidence of blasphemy and depravity was all over his face—and the butcher's nails, with which he was completely one, were even more horrific.

They extended from the back of Hahn's head, spread wildly on his scalp, and seemed alive with his breathing. These thick metal cables are implanted deep in his cerebral cortex, and whenever it strikes, it causes Hahn great pain.

Visions, murderous desires, mental confusion. A person who has been implanted with a butcher's nail has to endure great pain even to utter a complete sentence.

"Kill-kill!" He roared the word inarticulately, raised the power axe high, and began to charge towards Jivaldoren. The power was astonishing, and every step of the Terminator made the ground tremble, and Jiva Doren stood there, as if he had no idea of ​​​​doing away.

One second.

The Chaos Terminator known as Hahn crossed a distance of 100 meters in just one second, and Jiva Doren's face was still calm. His only remaining right hand raised the chainsaw sword, and at the same time took a step forward - just this step, the axe of the power axe moved away from his head, but swung in the air.

"I've told you many times, Hahn, that the power axe is just too agile. If you want a weapon that's one-shot lethal, you should go for a power fist. Also, you shouldn't use your real attack. Intended to be exposed to the enemy."

Jiva Doren said this in a docile tone, taking a step back at the same time.

The serrations of the chainsaw sword spun wildly, and his retreat turned into a horizontal pull.

If it was a normal weapon, it would be fine. However, the constantly rotating serrations of the chainsaw will cause secondary damage - Hahn's right leg joint has been punched once by him before, and this time, he has not survived again. Blood splattered, meat and stubble gushing out, and Hahn's howl became more violent.

He wanted to fight back, but he couldn't. Givaudoren had already left the place, and his leg had been completely severed by the chainsaw sword at the thigh joint, leaving only a bit of minced flesh stuck there, empty.

"Boom!"

Hahn fell to the ground like a little giant, his size did not allow him to get up so quickly. Pain and anger in the mind. The illusion created by the Butcher's Nail made him howl even more piercingly. He was panting heavily, waving the power axe in his hand haphazardly.

Givaudan did not attack.

He stood there, looking at Hahn, who was more like a beast than a warrior, with a little pity in his eyes: "You used to be a good warrior, Hahn."

While Hahn was swinging his axe, Jivaldoren jumped up and headed him with a sword.

At this moment, his former brother, a wretched soul from the War Hound Legion 10,000 years ago, died. Givaudron knew that a part of himself had died with him. He didn't know if that was good or bad.

He picked up the helmet from the ground and put it on himself, then slowly sat down against the wall, next to Hahn's body.

Givaudan's eyepiece was constantly emitting a warning of vital signs, but he didn't want to care.

He is a little tired.

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

When he woke up again, he found himself lying on a hospital bed. Unlike the religious treatment rooms of the pharmacists he remembered, it was bright and spacious. There was also the sound of instruments beeping in his ears.

Givaudan turned his head to look, and found that it was not an instrument - it was a huge black cylinder, from which extended many tiny golden metal tubes, which were connected to his body. The veteran couldn't see what it was, so he decided to stay put.

He lowered his head and found himself naked. The missing left arm is still empty, and there is no bandage on his body. Those metal tubes are attached to his body, and light is constantly pouring out from it.

"..." Givaudan had never seen this kind of treatment.

Just when he was about to study what was in these metal pipes, the door of this ward was pushed open. Angron came in from outside, he didn't take off his armor, and the breath of the battlefield still lingered on him.

"Good fight, Givaudan."

The Primarch looked at him and nodded approvingly: "You single-handedly killed a Chaos Terminator."

"...His name is Hahn, the Primarch. Hahn Roziel." Jivaldoron sounded a little dazed. "He was a war dog."

"I met him before we became war dogs. We trained together, were punished together, and entered the legion together." Givaudon raised his head, looked at Angron and said, "There are still many such people. body."

Angron was silent. He originally came here to tell Givaudan some good news. They were victorious, with no deaths except for three wounded, one seriously wounded by Givadoron.

They teleported into the Khorne cult flagship, which was undergoing corrections, and killed most of the rest in a gang-jump battle. There was a huge disparity in numbers between the two sides. This should have been a victory worth celebrating, but Angron couldn't say it now.

And he is also very clear that what Givaudan needs most now is to let him be alone for a while.

"Get well soon~www.readwn.com~ We still need you." Angron nodded sternly and left the infirmary. He walked on the bridge with heavy steps, and the mood that had been relaxed because of the victory became heavy again at this time - it is impossible for anyone to be indifferent to matters involving themselves.

He came from another universe, but he was still the Primarch of the War Dogs.

He went all the way back to the main control room, intending to take a look at the progress on the ground. Unexpectedly, he just walked into the main control room and saw He Shenyan who had changed his appearance.

"Oh, hello, Angron." The mage greeted him weakly when he saw him coming, his raised right hand seemed to be condensed from golden flames. With the psionic fluctuations that Angron is very familiar with.

".......what happened?"

"Oh, are you asking this?"

He raised his hands, smiled nonchalantly, and said, "I got into a fight with Nurgle and killed a Tzeentch bird—so, as you can see, I'm pretty miserable right now."

He Shenyan coughed and spewed out a little golden flame. He even had the Emperor's psionic flame in his windpipe. Angron frowned and sniffed, and a scent of burning flesh entered his nostrils.

"All in all, I have to rest for two or three days—a deep kind of rest. During this time, the Vengeance will be handed over to you, ah, heck, how many times I have to burn myself... ."

The mage stood up staggeringly and left the main control room.