Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

The Chapter Master of the Crimson Fists, Pedro Cantor, was a well-informed Astarte, which was not unrelated to his long service. The legendary Chapter Master has served in his Chapter for nearly four hundred years.

But no matter what, no matter how many reasons he found for himself, he couldn't calm down.

"Sir" Pedro Canto had a bitter face. "It's a bit too much to bring the orcs on board."

His hesitant, hesitant expression didn't escape Steve's eyes, and the blond Primarch shook his head amusingly: "Don't look at me like that, Pedro. And, you There's something wrong with the descriptor. Not an orc, but 'part of a dead orc'."

Is there any difference?

If it was a different person, Pedro Cantor would dare to assure the Emperor that he had already drawn his sword and began to angrily ask the other party's motives - only dead orcs are good orcs, bring orcs on board? You wouldn't be a hidden traitor, would you?

However, this is the one with the flaming sword in his hand. Even if he was recognized by a large group of orcs as their 'boss' not long ago, it would not change this.

Pedro Canto had made up his mind that he had to forget about it.

So he could only stand there and smile bitterly: "But, my lord, what are you trying to do when you bring some of its corpses on board? The research on orcs was stopped a thousand years ago. They are completely against the law. Creatures with scientific understanding."

Pedro Canto gestured: "Both beings and plants can photosynthesize, weird psionic stance—"

"—I know all this, Pedro. Trust me, I have my uses."

Steve smiled: "I have a friend who is very good at making the impossible possible. Well, maybe he can turn some newborn orcs into our strength?"

The Chapter Master only thought he was joking, but Steve's expression had become serious: "Let's call the teleportation without mentioning this, the surface cleaning will be carried out in five minutes."

Pedro Canto faithfully carried out his orders, and the warriors gathered, Pablo's body being carried solemnly by his brothers in the chapter. Except for them, the corpses of orcs are everywhere.

Yes, Steve didn't let them go.

On the contrary, he even called a long-range strike in order to kill these things better. The beam of light that fell from the sky completely destroyed the life of the orcs. They died and still thought Steve was their boss when they died.

Thinking of this, a rather subtle expression appeared on his face.

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He Shenyan didn't know what Steve, who was on the other side of the empire, had high hopes for him, or let's put it another way.

He still doesn't know what kind of trouble Steve has given him.

The mage is resting - reshaping a primarch's body with stars and adjusting it to exactly match his soul, a process tantamount to re-birthing him, if one has to say.

In other words, he just created a demigod. Considering the strength of this star body and the backhand buried in it, the strength of the 'demi-god' may have to be adjusted upwards.

At least it's not a problem for this Horus to tear up a few Khorne demons with his hands when he becomes an adult.

As for whether he will betray again

Ah.

He Shenyan smiled.

He sat in the pocket dimension and tapped his armchair, his crisp voice as crisp and decompressed as ever. He likes to do it, humans always like to do little things to distract attention in places that are completely unnecessary.

Like shaking your legs, biting your nails, or knocking on the armrests of an armchair all the time.

Just when he thought he could get a moment of rest and quiet, the Emperor sent him a message very thoughtfully and spiritually: "Horus is awake."

It's not my business?

The mage rolled his eyes and replied unceremoniously, "So what?"

"Don't you think you should come out and meet him?"

"What am I doing with him? I have nothing to do with him."

"He felt compelled to thank you, after all, it was you who rescued him—"

"—Come on, I don't want to go out."

After finishing a major event, He Shenyan, who was so relieved, made himself a glass bottle of Coca-Cola that was just right, and took a big mouthful before he started to read the new message from the Emperor.

"Well, then I'm not forcing it. But you might have to see your ship, the Vengeance."

"What happened to the Vengeance?"

The Emperor said quite euphemistically: "You should know the size of a planet. How attractive is a spaceship built with technology you have never seen before to a Mechanic?"

"Let them learn if they want to learn." He Shenyan rolled his eyes again, quite confident. "Anyway, they can't learn anything, and the pattern is my unique patent."

Who knew that the Emperor slowly threw out a sentence that almost made his blood pressure rise.

"They didn't learn what they were trying to do with the Revenge."

Within two seconds of these words falling in He Shenyan's ears, he jumped out of the pocket dimension and asked with a serious face, "Who gave them permission? It is impossible for the center of the circle to allow this kind of behavior."

It was only then that the Emperor showed a weird smile of successful conspiracy. That smile made Guilliman, who was standing beside him, say in his heart that there was something wrong with my eyes. As a result, he received another psionic slap on the back of the head.

Seeing that smile, the corners of the mage's eyes gradually twitched.

The emperor was not in a hurry to explain, but said slowly: "Bing not tired of cheating, come and see your doctor, UU reading www.uukanshu.com Horus."

A young man walked out from behind the Emperor, his face clearly showing his discomfort with this new body. His mind was also incomplete, but he still didn't forget to be polite, and he bowed first before speaking.

"Thank you—huh?"

He looked around in confusion, and finally looked back at his father: "Father, him?"

With a calm expression on his face, the Emperor, who was almost unable to hold back his laughter, coughed softly: "He's fine, he's just not suited to such an occasion, eh Horus."

He seemed to have something to say, but when it came to his mouth, he couldn't say anything. In the end, he just touched his forehead lightly. Little Horus looked at him in confusion, with his memory chaotic and mentally crippled.

Instinctively, he felt that the man in front of him was full of guilt.

Guilt, to me? why?

Frame after frame passed in front of his eyes, and there were many people behind him in the frame, and they seemed to be fighting something heroically.

Guilliman watched all this, turned his head away, smacked his tongue lightly—and was hit again on the back of the head by a psychic palm.