Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

It's not quite appropriate to say that it is a position. After all, they are not fighting with the traitors outside here. Here is a secluded lower facility, sturdy and secure. All is well except no automated firepower.

It was a transit, used by them to move between the shattered city and the sanctuary of chants, and to this day they have struggled for a solar month and a half aboard the Istvan III.

War is everywhere, and there is no difference between day and night. But the Astartes are not gods, they are superhumans and need rest. At this time, these underground passages have become very good locations. An hour, two hours, always restores some stamina for them.

At this time, Sol Tarvitz was sitting in a room with the door closed, listening to the intermittent screams from inside, with a serious expression.

He actually didn't have any bad feelings about interrogation. In war, in order to win, some things are necessary. Interrogation of captives is a must, and the one who really makes his expression stern is Frank Carter, a man who calls himself the Punisher. What the **** is he doing inside?

Why does a World Eater suffer like this?

After another seven minutes, Frank walked out of the room with half of his body covered with fresh water: "I have already asked. They are not satisfied with your tenacious resistance, because the storm generated by the bombing is about to dissipate, and when it disappears completely At that time, they will launch a general attack.”

He narrated without emotion, without any fluctuations in his voice: "The company, tanks and heavy armor will be sent here soon... Anthem City?, the name is good."

Thor frowned immediately—if everything Frank was telling the truth, it could only mean one thing.

Their resistance could not last long.

Although the traitors were unable to send support and medicine to the ground due to the storm that bombed the students. Although the traitors who besieged them had an advantage in numbers, they were still defeated by them.

These days, every street in Anthem City, if the traitors want to take down, has to pay twice their number to take it. And if the storm dissipates, it means that their advantage will be gone in an instant.

This is definitely news, but how can he stop it?

...Wait, this man.

Sol raised his head sharply and looked at Fran who was still wearing his helmet, his voice hoarse: "...You, who are you? No, how did you get through the storm to reach the ground?"

"You finally realize this."

Frank took off his helmet, revealing his face as rough as a rock, his eyes dark as water: "Saul Tavitz, you are dead."

"......what?"

Frank said to himself: "Everyone is dead, everyone here."

"What the **** are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a given."

So Tarvitz looked into the other's dark eyes, there were no complicated emotions, only a certainty - at the same time, the familiar headache returned.

"You're all dead," Frank continued. "But the sacrifice you made was worth it. Nathaniel Garro escaped here with a boat and successfully brought the news of the rebellion back to Terra."

Thor had lost his mind to hear what he was talking about, the world spinning and crumbling before his eyes. He fell to the ground, his body lost its strength. All that remains is a weakness deep into the bone marrow.

The pain hit like a tide, and ten thousand pictures flashed in his eyes. There were scenes where he grabbed a fighter plane and landed on the ground to bring news to the loyalists at the beginning of the rebellion, and there were scenes where he fought the traitors. He saw many things, and they flashed before his eyes one by one.

For a moment, he let out a painful howl in his heart, like a wounded beast, without the grace of an emperor. The limbs were cold, and the strength of life gradually faded from his body, and at the same time, something else surged up.

A cold anger.

With the appearance of this anger, he saw the last picture.

The aftermath of the bombing made the walls of the palace tremble, the city's (unfinished chapter!)

27. Echoes (Part 2)

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A huge fire burst out from above.

The dark clouds were pierced by missiles, and the apocalyptic brilliance swayed on the holy city from the holes pierced by the missiles, along with the countless stars in the sky.

Tarvitz thought, can Terra see them? That man - did he know their sacrifice

A missile smashed into the cantor's palace and landed in the corner. The Loyalists didn't lie down or run for cover. It was nothing, they watched indifferently as it exploded, shrapnel splattered, and no one was hurt)

But a few hundred loyal warriors were in front of him. This is the end, everyone knows it, but no one says it.

"He" looked at the familiar faces of these people, the faces he had known for the past two solar months, and he had already known everyone's words. They have gone through endless days and nights of hard fighting, covered with mud, they are close brothers, and the war has linked them together.

A surge of pride flooded "his" heart.

Tavi was willing to go to Yellow Springs with them.

He heard himself speak.

"Bros."

"Our names may be forgotten, our bones will be turned to dust, and here will be howling with the storm. They may take our lives and our honor, but they cannot take our minds. Go, and our sacrifices will be immortal."

His voice was firm and straight, without pauses, without foreshadowing, without high-pitched shouts. Only the determination to die is filled with it.

—At this moment, Sol Tavitz, Captain of the 10th Company of the Emperor's Children, remembered everything.

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

real universe.

Fulgrim sat on the ground without the grace of the original. Patiently using a carving knife to carve the name and life of an Astarte on a stone.

The names of the dead didn't seem to him to be a secret buried in the dust, he knew - but why would he?

Bonavia secretly looked at his profile, the scar made her faintly dazed. While she was overwhelmed by the Primarch's otherworldly charm, Freem stopped abruptly.

He smiled abruptly.

Putting down the carving knife, he stood up, stretched out his hand, golden flames flashed past, and he pulled a long sword out of the void. The eagle-wing-shaped gauntlet shone with a cold light. He condensed his reflection on the blade, and his smile did not diminish, but Bonavia felt that he was about to cry.

27. Echoes (Part 2)

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