Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel? ~

With a little annoyance, Sicarius looked at the entire green and gray galaxy shown on the star map and remained silent.

"The Emperor above."

He heard Anjade standing next to him muttering, "So many hateful aliens..."

"They are indeed numerous, but we are not without chance, monk." Sicarius said looking at the star map. "I'm sure we can still find some way to deal with them."

"I'm not as optimistic as you, Captain Sicarius. I'm just a mortal body. I don't have your intelligence, nor the wisdom of a veteran."

Anjade stroked his sword sullenly, the face of the Emperor's Champion looked like a stone covered in ice under the abyss, extremely cold: "I only know how to swing the sword to cut down these abominable things for the Emperor Skull—so, if you have any plans, please let me know now."

plan?

Sicarius shook his head. He is an excellent field commander, but if he is asked to make such an overall plan, the second company commander may only show a helpless wry smile.

"I don't have any plans, but they are the same, Brother Anjade."

Sicarius supported the cold metal table with both hands, and the creation of the pattern was running steadily, even if an armored Astartes pressed the weight on it, it could not stop it from continuing to work. It is utterly loyal to its duty, as are all the Astartes on this ship.

They never back down.

"what do you mean......?"

"Yes, that's what you think, Brother Anjade. The green-skinned beasts and the Tyranids are fighting each other. It is impossible for them to respond to our arrival under such circumstances."

Sicarius raised his hand, pointed to the point on the edge of the star map, and spoke slowly and seriously.

"From here, we can start nibbling at their vitality bit by bit. Kill them planet by planet. Airborne fortresses and teleportation decapitation tactics are very suitable for such scenarios. Moreover, Sigma Ustali The Mechanics of the world are right behind us."

"It seems that you are more suitable to be this commander than me, Sicarius."

A voice by the door broke into their conversation, with a little smile - if it was someone else, at this moment, it would probably be regarded as a hidden knock, dissatisfied with Sicarius' overstepping. However, Sicarius knew that the speaker was Steve Rogers.

So he does mean it.

"It's just a shallow understanding, my lord." Sicarius bowed his head humbly. "Have you finished your treatment yet?"

"Yeah, it's over."

Steve walked into the command room with a look of helplessness on his face. He sighed and said, "It didn't turn out so well, but I still feel that calling."

The calling he's talking about has been happening since the beginning of the expedition—Steve has been feeling uneasy since entering the Octarius system. After entering deeper and deeper, this phenomenon continued unabated. And by a week before, he could even begin to hear those calls clearly.

To use his description, those voices are "battle cries full of enthusiasm and joy, calling my name and hoping that I will lead them in battle".

Sounds like a good thing, doesn't it?

However, those battle cries full of enthusiasm and joy were uttered by orcs who couldn't speak Low Gothic—Steve knew it right away, so he has been receiving the treatment of Wenzhen recently, but unfortunately, it didn't work. little.

The treatment did not see any obvious effect at all, and the magic and technology of the pattern had no effect on this weird phenomenon. What's worse, just last night, Steve even actually saw 'them'.

A sea of ​​green, wild beasts... Wearing armor made of tattered leather, metal and nails, holding strange guns that are no different from garbage. They were all over the mountains and plains, raising their arms and shouting, all looking at him fanatically, shouting his name.

To be honest, if it wasn't for Steve's symptoms, he would have been sent to the planing table for an ordinary Astarte or psyker.

Steve rubbed his brows, and asked wearily, "Brother Anjade, where is Supreme Marshal Helbrecht?"

The champion who was called by his name immediately straightened his chest, and replied meticulously: "The Supreme Marshal is doing the usual pre-battle meditation, do you need him to come?"

"No, no, that's not necessary. Let him finish his meditation. I know soldiers have their own little habits before the war begins. But you, monk, have you stayed up all night?"

"Sleep is not necessary, my lord," Anjade replied loudly. "As the emperor's champion, it is necessary and my duty to serve as your bodyguard temporarily, please forgive me!"

He's sincere—but that's the problem, the more sincere he is, the less Steve knows how to talk him out of it.

Seriously, what kind of guards does a Primarch need?

Not everyone is Robert Guilliman, and several victorious troops are needed to pull him at all times so that he will not let his blood go down his combat experience to fight one-on-one with others. Furthermore, Steve didn't think he would lose to anyone in one-on-one.

He has this confidence.

Calmly skipping this topic, Steve looked at the star map and began to estimate the time to enter the engagement distance.

His demeanor when he squinted his eyes and thought was easily misleading. That demeanor made him look like a butcher, picking out the ingredients in front of him, and carefully observing a suitable place to cut the knife.

In the past, Tony has made jokes about this more than once, and sometimes even called him Michael--three years later, Steve learned from a movie night that Michael was a murderer in a horror movie, and then Famous for his pale leather mask.

Although he didn't think the joke was very funny, in general, Tony's metaphor was very vivid. At this moment, standing there staring at the star map, Steve Rogers looked as cold as a cold, prey-stalking murderous man, and it was chilling.

Even Sicarius felt that he was a little strange like this.

But the Second Company Commander didn't make a sound, but waited until he had finished his own thinking before asking: "What's your plan, my lord?"

"Not a plan." Steve shook his head. "I was just thinking about a question."

He pointed to the most fringe planet, pointing to its surface painted light green and dull gray by magic power, and said: "Although the Orcs have no special needs for destroying the environment, their special physique will obviously lead to The soil of the planet they visited has become a harmful ground for the continuous birth of orcs. The bugs are more ruthless, the planet they visit is no different from death, so I am thinking..."

"Why don't we use some powerful weapons?"

He raised his hand thoughtfully, and swiped away the star map, and the rotating light blue pattern appeared in front of them, and the synthetic sound of the pattern appeared just right: "Level 1 authority holder, Steve Rodgers, interim: Captain, what do you need?"

"I need a massive, compound curse of flesh." Steve laughed. "You should have information about this in your database, right?"

"Searching - 413 documents related to the Curse of Flesh have been retrieved."

"very good."

Steve's smile started to grow bigger and bigger.

Helbrecht entered an indescribable state—his thinking was as stagnant as a brook blocked by stones and river sand, but his senses became clearer than ever. He could sense the special fragrance contained in the air created by the stripes, and he could clearly hear the slight breathing of the black temples in the corridor two hundred meters away.

He closed his eyes, but a brand new world appeared in front of his eyes, full of beauty, even the dust on the ground looked so fascinating.

So beautiful, so clear, so...disgusting to him.

I shouldn't have this mentality. thought the High Marshal of the Black Templars. I should always remain hateful, fanatic and devout.

Accompanied by such thoughts, he began to recite the Emperor's Prayer that was so familiar to his blood, he repeated it over and over again. It's like a robot, since he learned to read, he has been reciting this prayer. Over the years, he has seen it as a beacon to guide the way, and he does not hesitate to fulfill every word on it.

However, not long ago, the **** he believed in personally came to him and issued an oracle.

The **** said, believing in me will not help you at all, all the difficulties you have overcome so far are all based on your own strength, and I have never really helped you.

Ridiculous, shocking, sad—and, of course, a touch of blatant anger.

Helbrecht could not understand why the Emperor would say that, but instinctively he obeyed. Originally, he would pray three times a day. Today, he only meditates once a day. He was unwilling, and he didn't want to do it at all, but since this was the request of the God Emperor, he had to practice it.

—and then, here we go.

He didn't want to do it, but his **** asked him to give up his faith in himself. Out of faith in him, Helbrecht obeyed, but also out of faith in him, Helbrecht couldn't really make himself a shameful unbelievers.

Isn't belief in the Emperor something every human being should do? They are all guilty, it is the Emperor who protects all of them, the Emperor keeps them alive in this dark galaxy - so, how can they not repay their faith?

The unbelievers, the heretics, and those who waver in their faith in the Emperor deserve to die, for they are a shameless ungrateful bunch. And ingratitude is a shameful blasphemy.

Helbrecht opened his eyes, those eyes used to be firm and fanatical, but now they are full of wavering and pain. He put his hand on the Supreme Marshal's sword lying on the table in front of him, as if he wanted to use it to feel the remaining power of Rogge Dorn and the will of Sigismund.

Human beings have always been like this, when they are in trouble, they will definitely seek help from others. This is instinct, an unchangeable fact engraved in the genes. Since ancient times, humans have helped each other through many dark nights in this way.

However, there are some things you have to figure out on your own.

Rogal Dorn could not help him, neither could Sigismund, not even the Emperor. It's a battle between a man's will and what he believes in - in other words, a battle that is his alone.

And, win or lose, he will be sad.

But he had to.

Helbrecht stood up silently, Wenzhen immediately adjusted the brightness of the room for him, and the synthesizer sounded: "Marshal Helbrecht, your meditation has lasted for four hours and thirty-one minute."

"Thank you for letting me know." Helbrecht said. "Does that adult have any tasks for me?"

"No, but Pedro Canto, the Chapter Leader of Crimson Fist, asked you an hour ago if it was over, and he left after getting a negative answer."

Helbrecht hurriedly asked: "Pedro Chapter Commander looked for me? Did he say what it was?"

"No, do you need me to inform him for you?"

"No, no, there's no need for that."

Helbrecht picked up the Sword of the Supreme Admiral and solemnly placed it on the weapon rack beside him. The pale blue fluorescent lights up, and the magic of Wenzhen immediately starts to maintain and clean this sword that is more honorable than Helbrecht. After doing this, he walked towards the door.

Pedro Cantor - A warrior of renown, a veteran of combat experience, and the Crimson Fist hates orcs as much as the Black Templar. Of course, the more important point is that the Crimson Fist and the Black Templar are both Dorne's blood.

They are blood brothers.

Helbrecht had no interest in the political situation of the Reich, nor did he want to be a politician. However, there are some things you cannot escape as an Astartes. When you're an Astartes—especially one of the Black Templars, you inevitably deal with all sides. Under such circumstances, it is obviously a very wise choice to have a good relationship with one's blood brothers.

Furthermore, UU reading www.uukanshu. comEven if all these are thrown away, Pedro Canto is fully entitled to his respect.

"I want to go in person, Wenzhen, can you tell me the current location of Pedro's Chapter Commander?"

"Received, the retrieval is in progress—the retrieval is complete. Captain Pedro is currently in the command room, do you need to teleport within the ship?"

"Is Master Steve there?"

After getting an affirmative answer, Helbrecht shook his head: "No, I'd better walk."

The movement transmitted in the ship was not completely silent, and he didn't want to make Steve feel uncomfortable—although Helbrecht knew very well that, judging by Steve's personality, it was impossible for him to be angry about this kind of thing of.

But...they're talking?

The Supreme Marshal squinted his eyes, and a kind of eagerness began to boil in his heart. It was the desire to kill and fight. Thinking of this, he quickly left.

Chapter end