Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel? Chapter 113

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Angron stood in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, and the mage's body floated in the center of the room. Since two hours ago, his breathing has become extremely slow. Angron was relieved after confirming with Fulgrim again and again - the data provided by the center of the magic circle was fine, except that the color of the active status of the soul was getting darker and darker.

The color of the data in that column is gradually transitioning from yellow to red.

Angron couldn't do anything about it, he knew nothing about psionics. What's more, He Shenyan is actually a mage. This even touches on his blind spot of knowledge, even though he doesn't actually know the difference between a psionicist and a mage.

He just stood in the corner of the room and waited quietly—after seventeen hours, He Shenyan suddenly took a deep breath. With this action, the golden psionic energy suddenly 'exploded' from him, and Angron had to narrow his eyes. At that moment, he had an unreasonable intuition.

If you look directly at the brilliance, you may be blind.

"...cough, huh."

He Shenyan coughed and then exhaled air. The previously unbridled psychic energy was all restrained by him in the body in this breath. He raised his eyes and glanced at Angron, and suddenly a smile appeared on his face: "Didn't you tell me to call my name?"

"You said it yourself, it's a critical time. I don't think it's there yet."

The mage rolled his eyes: "Come on."

He didn't say much, and He Shenyan knew it himself. The men on the ship had a very different definition of 'critical situation' than he did.

"How's it going? How far are we from Terra?"

Angron clapped his hands, and the mechanical sound from the center of the array sounded: "You have meditated for 41 hours and 8 minutes. According to the predetermined distance, you still need to sail for 127 hours."

He Shenyan frowned and didn't say anything - it was already fast. It is impossible for ordinary ships to return to Terra from the remote Far East sector within a week if they do not rely on warp navigation.

Not to mention whether their engines support such fast sailing, just the various pirates and the drifting reefs that can be seen everywhere on the route are enough to make a good drink. The Vengeance doesn't need to worry so much - pirates? Reef?

Just run over it.

He frowned and began to accept the memory of the other half of the soul. The messy information flow contained a lot of interesting information, such as the 'blessing' Liktor suffered. Strictly speaking, it was not actually a blessing.

Born out of the emperor, through the hands of He Shenyan, this kind of psychic energy with great lethality to demons has become a very violent energy. Lictor is fine because he considers himself human. So the psionic power didn't hurt him, however, the direct contact with this intensity of energy also made his hands inevitably energized.

This incident has two consequences, one good and one bad. The good side doesn't need much. From now on, Lictor can use these hands to kill all demons. Generally speaking, demons need to be sacrificed by cults or teleported through warp when they appear in the material realm. Just an evil projection of indeterminate etheric flesh.

So, in those innumerable instances of demonic incursions, the demons who were killed were really just banished back to where they were supposed to be. Hundreds of years, or decades, they will be reborn in the warp again. This kind of thing is not uncommon in the records of the Empire.

Is this a good thing? A good thing, of course, but Liktor's flesh would gradually crumble from constant contact with such psionics. In short, he will be assimilated by psionics.

This is not a good thing.

The brain and various organs of the body are all assimilated by psionic energy, and his final fate is to drift into the warp and eventually be absorbed by the star torch. There may be a little soul left, or there may be nothing left. He Shenyan frowned more and more tightly, Lictor might think that such a death was an honor, no, he would definitely think so.

Master his power and practice justice to slaughter demons across the galaxy. Compared to this career, dying like that is a reward for him.

But He Shenyan doesn't think so, in the final analysis, this is not a blessing.

Yes, not at all.

Ezekiel is praying.

The space on the Vengeance is so huge that everyone can even have a separate room, and it's definitely big enough. It's a pity that Ezekiel abandoned all hedonism the moment he made his vow to become an Astarte. Therefore, whether the room is large and comfortable means nothing to him.

But there is also a benefit, at least he can easily kneel down to pray.

His silent prayers came to an end, which he had said too many times during his long years of service. As natural as putting on his power armor or pulling the trigger of a bolter. He asked the Emperor to grant him courage, the living saint on board to grant him wisdom, and the Archangel to grant him strength.

He also prayed for his own strength, after all, an Astarte is on his own after all. When he was left with nothing and faced difficulties and obstacles, Ezekiel hoped that he would be able to accomplish his task on his own like Sergeant Priyad.

That would be called the role model of the empire.

When he had finished his prayer, Ezekiel turned around. Behind him stood a company of his last remaining brothers, silently watching him complete this simple prayer.

The temperature in Ezekiel's room was very low, which he specifically requested. So as he spoke, his breath condensed into a thick white mist in front of him.

"We are about to return to Terra - just now, the center of the circle notified all the non-commissioned officers. In one hundred and twenty-seven hours, we will return to the cradle of mankind, our home planet. Holy Terra."

The fighting brothers breathed in silence, their breathing grilles amplifying the otherwise silent sound, causing a coherent 'hiss' sound in the quiet room, sounding like a poisonous snake spitting out a letter, patiently ambush for its prey.

Ezekiel held his helmet in his arms, and the chainsword and bolter stayed where they were supposed to be. On his right shoulder hung the Emperor's prayer and a dozen medals, shaking with his breath. He said coldly and plainly: "We are not going back for a pilgrimage, brothers."

"Our exploits do not yet allow us to go back there and see for ourselves the burial place of countless Imperial heroes. We went back to Terra for one reason: it was attacked. Yes, it was. Holy Terra is being destroyed by countless The demons attacked, and people were killed and wounded by their butcher knives, and the blood flowed into rivers."

"The Vengeance is returning at full speed, one hundred and twenty-seven hours, everyone. Have you ever thought about this scene? The Crimson Blades, the first time they set foot on the land of Terra, was because it was invaded!"

There was unconcealed anger in Ezekiel's voice: "How dare they!"

"I don't think I need to remind you more, each of you is well aware of the responsibility you have to take to the death. In this battle, we may get away with it, or we may be wiped out. When the Chapter receives the Hundreds of years may have passed since our deaths were reported—yet, this is the best reward."

"We will make the Chapter proud of us."

Iron Snakes Battalion.

Insel was reading a popular novel in the empire in his hand, and the pre-war mobilization had ended for some time. Morale was high, and he was happy with it.

Saying it may be hard to accept. But these "relaxation" readings are actually allotted by the gentlemen of the Ministry of Military Affairs, from writing to publishing, they are all done. Therefore, except for a small number of peach-colored content that the astral army particularly likes, most of the content is related to combat.

Officials from the Ministry of Military Affairs wrote this part in great detail and truth, from the protagonist holding the laser gun to open the safety, to the standard shooting action he did, there are lengthy descriptions. There are even pictures, so it is self-evident that the Ministry of Military Affairs wants to do something with this kind of reading material.

To be honest, Insel wasn't really interested in these novels—the battles he experienced were more than ten times bigger than the protagonists in these books, just like the one he was reading.

This guy named Sven Marbo is a metaphor for another true Imperial hero, and the book says he's 'alone, knifed through the orc siege after all his comrades are dead in action . After swinging the rifle out of ammo and killing an orc boss, Machine Spirit was so happy that he could shoot again'.

This paragraph made Insel's face twitch, not to mention the latter paragraph: Sven Malbo was received by the governor of a planet due to his achievements, he and a beautiful silver-haired judge Something happened.

This paragraph is written in full twenty pages and is very detailed.

The Chapter Master of the Iron Snakes threw down the book and sighed helplessly - he is a very fond of reading, a habit that has been around since he was a boy, and has not been eliminated until now. His habit is to find some books to read before major missions, and the "Sven Marbo" in his hand is borrowed from an astral army.

He was just trying to pass the time. The pre-war mobilization has always had nothing to do with him, the chapter leader. It is usually done by the senior priests who are qualified to wear the skull mask and the priest's medal of merit. However, there is only one priest in the regiment now. Spectrum's **** made a silent oath some time ago.

So, this matter can only fall on him. Insel picked up the book from the ground, and he will return it to the soldier tomorrow, but he can't arbitrarily place other people's belongings. Recalling what he said, he couldn't help sighing.

"Sergeant Priyad...witness us. You made us proud of you, and it's time we made you proud as well," he murmured.

Chapter end