Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel? Chapter 210

The launch trigger of the MK3A "Heretical" flamethrower was pulled, and the blessed holy weapon trembled slightly. The promethium was transported from the fuel tank hanging below to the muzzle of the gun through the machine soul. After that, a deadly violent flame spewed out.

It sounds very cumbersome, but in fact, the above process takes less than half a second.

Flames erupted and raged in the gloomy corridor. The flame dances, the traitor dies.

A hot flame can incinerate many things. Metal, a human body, or a human body wrapped in metal—the flames burned, and the followers of Khorne howled loudly in it, like wounded beasts.

It's not that they don't feel pain, which is good. The chain reaction brought about by the burning of ultrhigh temperature chemicals is enough to cause any flesh and blood creature to die painfully, quickly and miserably.

The perpetrators did not let them go.

His left hand drooped, and his right hand pulled out the short assault bolt gun on the back waist. His arm was tense, and he pulled the trigger. Three bursts of bombs rained his hatred into the flames. The rain of bombs did not extinguish the flame, but made several flowers of flesh and blood bloom in it.

Yes, that's it, die in pain, you shameful traitors, you deserve to be burned at all times...Ingratitude is itself a wicked blasphemy.

Benson De Creon didn't say these words out of his mouth. He already had experience and learned to turn hatred into a stronger force instead of turning them into words. The former can kill many traitors, the latter can only enrage them.

He usually only uses the former if not necessary.

"Brother Benson, report the situation, what is the situation in the area you are in charge of?" Tokar's voice sounded through the communication channel, with a little noisy noise, and the communication of the whole ship was affected a little, which is understandable.

There are too many explosions, and the complex instruments cannot withstand such violent explosions. Those expensive auspicious instruments may even be scrapped due to a bump, not to mention the communication components that are far more numerous than them.

"They can't move forward, Sergeant."

Benson replied: "The traps laid by the slaves on the road played a big role. These traitors have already exhausted their strength just to come to me. They cannot survive the flames."

"Very well, continue your duty, but be careful. Five battle-brothers are on your way to support you, and they'll be here soon. Make sure those traitors don't get near our last ammunition depot, the Flame of Rage. It exploded again."

"Understood, Sergeant."

Torkar's eyes flickered for a moment, and the rune disappeared, which meant that he had left Benson's communication channel. The sergeant picked up the gun in silence and inspected every aspect of the bolter's condition, down to the point of opening the case to see if there was any buildup of dirt inside.

Yes, the Flame of Rage can't stand another explosion - more than 70% of the equipment on the ship has exploded in a chain reaction, and the believers of Khorne can only rely on their swords and their crazy slashing. Can such a thing be done?

The sergeant's heart was extremely heavy, and he instinctively felt that things would not be so simple. There have been many times when his instincts have saved him.

"Sergeant." The standard bearer's voice came from behind him, a little weak.

It was a gift from a Khorne berserker who sprinted madly through the line of bolt fire and hurled his chainaxe at the standard-bearer.

His entire breastplate was sliced ​​open by the blow, followed by violent profuse bleeding. The eight skulls hanging from the profane chainaxe even creaked, jaws opening and closing manically. If the apothecary hadn't pulled it out in time, Torkar had no doubt that the ax would have completely cut through the bannerman's chest on its own.

However, he can still fight. The pharmacist's treatment was timely, and the bleeding has been stopped. As long as he does not engage in close combat, this injury will not pose a danger to his life. However, pain is inevitable.

"What is it?"

"Elan's mood is becoming more and more unstable." The bannerman said softly. "He just barely got past us and I think he needs a second shot.

fixative. "

"Negative, Jiean." Tokar replaced his bolter with a new magazine. "A second injection of tranquillizer in a short period of time will cause severe side effects, and you are well aware that it will probably aggravate his anger."

The flag bearer glanced back at Elan, causing the team flag mounted on the power pack to shake. Under the gaze of Banner and him, Elan, who took off his helmet, showed a forced smile—compared with a smile, it was more like the bared teeth of a ferocious beast before it launched an attack.

The veins on his forehead were bulging, and his eyes were full of blood-red filaments. That forced smile was all the kindness he could show, and his whole body was trembling.

The standard-bearer sighed in his heart. There was no trace of this curse. Elan had been very calm before this battle...

"I'm afraid it can't get any worse, Sergeant," he said bitterly, over his shoulder. "He is already on the verge of losing control. If there are more traitors, I doubt that Elan will rush out directly."

"Then let's talk about it later."

Tokar stood up, a rune lit up on his retina again, and the voice of the think tank curator sounded in his ear: "Sergeant, how is the situation in the cab?"

"We didn't let any traitor come within fifty meters of the cab," the sergeant replied.

"well done."

said Clifford approvingly, and then changed the subject.

"The Chapter Master is leading people to the bottom layer. He wants to join Elder Bartlett to fight side by side. I have already scanned the ship through psychic energy. The traitors' attacks mostly come from the flanks and the bottom layer of the hangar. Their boarding torpedoes have Many are still floating in the vacuum, seemingly out of use due to disrepair."

Tokar smiled a little: "The tech soldiers should be very happy to hear this."

"Don't be too happy, Sergeant, the current situation is still not optimistic. The casualties of the slaves are very heavy. Even if we can win, the ship may be shut down for a long time. During this time, we are likely to There will be a second attack. It's fine if it's a traitor, but if it's demons…”

The voice of the curator of the think tank sounded a little hoarse: "...But, there is no solution. Brother Timos will take people to the cab soon, and he needs your support."

"clear."

Tokar didn't ask what the solution was, he already had experience. If it is a solution after seeking help from Elder Bartlett, it is best not to ask about the specific situation.

It must be profane, it must be illogical, but the result must be successful.

Torkar also wanted to kill more traitors or aliens for the Emperor, and he didn't want to go crazy so early.

"Be careful, Sergeant," said Clifford's last word in a low voice. "For some reason, I vaguely smell a conspiracy."

The arrival of the five battle brothers greatly relieved Benson's pressure. Although the narrow aisle had already given him a great advantage, six people were better than one.

"Benson, Benson Hendrix?" one of the battle brothers asked. "I've heard your name before, the attacker of the Destroyer team. Some people say that your performance in battle is like the incarnation of the flame of anger."

"Overrated," Benson said, clapping the flamethrower in his hand. "It's all thanks to her."

The combat brother who spoke solemnly glanced at the high-temperature flamethrower, and then put on his helmet.

He walked to the aisle in front of the ammunition depot and set up a simple booby trap. The four combat brothers who came with him silently covered him very tacitly during the process, and Benson couldn't help being a little envious.

The other members of the Destroyer team were scattered at this moment, fighting all over the Flame of Rage. The sacred weapons in their hands must be used to the best of their ability, and this is a last resort.

"Okay."

The battle brother's voice sounded in the communication channel. "I set up four tricks... wait, enemy attack—!"

He drew his chainsword, and death came with his enemies. A monster clad in brass armor grinned and crashed into the wall, appearing in front of them without warning.

It raised its hand shyly, and the chain saw ax roared manically, but it didn't choose to launch a sneak attack at the first time, killing the battle brother who planted the booby trap.

"I came here following the guidance of the blood god!"

It roared and raised the ax in its hand, the muscles on the face that still retained the last trace of human form twisted and squirmed, and a silent howl began to spread in the air, Benson had already put his hand on the trigger of the launcher.

He was pleased to see that the battle brother slowly left the flame burning range of "Heretical" without warning.

And the monster continues.

"Six people... your heads can be my tribute to her! I will win her praise, come! Warriors who believe in ignorance but are brave! Come and fight me!"

"Hearing a believer of a cult gossip about his faith really makes me shudder."

One of the battle-brothers murmured, then silently adjusted the bolter in his hand to full-auto mode—two seconds later, he pulled the trigger, joining the others.

Benson's superhuman reflexes allowed him to quickly follow them, and after the bomb hit the monster's brass-colored armor, he slammed the trigger.

The machine soul roared and delivered the promethium to the front of the injector again, the flames spewed out with his hatred and anger, the monster let out a roar of pain, followed by the burning of the flesh Pungent smell.

The monster fell to its knees panting, and the combat brothers methodically replaced the magazines, preparing for the second salvo.

And Benson is still suppressing firepower, trying his best to control the launcher, allowing the high-temperature flames formed by the chemical reaction to spray all over its body. At present, this monster has no chance to stand up.

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Its knees were the focus of Benson's care. The chemical reaction completely melted the brass armor. The metal melted and deformed, growing together with its twisted bones, and together with the flesh and blood into a more terrifying shape.

"I need to replace the fuel tank, it's your turn."

"Understood—fire!"

Their coordination was perfect, and the instant the flame died, the second volley of bolters began. The round completely destroyed the monster's legs and limbs.

Its face was beaten into a lake of flesh and blood, pale bone fragments fell from the skull into the empty eye sockets, and gradually melted in the eye sockets of the lake of flesh and blood, and the blood was evaporated by the remaining flames before it even reached the ground.

It howled continuously in pain, but it still didn't die. In contrast, its body was gradually changing.

Become more ferocious, twisted, and larger. The bombs on its body surface gradually disappeared, and the molten brass armor and the skulls of the dead people turned into endlessly changing crimson molten iron. Its flesh and blood began to boil in the molten iron, and the pungent smell of blood followed. Even in the empty eye sockets, two red lights lit up.

"It's not right!" Benson yelled. "Stop shooting! Let me do it!"

"I've given you a chance!" roared the monster, standing up from the ground. "I didn't sneak attack, I didn't use the cowards' magical skills, I offer you 880,000 heads—!"

Benson pulled the firing trigger without hesitation, and the flames gushed out again, illuminating the gloomy corridor and also illuminating the iron-gray power armor of the combat brothers. They began to replace the third magazine, but the monster stood up slowly in the flames that could burn all flesh.

With a new look.

Its knee joints have turned into reflexed sheep's hoofs, its back is raised high, and its shoulders and neck are wriggling endlessly, as if something is brewing there. Blood

The forehead of the meat model lake also began to undergo strange changes, and two ferocious horns gradually grew out of it.

By the Emperor—!

Benson felt his teeth chatter, and the instinctive fear only existed for a short second.

Intense anger and shame followed, causing him to throw down the flamethrower that he had regarded as life before, and the chainsaw sword sounded frantically, and the monster laughed out loud upon seeing this.

"Defective product!"

It roared: "The False Emperor has deceived you, deceived us all—! I can feel, ah... I couldn't see the truth, but the Lord made me see it! Your blood and I blood is the same, but you are more ignorant! You don't even know that you were created by lies!"

"Shut up! The flames will burn you!" Benson yelled furiously, ignoring the obstruction of the fighting brothers, and rushed straight over.

"I have been burned by the flames of anger! As early as 10,000 years ago!"

The monster roared and raised the chain saw ax in its hand, and a **** wind blew up in the next second.

Three minutes later, it killed the last of them.

His stomach was disemboweled, his head was chopped off, and his weapon and body were trampled on. The monster dropped its victim and turned towards the ammunition depot with a grinning grin. At the same time, a satisfied voice came from the Supreme Heaven.

"Yes, my lord." It bowed its head. "I will bring you a new massacre... yes, I will be your blade..."

It said in a low voice, and walked towards the ammunition depot. Two minutes later, a violent explosion spread throughout the Flame of Rage.

In the Empyrean, Khorne smiled with satisfaction. She hadn't laughed so heartily in a long time, and the laughter even caused an echo in the wasteland comparable to a supernova explosion, but she didn't care.

"You can't escape—!" the blood **** growled.

Chapter end