Warhammer: I don't want to be a stinky can! ! !

Chapter 256 247. Disputes
"Are you a psyker?"

The Pale King looked away from the gleaming gold floor, and Mortarion squinted slightly, studying his [brother], Magnus.

He was tall, taller than Mortarion, taller than any Vulkan he had ever seen.

He is tall and strong.

Fluffy and shaggy copper hair like the mane of a real beast, unusual red skin, dressed in ivory and sandalwood green silk robes, golden feathered cloak hanging behind him, some incense burners, and fixed with wax marks The parchment is embellished on it.

Huge ebony horns bent skyward, and a large book, fastened by a golden chain, hung by his side.

What disturbed Mortarion most, however, was the smoothness of the skin on Magnus' face, where the right eye should have grown.

Was their creator, the Emperor, a king who liked to create mutilated things?

No, not possible.

If Mortarion could understand Birdman's flashy wings with a sneer, he couldn't understand Magnus's missing left eye.

Of course there is another possibility.

Even though Mortarion denounced witchcraft, Mortarion actually knew the blasphemous knowledge as a child, under the influence of his adoptive father.

If the Emperor hadn't specially designed a half-blind man, then there was only one possibility, war and pain could not create such a smooth loss, and it was bound to leave a scar.

Magnus used witchcraft, he traded a part of himself for something.

He is a wizard.

He is, a, witch, teacher.

Mortarion casually lowered his hand, approaching the alien pistol at his waist. Primarchs were not welcome to bring large weapons at this banquet. Except for the Primarch Guard, all Primarchs only brought small weapons.

He wanted to check back on Hades, but it was too obvious, so Mortarion had to abandon the act.

He should trust his consul, Hades is far more cautious than he shows when it comes to psychic matters.

He maintained his posture, waiting for Magnus' answer.

Maybe he shouldn't be so cautious, Mortarion thought, realizing that, so far, the gathering hadn't been a disaster, and the Angel and Guilliman showed him another possibility.

Maybe he should be optimistic.

"Yes, I am a psyker."

Magnus laughed, with unparalleled pride and pride,

"I'm very lucky that our father gave me this gift, let me have it, use it, study it, I can see the light, see the wonderful light from those miracles."

The Emperor had created a wizard's son, Mortarion thought irritably, why was he so obsessed with this misfortune for his son, if there was already Malcador?

Fortunately, he didn't have a sudden whim, and put a pair of chicken wings on Mortarion, or such a talent that would make him want to die.

But it now appears that his brother is proud of this mutilation.

Mortarion thought, Poor ignorant fool, wouldn't he know that psychic energy can only bring destruction in the end?
Is there no one to remind him?The Emperor just watched his son slide into the abyss?

Facing Magnus' words, Mortarion responded vaguely and waited cautiously.

"Psionic power sometimes exudes beautiful light, but in nature, the more beautiful things are, the more dangerous they are. Magnus, when we face spiritual power, we shouldn't be so optimistic."

The angel took a sip of the wine in his glass and said unhurriedly.

Among the Primarchs present, only Angel noticed Mortarion's tense nerves just now - Mortarion didn't like psykers.

"Angel, when you are admiring the sunset of Baal, are those magnificent natural miracles dangerous? This is a miracle bestowed on mankind by nature, and the miracle of ether space is far more intoxicating than the sky of Baal. Traces are the treasure bestowed by the etheric space to the wise.”

"You shouldn't use miracles to describe subspace, there are no gods in this world."

Dawn interjected in time, and he frowned. The Primarch of the Imperial Fist has never liked psionic power, which is full of variables and threats.

"That's just a metaphor, Don, not everyone is like you, who gives a precise definition to every word. In the matter of describing psychic power, knowledge is emotional, not just cold definition."

"Actually,"

The angel said slowly,

"The setting sun of Baal is deadly. It is Baal's poisonous radiation field that creates the richer and layered scenery in the sky of Baal than other planets."

Magnus let out an annoyed sound,

"Perhaps I should change the example to the sunsets on other, harmless planets other than Baal, such as Macragge's."

Guilliman blinked in surprise, and he stretched out his hands to the angel to show that he had no malice at all, he was just an innocent victim,
"Macragge's sunset is beautiful, I admit it, but I prefer Macragge's dawn."

"I agree with Guilliman, and I also like Dawn in Macragge, people get up to work at the call of the sun, orderly."

Dawn said that he had been to Macragge. In fact, Guilliman and he both preferred the order side and had a lot in common. Working with Guilliman was always simple and easy.

In the same way, Macragge under Guilliman's rule, like Guilliman himself, is full of vitality and hope, and everything is in order.

"That's just an inappropriate metaphor! We don't need to dwell too much on whether the sunset on whose home planet is beautiful—"

Magnus realized that this was getting farther and farther away from the psychic topic he wanted. Unlike Khan or Perturabo, his other brothers always seemed to ignore his topic. The insensitivity of malice is embodied in Magnus himself.

"Babarus is dirty."

"Because of psionic power."

Mortarion, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke and interrupted Magnus, surprising the Primarch present.

Magnus looked at Mortarion with one eye wide open,
"Psychic power polluted her, and she was dying. Psychic overlords unleashed witchcraft on her wantonly, and people were the overlord's currency to please the dirty warp."

"In Barbarus, one of the most common and lowest-level witchcraft is the resurrection spell. The overlords choose strong humans, then cut off their strongest parts, sew them together with twine, and then communicate with the subspace to provide for these corpses. Give new life, make them puppets."

The smiles on Guilliman's and the angel's lips froze, but Mortarion said calmly,

"Witchcraft is evil and psionics is ugly."

"The lords on Barbarus, except those who died in the war, will sacrifice themselves to the warp in madness, and go to a profane perdition."

"Stay away from it until you are consumed by psionic power and witchcraft."

Mortarion looked calmly at Magnus's one eye, some shattered dark golden shards shone in Magnus's eye, while his pupils were pale gold.

He repeated,
"Stay away from him, Magnus, until you are consumed by psionic power and sorcery."

"I don't know—" Why the Emperor would inflict such suffering on his son, he may be a tyrant, but you don't have to listen to him.

But before Mortarion finished speaking, Magnus stood up suddenly and looked at Mortarion angrily.

His red manes flew in the air, and he seemed to grow even bigger, with two great ebony horns pointing furiously at Mortarion.

"What did you say?"

"A person who only saw the ignorant tyrant ruling you with spiritual power, you chose to deny everything one-sidedly?"

Magnus stepped up to Mortarion, looking down at him.

One of Magnus' red hairs fell into the bean soup in front of Mortarion, and the bean-toad let out a shriek and sank back into the swamp.

Mortarion took a deep, deep breath, a dying groan from his breathing mask.

Magnus was taller and stronger than him, and he could use psychic powers.

Mortarion wasn't sure he'd be able to defeat him, maybe some of the other brothers were psychic-hating and they could do it together.

Mortarion stood up from his seat in silence. He was also tall, although not as tall as Magnus, but the Lord of Death's sense of oppression should not be underestimated.

Fortunately, he was at the very edge of the long table. He only needed to take a big step, and there would be no obstacles between the two of them.

Someone was screaming, but it didn't matter, the surrounding cacophony of voices was muffled and tinny, private comm channels crackling, Mortarion staring at Magnus.

Dorn seemed to growl, telling them to stop, Guilliman's calm voice becoming flustered for the first time.

Mortarion didn't hear the birdman's voice, but it didn't matter, he didn't care.

The angel shook the wine glass and looked over there. Now, the seat was empty.

"Apologize to me for insulting psykers and psykers, sorry."

A muffled roar rose from Magnus' throat,

"I shouldn't expect anything from you. You're a primitive man at the end of evolution."

"Do not."

Mortarion said softly.

"I stand by my point of view, psykers are worthy of the gallows, even now we and the empire still have to need them."

Responding to him was a wave of psionic arcing at the end of Magnus' arm.

Mortarion spread his hands.

　Yes, code
　　
　
(End of this chapter)