Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Jiva Doren calmly killed one Nurgle demon after another with his semi-automatic bolter. He was using normal explosives, and his belt was full of magazines.

He didn't need to worry about bullets at all. If it wasn't for the load, Givaudan could take as much as he wanted. The exaggerated manufacturing unit on the Vengeance can make a lot of things at no cost, completely beyond his knowledge.

Valyrian did not put his words to shame, he was indeed firmly in front of Givaudoren, not leaving an inch. The combination of halberd and shield looked a bit bloated in the corridor, but he didn't need to attack too much. That shield really exemplified the duty of the shield guard, as he said, no demons could interfere with Jiva Doren's aim.

He even managed to remind Givaudan between battles: "Turn left ahead and go straight. We're not far from our destination."

Turning the hallway, the foul smell hits my face. The pressure reading above the Givaudan eyepiece rose sharply. The scans from the Vengeance told him exactly how many enemies were in the corridor.

Forty seven, the green number.

One, the blue number.

Astarte shrank, and before he could say anything, a sharp feather fell from the sky and shot towards Valyrian. If he hadn't raised his arm at the last moment, he would have been in a dangerous situation. The feather pierced deeply into the bulge in the middle of the shield, and it was the hardest part that was pierced through.

The custodian lifted his shoulders and lowered his waist, and Jivaldoren could hear his breathing. Then, more feathers flew towards them from the shadows of the corridor. Valyrian did not choose to resist, but shouted.

"dodge!"

Givaudron ducked, dodging the feathers. And the forbidden army did not, he still stood in place and did not move.

Meanwhile, Jiva Doren's eyepieces turned crimson, and the newly added psionic vision allowed him to capture the Tzeentch demon at the end of the hallway. The World Eater's sergeant narrowed his eyes, and while the server was running, the data had already been sent to the goggles of the Imperial Army.

Feathers harder than steel were inserted into the Imperial Army's power armor, and blood gushed out from the gaps. Valyrian's body shook, but he still stood there. He let go of his palm, the shield fell to the ground, he held the halberd, and let out a roar.

Without communication, Givaudron knew what he wanted to do—to die, thus creating an opportunity for him.

In the first second, the Imperial Army began to run, and he took a step. At the same time, Jivaldoren pressed the button on the side of the bolt gun, and the original magazine fell to the ground.

In the second second, the Imperial Army had already run halfway, and some plague corpses tried to stop him, but the halberd was mercilessly chopped into pieces. And Jiva Doren has been replaced with enchanted magazines.

In the third second - Valyrian jumped up, the power halberd flashing cold light, disintegrating the position and forcing the Tzeentch demon hiding in the shadows out.

Then, a gunshot rang out and everything fell silent.

......

I'm drowning.... no, it's the cold... suffocating, inhaling, inhaling—

Valyrian began to breathe with difficulty, each breath smelling of blood and cold drafts. The cold stabbed his lungs so deeply that his entire airway froze. For a moment, he actually felt that his throat was replaced by a whole block of ice.

I'm alive?

The question came from his mind, and his voice said it. A voice said to him, "Yes, you're still alive - don't fall asleep, **** it!"

Valyrian was awakened by a violent shaking, and he felt as if he was a fish stirring the tank, but instead of stirring him, he was holding him in one hand. The owner of that hand was looking at him through the scarlet eyepiece at this time, and the iron-grey helmet had ice condensed from the cold.

He could hear the muffled sound from his armor, as if some servo parts were broken, but it didn't get in the way. The real problem is that his helmet is probably broken and the eyepiece is not showing pressure readings, but a small line of gold.

Valyrian read it out.

"Wake up and go on fighting, your mission is not over yet."

"who are you talking to?"

The forbidden army's brain was completely awake in an instant, he broke free from the ice, and his whole body was full of strength again as if returning to light. He followed the Master's orders, and as always, there was only one word left in his brain.

Loyalty.

Loyalty...  

Loyalty!

Valyrian, bleeding profusely, took off his helmet and opened his mouth, shards of internal organs pouring out of it. Givaudan was horrified: "Are you crazy?! There is still an epidemic here!"

"It's all right, Givaudan."

Valyrian said in a solemn tone, looking at him with those bloodshot eyes—no, no, he wasn't looking at him.

"I'm about to reach the end of my mission, and I don't want to die wearing a helmet. I've never liked this thing, my lord, your taste is so bad."

A smile appeared on the mouth of the familiar banned soldier, he made the last joke in his life, and then - golden light burst.

His skin began to shatter, and his whole body was on fire, turning him into a walking torch. But he still did not stop, he continued to walk. The Custodian - Captain of the Shield Guard - Valyrian continued to walk, medically speaking, his child's hole had disintegrated, and his heartbeat had begun to stop. He should be dead.

But he didn't die - he should have died, but he didn't, just didn't.

An inexplicable will made him walk, unyielding and non-stop. Go all the way to the end of the corridor.

The pillar of fire spoke, and the voice reached the ears of Jivaldoren who was standing still.

"For the Emperor," he said.

"boom-!"

Givaudron did not raise his hand to cover it, he looked directly at the death of the Custodian. The golden flames began to burn slowly inside the Ministry of Military Affairs. At the same time, a door on his right opened, and the inner wall seemed to collapse due to the explosion, revealing the hidden passage inside.

"Your mission is complete, but mine is not. Good luck to me, Valyrian."

He turned and walked in.

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

Trajan only felt that there was inexhaustible power in his body, and he swung the halberd more than twice as fast as before. Those demons could only watch him wield a halberd and chop off his own head, but they were completely unable to escape.

He doesn't know if it's good or bad, but for now, it's definitely a good thing.

It is a pity that the Marshal of the Imperial Guard did not know that the power contained in his body had not actually been revealed. To be precise, he himself did not realize that he was capable of doing those things. The power really did not respond to him.

His reckless act of jumping into the demonic pile continued for a while, and the killing seemed like a duck to water. However, the Nurgle demons may not be very good at fighting, but they are fully capable of creating a large number of miscellaneous soldiers in a short period of time.

Behind the demons, a big demon is constantly pouring the plague soup from the cauldron in his hand. Some demons just have a little bit of it, and they have a tendency to evolve.

The most terrifying thing is the ubiquitous and extremely large number of nurglings. After they come into contact with this plague soup, they quickly grow into plague carriers. They are about 1.7 meters long and have slender limbs. The long tongue spit out from the stomach. Demons, capable of spitting out a large amount of pus, are extremely dangerous.

With such characteristics, their number has not only not decreased, but even increased. Trajan soon realized this, and he realized something else too - the mysterious man who was behind the daemons' roll call had disappeared, and he hoped that Valyrian had found him and had a new idea.

His captain of the shield guard would often do some amazing things at such times, but they were usually very effective, otherwise he would have been thrown to a remote planet by Trajan, and it would have been absolutely impossible to stay in Terra. of.

In any case, Trajan wanted him to succeed. They have no way to break the game, only a deadly fight.

Behind Trajan, the line of defense formed by the Custodians was engaged in a **** and brutal tug of war with the demons. Nurgle demons aren't very good at melee combat, but they're thick-skinned and disgusting enough—yes, disgusting enough.

This is also an advantage.

Don't think that the Custodians will not be disgusted by these ugly monsters. The filth and evil of the warp objects not only affect the naked eye, but can even shock the spirit in a short period of time.

Imagine if you saw a rotting, maggot-covered fat monster walking towards you, with yellow teeth in its mouth munching on a dozen maggots and splattering juices... let alone drawing swords After fighting, many people will even lose the idea of ​​running away. The Custodians are here because they have the courage and discipline to resist this spiritual pollution.

Mowglis was among them, and when Trajan returned, he was naturally happy to give up that commander's post. This forbidden army with poetic temperament and unwilling to speak well is actually among the best in combat effectiveness.

This is also one of the reasons why Tula really can bear him, not to mention that the Imperial Guards have some problems, they are cold, do not regard civilians as human beings, and even feel that Astartes are not worthy of standing in front of them. Something like Mowglis... is actually quite normal.

He didn't like to use halberds, but double knives. One slender saber, used for jabs, and the other broad, for slashing. Left hand stabs, right hand slashes. This ancient sword technique accompanied Mowglis throughout his long life and continued to improve. He took a step forward, and the knife in his right hand cut off the head of a plague carrier in an instant.

Incredibly sharp - if the craftsman who made it could see this scene, most of them would be relieved. Unfortunately, he can't see it. Mowglis thought of this, and shook his head as he fought. The other demon beside him immediately seized the opportunity, raised the wooden staff in his hand, and tried to hit his helmet violently.

And Mowglis dodged in advance like a prophet. He raised his left hand with unparalleled grace—the blade flashed in the air, the demon roared in pain, and he had already picked out all his eyes. With a sneer, the forbidden army bullied himself up, turned his waist, and the bone cutter in his right hand harvested a head again.

"Easy," he muttered to himself. "It's really my misfortune to have to fight against such a pickled thing."

"Have you had enough!" his comrades roared behind him, piercing two Nurgle demons in a row with their spears, spinning the hilt, and the bolter on the tip of the spear fired, creating more of death. UU Reading www.uukanshu.com This Imperial Army has anger in his voice. "We are fighting to the death! Seriously, Mowglis!"

His roar caught Mowglis's contemptuous eyes, and the Custodian shook the red tassels on his head disdainfully: "Varerian knows how to enjoy battle better than you do... vulgar."

"I-"

The Imperial Army spit out a long string of ancient Terran words at him in exasperation. The essence of the Wanfu regiment is that some of these ancient warriors can scold you in a language you don't understand. In their daily life, this kind of Things can bring a lot of fun. But that's definitely not one of the reasons he did it on the battlefield.

Mowglis's eyes narrowed, and one jumped gently to his side, put his foot on his waist, and forced the Imperial Army back several steps while turning his waist again, and the two sabres came together towards an intention. Slashed by the sneak attacking Nurgle demon.

With a puff, pus and blood spattered out. Mowglis nodded lightly at him, and the red ying above his head trembled: "You're welcome, vulgar."

"Devouring the Starry Sky: Sign In to God"

"..." The forbidden soldier stopped talking.

There was no demon in the surrounding space, and he was able to breathe for a while and regain his strength. Standing there, he tilted his head and looked at the closed door between the thrones as if he was deliberately provoking the forbidden army, and suddenly said, "What a pity."

"What a pity?"

"Here comes the support... the war is coming to an end, ah, my source of inspiration is gone again," said Mowglis sadly, before being smashed into his helmet by a brick that flew out of nowhere.

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