Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel? - Vol 12 Chapter 130

The rain of disease fell from the sky.

Thick and eerie dark green clouds rolled in the sky, and there was no thunder or lightning, neither needed to shock people’s sanity. In fact, just looking directly at this huge dark cloud with the naked eye is enough to drive you almost crazy. And the consequences it brings are even more unbearable.

First came acid rain—bacterial rain, perhaps more appropriately, as green raindrops the size of beans fell from the sky. Corroded countless buildings. The top of a hive city was corroded and pitted, and it didn’t take long for it to fall. Smash directly into the bottom of the nest, causing more serious damage.

Then, the surviving people found in horror that green plants and mycelium grew in the place that had been drenched by the rain.

The thick mushroom creep spread to the outer layer of the entire hive within a few minutes, and they grew recklessly in the sky thousands of meters high, stretching their bodies at an unacceptable speed, developing their own kind, and The power that Nurgle bestows on them is on full display.

Green, yellowish toxins were released from the creep that seemed to be alive. Through those green flowers, they spread over the entire nest in just a few minutes, completely covering the nest – there are still many survivors, however, they will soon be gone.

Under the influence of Nurgle’s plague, they would suffer from dozens, if not hundreds, of different diseases at the same time. To die without dignity in a groan of pain, even after death, there is no peace. The Nurglings would turn their bodies into breeding grounds for new diseases, or simply control them with mycelium, using them as mindless plague-spreading corpses.

It just happened on a hive.

In fact, the plague of Nurgle is neither foe nor foe—humans, demons, buildings, and even mechanical creations are all vulnerable. A Khorne bloodletter got acid rain dripping into his eyes, and two minutes later it was a corpse strung with mycelium. Once-strong muscles were shriveled, the brain was propped open by a flower, and the skin was hollowed out in which new nurglings were being conceived.

Beside it, a Taranis war mech had corroded joints and fell to the ground uncontrollably. Sitting in the cabin, the pilot took a chance, believing that acid rain couldn’t corrode the mecha’s hybrid ceramic steel. He is right, this level of acid rain can’t corrode the outer shell of the knight mecha, but the plague doesn’t need these things to ship.

In the cockpit, the driver felt an itch in his neck. He took a deep breath to calm himself down, then scratched his neck, feeling his fingers somehow sticky. Looking down, he was stunned.

A blood red.

The pilot looked at his hands suddenly covered with pustules, and let out the most frightening scream in his life – the knight mecha fell to the ground not long after and stopped moving, and there was a dull muffled sound from the cockpit, like Like something exploded inside.

In the sky, a Thunderhawk gunship flew over the green clouds. Guilliman was there, looking at everything on the ground with an indescribably calm expression. Perhaps it was expected, he was just angry, but not worried about the future. As things stand, Guilliman prefers to focus only on what’s in front of him.

“The Primarch, there is a report from the tenth company commander.” The think tank curator walked up to him, and the magnetic boots were fixed on the ground, so that he would not fall over due to the turbulence of the Thunderhawk gunship. As for Guilliman…he doesn’t have magnetic boots, he just wants to stand there. And he can.

“Go ahead.” Guilliman nodded thoughtfully, motioning for him to continue.

Diglis didn’t know how to speak. After being silent for a few seconds, he chose to say it bluntly: “The situation in the palace is very bad, the Ministry of Military Affairs is completely paralyzed, and we can’t issue or receive any orders. The situation on the ground is difficult to describe. The plague of dirt spreads endlessly across Terra, and according to the Astrospeakers, from the North Pole to every hive…the plague is everywhere.”

Holy Terra, the cradle of mankind, the sanctuary of mankind, the seat of the Emperor’s throne—Guilliman hated those terms at this time. How good would it be if it wasn’t Terra? If that’s the case, he doesn’t need to work so hard at all.

The Empire’s dealing with a planet infected with the plague of Nurgle is usually very simple and crude, and they usually blow up that planet. Behind this icy attitude is the truth that humans have spent thousands of years and countless corpses learned.

Against Khorne demons, you can fight back, and against Slaanesh demons, you can fight back while yelling at them. Confront the Tzeentch demons – usually, you don’t see them, and you’re not far from dying if you see them, so do whatever you want. But in the face of Nurgle’s demons, the best thing to do is to stay away.

Approaching means contracting the plague. Attempting a cure means contracting the plague. Setting up a control center to try to save a planet from the plague of Nurgle means getting the plague together. Humanity has learned that if the plagues of Nurgle do not want to cause more serious damage, then the best way is to kill those plagues along with the patients themselves.

This is the last mercy.

Guilliman lowered his head and rubbed his eyebrows. The think tank curator inevitably sensed his frustration, his psionic innate ability to do that. Perceive the subtle emotions of people around you. However, a voice inserted into his mind very suddenly. He was very familiar with that voice, as if he had heard it somewhere.

“My Iceberg Beauty Wife”

“Vallo Digris…I need you.”

“Who are you?”

The voice avoided answering, but showed him a picture.

Seen from the universe, Terra is completely covered in green mycelium. Zooming in, Diggles recognized where it was.

It’s the palace.

The majestic outer wall was completely collapsed at this time, and all kinds of uncomfortable and disgusting plants climbed above this majestic Himalayas. The main part of the palace has collapsed, and the exposed interior is full of rotting corpses that have been corroded and cannot be seen as they were.

Diggles felt terrified beyond words—all he saw was a dead silence. The poisonous mist of the plague fluttered above the sacred Terra, and no living creature could survive in such an environment. Only the endless Nurgling and his demons danced happily on the earth, and they kept uttering simple laughter and singing of Nurgle’s holy filth.

What about the Emperor? No, what about the Emperor? Diggles asked, however, no one answered.

The screen continues.

The angle of view is zoomed out. A huge and fat hand picked up Tara’s entire body, and just a glimpse of that hand made the think tank curator make a sound like he was about to faint.

“I think you’ve figured it out. Varro Diggles. I need you, the Empire needs you,” the voice said slowly, not sounding real. And Diglis finally remembered that he had heard the voice there.

Right here in Terra, that blessing a few days ago…

The think tank curator murmured: “Fight, and exorcise the evil…”

There was a rare smile in his voice: “Yes. Varro Digris. Fight, and exorcise evil – I will cast a spell by your hand.”

“Me? My lord, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do this.”

Diggles said timidly that he was not timid by nature. It’s that the director of the think tank doesn’t trust his ability to take on such a heavy responsibility – he is not a fool, and he naturally understands why this adult wants to show him that bad future.

“I just need to use you as a medium, and, Diggles, don’t belittle yourself,” the voice continued. “Then, get ready.”

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In Guilliman’s perception, Diglis seemed suddenly to be a different person. He fixed his eyes and found that the expression of the director of the think tank had changed. This discovery made him suddenly nervous, but the next sentence of ‘Digris’ made him relaxed again.

“The time has come, Guilliman.”

That voice has two voices, one is from Digris, and the other is from He Shenyan.

Guilliman saw that there were two golden lights in Digris’ eyes. The other Astartes looked over, and some of the dull ones didn’t understand what was going on, and were angry that Digris called the Primarch by name. However, in the next second, with the divine radiance coming from the pavement, they suddenly stopped thinking.

What is He Shenyan going to do?

It’s simple – the plagues of Nurgle come in many varieties, and some can even affect only one person. But He Shenyan knew a good way to deal with this more ‘ordinary’ plague that only affects the living.

On the Vengeance, he closed his eyes tightly, blood gushing from his throat, and was quickly suppressed by him.

First, undead spells.

Derived from the forbidden book of Kama Taj, the ultimate undead resurrection spell in the third volume of “Trannia’s Backward Book” reappears in another world through his hands. This spell has been used by many famous necromancers to mutilate human beings, but this time is different.

Thunderhawk gunship, Varro Digris’ body began to move like a marionette. His gauntlet detached itself, his hands spread out, and he kept making complicated and mysterious gestures. A light blue circle stretched out from under his feet, and in Guilliman’s perception, time seemed to slow down.

The preparations have been completed, but if this spell is released now, it will only bring a group of corpses back to life, and maybe it will be exploited by the devil – so He Shenyan clenched his hands.

Diggles did the same.

He sank into a magnificent space with He Shenyan’s consciousness, but just as he entered, a solemn hymn rang in his ears. It seems to be a splendid palace here. A man who can’t see his face is sitting at an altitude of thousands of meters, and under him is an iron chair that can’t move him.

Diglis was stunned, and then he saw hundreds of millions of different faces suddenly appear under the thousands of meters of iron chairs.

Men and women, young and old, are different. Astartes, Astral Army, Battle Sisters, Civilians. Some have names and surnames, while others have blurred faces.

He stared blankly at all this, but He Shenyan sighed. UU Reading www.uukanshu.com

“…Please, come home. Guys,” he said. “The Empire needs you—follow me if you will.”

A golden gate opened in front of them, and Digris and He Shenyan stood aside, watching the spirits of those heroes follow one after another, rushing out without hesitation. They converged into a golden ocean, and they rushed out one by one as if they would never stop.

Diglis had fallen into a stagnation, barely able to think. Tears rolled down from his eyes, but the think tank could not feel the slightest sadness.

“Emperor…” he muttered to himself. The man on the throne cast a glance and seemed to nod slightly. Diggles did not notice this.

————————————-

Guilliman looked down, and a golden light rose from the green hive—the primarch’s body shook for an instant.

What happened next, he will never forget.