A Wish to Grab Happiness

Blood splashes through the forest hollow of the elves. One knight made his horse hiss as he tangled his fingers in Zhu Spear.

Placing himself on the horse, the man waved the spear with unusual skill, as if there were spears in the extension of his arm. The red tip is treated as a man's fingertip.

Again, blood covers the hollow, and the earth. At the same time, the monkey-type warcraft, its flesh, was fragmented and scattered.

The situation must be incomprehensible to the great monkey, the warcraft that was pushing against the Gazaria Castle Gate.

We were called together by our fellow monkeys that we had good prey, and we were one step ahead of the castle gate, which was packed with food.

And yet. Now the castle gate, pushed by itself, is like a wall of death blocking the escape route. Whether you run, or prepare to die and fight, that spear pierces you if you don't take everything.

What is that? The understanding of the Great Monkey is not within reach. That's not that I don't have enough intelligence, it's just that my instincts were afraid to try to understand the sight in front of me. It even seems as if he rejects the act of understanding himself.

Zhu Spear stretches. Each time the blood bounced and fleshed, and the flesh of his companion became a carcass, covering the forest. That wave was no longer more demonic than a warcraft, and to something more vicious than a demon's arm, it seemed.

At least the great monkeys have never seen the sight of themselves, and the flesh of their companions, being so lightly bounced off. I could assure you that it could not be, such as being put to despair under a blow in an attempt to collide with a warcraft of its kind.

Therefore, the sight now is too hard to believe. He just got pounded with a spear, and our flesh bounced and flew, and so on.

Is that man's power abnormal, or is that spear demonic?

Anyway, the big monkey didn't know that. That way, you'll never know again.

The head of the last great monkey, at the end of the man's hand, bounced and flew. After many showers of blood, the earth is blackened with makeup.

"'Knight. Find a way to live. Avoid the crisis and fight with dignity if you can't avoid it." - I forgot how many knights are in the Knights' Book. Well, whatever it is, they're coming at me. I'm sorry. "

The man said to the warcraft, which was no longer a carcass and did not emit a single sound, to throw it away violently. Still on the horse, whirl and easily turn the spear at hand.

That appearance was no longer the anomaly itself.

A horse spear, as the word goes, helps the horse speed, and it is only by carrying out cavalry assaults that its true value is demonstrated. Stick and pierce enemies at the speed of cutting the wind while riding a clogged horse. That was the threat of the cavalry and also of beauty.

Therefore, one of the curves is to wield the spear several times while riding the horse like a man. If you mean to wear a warcraft under a stab and kill it, then it is no longer close to magic tricks.

So, I guess. Even after the man took the blood that had descended on him as a sign of victory and slaughtered away the last warcraft, what was heard from around him was not a praise to glorify the winner or anything else, but the sound of spitting in fear of foreign objects.

"You're as bloody as ever - the Cathedral Knight, Garras Gargantia."

I guess it wasn't a coincidence that she was the only one who could throw her voice into the spot that rocked her silver hair. The little lip closes as hard as if it pressed fatigue to death.

Man - Gallus Gargantia, the Cathedral Knight, turned his fierce gaze on the horse, so that he could be put on his voice, toward the castle gate. As soon as I saw the silver hair, its cheeks wobbled in distortion.

"Oh. I wonder where the basin darkness called it. Knight, Karia Birdnick. Bye. Long time no see, since joint training with the Knights."

Garrus looked familiar to the shadow that rocked his silver hair.

Though familiar, that's all I once saw when there was joint training between the Cathedral Knights and the Knights. But even though that's all we've met, that figure is clearly sticking to Gallus's brain.

The degree of completion of sword moves, apprenticeships and unexpected martial arts that keep an eye on them. And above all, so robust an obsession that it also seems to be a curse for the way it is called its knight.

None of this drew a line with those who were just as indolent as naming knights. I remember that very well. Rather, so much so that I even felt respectful.

I guess that's why. The next word from Kalia's lips was somewhat unexpected to Gallus.

"Oh - I'm sorry, but the knight is already out of business. Sooner or later. So now it's just Kalia and that's what they call it."

Yes, it was surprising. The attitude that you said you quit the knight very lightly, and the lucid look that tells the story that it did not leave you with any loss or regret.

Deep down in my heart, like its roots broken, I can't see very well. But when they say they've found another way, what the hell do they think they're going to do?

For a moment, the fierceness fades from the sight of Gallus, and his mouth loosens. Really, delightfully.

"Heh - no, not bad, not bad. From the bottom of my heart, I think so. If you can quit, it's better to throw away your title like this and drink it."

It's like talking to yourself, loud enough for that, Garrus mutters.

That's not to mock Karia. From the depths of my heart, the words had shades that made me think that I really did.

And so the voice goes on.

"So why is Karia in the Elf Country? At the end of the wandering, so what?

As soon as the air, it sways.

Every time Garrus opened his mouth, the voice, the words gradually regained their original fierceness.

Without concealing the voice and eye tone as if the beast were intimidating, Garrus shows his teeth and clutches his cheeks up. A cathedral knight supposedly sincere and thankful is that behavior that is very difficult to say.

But rather as if it were to echo the behavior, Karia bounced the words with her silver eyes fortified like a raptor.

"Is it a bad guess, or is it just heartbreak? One in two, but which one are you, Gallus?"

In such a way as to deeply trample the other person's chest, Karia throws her words at the target under her eyes. It's like provoking things. Gallus's mouth was deeper, and distorted, connected.

That's right. If you are on your side, open the castle gate to welcome you. If it's irrelevant, don't bother to speak up in front of the castle gate.

So, if there is. The presence of Karia, who now hangs the castle gate on her legs and overlooks herself, is indisputable.

"Right. Example traitor - Karia Birdnick"

Garrus squeaks as he blinks those eyes. The tone seemed to make the situation interesting in every way, and on the contrary, it seemed to sigh at the annoyance, indescribable and complicated.

Well, it's much better than just transferring captured crests. A little change is a lot better than not knowing what such a knight's job is.

But that opponent, who was supposed to be captured, now speaks out in grandeur in front of the castle gate. Then I can understand even if I don't like what is happening inside Gaza right now.

That's what a pain in the ass.

A human being named Garrus was a curiosity that could be considered as as as dangerous as a child, and an overly large laziness close to a beast, a nature that would shake those two emotions in its chest.

"So what do you, Cathedral Knight, want with Gaza? Soon, it won't be a country where humans can help."

Words Kalia kept releasing. It feels like some kind of carriage of words with intent. It's like you're aiming at something, that kind of word.

Bad guess, or heartbreak? Garrus thought I'd say that back, but then whatever, there's no art.

Garrus gently rings his neck.

"Karia Birdnick, I'll let you choose."

In the wind of nothingness, Garrus opens his lips and rolls the words.

"-Which is better: the death of honor or hanging after being exposed"

Very naturally, the word was uttered to the castle gate.

Behind its natural appearance, the word itself is so fierce that it can't be eaten up by its throat. The throats of the elf soldiers who were still sitting at the castle gate roared in fright.

Kalia shook her hair, which had lost its clasp, and, like Garrus, held her cheeks wide up.