A Wish to Grab Happiness

Silver light runs through the battlefield of the street. It can only be one line at a time, painting on the battlefield, and even driving to the battlefield with the aim of reaching a point. The sunlight reflected on the silver, but as brilliant. Soil smoke hits the hollow and dazzles the silver light even more.

Frontline of the battlefield. There he was, the figure of the steel princess Vestalinu, bravely waving the axe of war. As it is, as if it were inhaled, the silver light touches the Vesterine.

—— Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi.

The best that arose was the friction sound that filled the streets. It was the sound that iron and iron would have joined and shredded, the violent sound as if to force the spirit to pull a thousand pieces.

And next, the smell is so dense that the air itself seems to have burned. Scorching odor that clogs your nostrils. Vestalinu accidentally flaunts his face while suppressing his spasmodic fingertips.

Silver light bearing earthen smoke and not even allowing enough time to blink, waved down the murder weapon to Vestalinu. It is only a coincidence for Vestalinu that he can react to that blow in the slightest. Perfect ambush, not allowing any respite here. As such, it flashes like a fierce fang that does not even give some gaps.

Vestalinu was just able to shake up the battle axe on the spot and take it. No, I took it, etc., but it's not fair. From the top of the battle axe, you're under definite slaughter. The evidence shows that the whole body of Vestalinu is flattened by a bone called bone, and the wrist conveys dull pain. He just said he took a blow.

As soon as I bite that fact off, the colour of fear sprinkles in Vestalinu's eyes.

What the hell is that? What the hell happened to me? And his big eyes were opened, and he gazed at his identity, which swayed in earthly smoke. What was in its chest was a unique fear and a hint of curiosity, as if it were when a child was trying to reveal the identity of a monster. There's something I don't know, great expectations and impatience.

Vestalinu's, eyelid, blinked.

You're with Princess Iron and Steel. You got a good souvenir for him.

There it was, a very small female swordsman compared to Vestalinu. She said so as she swayed the silver hair she had divided into two rooms and rippled her little lips.

If you just look at that look, you're even going to have doubts. Is it true that this girl was trying to kill herself earlier? I was wondering if you were the one who gave me a taste of that obsessed fear. Its body cannot be said to be as long as Vestalinu's, and its weapons are not uncommon silver long swords. If that's all you see, that's all you see, you don't think of it as a very powerful enemy. Even if they say so, I can believe that a girl with no power came out to the battlefield with only a small amount of courage. To the extent that seems so, the girl in front of you is fine.

But no. My back teeth, they ring. Vestalinu understood for the first time that the sound was ringing and that he had unknowingly bitten his back teeth hard and hard.

Those brilliant light-bearing eyes, an overwhelming presence that doesn't seem like ordinary people that way. All of this takes the girl in front of you out of the boundaries of common sense.

It is the strong will, and the arrogance characteristic of the strong, that is reflected in the girl's eyes. Never the eyes of those who challenge the battlefield. Just crush and ravage the enemy. The arrogance of such a mighty man is hidden behind her eyes.

In this way, its presence has gained brilliance in a battlefield that can also be described as a vortex of chaos. Vestalinu doesn't know about her. I can hardly remember that silver-haired swordsman being among Berfein's private soldiers. If you are a private soldier, you will undoubtedly be remembered by Vestalinu first.

I mean, this girl is an outsider. He's just an outsider, and he's just on Berfein's side by chance. That should just be it.

And yet. It is as if the girl is already behaving as if she were the ruler of this battlefield, the head of a private soldier. The private soldiers, unknowingly, are driven by the heat she generates, but they gain momentum.

Just being there produces heat out of a person's gut, an overwhelming presence. That's her. Silver-haired swordsman.

Vestallinu, intuitive. It wasn't thinking, it wasn't ahead of some thought, it was just that nature and its words were on my mind.

--She's here now, and she has to stop that breath root. If you can do it, it will be a lifelong scourge.

Compression of the spirit that tightens your throat to such tension that you think you will burn your skin. Vestalinu leaks only a little exhalation.

The blunt pain in that wrist had no longer disappeared when Vestalinu once again put up an axe of war with both hands. Silver-haired swordsman, pain in front of her, that's all but trivial. With such trivialities, my neck flies hollow at the next moment. I could easily imagine what that would look like for Vestalinu.

Pack a half-step, intermission as you stand to hang the battle axe on your shoulder. Silver stood low enough to crawl through the ground. A small body looks extra, small with bent knees.

I can see spit accumulating in my mouth. But it can't be swallowed. In that moment, the look of the heart being decided out passes behind the brain. Breathing, blinking, even slight knee shaking movements seemed to Vestalinu to make everything fatal. I've never felt this way before. It's never happened before. The feeling of being strangled by the strangled, heavy, compressed air itself.

Hiu, and the wind blew. Soil and dust rise, tearing between the vestarines and the silver, slightly.

Moment after moment, the earthen smoke crushes. The earthen smoke disappears while the body is pulled a thousand times and shattered unbroken. From the upper level, Vestalinu beats the space itself, but waves a battle axe as he makes it roar. To strike down a silver swordsman who would come up from below.

Vestalinu saw in his head, many times, a silver sword breaking through his skull. I didn't know, my cheeks were loose. The coward has experienced death over and over again, and the hero says he will only die once. Then I must be a coward. Because now she's killing me in countless imaginations.

The silver-haired swordsman remains in a low position and waves a long sword if he does not break through its skull, as if to glimpse Vestalinu's imagination. There is no slight madness or tremor at the tip of that sword. A testament to the countless workouts she has built up dwells on the sword and paints a flash of silver in the sky.

As the silver orbit is inhaled, it goes to the skull of Vestalinu. Like intercepting that flash, the battle axe wraps around the wind and wields rigidity.

The rigidity of the battle axe broke the sky, and a flash of silver ripped through the sky, and exchanged.

—— Moments, even the wind seemed to turn away, the roar, echoed the streets.