A Wish to Grab Happiness

--A splash of blood, mixed with sand smoke, swayed by the wind and swept through the universe.

Karan, and the thirsty sound echoes across the street with a strange aftertaste. It was the sound of the battle axe that was held in the hands of Vestalinu, telling him that he had deposited himself in the earth.

The wave bestowed on the Iron and Steel Princess Vestalinu is good to say that Kalia's respect for her pride and the martial arts she has built is in itself.

Its pride in burying fear in your eyes but not showing your back. Martial arts that treat war axes like their own arms to show them. Let her carry those two on her shoulders. There is no exaggeration when it comes to undisputed bravery.

If so, we should not, at that very earliest moment, allow ourselves to taste the agony of death. It's just that with one breath, you should cut off that flesh as if you were going to fall asleep and push your spirit up into heaven. That is the courtesy and way of showing respect for the brave, Karia thinks. Even if it is an enemy, or if it is an attempt to stand on its own path.

The way it is must be Kalia's own pride, its silent spokesperson. Oh, so, that's why, because Kalia is engraving that idea deep inside its head, now its silver eyes had a loose adhesive emotion, and from its lips, an exhale equal to burning heat, was leaking.

"... not everyone can live beautifully. Well said. Oh, my God, it's ugly. I don't think there's anything more foolish than finishing a person's final act like that."

Karia's frustrating and irritating voice leaked.

If I had to put it into words and spit it out, the heat that floated in my chest was no longer likely to accompany the look of frenzy.

And his silver eyes —— he gazes upon his silver sword, which pierced the right shoulder of the Iron and Steel princess Vestalinu, and thus lowers his point of view downward, and gazes upon what was abominably there.

A few long needles, big enough to spread his hand flat, were there. Slightly altered the orbit of my sword, it.

Kalia's vision shows Vestalinu spilling more blood than her right shoulder bouncing and flying just as she left her body and gained her freedom, and her ear delivers a screaming voice to the pain of a thousand cuts in her body. Thus, as it collapsed, Vestalinu broke his knee.

Oh, what a pity you've done. What an unusual imitation. I don't know, Karia bites her own lips with her teeth. If it was meant to be, I would never have let a brave man like Vestalinu taste such suffering.

That's heartfelt remorse for Karia.

Kalia is a follower of power, but she also pledges allegiance to an unrelenting workout, so much encouragement that blood seeps through. If you want to grasp power and so engrave it in your heart, then surely in the process people scratch themselves. It would sometimes be a wound as a flesh, and sometimes as a spirit. Because hard work and inspiration are not things that can be done without scratches.

Karia took a deep breath once, tying her raging heart together.

That incentive effort should therefore be rewarded. One of its rewards is the whimpering end of suffering. Karia believes it is a dignified end given as sleep.

Oh, that must be the arrogance of the mighty who have Kalia.

But even so, even if it was, Karia wasn't willing to throw away the idea alone. It is only because I know that the bud of effort does not blossom gracefully at any time. I want to reward you, at least to the best of my ability, with respect for your encouragement.

"I'm sorry, but losing a family is enough for once. Yeah, that sucks. Worst day ever."

He took away the reward.

Capture Shiro as his silver eyes even erupt a green flame.

For a mercenary, he has a slender body and a large hat on his head. Slightly brown hair is hidden, but its face is hidden from the hat. But what is notable is not his appearance, but the weapon in his hand.

What the mercenary is holding is a needle about the length of his palm.

Yes, the same needle that is unnecessarily rolling at Kalia's feet. It's the same needle that punched my caged hand from the side when the silver sword broke through Vestalinu's head earlier.

"You idiot. What you did only made this man suffer in vain. That's all."

So he groans, and Kalia stares at the mercenary, now once and for all, bites his lips. It was like a ritual that hated mercenaries and cursed their impudence.

Originally, a swing of the calia is not dependent on the vibration given by the needle. Instead, if there's anything I can do to disturb you, I'll let you crush it with tough fangs.

But this time, Karia, she noticed. In the meantime cutting off the head of the Vestalinu. In a throw that flies toward me. As such, Kalia chose to react to it, but skilfully began to do so with a cage hand. The result is this. A brave man who shouldn't suffer is causing a whimper that will or will not.

As Karia repented again, she gazed at Vestalinu, moments.

--On the edge of the silver eye, the brilliance of iron, was reflected. At the same time, the sound is slightly off the wind.

That, as earlier, did not narrow its aim to just one point at hand. Long needles thrown, with the clear intention of choosing a steep spot and removing meat, such as Kalia's eyes, throat and chest tip.

A good story if you don't wear a steeple or poison the tip of that needle. If that were the case, one wound would be fatally wounded, the enemy would leak the cry of the severed demon and scatter his life.

As the wind pierced its body by a long needle and frozen, it rang.

—— Ki, Ng

What sounded like the next moment was the sound of iron being played.

Should have been thrown more than once, long needle. That's what one of Kalia's cages tells me. Karia thought she heard the mercenary's throat swallow.

Loose.

Unexpectedly, the exhalation in the back of his gut was about to leak. Whatever you think, this throwing technique is not used in direct opposition to the enemy. When the enemy is not even aware of their signs. It's a technique used in clogging and assassinations.

I told you, I distorted Kalia's sword tip earlier, and that must have been my last chance to punch a long needle into Kalia. Whether that would happen or not was another story, it was definitely where the door to possibilities was most wide open.

Therefore, I will not visit any more opportunities. The Spirit who gives opportunity is not long enough to give another opportunity to something he misses once. Karia leaks her teeth gently, ringing, and words.

"You can go wherever you want. If you want, I'll deal with you fully."

I don't need to put it in your eyes anymore. Words that say that out of words. If you are hostile, you slash away, but if you run away without showing your back, you do not go after it. Kalia's words that he is only opponent to that extent, as it stands.

Kalia's hands are stretched out into the pattern of a silver sword pierced by Vestalinu's body.

Vestalinu has a pale color strained to his face in a great wave-like pain that calms the bleeding slightly more than his right shoulder but still does not show an end.

He could no longer even fall in, still dressed with his knees on the ground, and kept leaking whimpers. Perhaps, in the spirit of interrogation, she has already let go of consciousness to the spectacular pain that would even refuse to live. At least, I'm pretty sure you're not getting normal thinking skills.

Let's make it easier here. I'm sorry for the pain, Belfein's brave man.

From the body of Vestalinu, a silver sword is pulled out. Again, a buddy splash of blood dyed the air in a pearlescent color. I can see a mercenary with a long needle running so hard to himself, at the end of his eyes. Another sigh from Kalia's little lips, leaked.

Thus, the silver light stroked the neck of an impending mercenary, in time.

"-- come on, it's like the work of a tragic villain, yeah?

In Karia's ear, a voice, sounded. It was the first given to Kalia in a long time, and as such, it must have been the voice that Kalia was pursuing everywhere.