A Wish to Grab Happiness

Touch the earth with a slight cramping of the fingertips of the fialert. The air pounding the cheeks is strangely cold.

The lungs still move wildly in the body, and the throat carries the exhalation even into the lips. It seems very hard to say that calm is as usual. Jumps through the universe like a black hair trembles through its body.

That's a natural story.

At any rate, the immense magic created from the ground continues to spit itself out into the world as a passage. Even if you try to calm down, every time the magic mixes with the blood flow, your mood rises, and your body gets a little exhausted just like that over time. Yes, of course.

Even though it is only used as a passage, it possesses some of the serious magical powers inherent in this body, albeit temporarily. Only then will the body be plundered of its vigor, and the soul instantly wears off.

Under such circumstances, no one can be calm. Exalted or desperate? Some kind of pretentious breadth of spirit really gets bigger.

Fialert, twice, breathes heavily and takes in cold air in his lungs. So small, he slowly leaked his exhale.

But still. We must restore calm to this body for now, the spirit that deserves to use magic. Fialert unknowingly bites her lips with her teeth. Thoughts wandered through my head. How could a man named Rugis say all impotent, words whispered in his chest?

- I want to borrow magic to kill that beast. That's how his belly bounces and flies.

It's like changing the flow of water, but just changing the destination of magic, its end point, to him, Rugis said without incident. When I heard the words, the frown of the fialert was naturally heavily distorted. Words, clogged.

Spitting through his throat once, choosing the words carefully as such, it was impotent to the boulder, yes Fialert told Rugis. With a small voice, I feel very sorry for you, though.

I see. Sure, in a way, magic is like wine. The right amount would make people very happy and give them strength beyond themselves. However, if the tolerance is exceeded, fangs will quickly be turned on to people. Of course there are some personal differences, but the magic poured beyond a certain threshold remains poisonous and eats humans from the inside out.

There is adventurer's disease, or demonic disease, and what is so commonly called a condition.

It was given its name because it is a symptom that is commonly displayed by adventurers, especially those who prefer to eat the flesh of warcraft, who often deal with beasts who possess a lot of magic called warcraft.

Symptoms gradually begin where they erode, lose strength, and sleep longer naturally. If you are squeezed out of your health to the extreme, your fangs will devour that soul next, and you will be exhausted, and this time you will not be able to sleep.

At the end of the day, you develop intoxication symptoms against the magic inherent in you from the beginning, your heart stops beating, and you die quietly. Rumor has it that if the corpse of the Adventurer's disease patient was dissected, the blood vessels, to every corner of the gut, would also have been black as if carburized.

Effective treatments that can combat that adventurer's disease, the devil's disease, have not yet been established. Fialert lets his hands gently touch the earth as he breathes loudly and deeply again.

Perhaps Rugis, knowing it, therefore put in place such a measure, Fialert thinks so. Whatever the case, that meat mass now presents itself like a monster, but it must be former Mordow-Gone, just human flesh.

If so, I wondered if I could drastically inject more magic than I could tolerate and stop my activity. Just like only alcohol does fools and has acute poisoning symptoms.

The process of completion, the muscles go through. By reason, it may indeed be possible. But when it comes to being able to make that happen, another story. Too much, I can't do it.

In other words, magic can manifest itself to the world in a strong way because it binds itself in art and law. However, if you let it spill into the world just like magic, it will quickly become a fading scatter in the world and become similar to the air.

So, if we're going to make the art of instilling magic in someone, we're going to have to touch each other directly, or even make a special pact. That's the kind of contract that connects souls to souls.

It is near impossible to deal with the monsters and lumps of meat that can be said to be out of standard for a long time. Plus, it's impossible to get a contract. If such a soul makes a covenant with a distorted crazy being, that's what makes this soul so fine.

So measures such as instilling magic in that monster and defeating it no longer make sense. It's impossible, yes, Fialert did tell Rugis.

Oh, even so. Really, that guy.

The lips of the fialert are tightened and the exhalation, which had been heavily leaking from earlier, stops. That's how the breath itself slowly faded and eventually disappeared.

At the same time, the black eye, which should have been shaking, stops shrinking. The sound of Kalia's sword trident, which had been struck many times around the fialert, had disappeared from the back of his ear.

- Still, if Rugis says that that's the best thing to do, if you take other measures, someone dies. Let's do everything we can to make it happen.

If you are, you need to adjust your precision magic. We need elaborate calculations. No madness is tolerated, and any alarm or hesitation as blinking must be truncated.

Because it is not that creature that instills the magic that is so turbulent in itself.

Never hurt, never break. For this reason, the hole in the needle must be passed, but the imitation must be repeated over and over.

If we're going to make that happen, we're just going to stop breathing. The more I want to stop the behavior of my rough lungs and even my heart palpitations.

The behavior of the fialert is unnaturally lost because of the saving. Black eyes lose focus and lose sight. The ears lose hearing and the nostrils no longer convey the smell. Let's erase what we don't need, let's erase it. That's how you pour everything into what you really need.

The fialert slowly, and so carefully, stretches the thread of magic towards the pledge to which he is bound to his soul. Even thought will no longer be interrupted.

That, last. During the loss of all of Fialert's thought, in his pompous chest, the words were squealed.

- If it's Rugis' wish, you don't have a choice. Just a little, though it's a shame. Yeah, really.

That's all you whine about, and Fialert's thoughts are buried in that desolation that will not spare you any alarm. The whining intent is that Rugis and Karia, of course, and possibly even the fialert himself, may not have grasped it. It was such a word, almost unconsciously murmured.

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

- There is one ritual between the parents and children of magicians and wizards, which was, and still is, carried out in some famous houses.

It unites each other's souls with covenants and covenants, and so it instills magic from parent to child, little by little. From a young day to that day when we stand alone as something that deals with demons.

In doing so, the child stores the demon in him from a young age and increases the limit of tolerance. Also, adjusting the amount that parents pour each time avoids suffering from Adventurer's disease.

In this way, the family of magicians and wizards continues to increase the tolerance of the poison of magic stored in themselves each generation.

Speaking of problematic issues, if a parent gets distracted even for a moment, the child is easily eaten by the poison of magic.

Thus, until the day I learned how to handle the demon myself, it was only to that extent that the child could never be far from his parents, the infusion of magic.