A Wish to Grab Happiness

Central part of the battlefield, its front line. The crest soldiers took another step as they scorched their cheeks in the dark blue. The front line crumbles with our own steps. That created an improbable refreshment in my chest. Pleasure enough to melt your chest, never to be tasted in everyday life.

Its supreme pleasure to taste because the danger of life is always next door, because the iron murder weapon plunders your cheeks. Of the battlefield, I guess this is what the charm of battle is. A sense of happiness that uses its power to subjugate hate enemies.

The frontiers of the crest army, among them those who protrude and fang at their enemies, were those who volunteered further from among the soldiers. Some are young, some are skilled. Some volunteered out of a burning sense of religious mission, while others offered to receive more money. Its age and reasons for volunteering are all variable.

So when it comes to commonalities, it's just that I swore that I wouldn't mind my life being painted on the battlefield or blood.

Still a boy soldier and he, Hayes, could be called that age, was also one of the applicants.

By boy soldier, it doesn't mean anything's the first time I've held a spear on this battlefield. As an apprentice to young but crest soldiers, he has also driven bandits around and suppressed drunks who committed assaults throughout the city on several occasions.

Even if I did my job, I never had a lot of money in it because of my apprenticeship, and if I was a soldier in the main business, it would be a laughable wood-end job, but I still had enough experience for Hayes and was even slightly proud to be a soldier. So it's not the first time for him to hurt people with a weapon.

But people never killed. For the first time in this Sanio match, Hayes killed a man.

I learned that the feeling of an iron spear piercing a person is softer and more disgusting than I thought. But the feeling was also used to by the third time.

I zeroed liquid from between my crotches several times to the sight of the Iron Spear eating and killing my comrades easily, but I was also used to the feeling. I was used to the feeling of iron poking my nose, to the sound of my comrade's flesh running in front of me, and to the sound of crushing my bones. I'm used to being in this battlefield, which can be called vibrancy, and I'm done.

I'm sure Hayes had such an unclear rationale in mind that those who were unfamiliar with these sights and feelings would die on the battlefield.

It is not clear whether it is normal to become accustomed to them at all. Hayes wasn't even sure if he was sane or crazy right now. For a moment, I even wonder why I'm here. Still, Hayes waves the spear. The eerie feeling of piercing something soft again struck my arm.

The reason Juvenile Soldier Hayes volunteered for the front line is neither gold nor honor. Just one simple wish came to pass.

- It is good at a glance to see what a hero and those who are so called are at last. I want to see it.

Hayes knew he was going to die on some battlefield or all over the city. I don't have any money, and my parents died miserably of sickness a long time ago. I'm sure I will too. It should be miserable and face the inevitable death somewhere.

So before that. I wanted to see it for once. Heroes heard in the inheritance, in the miga, in the bedtime stories of childhood. I wanted to see the glorious man up close. At that price, even if we lose something else.

The strength to crush and lay low everything hostile, the desire to lead the people and not attract their eyes, the dazzling glory.

That's what Hayes heard at an early age that a hero with all of them would eventually lead and save the creed religion. Hayce's parents told him many times at a young age that he was still accumulating wisdom under God. Hayce came to believe that was the truth, within the meaning of being told.

That said, Hayce's parents, of course, never even heard the name of the hero to be saved, but at the end of the day, he murmured a curse and died like a dog to a hero who didn't show up no matter how long he waited.

Unlike such parents, are they happy or unhappy? Before Hayes, a hero was revealed.

Hero Rugis, a decadent hero who fell the trading city of Galuamaria, the aerial garden of Gaza, the mercenary city of Berfein, and was awarded the Golden Seal by Virgin Mattia. Everyone in the tavern and all over town said he must be the hero.

Really, is it? To Hayes, I was half-hearted to see if the Rugis man was a hero. The color of skepticism is still dark in the young eye.

In fact, the emotion is closer to eight than skepticism.

Truly, if you are a hero who will save everything, if you are a glorious one who will reach out to everyone. Why didn't you come before your own parents died? Are you saying that parents who died miserably while ill were abandoned by heroes? Then my parents are too pitiful.

In Hayes' chest, his skepticism of a hero and his vision of the greatness that Rugis accomplished. Those two emotions are still hitting the waves. That's why, up close, I wanted to see its existence.

Frontline, walking down a horse and waving a purple electric sword right near Hayes, the figure of hero Rugis. The closer you look, the better you know. Rugis' wave is unrivalled heavy and sharp as Hayes.

As if frightened by the brilliance of its purple electricity, the forces of the Catholic Church collapse, retreating to their hind legs.

Hayes heard voices just between such battlefields.

"You're so young."

To the words, Hayes makes his heart bounce. In the barbaric voice echoing the battlefield, the words strangely lingered in my ear. There's no mistake, it's the voice of hero Rugis.

Hayes was perplexed for a moment as to who the voice was referring to, but soon came to think it was about him. Anyway, there was no other applicant but Hayes.

Rugis doesn't even wipe the blood back on his cheeks, tightening his lips tightly. He kept his gaze on it before, but Hayes knew that the consciousness did point this way.

Hayes, naturally, gets stuck in words. I desperately searched around for what to answer and how to say the right word, but with a confused head, I don't get all sorts of things together.

Leaking a few hard voices, Hayes answered Rugis's query, yes, and said his own age. Strange embarrassment and delightful emotions are shaking all over my chest.

Even if you suspect that Rugis is truly a true hero, and so on, there is also an unmistakable fact that there is a hard vision of the greatness that Rugis has become in Hayes. Whatever, the boy's chest was complicated.

Rugis responded briefly to Hayes' words, yes, and then asked for his name. Again Hayes responds, strangely distorting his lips.

"Right, then, Hayes. I'm sorry, but it's a message. I need you to tell Mattia from the main unit..."

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

That, he leaked a small exhale as he felt signs of the boy soldier's back going away.

I wonder what you're doing. There's more to it than just being stupid. I would have burned up scattered people before, and sent them to their dead places. With that boy, I would have even been ready to die more than I went out to battle.

Even so, it is foolish to try to get it to go backwards at this time. What I'm doing doesn't mean anything. Self satisfied or dressed as a self-indulgent, I don't give a shit.

My eyes narrowed and my cheeks distorted to such self-loathing that my guts were about to be tightened up. But, well, whatever it was, I needed a preaching order. It's natural to use a soldier close by. Just that there was a slightly arbitrary sort there.

Draw a circle in the hollow as you let your feet run, scratching the wrists and bellies of enemy soldiers. At the end of his red-black stained vision, he saw the enemy formation illuminated by the sun at dusk. Bite it in the belly of the enemy a few more times and it's going to reach, that distance. It wasn't a dream story, but where it would certainly be within reach, it was.

The place must be an indisputable place of death. Step in and the ambush will look happy. Even if we know so, we can't escape yet. Dead place itself. The enemy formation, illuminated by the dark blue, looked strangely beautiful.

"The enemy is collapsing scattered. How, Master Rugis."

One of the soldiers around me said so. The voice plays oddly when he says he's still on the horizon where he could die. A guy called Battlefield Fever or Madness seemed to make people float more than bad liquor.

Then all I have to do is keep that heat cool.

Breathe small once. I strengthened my eyes. I say to the hundreds of fine soldiers around me, to those who volunteered for the assault unit that will be on the front line if they don't mind dying.

"- Do you want to go win? All right, listen up. This is my last order."

Lips collapse and distort. On my cheeks, I see a sarcastically stained grin.