A Wish to Grab Happiness

Purple electricity devoured the heat and the deceased lay down on the brick as she was torn apart. Only the dim moonlight seen from the gap between the clouds illuminates its appearance. The remnants of the flames that were wrapped around the end of the treasure sword disappeared to freeze.

I don't know, blink my eyelids.

There was a definite feeling in my hand that I slashed something down. As I assumed, as I foresaw, the feeling of killing the deceased. The letters of hero killing engraved on the treasure sword float. Exhaled, leaked. Somehow, they could have killed him once.

Return the blade of the sword you have shaken off, and face Roseau, who remains fallen and lying on the ground. That appearance in the eyes cut off the language.

Big enough wound from left side to right belly to think he was bitten rather than slashed and torn. The torso is almost divided into two parts, and has not shown any motion that meshes due to flaming heat as earlier.

The likelihood, of course, makes humans think that they are not safe, even with demonic demons.

But still, this is a dead man. Once the righteousness of that destruction killed every corner, and this one didn't die. In fact, even though it has weakened, the flames are still inhabited by Roseau's body. Then we will need a clear deadline. For me, for him.

Ring the treasure sword.

How are you feeling?

In a casual tone, say. Don't resist anyway, don't move any more, even if you say that, this guy won't listen. I was well aware of that.

Roseau stays down in the red brick, leaking a barking whimper, he says. The heat winding up from the verses of the body seemed to prove the survival of its will.

"... unexpectedly, no shame or pleasure. I'm sure I feel the same way about you. You'll feel like this when you die, too."

Roseau says, distorting himself to mock his thin-looking lips. A voice that turns itself around, it's like a dead man. But only his eyes were greedy everywhere. You can still see burning heat in your chest.

Perhaps that's what Roseau holds in his hand.

Original Book - Prove the existence of both demons, magic, curse, or magic. Something far from the world of men.

Once upon a time, men feared and abhorred the existence of a demon who was neglected and revealed in the world of men.

The devils will ravage men with ease, and they will take their lives as if they were bright. Sage said such a presence could not be the same creature as ours. That is the very devil that crawled out of the bottom of the earth, without God's favor.

Thus, the power that such people wield is determined from the age of mythology. It is the power of one's roots to prove oneself. Nothing that is not recognised by God can be named for history. Those who are not loved by God cannot even write their names down in their books.

So all those demons - they have to write down their existence on their own and prove their existence themselves. That's why the power is called primitive and so on.

The flames that will not even burn out the hearts of those Roseau had, perhaps. Eat hate, eat resentment. At the end of the day, it burns itself down, a hateful heat. Isn't it a terrific and worst substitute at all? Keep that stuff in your hands, there can't be a serious end.

Shake the treasure sword once now. No longer will just shake it down, and its weight will twist and crush Roseau's skull, position. I see Roseau's eyes looking straight at this one. All I'm saying is that the gaze that peels off that fang will eat the flute right off your throat if it shows a gap better.

Strengthen your left arm and wave down your treasure sword as you stroke the sky. The sound of the wind breaking in my ear, ringing.

In the middle of such a moment. My voice, it sounded.

- I'm done. Get your hands off me.

Unexpectedly stop the treasure sword. The voice had that color, as if it had squeezed out desperately in pain.

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

Phyllos-Treit exhilarated his body, still unable to even stand up, reaching out as he reached for the red brick.

Its back teeth are bitten to the point where the sound is likely to sound, and the skin zeroes sweat with cramps. Clearly, the physical saving conveyed the limits.

Rigi, and put his nails on the red brick and endure the discomfort that pierces his entire body. At the end of his gaze was Roseau, who tore his body apart and fell down, and Rugis, who waved down his sword. I say, leaking a rough breath, making it boring.

"What are you doing? I told you to pull back... I told you."

My forehead, my sweat licks. Though it is almost as fitting as having fallen on the roof, pride as a ruler has not fallen out of its language. As such, its white eyes are lit with the colour of faith everywhere.

It was evil to speak out in response to her. The swordswallowing eye pierces Roseau.

"You can't do that. This guy has a right to be easier now. I finally let go of my duty to stay alive."

Even though he makes a voice that throws away somewhere in the middle of nowhere, his gaze is not off Roseau in any way.

Even for a moment, if something happens to this occasion, when he instantly slashes and kills the demon in front of him, Rugis is rapping in that appearance. The fierceness emanating from its body is not comparable to what Phyllos-Trait saw in the crest tent. Even wild wolves would be a little nicer.

Lifting her flexed attitude up a little bit, Philos-Treit placed her legs on top of the red brick. An unpleasant sound from the spine, sounds.

Nor do I rely on my legs, which are usually supposed to support me without difficulty, all this time today. But a ruler is something you have to stand on your own legs at that time. At least, that's what she believes. My knee is paralyzed.

Phyllos-Treit let his lips pull up, and said:

"We've already settled. Shake the blade more than this, and what will it be?"

She carries on her words desperately, sounding like a twisted voice from the back of her throat.

"Roseau is one of the citizens I should be sheltering. If he has sinned, only Philos has the right to judge it. Imitation like just killing here is never allowed."

I was spit out trying to bite one at a time, words. That's never a word that came out of word play or bouncing things. Undisputed, it is the heart of Philose-Trait, and the insistence itself.

To her, Roseau is an indisputable rebel and a resentful enemy who dragged herself down from her ruling position. Because of his presence, she saw the end of hell.

Citizens spit on me, I was outraged, and my physical savings were destroyed. The humiliation that has made me paint my pride as a ruler on the earth is not something I can wipe away.

No one said anything because they resented him, but because they hated him, who disputed him? Rather, it should be the right human reaction to do so.

So, Philose-Trait, whom Roseau called the right man, is also perhaps not right somewhere.

"- Put the blade down, Alliance Rugis. His sins fall to me, the ruler. If you want to kill him, kill me first."

Phyllos-Treit sounded one voice in the moonlight. In those eyes is a vortex of correctness that she believes. She'll never let it go. That's when your own life falls zero from that finger.

Yeah, but I'm sure Roseau committed a sin. That's what you might call a traitor. But what happened to it?

He is a citizen, and I am the ruler. Citizens sin because the rulers were not impudent. If I had been able to satisfy all my citizens, this would not have happened.

- I mean, I couldn't save him.

So what Roseau did, Philose-Trait says, is ultimately in his place. Is there anything you can resent him for? Can he be clothed with all his sins?

After Philose-Trait's words, there was an instant blank. Such a bare gesture, like Rugis and that's how Roseau stopped breathing again. That's how the next word I got out was Roseau. A slightly dry voice.

"Ka, hahaha! - Did you hear that, enemy? She would be a good woman. I'm the only woman in a hurry. She didn't burn me out."

It's not like it contains something, it's just like laughing honestly, that. The air of the place, which had been full of tension until earlier, is lost as if the waves had drawn.

Rugis was nodding, as he responded to Roseau as Phyllos-Treit raised his eyes pompously, unable to cope with the transformation of the scene. On its cheeks, something like a little grin waves.

"Not at all. I almost fell in love. Give me a break, I already have someone to think about."