A Wish to Grab Happiness

Helt-Stanley. Fialert-la-Borgograd unwittingly narrows his lid as he waves a white blade as he opens his eyes to that gold, once even an alumni. Inside that skull, I was even a little proud. At the same time, a little loneliness.

When I was still at the college in the walled city of Galuamaria, Hert-Stanley didn't remember looking like that. Instead he could afford everywhere, always in a relaxed way, against the difficult things that everyone stops to do.

In that way, he said so saying that there was no choice if anyone was him, and that it was not something he could do for himself, he said so.

With its bottomless talent, the sun that makes everything fall asleep. That's the gold by the name of Hert-Stanley, its essence.

If you try to get close, your skin will burn, your eyes will rot, and your will will will crumble. So no one in the college put him in the same line as himself, nor did they chase him to his back.

That he, that sun, is now peeling his eyes and waving his sword all over him as he shows his teeth. He had sometimes broken muscles and sometimes bones to drive his body. There's only one thing at the end of my gaze.

Heroes of the crest, who, as such, once swore and cast that the fialert would make it golden - Rugis.

He who is the same ordinary as his undisputed self and who does not put his talent aside. The world, referring to him, would have put it that way when it was like lead or copper. I'm sure you've affirmed that you're not a very capable person. What an abomination, what a bug spit runs.

I will no longer let anyone speak those words. I won't allow you to behave like that.

I once swore an oath. It is your ideal itself, and if you let your body decay, but you let Rugis stretch his fingers to a hero, make sure he turns it into gold. That's the analogy, even rewriting the world.

That's why the sight of Rugis and Hert meshing and striking down now is a bliss for Fialert. He is his accomplice, and he who he casts is now standing together without a single step in front of that sun.

It's like things aren't what I once showed you at Gallu Amalia. In one act that night, whenever Hert cleaved the sky, Rugis spit out its flesh and blood.

With that body I still couldn't take off from mediocrity, I even risked my life on just one swing, fighting the white blade. I remember watching it with the thought of having my heart cut directly.

But not now. Now we're just fighting over that gold and its female male from the front. Everywhere noble, everywhere diligent. Just looking at it even brings a trance to my fialert. The cheeks loosened and the little lips also created a grin.

Oh, I'm so proud of you. He is my accomplice and the hero I have shaped. His own magic, which sat in him, undoubtedly conveys it. I don't care who does what to me anymore, that's the only thing that ever changes.

If I can, I want to keep staring at you all the time. How to behave. But that's rude to Rugis. Then isn't it as if you have some anxiety about him?

He trusted me, and that's how I trust him, too. Everywhere, everywhere.

Then what I do is not just blindly fall in love with the battle of Rugis, but don't let me put an impeccable cross spear in there.

Tight as if the black eye of the fialert had frozen, staring at it in front of you.

A golden hair that is brilliant but doesn't lose its object. Both eyes, staring at this one with an indisputable light of will gleaming. Arueno, the Virgin, was there with a beauty that even seemed sharp.

"Words like that that refer to abusive people are out of your mind. But I'm not going to behave unjustly as a Virgin."

In response to the words of the fialert, Arueno blinks its eyes and waves its lips.

The movement is no different from what I once saw, and even one fingertip behavior is sharpened and refined. The facial expressions and voices also make you feel something graceful. It was exactly what I heard and thought of as the Virgin.

But its appearance and voice make it rather push unspeakable anxiety into the cranium of the fialert. From the bottom of his heel, something like a fearless fear eroded his whole body.

The way it is in itself may be so when it comes to the fact that time has passed somewhat more than before and that the behavior has come closer to the Virgin.

But only the quality that makes up that voice, except. The indisputable heterogeneity itself.

It's no longer a place to tangle and take your ears, but it's going to reach straight to the cerebral cord, voice. Beautiful, very indescribable with that stuff. So much so that I suspect it really belongs to a human being. My eyes were unwittingly distorted.

I used to say make it sound like a voice. Make it an atmosphere, something a little more human seeping out. Now it's like nothing like that, there wasn't.

Spit slipped loosely down Fialert's throat. Strong toe of foot, stitched to ground.

"Yes. Then like the moon and the trees, I'd be glad to be standing still here."

Like eating the words of a fialert, Arueno said.

"It will not be the behavior of the Virgin. The Virgin should be the hand of salvation, and if there is one to be saved, I will lay my hands on the mud."

Then again, the fialert shrugged in his chest, even though it would still not be of a very manly nature.

The fold we exchanged words in Belfein, too, was. Neither the voice of the lord Mordeaux nor the words of Karia have bounced off to speak of their will, and Arueno has behaved in such a way as to retreat against himself that he had the power to blow it up.

Not very much, but Arueno didn't look like the serene personality imagined when he heard of the Virgin. Rather, I do not hesitate to do whatever it is to penetrate my will.

Makes you even feel harsh ego somewhere resembling Rugis, that kind of guy. Fialert widens his sight as he puts his strength at his fingertips.

During a slight exchange, Arueno was a relaxed one, but the diocesan knights who suppressed its left and right were different. He pierces the fialert with eyes that make him feel sharp as he prepares his sword and shield in both hands while he blinks.

Perhaps it is also clear that this one is a magician, Fialert thinks. From the shield protruded before, I felt a little hard to get close to. It's like disgust, so to speak.

I guess it's a demon-resistant shield. It would be nothing from a normal human being, but from demon-savvy classes like magicians, wizards, and sorcerers, I even feel uncomfortable about being able to tighten my skin just by including it in my sight.

Anyway, only that part of the magic that is supposed to be full of the world is removed and exposed as it is. How disgusting. Only then do we know very well that the shields they hold were created to play magic and magic and fly them.

However, Fialert waved her fingertips just as if she was out of sight. As if it were a mild, natural behavior.

Antimagic techniques, etc. were conceived for existing forms of witchcraft. Even though it pays for demonization, it doesn't bring together resistance to things outside its boundaries, etc.

So that's what Rugis said you'd be like breaking paper. For Fialert, if that's what Rugis told you, you can't even doubt it. It is true, and the world is more wrong if that word is incorrect.

Therefore, with ease enough to cut thin paper, Fialert plays magic from his mouth. Turning the world upside down, forcing it to rewrite.

Black eyes, let's shake. All that time, the world existed beneath its black and changed its appearance in the black.

"I'm sorry."

Yes, the fingertips draw letters in hollow as the lips of the fialert speak. The eyes of the Cathedral Knight only shook for a moment, which seemed like a fiire alert. The knight on the right is waving his sword over here. In a few more moments, the blade will pierce its own skull.

But before that, for a moment. The world is frozen. No sound, no appearance of something being torn, not a drop of blood flowing.

But it was all over. The cathedral knight on the left and right does not move himself as if he had frozen, he cannot breathe or even feel a blink. He solidified his figure like a sculpture while still dressed with his sword raised.

They're not alive anymore. No, I'm not dead just because I can't move, but it would still be something similar. Only its flesh has frozen, and its soul remains alive. So the flesh did not decay, and without even giving them one of the whimpers, they stopped at that time.

Is it dead or alive? That is at the behest of those who call. Fialert moves his lips as he pays his fingertips.

"- I won't let you get in the way of Rugis. Because I'm his accomplice."

With that being the case, the black eyes were no longer the only girl called the Virgin, who had seen them. There's a trance grin on his cheeks, and magic shakes all over his body.

The Virgin was waving her lips small when she saw a magician standing in front of her.