Because Janitor-san Is Not a Hero

Approximately the fifty-fifth day since the Caveman began to soak up the cave.

The collector stared at a single letter he himself had carved with a knife on the cave wall.

For comfort, I try to pin the nose tip of a warcraft similar to a snow leopard, with black speckles on white hair lying beside me.

It is surprising because this warcraft, which is as big as the Snow Leopard's adult beast already on Earth, is far from being an adult beast.

The warcraft with his nose poked slightly opened his gaze, and looked up dissatisfied at the incompetent, who had littered him. A long tail twice as long protests the body of the safekeeper with pessimism.

Wrap your tail around your face and back, let alone the neck of the collector.

Then the keeper scratched and stroked silently under the throat of the Warcraft.

Occasionally the Warcraft began to howl his throat like a cat at all places.

It's a ridiculous interaction at first sight, but it's the usual thing.

This encounter with the Warcraft, named Snow White (Yuki), was a while after the collector finally stepped outside the cave.

While I had to pull into the cave, the collector, glad I didn't have to think about the immediate food problem, was looking to be fully prepared.

It is not hard to imagine that the Japanese and others are powerless in a world where shipwrecks are not difficult and even dangerous when they go out now, and the collectors decide to devote themselves to the mastery of thick magic books. It was then also decided to improve basic health in tandem.

Even so, because the body is unlikely to be able to do so professionally, the center will still be magic technology.

It was so decided. The Caveman read and practiced obliquely while the light was shining slightly in the cave.

"Fire."

Stunned.

By the time I woke up with mild pain all over my body, the sun had already fallen. It didn't even look like I was checking my watch.

He cursorily pulled into the back of the cave and fell asleep with pain in the back of his body.

With the lesson that diagonal reading is kicken.

The next morning, as soon as I catch my eyes with the more limp air, I take the magic book.

Of course the lesson I had learned the night before was that the cold was creeping over.

Then the collector read from corner to corner, read it over again, and put it into practice again, chewing up the portable food removed from the rucksack, and doing what the table of contents, preamble, chapter and inhabitants of this world could teach when they were boys and girls.

"Little fire."

Now I fainted with the headache.

The textbook had no problems with fainting, pain, or headaches, and the collector used magic at will because it was supposed to be like fatigue or muscle aches.

As a result, he had not been able to articulate the will to be communicated as much as to chant, nor had he been able to further control and release his own magic. He was sucked up by every spirits in the air who mistakenly thought he could gain magic. And without any phenomenon, the collector passed out.

Speaking of magic, the surplus of human life is pooled, a term used when used as magic.

The collector was sucked at once, and even influenced the vitality used to maintain the existence of life. Besides, the body that felt at stake stunned it to force it to shut off the supply of magic to the outside world that the collector had allowed. And the body, mistakenly mistaken for not having enough vitality to maintain the status quo, seems to increase vitality more.

Although not recommended today, in ancient times it was the action of the hence collector, who wrote in the textbook that he had thus made himself aware of the presence of the Spirit in the air and of his own magic.

The collector faintly felt Nanica, similar to the invisible and untouchable plankton that sucks up magic, had arrived at the bait called magic with a hunglee like a park pigeon, and had passed out.

The treasurer rises up with a peel. Now I had pain and tinnitus in the back of my ear.

Looking at the watch, if it hadn't been a whole day, it would have been about three hours of stunning.

And also,

"Little red fire."

At the same time my heart ached cum, I passed out.

But still, I repeated the stun about ten more times since then, and when the spacing between the stuns was shorter, an enclosure moddle had been created in the middle of the room with soil dug in a rink, where a fist-huge red fire was proudly shaking.

It is the embodiment of the lowest level of fire sperm, which can be very common to the extent that residents of this world use it for boiling and cooking.

And the collector realized that a spirit is like a natural phenomenon that embodies itself half-automatically as long as it is given magic.

The first successful magic collector became more and more immersed in magic.

Wake up in the morning and look out for a change of mood, and practice fainting and toto magic.

Somehow the snowstorm stopped perfectly as the collectors lived those days.

It was when the wounds on the cave walls reached one hundred and eighty.

The collector was, as usual, waking up in the morning and breaking the soil lid he had applied to the entrance of the cave before the meal. After the successful embodying of the earth sperm, the lid was started to cover as much as possible before going to bed at night.

Although it was only enough to be called a lid.

The morning sun was illuminating the dawn. The collector narrows his eyes in dazzle.

It was the first direct sunlight in a while.

I can see face-to-face mountain skin with exceptionally better prospects at the tip of the blushing eyelid. Of the rocks plugged in by the morning sun, all these large rocks had warcraft sleeping like snow leopards, as usual.

When the Warcraft brings its sleigh and neck, you can see white hair without mixing from neck to abdomen. Overall, there are fewer black spots than snow leopards.

The grey golden eyes, staring jizzily at the collector from quite a distance, seemed to hold out the insistence that nothing would allow him to invade himself.

And just because I don't care about anything else, I immediately put him to sleep again as if nothing had happened.

It was so wild that it was dazzling to the collector.

During one hundred and eighty days, occasional snowstorms faded.

There was always this warcraft there when the zodiac peeked outside in the morning.

When I had my first eye, the keeper was stifling himself that he wouldn't be eaten to death, but when it lasted for a few or a dozen days, I realized he didn't feel that way about them. I may have been keeping an eye on the treasurer's trends.

Still, we never actually got close to each other.

There are theories, but warcraft means, according to the definition in the magic book, a beast that uses magic.

He said that its existence was a result of the fusion of other spirits into existing life essences and through generations, it became one seed that could be used by magic.

The essence of life is the spirit, the organism itself, the life force itself, which has only one in each tree, in the worm, and in man. It is also referred to as another 'heart brain'.

Broadly speaking, man was also a spirit and maybe a warcraft.

Any non-negotiable monster (monster) - the spirits degenerate and embody, for example by starving. It was a natural disaster and was different from the enemies of less creatures because they existed.

Not all Warcraft are negotiable, but there is no room for negotiation like monsters (monsters).

Silent and mutual non-interference was now built between warcraft like snow leopards and their keepers.

The collector didn't have the ability to attack, but it may be because of that.

I wasn't thinking about hunting that warm looking fur, either as a keeper or in this cold. Sometimes it was only a few, but I had finished securing the warmth, but I couldn't even think of the fine dust that was possible.

In such a non-interfering relationship, it is this warcraft that the possessor wants to see outside every morning, but it may have been a day of entertainment without ups and downs and a confirmation of the existence of others other than himself.

As we approached the presence we had been looking at, the collector decided today to go outside.

Then, at the same time as he made up his mind, one, shivering, but the collector just went back to his room to get his gaze out of the Warcraft and prepare to go outside.

Was the tremor, frightened of the outside world, or the samurai tremor, just cold again?

The collector did not give the answer.

Just go outside. That is all.