Because Janitor-san Is Not a Hero

The giant dyed red at sunset blocked the entrance to the cave, yet the whole thing was invisible.

The grey golden eyes stared into the eyes of Ji and Zao (Kurado).

The collector could not even distract his eyes.

An overwhelming fear ruled the treasurer.

It was not a creepy fear that arose in fright or malice against irrationality.

It was a mind that would naturally martyr itself to a great life beyond its own imagination.

The collector felt somewhere far away that he was holding such a heart together.

And convinced by it, the collector pulled out the strength of his body, looking back at his eyes.

Warcraft laughed with his nose.

It certainly was like that.

The tip of its nose pushes the caveman against the walls of the cave and creeps through the entrance to the cave.

The collector, sandwiched by walls and giants, buried without voice in unexpected softness, in a soft body like a kitten and black spotted white hair that seemed to bury everywhere.

It was when the Warcraft stuck his face in the deepest room that he finally realized that the walls of the cave had been expanded to match the Warcraft passing by.

After that, the only thing the collector could do was just drop him off.

My life was also a feeling I had left somewhere.

Soon the sunset had fallen and the Dark Fairy was drifting through the world.

The zodiac embodies the light sperm that began to be driven out by the dark sperm, illuminating the passage of the cave.

There were two holes facing each other about inside the aisle.

One is the entrance to the toilet and bathroom, where the collector magically created a trick and kept a lid during the one hundred and eighty days, and the other is a small room resembling the deepest room created by the Warcraft in an instant.

The collector can only laugh bitterly at the overwhelming difference in magic technology.

It was also comforting to think that I was about 180 days old in this world.

No, I guess it's still even a good idea to compare.

The warcraft that created the small room flew soundlessly beyond the darkness as they stepped out of the cave.

The appearance of a slight extension of the light of the Light Precision was like a giant Momonga.

The skin membrane between the forefoot and the posterior leg was widened wide and slipped away to dissolve in the mountain skin across the street from where I looked down.

The collector finds himself dizzy with too much fantasy.

I assumed on my own that he was a creature on the extension line of a snow leopard that looked very similar, albeit terribly long tail.

The Warcraft descends into the cave again without sound.

Wrap a chunk of ice around your tail and throw it straight into the newly made room.

And slipped away again.

I repeated that several times.

Concentrate and observe, he seemed to be gathering only a few wind sperms of the hon. Even so, it may be surprisingly desperate because it floats that giant in the air. I have no idea why it didn't jump and it's slippery.

People can't fly in the sky.

That doesn't seem to change this world either.

That is the principle. Even more so if it is at high altitude, there is little wind concentrate.

It is finally possible to fly with special tools and trained warcraft.

The collector was going back to his room and reading a magic book.

I am in a mood that I don't care anymore.

A leopard peek into the small room as he returns to the room calms down a number of ice and the whole room is somewhere white and limp. Animals that resembled deer and pigs or had never been seen were frozen and preserved.

It goes without saying that I decided not to see it and went back to my room. I don't feel secure as food myself. But I decided not to think about it.

Given the position of the rucksack, which also housed the deepest room that had returned, it seemed to be bigger than once, but that didn't matter to the collector anymore, he moved the rucksack to the corner of the room and opened the book on its back.

- Mi, mi, mi, mi, mi, mi.

The collector raised his face from the textbook to a ringing voice he could not hear.

It was that warcraft that slept gracefully in a giant on the true opposite side of the treasurer, but there was a kitten squeezing on its tail in front of its face and ringing.

I soon found out that my tail would still be this Warcraft child because of its unusually long length.

It is probably common sense that approaching a beast with children is suicidal.

The collector knew that, too, so he decided not to come near it for once. Though it was the collector who was approached.

The collector made one stretch that there was a lot going on today, but dropped his gaze on the textbook again.

Looking at the watch, it was going to be tomorrow already.

It is prudent to get the knife out and sharpen a letter tomorrow morning. He took out the knife and was alerted, and the collector lay down all the while he was marcassed.

Something fluffy wrapped around the shrug.

When the treasurer floated, unable to move as it had been in the gold bondage, he was buried fluffy.

Against the will of the collector, the light sperm scattered out so that the candle fire was extinguished.

Everything seems to be the work of the Warcraft.

Maybe Marcaziri. The Caveman managed to look at the Warcraft with only his neck, and his eyes seemed to glow only for a moment in the dark, but soon he couldn't see it either.

The tail remained wrapped around the limbs of the zodiac, but that's not to say cramped.

Is it because of that, I meditated my eyes without even resisting the drowsiness of being invited?

The collector fell asleep on a soft, warm bunk for the first time in a long time.