Traveling at night was dangerous, so we were to spend the night in the countryside where we stopped today.
There are too many evacuees, the inn is full everywhere, carriages of carriages and many humans who choose wild accommodation.
In the meantime, the Milkits were able to sleep safely in bed by arrangement of a reach.
Although the farmer said it wasn't the inn he was staying at, it was someone he knew.
I guess I was tired from the unfamiliar carriage move, Ink and Halom slept early, and Milkit slept about two hours before the date changed.
"Oh, my God!
Keraina rushes into a room where those three snuggle up to sleep.
To that loud voice, Milkit woke up with her eyes rubbed, "What's wrong?" He asked back in a distracted voice.
Late, Ink and Halom also wake up.
"Outside, the Wang du... oh, I don't know what to say, but it's tough anyway!
Based on Keraina's condition, there was no doubt that something unusual was happening.
You mean something happened to Fram - Milkit jumps out of the room as he gets out of bed first.
And he stood outside barefoot, looking in the direction of the king's capital.
"That's..."
Milkit complains.
An even more gigantic monster than the baby that Flam fought for grows only from the ground up.
Its stomach is puffy and swollen, and it has enveloped the king's capital in a dome.
And he was gently stroking his belly with his palm, as if he were a mother who loved my child.
"No way, that's what someone named Mother was trying to create...?
I can't see anything from the outside about what's going on inside.
Even if it exists or has disappeared.
"Your husband..."
Mill kit with power out of your body and on your knees.
There were as many other worries as there were, but anyway, her head was full of flams.
"Ahhh... ahhh, your husband ahhh!
"Hey, hey, Milkit!
Keraina, who came out of the house, suddenly strapped her wings off a running mill kit.
"Where are you going?!?
"Because, my lord, I'm in there!
"So there's no way I'm gonna make it to running now!
"So, still!
I didn't want to be able to do anything.
I just can't believe I can't even rush to the Lord's crisis, even though it's so painful and painful that I'm going to be separated and my heart is going to be torn apart.
"Your husband. Ah!
Milkit keeps calling even.
The voice echoed into the dark night sky, but never reached the flam.
◇ ◇ ◇
The world of men is, after all, a push of preference.
Compassion, care, love, lust, that or this and we are independent creatures no matter where we go.
And if I bump into you, someone will fold, I'll be patient.
A man who arrogantly reaches the top of the food chain is the winner.
Throw away the shame.
It's a human victory for exposing desire.
Then isn't it the bad guy who should be the true winner?
"I'm Mike Smithy."
As you can see.
Meet.
Give up.
So they kid.
It degenerates into an individual named Mike Smithy and floats and hatches.
"That's how I've lived my life."
I'm not walking.
But Natsuri did.
It's in the cocoon.
A warm, red, very comfortable colony.
I call it a broad womb.
A place to raise children, possibly the most like it in the sense.
i.e. an assimilation mechanism, a gift.
Injection of memory.
Concordance of consciousness.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa."
Once the final process is complete, go to the top.
The tube stretches, captures the cocoon, and injects the coagulant.
Degenerate the flesh.
A cocoon that cracks like an egg.
From above Wang Du with the mucus. It falls and is beaten to pieces.
I got up. It was a baby.
The outer shell and appearance seem to have shrunk as-is, but there are three meters loosely.
"I'm Mike Smithy."
If the spirit and flesh are identical, he is no longer the complete Mike Smithy.
◇ ◇ ◇
So the correctness was that everything was going to be me.
It is my duty to suffer to understand why I do not admit mistakes as mistakes.
I have no choice.
Sensory organs, in the case of so-called ear-to-ear mating, it is the communication of a person that occurs.
It is important to overlap with guts.
"No."
But what should we do to a child who does that kind of waste?
I deplore the difficulty of parenting.
"It's not."
But to tell is Mike Smithy.
We are in the same place.
There was a reason to connect.
This is a sea filled with water of life, in a cocoon braided with blood vessels, that is, in a pseudo-uterus.
Or balloons.
Or cells.
Rather, there is no reason not to connect.
And yet why, why, you are.
Only you.
'Sympathy is your skill, isn't it? Then sympathize with me, or you can empathize with me. "
"I don't like it, I don't like it, I don't like it!
"What's the difference? What's so different about me from them you've been reaching out to?
Still, she refused.
So he speaks.
It's a recap, an imprint.
"Don't waste your life badly, let's get it right fast"
It is the capital of the king, where the night does not dawn.
The streets surrounded by wombs are dimly illuminated by skin tone.
It's like, from beyond your closed eyelids, the light of the sun that illuminates your eyes.
Countless red balloons float in light and darkness in this place that refuses to morning.
Let us call them cocoons.
Empathy, proliferation, and connection.
Or is the floating logic spinning?
Anyway, she (he) was a childrens.
Mother named herself Mother to the child she gave birth to, and finally became Mother.
Be a happy child at the same time.
That's the daily actuarial Mike Smithy has been spending.
"I wish I hadn't had you."
My mother used to spit out a malicious dialogue to me like I'd heard anywhere else.
Whores at the end of the day earned their daily support, so they had no way to earn money for abortion.
He was an unwanted child.
I tried to throw it away many times, but each time someone blamed me, so the existence of me for her was probably like a curse.
Or could I (Mike) even invert the curse if I (Flam) were me?
But don't worry, I'm you, you're me, so I'm me.
melt together recently,
"Don't come, don't come!
It's Flam Apricot, or Mike Smithy's,
"Ku, don't come...... Huh!
It's by Fram Apricot (Mike Smithy),
"Wow, I'm... but it's me!
It becomes one memory.
Add a tube, connect it to the esophagus, and pour it loose.
It doesn't matter what her will is to peel her eyes off.
Because she's me.
"I wish I had been at least a woman to sell"
My mother also said that.
Think about it, maybe that word triggered it.
When I was about five years old, I appeared before my mother dressed as a woman, as I was in the mood of my mother.
Use your makeup tools on your own, and the dresses - tickle the dresses of the dead whores, and clean them.
said my mother.
"Disgusting"
And beat me up.
"Don't dress like that in my face"
I hit him many times.
"Don't Show My Reality"
Crying didn't stop her.
Instead, my tears are like stimulants to my mother, rather they only become escalating factors.
But there's no such thing as a child who yells “don't cry” and stops crying.
I couldn't possibly not cry.
On several occasions, I've stuck my head in a water bucket and nearly got killed.
That's like a means of relieving stress for my mother, and I guess she wasn't seriously trying to take her life.
But it's fear to me young.
Fear wants to share.
Fear is the most understandable sympathy.
Sympathy, your little connection (Tsunagari) makes you my child and makes you me.
Let's get started.
Of course, I (Flam), who grew up in such a situation, did not receive a school education.
I stumbled across it in the alley, a dirty book in muddy water.
That was all I had in my world.
If only I could read and write, I would be able to earn a little money, that's what I learned in self-study, but my mother didn't have that much intelligence.
Young I noticed then.
Oh, this guy's incompetent, he said.
Then it gets so much easier.
Because you don't have to expect it to get better.
Poor, rather pathetic, I have, for the first time, succeeded in having a childish affection for my mother.
That seems to have made me unnecessarily creepy, and the violence escalated.
But I was fine.
Even the violence seemed loving, so I remember the mazo-histic joy as my mother flushed me, and I've done it gasping.
I don't like that, if you think about it, because she's my mother. Maybe she was a mazohist, not a sadist, then maybe I should have hit her in return, etc., but it's too late now.
The room we lived in burned.
When I was thirteen.
A desperate neighbor whore burned herself to death and the entire dilapidated apartment burned down in the form of being caught up in it.
My mother burned it too.
Leaning on the black burnt corpse, I speak with my mouth close to the (seemingly) area of its ear.
Did the pain of burning your skin make you feel good?
If my mother says she's a mazohist, I'm sure she enjoyed ecstasy.
And I licked her skin with pepper.
Delicious.
It was funny, sad and very tasty to wonder if my mother, who had been bitter, stinky and so abusive to me, had turned out so miserable.
It was then that I learned the taste of people's meat.
Someone stops me as I hold onto one or two more bites.
I'm sure my mother is dead and confused.
Thanks to such a convenient interpretation (for me), I was able to be a poor victim.
Protected and taken away is the Church.
Before my mother died, I had been decapitated.
I don't know if you tried to kill yourself.
The motive was unknown, and if you noticed, the knife was hitting your neck, and the meat was torn.
I took care of the church nuns then and thought that robe would surely be very cute if I wore it.
And
"... Huh, Gu... is... keho, koho...!
The flam bites off the tube.
It's very surprising that such power remains, to refuse because it still has the power to flow through your body?
And in an attempt to pull through the soul eater, his hands were tied up on the tentacles stretched out.
Still stare.
I don't even know where he is, of his voice - no, I don't know if I should call him voice, but the one that pushes the unpleasant “something” (...).
"Interested, not. Your... past, I don't care... no!
"Oh, my God, aren't you sympathetic? You saved ink, you tried to mourn mutt and Luke's body. And yet it's just me, you're out of company?
"No... don't look at the victim like you're the perpetrator! If it weren't for you, everyone... those kids who only lived eight years, they'd never die! You and those kids are totally different!
'No, you didn't,' cause you killed a lot of them. That's what those kids did on their own. Me and those kids are the same, they're the perpetrators. "
"Don't say anything white about Teng himself who took the choice and made you do that!
Flam cries at Kichan.
Shut up.
Very hard of hearing.
So stretch the tube and rotate the tip.
Jiuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
"Ahh."
Drill holes and perforate.
"Oh, shit...!
Keep your mouth open, crackling and trembling flam.
Still sinks.
Immediately contact the brain and pour (repeatedly ask) more fluid than the tip.
"Ha-ha-ha, ha, ha... Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha...
Hey, Flam Apricot.
Hey, Mike Smithy.
Hey | Mike Smithy.
You're Mother.
Let's assimilate.
Let's empathize.
"Heh, but... uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!
The moon and day flow.
The days I learned in church.
Meet Origin Core.
Draft childrens plan.
First generation - failure.
Through setbacks, misery, I will be strong again.
The second generation - although better than the first, fails.
But I needed to be the ideal mother.
Because you couldn't have been my mother.
"- Nah, to... it"
Basics.
Ultimately, it also becomes a wall.
It was very convenient.
I'm the only one stopping by.
Ink was unexpected in that sense, but nothing particularly wrong with where the first generation left off.
I rather laugh at the fact that there are people desperate for that.
It's not worth it.
Then, using the collected data, we embarked on the creation of a third generation.
"Mi, guys, your... ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh... mother, ooh, ooh!
I wanted to be a mother.
That's to deny that defective mother who gave birth to me.
I wanted to be a child.
That's to override the bitter and unkind childhood I've had.
Childrens for that.
Childrens for that only (...).
The price was huge.
But I finally made it.
"... and no...! You, are... nothing, accomplished, and... oh my...!
'Yes... oh sure, I know exactly why Origin treats you special. I don't know if I've been missed because I can hear voices like that. Then...'
It pierced the arm of the flam, its particularly meaty and seemingly delicious part.
And pour it in.
"Higiuuuuu!
Pulsed with donuts, cloudy liquid flows in with memory.
As assimilation progresses, it becomes a child, the cocoon rises and is swallowed.
So I stabbed him again.
Next, flank,
"But..."
thighs,
"Gigi, gigigi"
Cheeks, forehead, neck, navel, calf, chest, shoulders...
"Ahhhhhhhhh!
"Poor thing."
I (she) thinks.
"I would have made it easier sooner if I hadn't had that power."
◇ ◇ ◇
Satooki, out on the balcony of the royal castle, sighed when he saw the sight.
"That's a bad taste at all."
"I agree. Wow. In a way, it looks like an Origin. It's messy. Most of all, it's not cute."
Echidna, standing next to him, also looks unpleasant and says away.
A tremendously red net strewn over the surface.
A red cocoon created with it as a yarn.
The cocoon rises with the progression of “assimilation," or “empathy," contacting the lining (...) at the same time that the contents completely turn into Mike Smithy.
Then a purple tube stretched from the mucous membrane, pierced it and poured a large amount of mucus into the interior.
When completed, the color changes to purple even more.
Ha, and from the inside of it, something of the skin tone was laid off.
And I can beat him to the ground.
Bloody, the baby rose and began to wander the king's capital.
"It's also troubling for the Church, Necromancy, anyway, where we have invested our budget in this kind of research, we should be able to operate it as a weapon, etc."
"They are blind and sweet against Origin. Mothers, and to be children, give birth to themselves, and others dye themselves too - except for the motive of dissolving their own complex, what Mothers are doing is closest to Origin's idea. Wow."
"So you're saying that Kimyra was more heretical"
Both the Pope and the King were so heartbroken with Origin that they were happy to give their own lives.
A by-product of research - if they knew about the existence of a blocking mechanism that shuts out Origin's will, they would have rather disputed it.
“Why reject the great Origin",.
"Speaking of which, it seems the Grand General is angry again."
"Oh, I didn't tell you the details."
"You'll be betrayed, won't you?
"But she would have stopped if she talked, I just told her what she needed"
"Can you trust me?
"There's no problem. Neither she nor I can brace the point that“ I love humanity ”. There's just a difference in how many sacrifices we can tolerate."
Satuki looks over the king's capital once again.
It's not like it doesn't break my heart to see that changed by childrens.
But...
"We need pain to get rid of the contaminated puppets and for this country to change. As long as we survive the minimum number of personnel we need, we don't care what happens next. Of course, you've rescued Slough, haven't you?
"That's natural. I'm unconscious now, but I'm resting in the castle. Wow."
"Are you saying there are no problems with Kimyra's activities in the area?"
"Hehe, if there's a problem there, we're not safe either. The blocking mechanism is the application of Kimaira technology."
"Then there's nothing to show you, all you have to do is watch and watch them win"
"That's where you're most worried."
Echidna puts her hand on her lips and looks down on the ground with her side.
Her gaze captured her running around alone in a grotesque sight.
"Oh, that's the thing (...)"
◇ ◇ ◇
"Ha, ha, ha..."
Only one man drives through the changed king's capital.
If you're going to say this is what you planned too, maybe you don't need to reach out.
Maybe no one needs her help or anything.
But - I couldn't let it go.
I'm sure they'll all laugh “halfway there”.
I don't really understand it myself.
I don't know what you want to do, what you're trying to do, where you want to go...
"Ha, ha, ha..."
Stop.
Bujru, and blood overflowed from under the mask.
She looks up at the cocoon floating in front of her, shaking her body at that unpleasant sensation she is still unfamiliar with.
Its color and altitude vary depending on the degree of mental contamination.
Translucent thin red at first, but gradually darker and eventually closer to purple.
"What do you look like?"
I couldn't discover Linus.
I wanted to save him if I could, too, but in those places, not solving the problem of not turning down the roots.
So Maria stands in front of Cyril's cocoon, visibly slow polluting progression, whether it's because she's unconscious or whether it's also “the nature of the brave".
And put your hands together,
"Judgment"
tore the fibers that wrapped her with the sword of light.
The transparent liquid, which is the contents, is punctured, and the dirty Cyrillic body falls to the ground in various places.
The smell of raw odor spread around.
Due to minor contamination progression, injuries caused by the destruction of the cocoon are also minor.
However, lacerations were confirmed in several parts of the hands and feet.
When Maria stands beside Cyril, she heals that wound with healing magic.
"Mm... mmm... eh"
Then she slowly opened her eyes as she raised her bitter voice.
That vision stares at the woman in the mask.
Kirill, distancing himself with a quick move, pulled out his sword immediately and set up.
"Maria! How did you get here!?
"I'm here to help."
"Huh...?
"Look around, not if you're hostile now"
Cyril looking around, as they say.
In pulsating red tubes strewn out on the ground, countless cocoons rising, and red and black skies.
Everywhere I take it, I open my eyes.
"Hey, what... this. What about Flam? What about Eterna? Gadio or Linus. Ha!?
"It's just me and you who can move, and if you don't defeat Mother soon, everyone else will look the same as that (...)"
Maria pointed to it, now exactly, rising to the ceiling.
Stretching tube, unknown substance to be poured in.
And the human in it changes, the eggs crack, and the giant baby falls out of the sky.
"Ugh... Ugh..."
Cyril shakes her neck in small pieces to deny the sight in front of her.
But doing that never changed the reality.
"You want to save Mr. Flam, don't you?
Towards her frightened, Maria says away in a cold voice.
Cyril nodded - silently.
You can't trust Maria, but the fact is that the Flams are in crisis.
Now, I just had to take her hand.
"So let's go"
"... ok"
The risen Cyril makes other epic gear manifest as well as swords.
White hands, white armor, white greaves, blue cloaks and an embedded circlet of gems on the forehead.
Only she looked like a brave woman, but her eyes were still shaking anxiously before an unimaginable situation.