Do You Think Someone Like You Can Defeat the Demon King?

Crosswell's anger was meant to be directed at Origin.

But because there was no object, I decided to hit Cyril with my thoughts of no place to go.

Whether they say eight hits, or curse him as unreasonable, but that's about it anymore, because there was only so much left to form in his life.

In front of such a crosswell, Origin stands.

No - I am now something else that has only been cut out for vengeance by the power of "dreams," but the thoughts that dwell in its breasts are not much different from the real Crosswell.

Standing.

It exists.

I mean - I can kill you.

"I think you are a very good person... as a vengeful opponent."

The act, such as exploiting the power of Origin, who killed Kina, albeit fake, is an outward route everywhere from Crosswell's point of view, and it is possible that Cyril himself attempted such harassment.

But my gratitude to her outweighs my discomfort.

Revenge, which should have been packed, is to be served here.

The shaken battle axe then moreover deforms, waves, and turns into a sharp, pointy, killing thing.

Crosswell slammed it full of strength.

The moment the axe touched Cyril - the wind would have blown and the meat would have splashed, making noise in the eyes and ears around.

But the reality was something quiet. It is as if time has stopped.

"Ha, so far -"

Cyril had taken the blade with only two fingers.

Kirill Sweetika!

As she silently puts her strength into those fingers, the axe distorts, cracks, and finally crushes and scatters.

Originally because it was his own body, Crosswell warped his face a little painfully, but quickly changed the shape of his arm to a sword and approached Cyril.

"But my“ to fulfill ”doesn't change."

Sharp spikes.

Cyril pokes her fist out gently and hits it from the front.

The sword was crooked and crushed, and its impact extended to Crosswell himself.

Out of balance, yet he sticks his deformed left arm forward into the sword.

Cyril grabbed and squeezed that blade aimed at her chest before it hit her.

And I'm gonna rip every arm off as it is--

"... intent on returning the meaning, dammit"

Throwing down a thousand severed arms, Cyril kicks his loud face with a quick high kick.

With a quick, smart, never flashy blow, Crosswell's head disappeared without a trace.

In Cyril before using the core, the target could not even be scratched.

Cyrillic status averages over 80,000 when using Brave Rivalette.

It may not be enough compared to a flam, but it's still a level of ability that you can call “strongest” and not support.

However, the status of Cyril using Spiral Brave is tripled further (...) from there.

--------------------

S. Coffin lures ORIGIN

Attribute: Bravery/Original

Strength: 248891

Demon Lyo: 253162

intact: 243719

Anti-: 2588667

Not Available: 241022

--------------------

First of all, I was stunned by Cyril's ugly appearance, and fewer villagers inadvertently activated the “scan”.

And when you look at the numbers, you're even more surprised.

Chocolate was one of them when he dragged his heavy body and finally caught up with Cyril.

"Is that... a senior...?

Of course, I think 'disgusting' the moment I see that swirling face.

But - soon, that feeling turns into respect for Cyril.

"When you say you're not a brave man or something... that's what you can do. Seniors."

Or maybe I can say it's frightening.

What is “normal” about it?

Pointing it out, she'll deny it, but Chocolate can't help but think.

There is no doubt that Cyril now has a much stronger heart than a normal human being.

"There's no point in the body of meat. There's no point in me being me either. Still more than defined, I will stay here as I am until my magic runs out '

Both Crosswell's arms and head instantly regenerate and get back to normal.

'I mean, a root comparison until one of them is finished. Cyril Sweetica, I wonder how far your impotence will last?

Unwilling Cyril does not answer.

He reacted to a crosswell just trying to reach out and waved his sword vertically at an invisible rate.

The space breaks down.

When the scenery only slipped for a moment, Crosswell's body also became two straight.

The wild horse behind him was also about to get involved, but it seemed like Cyril's will, another coincidence, just had to cut the hem of his clothes.

The broken crosswell returned to its original appearance, however.

From frustration, Cyrillic vortex is full of pulsating blood.

"Alter Ego"

When she murmured so with an unchallenged voice, she created a seven-body split.

The split surrounds the crosswell, each piercing a different area.

"Spread"

Countless needles came out of the blade buried in his body.

The needle further divides its tip into multiple pieces, and when its tip branches into multiple pieces, it fills the target's body with a blade as if it were rooting.

Eventually, the little man's body won't be able to hold it, breaking through his skin and sticking it out onto the surface.

'It's a trivial thing... regeneration, etc., for me now.' Cause it's more like having no entity than the original. '

A crosswell covered with needles all over its body, but when its body is discarded, it is immediately reconstituted (...) directly beside it.

As he put it, the properties of that flesh are not “touching no other than Cyrillic blood relatives”, but "touching only Cyrillic blood relatives” I guess.

For the untouchable majority, only three can be touched.

In that sense, he can now be said to be “close to having unlimited entities non-existent”.

The magic cost required for physical regeneration is therefore very small.

Whatever, it was about as drained as it was when I was meeting with Cyril.

"If my calculations are correct, it's faster for you to run out than me -"

Still, Cyril doesn't try to hear Crosswell.

Is it intentional, or is it not through?

Either way, even if Cyril was sane, he wouldn't have tried to fit that bullshit in.

The splinters are slashed into crosswells on each side, slicing their bodies into thin pieces.

Play it right after though.

Dust the flesh with a blaster from zero distance.

Play it right after though.

Slash off your hands and feet and launch your floating body to heavenly heights with your knees.

Cyril himself from the ground and Blaster's indiscriminate shooting by the Splits - and regeneration.

Indiscriminate shooting, regeneration, indiscriminate shooting, regeneration, multiple, dozens of repetitions, and yet a grin in the mouth of Crosswell.

"Alter Ego Seven Swords"

The identities in Cyrillic form into swords the size of men.

The swords flew towards the crosswell in the air as she shook up her arms.

If the blade is plundered, the flesh is decided, and if it is pierced, the body is slipped through.

If the seven blades pierced each one, the man's body, now he stops over his head.

The blade turning toward heaven twirled and set its aim on earth.

Cyril, on the other hand, who stands on earth, is also reaching for heaven in some way.

"Still won't spare me letting it out? You're an entertainer. '

And between the sky and the earth, there is only a crosswell.

"Satellite"

When Cyril said so - the sword of heaven blew the light.

Belts and bands overlap, and the “pillars” of light fall.

Although Crosswell tried to cross his arms to try, that didn't work enough to be called defense.

At the stage before it touches the light, it burns to its high heat, rots, melts - and if it actually touches it, it can no longer only evaporate.

Schwah, and as the small droplets left in the pan disappear, Crosswell swallows into the light and disappears.

But there's still his presence.

"Reflection. Continue, Alter Ego Reflector"

If the pillars burned the earth, they would not have been safe with the villagers.

So Cyril took it with his raised hand, a field of transparency that unfolded from there.

And light reflects and diffuses.

The sword, which has just released “satire” on the sky, deforms again, even as it red-heats its blade.

Next is the shape of a "shield” embedded with a mirror on the surface.

As the shields move around quickly, they receive the rays of light reflected by the Cyrillics on the ground, in their mirrors.

The seven mirrors do not allow even a single muscle of that light to escape.

In other words - the regenerated crosswell in its center is pierced by countless lights and burned through without extra body.

"Ha, are you even showing me Planetarium?

A crosswell to show you more room.

His flesh regenerates from the burnt tip.

It seems to “project” itself into this world rather than healing.

For example, it makes no sense if you don't erase a large book.

But perhaps - the great book does not exist within Cyril's reach.

It's not a matter of distance, but as a concept, perhaps the only thing that can interfere with it in this world is a flam that can reverse "yes” and “no” in disregard of reason.

The light continued to burn the crosswell to its limits.

I should have used the most efficient method to do all I could with Cyril's magic and earn the "number of deaths”.

Still, frustratingly, he doesn't disappear.

The reflection of light is not infinite, but eventually weakens slightly.

When it was no longer even possible to pierce Crosswell's body, the shields stopped reflecting and gathered over his head again.

"Alter Ego - Ragnarok"

The shield assimilates into one and becomes one divine sword.

It's guided by gravity and falls, piercing through Crosswell's back, Zudo Wong! and d flashly pierced the ground.

Both the villagers and Cyril's parents tremble and marvel at their shoulders as if they had also landed a cannon.

"It was an interesting show, Cyril Sweetica."

But Crosswell escapes and rises from the blade as if nothing had happened.

But he just laughed at Nitanita and didn't try to attack Cyril.

Crosswell himself, I know a hundred things that can't beat Cyril right now.

That's why I wasn't trying to get my hands on her anymore.

I mean, to each other (...), just no use attacking.

The current state of war has been such a barren state.

But on the other hand, he is intelligent, even though he was ruled by hatred.

That even if we wait like this, Fram Apricot will be here soon.

In that case, the ability to invert, such as Crosswell, would erase the very existence.

What matters to Crosswell is how to kill his parents in front of Cyril Sweetika.

And how to prune her neck sinking into despair.

But this situation, it no longer seemed difficult to kill Cyril himself in Crosswell.

Then what is the minimum (...) revenge he can fulfill.

And what should be done to make the most of that minimum?

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu - whenever Cyril waves his sword, blood is spit out of the vortex.

Crosswell was able to immerse herself in pleasure just by looking at the villagers who would be close to her blues when she saw it and her frightened parents.

Regardless, that can't be enough, so he moves closer to Cyril's parents as he flutters.

Kirill chopped him up with his sword.

Crosswell retreating with repeated destruction and regeneration.

I'm not kidding, that degree of movement was the limit to him now that he is deprived of resources for regeneration.

And if we keep getting closer to the villagers, if Cyril has lost his current reason, why don't you get involved in the fight and kill me - I was hoping so.

Of course Crosswell understands that it is a clever, outrageous, ugly ploy, but such pride is pointless before vengeance.

Most importantly, it would be bigger than the heartbreak she would suffer if she let Cyril kill her than if she put it in her own hands.

Imagine, distorted red mouth.

Cyril was mindless and finely chopping him like that, but when he put his hand up to the pretend,

"You..."

He uttered his voice in people's words and eagled his face.

"He's boring."

To squeeze it out, Cyril says so with the slightest remaining reason.

I guess she's angry because she realizes what Crosswell's up to.

"Need some fun for revenge? The important thing is, can you kill him or not? There's no point in any other outcome '

If I wanted to, I could deform my face and escape.

But Crosswell doesn't.

If it's going to be destroyed anyway, then it's faster to regenerate it afterwards, and most importantly because the attack can exhaust the other person's mind by finishing on foot.

Now crush it.

Try crushing your face with hatred.

And you can't kill me if you kill me. Bite my umbilical cord in front.

So silently provoking Crosswell, Cyril...

"Soul bound"

He sealed his movements with a twisted twist from his feet.

Origin's power twists the twist and tightens the crosswell's foot even harder.

"Did you seal your movements, but-"

"What... is that, something that... doesn't stop," he said?

"I can't move... is this even stopping the magic flow"

It's also the first magic I've ever used for Cyril, but nature and magic come to mind if I want 'to stop him'.

Fortunately, the existence of rare attributes that seal magic had only been heard from Eterna.

So it wasn't that hard to get to the idea.

Crosswell's flesh today is magic itself, so to speak.

In other words, deformation is impossible once the flow of magic is stopped.

"You're a bully to make, the existence of a brave man"

"Ha... ha..."

Cyril's breathing is disturbed.

It does not come from the depletion of health, but from the difficulty of preserving oneself in the voice of Origin, which fills the brain.

In fact, now that the origins don't exist, that's just noise imitated.

But there is still a will to kill all mankind.

'But you seem to be close to the limit. Say temporarily. Is that something like a brave man who was able to regain himself enough to utter a man's words? But how far can you keep that? If they take over completely, won't even the will to kill me disappear?

"It won't go away... if it's this distance, I'll kill you right in front of me...!

As an indication of his will, Cyril pulled Crosswell's face off with only a grip.

Then he pierces the sword he holds with his other hand into the head where he lost his face and burns it down with a blaster from zero distance.

Crosswell, blown up from his neck, tried to regenerate his head immediately, but was stopped by a scratch wrapped around his wound.

'Oh, that was a shame. If you hadn't enjoyed your escape, you'd have accomplished your purpose.'

Flat as his head is gone, Crosswell utters words.

More than his ex, his voice may have been different from the concept of “sound”.

"I nodded my tongue, and... I can't believe I let you get away with it... ha, ah... dying, it's so cool...!

'Not at all, not even like me. I can't protect Kina, I can't kill you, I can't even throw away my possessions. That's exactly what I'm talking about. "

"Then, before I dirty you any more, I'll..."

Cut off your arms.

The pigeon is entangled.

I still don't play it.

He also severed his leg.

Incinerate with a blaster just in case your arms and feet are cut off.

Stick a blade in the remaining torso as well and nail Crosswell's body to the ground.

All you have to do is cook him with a blaster, and he'll be completely dead.

Cyril's movements stopped there as the villagers, his parents, and Chocolate watched breathlessly.

It becomes only the torso, and the blood spitting out of her vortex falls bumpy on the body of Crosswell, where all it takes is to twist herself.

'Well, didn't you kill me before you exposed yourself to any more ugliness?

"Ha... ugh..."

'Or are you anxious? After killing me like this and losing my target, I was wondering if Origin, who lived in me, would stop killing all the villagers.'

"Ugh... ha..."

'I think so, too. Its origin-core base is only "the villagers' imagination”. They don't know the complicated circumstances surrounding Origin. For them, therefore, origins are only present to the extent of 'evil that destroys mankind'. That is, dwelling in its core is a cluttered artifact that resembles an Origin - unlimited close to it - but that has abolished weaknesses such as "weakness in willingness to think of people”, just dwelling on willingness to kill people. That's why, after you kill me, you definitely kill the villagers. Kill your own family, your juniors, all of them. So as it stands, I'm trying to wait for Fram Apricot to arrive. Didn't I? '

"Pepper and...!

'Find a gap (...). The point is, "buy some time."

Time, and gaps - from words that don't make sense, Cyril sensed Crosswell's intentions one second later.

In that second, he stretches a part of his body out of the “gap” of his soul bind and digs on the ground.

But it is never a physical (...) gap.

It is certainly the magic that makes up the flesh of Crosswell.

If I tell you, it's like moisture in a human place.

But not all (...).

So if you even get the hang of it, you can manipulate things like that, other than magic, souls, memories quoted from acacic records, and deform parts of your flesh.

And when he points the tip of the deformed flesh like a needle, he sticks it out of Cyril's parents' feet, aiming at that heart.

The two of them watching the battle for the abandonment of their daughter with a blue face never even noticed its proximity.

But Cyril looked like him.

We have to stop it.

But there's a distance to my parents.

Reaching out from here won't make it.

Above all, a lug occurs before it moves out because of the origin-core.

Then there is one way to stop it, without creating a lag.

It's connected to the needle, only to kill this man.

"Blaster!"

From a sword pierced by a crosswell, light illuminates.

His flesh evaporated in an instant, and the light emitted melted the ground everywhere.

It is not even the end of the demon, it is a shameful end.

Crosswell was already dead more than he was before, so I can't help it.

But it's burning in Cyril's brain.

The “grin” that rises on his torso, left by him at death.

"Did you knock him out...?

"Oh, yeah. Cyril won...... hey, right, Cyril!

If it's true, I just want to hug you and celebrate that victory.

But when you look at the flesh on your face, the people who can do it, even if they were your parents, are not.

And the decision is probably correct.

Because Cyril, who has lost her primary goal of 'defeating Crosswell', can no longer control “foreign objects” like turbulence flowing into her head.

"Ugh... ah..."

Cyril steps forward.

Continue with the second and third steps and speed up a little bit and get closer to your parents.

"Cyril......?

Anxiously calling my mother a name.

But no reply.

I just groan, bleeding from my face, approaching like a monster with no intention or anything.

"Oh, ah... oh... oh, no..."

Sword in hand.

The power to grip the pattern is strong, with blood vessels floating in the back of the hand.

I couldn't feel anything clear enough to call it slaughter, but now Cyril definitely wore something “not good" like chills.

"Cyril, don't you get it? It's your father and your mother, right? Cyril, Cyril!

"Oh... ah... ah..."

"Yes, Father."

Cyril shook his sword up there.

Obviously, with the intention of hurting my father.

"Cyril......"

"Oh... ah... ah..."

I'm sure you want to tell him 'run' though.

The groan squeezed out by bitterness is a slight remaining sign of Cyril's will.

"Hey Cyril! You remember about our faces!

"Look at me! Me! Your childhood tame!

"That's right, Cyril! You're a brave man, you can't lose like that. Eh!

The villagers watching the situation began to raise their voices simultaneously.

Everyone shows Cyril who she is, and trust her.

But in contrast, Cyril even wishes' run '.

I'm glad you're worried.

But - if Cyril ever hurts anyone here, it will undoubtedly continue to haunt her for the rest of her life as a real “sin”.

Besides, it will establish that Crosswell vengeance in its best form.

That's all I had to avoid.

"Cyril... please, get back to your sanity..."

But neither my father nor my mother will try to escape.

Do you believe that Cyril should be able to do something about it because he is a brave man?

Or are you regretting that you once failed to see through your daughter's true intentions and hurt her deeply, trying to take everything...

Either way, it's both extremes.

Even if you are struck by that clumsy way of loving - what doesn't stop doesn't stop.

My legs go forward, my arms are strong too.

Even at this distance, if you use your magic lightly, you'll be able to involve your parents and kill two or thirty people.

And the fact is, Cyril's flesh was trying to do it.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop...

Strongly wishing, my body didn't stop... but someone hugged me on the back, Poughn.

It feels light, like you don't have to blunt your legs.

"Seniors...... why don't we get back to normal here, sparing our cute juniors"

I dragged forward if that bothered me, but strangely my legs stop.

Friendship Power...... I wish it was.

Nothing convenient like that happens.

It's just that the target of the murder moved from parents to chocolate.

"Because I will die anyway. Something's gone wrong with going around now and not bitter the other way around, but this sucks, doesn't it? He said his body went too crazy and he no longer felt bitter the other way around. I don't like it. Of course, the first thing I don't like is dying, but the second thing is dying because of a man I don't know very well."

Chocolate presses her forehead around her back.

"I thought you weren't scared when your father died and you thought the whole family could go to the afterlife. Well, that's not true, is it? Households like ours are extra. But... I don't think dying is inevitable anymore, so it would be better if you had him killed at the hands of seniors, rather than poison - oh shit!

Cyril's body swung away depressingly at the glimmering chocolate.

And point the tip of the sword at her.

"It was... abusive, seniors. Will love for Chocolate make you do that?"

Pampers, and chocolates that beat the dust and get up.

It is true that the movement has not been dull until earlier.

But on the other hand, he is pale, and his lips are almost purple.

Not surprisingly, they told me he was already dead.

"Ugh..."

"But I'm glad. Even in front of me, there's a senior who doesn't want to kill me. We haven't been together as long as we've been together, but really, you take care of me a lot."

"Ooh, ahhh... ahhh!

Blade to be shaken up.

Calmly chocolate stares at it.

"Oh, you don't have to feel bad or anything. Mr. Fram may be here a little later, but he's not likely to make it in this way. Then I will give myself with great joy. Oh, it feels so nasty to say I'm offering myself to a senior..."

"Ugh...!

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm on track. But there's no one more worthy than me. 'Cause if you get it right - my unscrupulous selfishness caused this."

Chocolate narrowed her eyes to worries and reflected on what had happened up to today.

The death of my mother five years ago.

Life with the invisible father of the future.

The day I approached Cyril for revenge and became a confectioner.

Every day I was finding hope in Cyril, who was supposed to hate me.

And my mother resurrected, and chocolate sweetened in those days, even my father lost.

karma.

Then - she herself dying would also be a cause and effect tour.

"Sa, seniors. Do it if you're not relentless!

And as cheerfully as she can, she tells Cyril off.

Or if Chocolat was frightened to death, could he have endured a little more?

Or did the results not change?

"Ahhhhhhhhh!

Cyril shouts an unspoken cry and waves her sword down.

Zach!

The blade cleaved the flesh, sinking deep into the body, and a great deal of blood tarnished the land of his homeland.