Dungeon+Harem+Master

The Zao tried to wake his body in the darkness and groaned in severe pain. The sensation of pulling a thousand muscles across the body is constantly attacking the cerebral marrow like a wave tao. I just exhaled and my whole body is going to fall apart. My whole body is hot as it burns.

After a while, I found myself rolling on a limp stone. Eat up your teeth and focus on each and every one of your fingertips. With the dull pain of paralysis, consciousness awakens. The back of the head is heavy. It felt like I had made my worst hangover terrible. I get nauseous every now and then.

But I can't breathe like I was plugged in the back of my throat. Help me, I open my mouth with selflessness.

Like a hungry dog, with his tongue out. It was worth the effort, and the light gradually returned so that the white membrane affixed to the vision would dissolve.

The keeper was the blood that accumulated in his mouth. When he spit out the whole place, he coughed up a few times. Every once in a while, the diarrhea sounded like a hard stone slapping. I don't even feel good. Tears accumulated naturally in my eyes.

"Hey, Mr. Jii. He noticed."

"So I'm not that old yet."

I could hear the voice of a tall young man alternating with the voice of a low bitter man.

"Hey, can you wake up"

The voice of an old man.

I don't have the energy to respond. I was forced to move my jaw slightly, replacing it with a response.

"Long time no see, but you're young. It's okay."

Unfounded voice of encouragement.

Hopefully, I wanted to. Big arms that were saving me pull myself up.

The collector had his upper body supported by the man who was next to him, squeezing the power of his hands and managing to bring his back to the wall.

Slowly lift the eye lid and move your gaze. It's even dim. A terrible mix of moldy smells that could and kemono smells like a zoo punches me in the nose tip. Nature and my eyes got used to it while I was confused that I couldn't see anything. Thin blurred and the surrounding panorama brought me to clarity, my consciousness was about to freeze.

"What the hell is this place?"

The place where the collectors were located was a room that seemed like a shitty prison built of old stones. The room about half a fold is covered with thick stone walls, and I can't tell if it's day or night because the sun doesn't shoot at all. The only light was a terribly unreliable candle that stood by the hallway.

In front of the aisle and of the eyes that blocked themselves was a thick plaid of their own made of chestnut trees, and they were lit back in the dim darkness, of a candlestick of low brightness, visible with a plush.

"Are you a jailer?"

The Zao asked with a trembling voice. I thought I was wrapped in strange light, and I noticed I was here. Is it true that the fox is stuck? For a moment only, I also feel like I had a good feeling. If you notice, your upper body is naked and only the bottom is worn something to the point of being sorry.

Regardless, it is barefoot. As I grew more and more calm, I was becoming intolerable to the cold that plugged in.

Isn't it December now?

Even though it was cold, it wasn't winter temperatures. Otherwise, it's not strange that he was freezing to death, but the prison was not that harsh a temperature.

I was certainly bored with my life so far, but suddenly in the walls I didn't want to be deprived of my name and called by number. Big, kushami, a badly resembled looking man threw his jacket over and came over. As a regular Japanese, I bow my head down with peculiarity. On top of the smell that I could smell, there are holes all over the place full of Tsugi Hagi, but I didn't wear it. Rika was better.

"Though spring, I'll see you up there Hadaka. I'm not sure it's comfortable, but it's probably better."

"I'm sorry. Thank goodness. Even so..."

I looked at my face and was gnawed. Anyway, the person I thought I was talking to in Japanese is obviously white. A collector, bewildered, laughed sarcastically as the man over thirty twisted his sparsely grown jaw.

"It's n. What's on my face?"

"Yes, no. He said he was very good at Japanese."

"Nihongo, what? Is that your hometown word? I was born and raised romantically. I don't know the language of any other country."

"Mmm. Well, okay. In the meantime, if anything goes through. I mean, why am I here? Is it possible that this place is a house?"

"Don't ask me what I know. Are you nuts?"

The boy with scorched tea hair let go pleasantly. It looks terribly like a typical American, scattered with scabs that are likely to appear in western films, before the lid. The collector somehow remembered a movie he once saw called Stand by Me.

"Hey, Martha. This guy is so adorable. I don't know what's going on. I don't know.

He said, "I'm not kidding."

"Well, it's good to have the same room, brother. One thing, let's get along here."

Thirty men urged the scorched tea boy, a thin young man with a line who was in the corner of the room and an ageless man with a mustache moja approached him. It's hard to do each other if you don't even know their names, so the collectors got into a car seat in the cell to introduce themselves lightly.

The man with brown hair seems to be a good blacksmith aspiration with Martha.

The age was seventeen and the youngest of these.

I can't even feel the dark dust when I say I'm in prison. White teeth stood out in the dark.

The man with the scratch on his cheek, named him Goronzo.

He is thirty-three years old and seems to be an authentic bandit.

There seems to be an iron code that authentic people of everything don't steal from people in need, when they go into stealing, they don't hurt anyone, and some of them are bound to be restored to the poor of society.

But the intrusion was bandit style, and the insides were still not dreary and beautiful.

Livestock work. It's the worst way to go into stealing and slaughter your family, and women commit it all. This man named Goronzo bought resentment for the brutality of his fellow bandits and apparently sold his personality to the government constitution. Just a little, that face that I describe in a light-mix didn't look very much like the villain I was born with. Everything is halfway there. I didn't care what you think. I didn't think you were the right person for bandits.

The thin young man named himself Yarmil and called himself a revolutionary.

The age wears black edged pointed glasses at twenty-six. It felt like it made the credit bureau clerk wander. It gives an atmosphere of intelligence and nothingness to the eye. The idle mask and the cleavage eyes were likely to be liked by the woman in comparison, and the collector instinctively felt alert.

"Mr. Jii, what's going on? You're next."

"No, I want to hear more about you than I do"

A man of unknown age, called Jii, glistened his golden eyes as he rubbed a white beard stretched down to his chest. With a beard, the age of an out-of-the-box man is difficult to understand. His eyes and the color gloss of his skin peeking from his beard, although not young, kept a tense gloss that he did not consider to be an old man. It was a saving peek from crude prisoner clothing. Fingertips still made me feel fat and energetic, and there was something that made me think it was too soon to call him an old man, no matter who saw him.

"What, your face is close. I'm a Shimonzo."

"Simon Klund? Simon, it's not unusual."

Goronzo leaves his nostalgia in his face.

"No, Simon is in his family name..."

A collector tried to correct Goronzo's misunderstanding, then.

The man, who was called Mr. Jii, suddenly stood up and, as he gassily grabbed both shoulders of the collector, moved his gaze to lick from head to toe and raised an odd bark.

"Hey, Mr. Jii. What's the matter!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's up? What's up?"

Martha and Goronzo rush to shake the shoulders of the man known as Mr. Jii from left to right. Yarmil, who looked relatively deposited and calm, also had his eyes wide open.

"It's been years since I've seen my countrymen...!

"A compatriot? So, what's that about, Oi! Fucking jizzy!!"

When Martha hugs Jii on her shoulder, she screams by her ear. A high echo struck the narrow room.

"So I'm not Jizzy! Did you say kland? That's like an old-fashioned name. Old samurai."

"A samurai? You, no way."

"Yes. That's not true. My name is Koizumi Kungtaro. As a historical Japanese, this country is a great veteran for thirty years. I can't help but feel destined to see you like this. Probably a summoned poor sacrifice. Welcome to the Romless Kingdom."

The man of unknown age, known as Jii, was Japanese, who will be fifty-second this year.

Koizumi, it was the first time in thirty years that he had met the same Japanese, in a different way of shaking, let him give a rough account of his history and the outlines of this country.

What I was able to grasp in the zodiac's brain was the following: Ancient Springs was a Japanese born in Japan and a history of growing up in Japan, but one day in the fourth year of college, in order to be led by a strange light, he was summoned to this Romless kingdom, to receive his title as a brave man and to run to the national affairs.

This country, similar to Western Europe, was once a giant one kingdom, but by the loss of power of its rightful successor, the royal family, the leading lords flipped the flag and divided it into six territories in all. Culturally, while preserving almost fifteenth-century culture in Europe, we saw a tigh-hug divergence from the planet. Guns and guns were underdeveloped, primitive weapons and horses favoured their width, and when it came to the most different parts, the presence of witchcraft was raised.

Magic. It really sounds mysterious.

That said, only a limited number of humans can use witchcraft, and they are never omnipotent.

It was common sense that even if it was excellent as a personality, it could not be powerful enough to turn large numbers upside down.

To add, magic consists of five elements, which can be greatly distinguished by the attributes of earth, water, fire, wind, and are not included in them, with the addition of none.

Essentially, only one attribute is given to a single human being, and a human being with the magical aptitude of a local attribute cannot exercise the fire attribute.

However, in this case, no attribute is assumed to be an exception. Unattributed magic was commonly considered basic and auxiliary.

"Wait, Mr. Jii. Does that mean I can use magic, too, when I'm summoned as a brave man? Like this, roll out the fire from your fingertips and make the one you don't like look like a burrito."

"Yep! Wow! Klund, hey!!

I am innocently surprised as Martha waves her hands. There was an ancient fountain to cut off.

"It can't be used. Klund, you can tell by the crest on your chest. Well, there's only one stamp."

The collector shifted his point of view to the crest of his chest, which was only It is engraved with faint but odd texts. Before I looked up, Ancient Springs went.

"It's called Immortality Red, the crest of immortality, which jumps your abilities on physical to the extreme. What I once had was a crest of wisdom (Tactical One) that raised an individual's intelligence abilities. And the legendary Mitsutsu of magic (Majorical Mana) seems to be a true legendary brave man. Of course, you can't use incredible magic or anything but the Immortality Red, which is a defect in the first place."

"Defects......! Seriously. It's time for my Hollywood movie-like story to begin."

"It doesn't start. According to the story, it's Klund. Looks like you're on death row for insulting the royal family. You're such a jerk."

"Hey, that's a misunderstanding! I didn't do anything!! I guess."

The collector had remembered a beautiful girl half-naked, whom he saw just before his consciousness faded. Sure, it was a misleading circumstance, but that is force majeure.

"Wait, Mr. Koizumi. You must have been a brave man of my predecessors. Why are you in such a cage?

"That's, well. Nice."

"No, it's not good. Because it's not good, at all. Because your story is going to involve me in the way I shake myself."

"Klund, I don't know how to swing or shit. Kake, the first person in this room is a felon with a basic life sentence or equivalent. I don't know how. Either way, everything is hopeless."

"Is Klund hopeless?"

Don't Martha understand much? He puts his neck around Goronzo.

"Whatever the truth may be, it won't make any difference that I didn't follow it at the time I got hit here."

According to my memories, there will be no infringement or disrespect for the royalty, but death penalty or life sentence.

For your information, Yarmil fixed the central position of the glasses with his index finger when he snapped.

"Oui, you're going to be sentenced to life."

Goronzo bites and kills laughter even strangely.

Yarmil nodded as he gently protruded his lower lip, staring at Guillaume and Goronzo.

"Hey, do it, Klando. You're gonna get killed!

Martha changes her blood phase and rocks her hands on both shoulders of the collector.

For the most part, the treasurer did not afford a loose education.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

"Easy."

Sigh as if Yarmil was out of heart. The collector got a little anxious.

"By the way, Martha, what did you do? Whatever you think, you're not the type to be thrown in here."

"Yeah? Me. I don't."

"Wait, Klando. I can't talk about getting into this guy. Instead, I'll explain."

Goronzo pushed Martha forward, teasing her mustache and talking.

"Yes, as Klander's question suggests, Martha's not the balls to prefer to be a felon. As is often the case, shortly after Mountain Country Mon came out to the capital to fly a flag, he half-killed five bad tachi men who were involved with women all over the city. No, the young man's scared, he doesn't know how to help. But the person who half-killed him was bad. Bobo, a bad aristocrat named even in Wang Du. So, when the duke and I arrive, it's like we've already decided to talk. He put it on the money and stopped the woman, and the judge of the law court rounded up, and rewrote the case itself from the ground up. Martha's was unilaterally made a bad guy. A tyrant who rambled his noble brother in daylight. It's a really convenient story to talk about. I don't hate honest fools like this myself, but it's hard for the world to accept."

"I just saved a woman from a bad guy!

"Ah alas. As always, there's not much to talk about, but what are you whimpering about, Atashi's little birds?"

An ear-impaired voice similar to the severed demon raising when he polished the toad struck the bellies of the collectors with a heavy bass. The men in the room look down. The collector was suspicious, and when he turned his face in the direction of his voice, he was pulled off his sleeve, along with the voice of the ancient fountain, which frightened him off.

"Don't look at me. You're gonna die."

It was, in a sense, a man outside the gene pool of mankind.

The back length was well over two meters and was so gigantic that if you jumped, your head would likely reach the ceiling in the hallway. From a silver helmet mimicking a dragon, blonde hair stretched out to the edge of her shoulder is waving.

Did both thoracic muscles forge through to work out, as ambitious as a boulder? He has a busty complexion with swollen body hair. The thickness of the upper arm is as thick as the waist of a woman.

On his connected eyes, his cheek-digged face.

He is peppering his mustache with a long tongue to the extent of his apologies. It was obscene to see.

Royal warden Kamalovich was a god in this prison.

"Oh, you're not new here. I didn't think that wound would last until morning. Doesn't this seem like fun for a long time? Me, Camarovich. I'm supposed to be in charge of this Romless First Prison. It's good to see you again."

"Target Lock On"

A slightly white, little fat jailguard-like man crushes humbly, refraining beside Camarovich. The man's eyes were obviously conceived of hostility towards the collector.

"Ah alas, Molino. Why are you looking at me like that? Maybe he's jealous."

Camarovich makes Cena and moves his tongue like a muddy and soft animal.

It was an endlessly unpleasant sight.

"Because, Master Camarovich. I'm trying to make him a favorite."

The little fat prison guard, known as Molino, gently sticks his finger out at the collector as he squeezes his jaw like a shin. I had dark hair twitching around my fingertips, and it was uncomfortable as if I was being mocked by chimpanzees.

"Mm-hmm. Molino is a toy shop. I can't help it. Hey, I'm gonna adore you here again right now."

Camarovich's face approaches Molino's greasy face.

No way, no, you're not.

The collector prayed deeply to God.

"Everybody, bear with me as long as you can. I don't want to clean the gel anymore."

The desperate voice of ancient springs.

God is dead.

You're lying. Oh! Stop it, seriously!

"Mm, Molino. As always, this is the only place you're a thug."

"Camarovich. Well."

Two middle-aged people are indulging in unspeakable goodwill from their ears.

The collector closes his eye lid strongly, but the viscous liquid sound and creepy groans never disappeared right beside him.

"Oh, Camarovich. Well, it's good. It's too good."

"Molino. Mine, Molino. I miss you."

Two hot, bitter middle-aged men are squeezing a deep kiss as they hug each other.

The Collector certainly felt that this moment was now one of the trials imposed by God.

Press your palms into your ears with all your might, blocking your hearing.

I was convinced that if I opened my eyes, I would definitely die.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Ah, Cora! Martha, you're throwing up again....... uhhhhh"

"Goronzo! Don't make me wait for you to see Guero. I'm, like, yeah!!

A chain of vomiting began in the order of Martha, Goronzo and Yarmil.

Ancient Springs also had his head on the wall, and he was dazed, but there was nothing in his stomach in the candle, only a yellow stomach juice exited.

"Kamalovici sama oh yeah!!

Molino screams.

A collector was wiping his mouth like Camarovich had finished his job as he withstood vomiting and wept from his eyes.

In Camarovich's eyes, there was an incomprehensible sense of superiority just how it was. I am frustrated by the impenetrable feeling of helplessness. My knees collapsed naturally and I dressed to kneel.

As the collector opened his eyes and held his mouth down with his hands, he forced the memory in his brain out of the slot and switched off his memory.

I guess you two were satisfied.

I could see the hindsight slowly moving away from the front of the room as I held hands and skipped.

"Harassment! They always dairy each other by making sure they look like they're in order! Just kidding!"

Goronzo screamed in a voice with a cry in it.

"But from my theory of probability, it was supposed to be next door this time."

In a sharp tone, Yarmil takes off his glasses and wipes them with a worn, hand-stuffed cloth.

My eyes were losing their mind.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey."

"Hey, that's tough. Martha clogged Gero in the throat!

An ancient spring points to Martha, who was lying on her back like a fish launched in a fright.

Goronzo grabbed his head and scratched his hair.

"Seriously. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, Klando, take those tree branches out there, I'll scratch them out."

"Hey, are you okay with being such a big guy"

"We have to stop, or we're gonna die anyway! It might not make a difference."

In Goronzo's desperate rescue effort, Martha took her life.

Because it doesn't matter what happens next.

As the collector stared into the void with a dark face, the nearby room began to bother him violently.

"It's evening mess. There's only two meals here, morning and night. Eat well."

Goronzo leaked a big yawn when he woke his body out of a boring blanket looking dauntless.

"In prison, you only have about as much fun as food. Huh."

Yarmil sighed as if it wasn't fun at all.

"Oh, my God, I don't look like I'm welcoming you for that."

"Um. The mess here is bad."

"Oh, don't tell me the story. Martha, Kunokono."

When Goronzo catches Martha, he punches his head out with his fist. Like their older brothers, they are close. As the collector stands in front of the lattice, the voices from the surrounding rooms dont get louder. Apparently, it's not just the excitement of appetite. It was directed at a small shadow pushing a dining trolley.

"What, what. That's so popular for being a jerk."

"Oh, that's Maggot."

As Yarmil seems bored, he squeezes his jaw toward the waiter who is distributing meals to the prisoner.

"Maggot is the only female slave here. I don't know what kind of rash it is because I always hide my face in a mask."

Goronzo is immersed in the task of planting on the wall with a fluffy breath as he pulls out his nose hair. Martha wasn't too interested in the woman herself, she glanced at her like a starving wild dog and watched a giant pot with food.

"I don't feel like a woman here. Any woman would like to touch the remnants of it."

"So do the prisoners make foolish noises"

"If the hole's empty, you can do anything. Kake."

"Have you graduated?"

"Am I right? Me or me. Diabetes. There's better Koch than a woman."

"More booze than a woman."

Goronzo imitated tilting the cup with Qui and laughed lonely.

The slave, visible over the plaid, wore himself in a thick robe and a strange face.

I don't know how old or how I look.

However, the thinness of the wrist, which appeared to be chilli when I offered it, does belong to the woman.

Maggot uses his small body to the best of his ability, letting the heavy dining table car get closer.

Eventually, I stopped in front of him to see if the order had turned.

The newcomer, the collector, stood in front of the small window in an attempt to receive everyone's share with a distraction.

I'm sorry.

The collector speaks up.

Maggot stood on the spot like he was hit by a current.

Making a loud noise, the violin in her hand flips over.

The porridge, which looked like diarrhea, was scattered around.

"Ugh. Oh, my God, what's up? Are you hurt!?

Not trying to respond to the collector's query, Maggot suddenly ran out on the spot with the dining table set aside when he stifled on the spot for a while. A twitch ran in the cell.

"Whoa, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"No, I don't know. What happened?

To Goronzo's inquiry, the collector was as if he could not return it, only to keep staring at Maggot's running away back. After a while, a substitute human was given rations. The collector clasped on the spot in the mood of being bored by a fox. In a small room, five men look at each other. It was even nasty but all I could do was put up with it.

"Klund, eat even if you can't. This place is not like Japan. Whatever it is, I have to get it in my belly anyway."

An ancient spring lifted up an old wooden spoon and looked depressed. In the cell, it was quiet as if there had been no earlier noise, and the noise of rinsing the meals distributed by each of them was heard everywhere.

The collector frowned, staring at something like a brown itch, handed out.

Keep your nose tip close and smell it.

It smells as unclean as a stewed ancient rag. Seeing the Goronzos crease between their eyebrows and sip, it's probably something that eats and is harmless.

"Hey, are you eating this?"

"You can't eat. So you're eating. Stupid."

Martha laughed happily as she drank out the contents of the bowl, as if she had forgotten that she was dying earlier.

"I don't think Klander wants to be called an idiot by a man dying of his own diarrhea, either."

"Close your eyes and kick your ass. Don't try to enjoy the food. That's the secret to survival."

Goronzo's eyes were full of sorrow.

The treasurer swallowed the contents of the bamboo that resembled dirt with the saji, and then shrugged it into his mouth as if he had decided to do so. Different odors like worn old socks spread all over my mouth, tears eyes.

"Yeah."

"Hey, you're a man. Be patient."

"Klund, this is a trial"

"I think I'll make it. How rich that country was."

Ancient springs drinks without leaving the contents of the bowl in a boring way, wrinkling his nose.

"Hey, if you can't even eat it, I can eat it."

Scratch the contents of the bowl at once, supported by everyone's encouragement.

From the same time, the applause boiled naturally, creating a considerable unity there.

"Hey, Mr. Koizumi, no, I broke my hip just now. You were on your way. Let me hear it. After all, why are you here?"

"Do you really want to stick to that story? I don't have a choice. Longer, okay? I've never even spoken to the people here."

Koizumi looks at the same face when he looks far away. There was a colour of curiosity in everyone's eyes.

"Hey, prefix. Yes. - Just talk to me, Mr. Jii."

"Will you be free?"

"Well, everybody wants to hear about my past."

Don't get soaked, you cunt.

And while I was slightly angry, I didn't dare curse.

I'm free in prison.

"Come on, if you're bored, I'll go to bed."

Ancient Springs made Nihil bring his back to the wall when he laughed, wandering his point of view inside.

A lip buried in a white beard made a crisp, dry noise and moved out.