Dungeon+Harem+Master

"So long, hope for the future prosperity and success of our clan, Dungeon Master, cheers!!

The sound of bumping the cup rings loudly.

There was a full look on Artemisia and Rudge's face.

The collectors were celebrating the attack of the Dungeon Nine Layers for a whispering feast.

At the midday coffee shop "Night Sparrow Pavilion".

"But that's right, it's not a little bad"

Artemisia snapped with her worried face with the cup in her hands.

Most importantly, the collector, who had quite a bit of alcohol spinning around his brain, laughed red-handedly.

This man had better remember the word self-weight.

"Ha ha, drink, drink. Drink it and forget it. Anything."

"That's right, Artemisia. You care a little too much about the details."

Rudge turned the page of the book with his white, elongated fingers and said it was flat.

"Eh, is it a detail? This."

The open terrace facing the boulevard in front of the Adventurers' Union (Guild) was one of the most flourishing populated areas of Silver Villago with the most people to go.

The illuminating sun day is still intense, and just after ten a.m., the city's people have just begun their work.

In the meantime, the three people who were drinking without worrying about their eyes caught their attention, even though they didn't like it.

In particular, Artemisia's name is spreading to Darkless Arrow Cod and is quite a celebrity.

Not so many people around here don't know her face. Because of that, the adventurers entering and leaving the office were pulling their sleeves and glancing at them. Artemisia, who has common sense, could only care less, naturally.

However, two or three of the screws were missing and they didn't seem to care.

When Rudge combed to shed his dark hair with one hand, he closed the patan and the book and looked at Artemisia's face as he explored.

She raised her thin hand slightly as she nodded as she was convinced, heavily, um.

"Yeah, sounds like you've had enough to drink. Master, add me. Give this lady the first tight one in this store. I'm a lady, so I'll have some lemon tea."

The called cafe lady ran into the store frightened as she held her mouth. Rudge looked bored and began to wipe with a handkerchief when he removed his glasses.

"Rudge, what do you think people are?"

"Uh, no. You distracted me that I would drink a lot. Heh heh. I've been good at reading air lately. No, no, you don't have to thank me if you do! You'd be hard to ask for a replacement or something!

Rudge's gaze. I moved from top to bottom to lick it.

It was a thoughtless thing to decide to be big in the dark.

Big ones, drink well, eat well.

It was a biased stereotype.

"You made up your mind. Don't make up your mind."

Artemisia dazzled Rudge as she stood up.

She held a complex to being slightly longer.

In contrast, Rudge is in overall idle shape.

It was occasionally scratchy that my chest was also idle.

"It's not a decision. Statistical theory from the data."

"That's the decision! I'm a snack! Klando, hey. It would be!

"That's right. So I'm of the opinion that you should eat more. You'll need a lot of nutrients to maintain that body."

"I'm not talking to you!

"Oh, come on, it's a long way from me."

"It's obvious!

As the two were gaggling, a moustache man made a tannic surface from inside the store burst out angry with his shoulders. He is Biggs Jesmine, the manager of the Night Sparrow Pavilion.

"Um, like everything else, we're not that kind of store, are we? It's not a drunken and whacked shop with gucha booze, is it? Don't you dare! That's just me too!!

Bix exclaimed anger at the Killer Artist, but the two women had to ignore it. The cafe lady behind it brings a twinkle that stirs things up like, "Wow, manager cancer ignorance." Blue muscles floated thickly on Bix's temples.

"Whoa, master! I'm doing it first!!

The collector raised a jock filled with alcohol and shouted. People walking down the boulevard are approaching. The blurring propagated to the crowd and spread greatly.

Biggs' pupils opened and closed as hard as they were in the yak.

"This isn't a drinker! It's a stylish cafe. Whoa! The character of my store that I've built up will fall!! Klund Oops!! You're a negative being.

"Campaign for the glory of a chaleous store!

"Abbreviations Ahhh!!

Biggs begins to loosen back and forth when he grabs the treasurer's throat with both hands.

Even that was just a pastime, the collector laughed with a nasty human face, passing through cheerfulness with a hot breath out.

"Shut up. Drink, drink and you'll forget. Everything."

"Ngobo!?

When the collector jumped on the Biggs, he eagled his face and forced alcohol into it.

Biggs turned upside down with overflowing liquor, trying to get away from his arms, but in front of the extraordinary strength of the possessor was a mantis axe.

"Don't spill it. You don't have it."

A collector forces the bottle into the back of his throat. A fright ran into Biggs' eyes.

"That's good, Klando. Pour it all in. Don't leak a drop."

Rudge froze the treasurer. I was genuinely amused.

"Tencha!? Somebody help me! Tenchi will be killed. Ugh!!

It was time and a cafe lady glanced through the door screamed as she slipped through the top of her head.

"Cora, I'm not talking about bad people! I'm just teaching this asshole how to drink!

"Oh no!!

"Oh no. Eh!!

"Don't come this way. Eh!!

A keeper in good shape jumps at the cafe lady. The table flips. Dishes scattered and the spectators made a scene.

The confusion became rampant.

Someone who looked like he had contacted the Knights of Phoenix, and the inflexible men who engraved a phoenix crest on silver armor rushed to the scene immediately. It was no longer an excusable situation when Artemisia turned to stop when she saw the keeper swinging the liquor bottle upside down and rampaging around endlessly.

"Okay, so we're back on the field. Continue campaigning!"

"Cheers."

Rudge puts a cup on the collector's head.

Artemisia with a tired face sighed deeply.

"Hey hey!! You guys aren't reflecting at all, are you!?

The place changed and the reception room at the Romless Church.

It was Marco, bishop of Silver Villago, who perspired as an identity underwriter, who changed his blood phase and stationary the collectors who were about to resume the feast.

Of course, the only Artemisia who did not lose reason was the one who asked for it in the tste of church relations.

She and Marco were a pattern of old knowledge.

She began to move her gaze alternately between the collectors and Marco as she orotted and touched her lips like she was in trouble.

"Reflection? What"

"What? Yeah! Yeah eh!? Could it be that Awkward Monk is wrong? No, I'm not wrong. Lord Klund, let's think and act on something a little worldly. Whoa!

"Haha. Could it have been beautiful?

"No, it's not pretty. It would be quite a monster if it cleaned up an awkward monk."

There was a little Changzhou Xiaoli in it.

"You look beautiful. All right, Rudge! Give this old man a drink!

Rudge glanced blatantly at him, but that was a difference to such an extent that only humans who were always used to seeing him knew. Her facial changes are too subtle to be judged.

The collector winks clumsily. It was a mystery that I had tick disease.

Rudge had no choice but to take the ivory cup on the table and hand it to Marco when he overheard the child's selfishness.

"Oh boy. Liquor is also called the jade that pays for worry. Even if it doesn't get hard like that, why don't you give it a try?"

Ludge stares directly at me from the front, breaking my rapport as soon as possible. It is an understandable character.

"Eh heh. Mm, well, the awkward monk can't be so poorly understood either. So hey, ah, awkward monk, do you mind if I sit here?

"Whoa, sit down, sit down"

The collector gently ears at Rudge. She purposely reassembled her legs wide in front of the couch when she laughed prankily as she blushed slightly. The enchanting triangle behind the tight skirt is about to be seen in perfect balance.

Marco is only cleverly gritty with his eyeballs still on his face.

Expecting a punchline was the finding out behavior.

"Your lady. You're right, you may also need to breathe at times in this dead world. Awkward monks, Marco. I'm a bishop of this church. See you later."

Marco introduces himself with a kime face. The collector turned to the side with a laugh.

"Ooh. That's not dewy with noble people. I'm Rudge Blackwell. We strive for the Royal Labyrinth Exploration Institute and belong to the same clan as him and Artemisia. Today, it's just painful to see such a failure."

"Ooh!! Lord Rudge is a family of the famous Blackwell family. Fine, fine. When I was young, I often removed the shark. Unlike the man there, Awkward Monk is a man you can count on. Mm-hmm. Life is a strange thing to get acquainted with on such an opportunity. By the way, is Lord Rudge single?"

"No, my husband preceded me last year. No, I'm a widow."

Rudge dropped his gaze in response to a scissoring look. Subtle, slip your hands over Marco's lap. The disgruntled bishop lost his composure and began to tremble into small pieces. Hey, it wouldn't be my fault the groin area is booming.

"Ho! A widow!! That's it!!

Marco's eyes opened wide and wide. The congested eyeballs become dewy.

I don't care how you look at it. It's a look that's making me paranoid. To the bishop's obvious attitude, Artemisia tumbled the vase she was touching without a seat off the sideboard.

properly, it sounded loud but never cracked.

Apparently, only the appearance is made of cheap copper with that material.

I wonder how much I enjoyed being broken by the collector last time. Guess what.

"Yeah, then you can't rely on the cheap drinks here to entertain your lady. Actually, Awkward Monk, I've got some superb wine these days. No, no, even when it's superb, it's not comparable between the poor tongue of an awkward monk and Lord Rudge's. Yes, Lord Rudge. Is wine an Ikel mouth?"

A collector flanks Rudge at the tip of his elbow.

"Yikes. Wine, Ishiki. I want a drink."

She showcased it with a voice she'd never normally make. Artemisia, who had a cheap vase, slipped her hand again with a "super deliberate" face.

"Look. We've got booze refills. A bargain."

"... I may be. That's right, I've done so much deliberate imitation. I'm sick of myself."

"That's okay. Anyway, the man wants to be fooled. You are filling the visions of a clear, poor widow in your old man with twelve. I don't have any resentment for being appreciated."

Artemisia sighed loudly as she sat next to the collector with an objectified face. She was driven by a strong sense of self-blame, but it doesn't affect a lot of people as if they were.

After a while, Marco came back packed with wine and a bunch of fine knobs in a bucket.

Nothing in particular, the four enjoyed the liquor platter soothingly. Artemisia, who was uncomfortable with the practice of extending to drinking in sacred religious institutions, eventually began to drink.

Later in the day, Artemisia became rough.

"Hey, you were a little too violent yesterday. That's right. Me too."

The next day, there were three figures of the collectors walking wide down the street of Reesfield Street. Rudge remains silent, stranded in his thoughts as he turns the pages of his books by the way.

Artemisia was holding her temples down as she nagged with a blue-white face.

"Unconscious. Why, for that matter"

"That's right. Excessive drinking is not good for your health. You should have taken my advice."

"You must be the one who burned me. Oh, I didn't know you'd let go of your drinking and even your self-control within the sacred church. God."

"Isn't it too late to pray? I can't believe you're turning the statue of St. Rodrigo into two. I don't know if I'm faithless."

"Ahhhhh"

When Artemisia holds her head, she screams in the middle of the road. When the person walking down the street began to look at him as soon as he could, he blushed and coughed strongly.

"No, Artemisia. Hey, okay."

A collector stretches his long arm to his creased waist.

When Artemisia happened to lose her temperament, she uttered a werewolf voice in a single-octave high range.

"Wow, wow. Klund, in the middle of the city during the day like this."

Approximately twisting her hips, the collector slid his long sword out of the platinum-made sheath. Horizontal the blade and crawl your gaze on the sword body. Artemisia blushed enlightened her intentions.

"You're a pain in the ass."

Rudge twitches in a cold tone. Artemisia relaxed and defended herself.

"Leave me alone. I still have the liquor from yesterday. Yeah."

Put your hand on Rudge's forehead. Having finished seeing and hearing, the collector moves his position so that he can see the sword well for both of them.

"Look, look closely. Yesterday, when I saw Al swinging around, I noticed how bad the blade spill was for a long time."

"Ugh. True. Oh, my God, what I did. It's not funny."

"A sword is a consumable. Not at all."

"There hasn't been time for a series of fights lately to go out and grind. It's a detour."

I thought Artemisia was finer like this.

"No, the truth is, I was planning on stopping by a tight blacksmith yesterday! I can't believe that happened."

"Don't be swallowed by alcohol, that's a lesson. I'll take care of it."

"You must have forced me to drink it."

When Rudge closed the book with a pattan, he raised his index finger as if he remembered.

"Speaking of which, I heard rumors about the wind. Just around here, they have a very skilled blacksmith shop."

Looking at Rudge's thin pink lips, the collector wondered what kind of rumors of the wind were conveying.

"Sure, I remember it around here."

"Hey, Rudge. I'm happy with the favor. Maybe you mean a man named Noir Smith."

"Oh, it was definitely that name, though."

Rudge leads a narrow alley while responding, walking just a little. In the rear, from time to time, the collector was banging his shoulder against the building and screaming.

"There's nothing on Reesfield Street that doesn't know Noir Smith. But from what I've heard, the specialty blacksmith is old enough to have a bad back and folded a shop this spring."

Like the collectors, the long-lasting Artemisia doesn't seem to be comfortable passing through trashed, narrow places.

She gently lifted her long legs to avoid stepping on a wooden barrel rolling down the side of the road and went to Rudge.

"Seems so. But from what I've heard, they're back in business. The sword would be the life of a knight. Then it would be safer to leave it to the best people."

"Rudge......!

Artemisia blinked her big eyes as she stopped.

Rudge turns his face away like a little light.

"Yes, Artemisia. Rudge is right. You'll be the one who cries when you do. When it comes to life-saving weapons, it's hard to spend too much money. Oh, my God, don't worry about the money. If I have to."

"What if I have to?

"... still, well. I don't think we should talk about money now."

"What. You stopped relying on me as soon as possible. I was hoping you'd let me be manly."

"Uhm. The colored man, the money and the power, it's hard."

"Pfft. What is that word? I've never heard that before."

Besides, it doesn't seem to apply to you.

"Hi-ha, hi-ha. Even so, I am Hiroyuki Maida of Golden Town."

"Absolutely, I don't know"

"Contempt?

"No!!

Aside from whether the collectors resembled Hiroyuki Maida, the Noir Smith store the line searches for no longer existed in the narrow alley. Speaking to the surrounding residents, what was originally in the district is a shop that trades finished goods, and the blacksmith hut itself is on the outskirts of Leasefield.

Silver Villago itself is a walled city, but people tend to want to be dense in the centre.

Traveling with a discernment to the approximate place you were taught, there was a hut aiming up on a small high hill. A brand-new blacksmith hut and an adjacent barn are still being built in the slab walls.

"Probably, isn't that it?

As the collector pointed to the building, he looked like a girl drying her laundry in the dry in front of the cabin.

"Probably...... Hmm, just fine. Let's just ask that girl."

Climbing up a slope that was snug, the girl who was drying her wash at the top noticed this way, waving with a nostalgic smile. The back length seems to be less than one hundred and thirty.

"Speaking of which, I hear Noir Smith is over sixty. Is that girl, like, a grandson from her age?

"Oh, and the store was replaced by a son or something?"

"Hello. Nice weather. How can I help you?"

The girl laughed happily, taking the english hand plush that was wrapped around her head.

It curls when the golden hair is twisted. I thought it was younger because of the size of my body, but my face was much more grown up.

Primary school senior year for collectors. He looked roughly ten or so years old.

"Um, hello. I'm Artemisia, but does this mansion have to be the mansion of the famous Noir Smith?"

"Well, it's not such a fine thing as a mansion. Oh, I'm late for my application. My name is Ricotte, Smith's daughter. Can I help my father? Do you know him?

No, it's the first time I've seen you.

The Artemisian tension talking to Ricotte keeps falling. As the collector looked at the swelling of her ass, puffing suspiciously, Rudge pulled the hem of her coat from her side.

- What the hell. What's going on?

- Kland. hey, take a look at her.

- What? Do you even see them in your pants?

- It's more shocking, in a way.

The collector turned his sleepy eyes to Ricotte.

At the same time, drowsiness blew away.

"Ngu!?

"Wow, no. Klund! Shh."

Artemisia lowers her eyebrows like she was in trouble with her index finger on her crease.

Ricotte curiously puts on her little neck. That was a cute trick for a young girl.

"Yes?"

That, except for the pocon and the tummy bulge that protruded in front.

"Kiter!! Lori Child Toddler Bote Belly Pregnant Woman! Come on, I'm in!

"Don't make a scene."

Ricotte's body. It is about ten years old, no matter what you think, inferring from the thinness of the chest, the low back length, and the young face.

The collector had never seen a pregnant woman, such as a 10-year-old girl, since birth. It is understandable from the addition and subtraction of Artemisia's wolfness that it is also quite premature in this world and that there were some circumstances. The zodiac's pink brain cells began full rotation.

(Yeah, this kid would be about ten years old. That means the seeder had that relationship with her, at least, since she was about nine or eight years old... Sure, in the Guinness of the world, the record says he's about five years old or there. Hey! Fantasy world, hey!!

"Ah, oh. Really? Oh, is this getting pretty noticeable?"

"Oh, by the way, how many months now?

"Eh heh, it's four months. When I did something, I just noticed my stomach. It's embarrassing."

"The swelling seems to vary considerably between individuals. Though only knowledge. And those two. Seems a lot cheerful, but this girl is a grown man of history. Ricotte, how old are you this year?"

"Oh, I'm twenty-three this year."

"Ahhh!!

"I'm sorry to hear that. A slutty world like yours doesn't exist inside. [M] And she's probably a Gnome. That's what small bodies are for. My stomach looks slightly bigger because compared to the human race, they give birth in about half of the pregnancy."

Gnome was the smallest and most clever clan of subhumans.

Also known as dwarfs, it was a common species found in urban areas often by artisans.

Humans were little different except that they were smaller in size and were often unnoticed when mixed with ordinary people.

"Oh, Norm. Norm tribe. Right, ha. No, I knew it. I am. It's true!

"Ok, ok. Shall we just let that happen?"

Rudge fished his nibble and mouth off when he slapped Pompom and Artemisia on the shoulder.

"Oh, my God!

"Um, I'm sorry about what seems like fun. What can I do for you today?

"Hmm, I'm sorry. Something I did. The story has gone a little out of line. As a matter of fact, I came here today to ask the famous Noir Smith to re-sharpen one sword."

"Oh. It's still about your job. I'm terribly sorry, but my father has recently suffered an extreme back pain, and if he's new, he's been refused a job. At the end of the day, which has been quite lagging just for those of you who have known each other for a long time, you took the trouble to get to such a distance, and even this one is very painful, but it is unlikely to meet your expectations."

"Oh, my God! Right, no. That's too bad."

Artemisia bent her lips to the letter to when she was openly discouraged.

"I wonder if we can do something about it there, Ricotte-kun"

Rudge, who was holding his hands together, sticks his face out and stuffs it.

Ricotte laughed ambiguously, saying no again.

Looks like a soft atmosphere, but the core part seemed strong inside.

"Oh. Can't you? Why, Loribotellicotte. Hey, do me a favor, can I touch that pompous belly?

"Klund. Hey, hey, isn't that too rude for the first person you meet?

"That's right. Besides, if it's Nadenade, I'd like to touch it. as academic interest."

"So is Rudge!?

Ricotte watched quietly as the collectors were making an adorable noise, in her mouth, rebutting the word kland.

"Klund. Um, is it possible that Mr. Klund was moved here from the King's Landing?

"Oh, yeah, but"

"If you have a name, Simon Klund. No doubt about it!

"Ooh, ooh"

"Wait. Wait. Wait. It's Klund. I believe it. Could this girl's belly child be your..."

Artemisia's eyes turn into something slightly unpleasant and feverish.

The collector immediately denied it.

"No! Mostly I'm not Lori. Yikes!

"Ha! That's not true, Mr. Artemisia. Because I felt like Mr. Klund might resemble someone our people used to talk to. But you have a name! Maybe, maybe."

"Uh, what. Who's Ricotte's husband?

"You don't have to give me a name. You'll see! My guy was always talking about Mr. Klund! Come on, I think it's just time for a break."

When Ricotte grabbed the arms of the collector, he rushed towards the blacksmith hut. As panicked, Artemisia and Rudge continue.

"Hey, this loli is too hard!!

"Dorn!

Ricotte quickly turned to the back of the collector and stuck his hands out as he gently carved the steps for the pregnant woman.

"Whoa, don't push it!

The collector made sure he was thrown in and stepped into the blacksmith hut. The treasurer was overwhelmed with enthusiasm. I take my tongue out of my tingling throat and look around.

Half the room was earthy and oddly dim. In the corner of the room are piles of coal mounds piled up like mountains. There were hammer-fired bars and chopsticks cluttered around on gold floors, fire floors and fuigos. I can see the tank, assembled in red brick with water, shaking quietly by the light it gives out of the gap.

the center of that space.

I saw a man sitting in a chair made of large wooden stumps.

You know me. Who the hell is that?

The heart of the collector gradually quickens. I saw a man stand up slowly.

Though it was built narrowly, I could see the man's head about to poke into the ceiling, obviously more than two metres long. Scorched brown hair is waving in my back.

I can see developed muscles flourishing in my torso that I stripped them off. The thoracic muscle was enlarged like a corpus, and the dark chest hair was dense toward the center. Is the right shoulder muscle particularly terrible or swollen like a tumor? The great Kanazchi in his hand had a presence that could make him feel a tingle of uninterrupted weight that any beast could possibly kill with a single shot. The blue pants are full of holes everywhere because of the splatters. From his right knee, his hem was torn and his hairs were popping out. The man's eyes covered in a quiet colour. The face is full of dark beards and I can't read the expression. I understand that you are still young because of the color gloss and muscle swelling of your skin, but I have no idea how old you are.

What should I do?

Ricotte said she would know if she saw him.

"You. Who the hell are you?"

The collector has no idea.

The man lets him shake it small when he gives out a dirty wooden spoon silently.

Occasionally, the line of memory connects.

"No way. You..."

A man snorts silently.

The collector was grabbing the man's arm and screaming loudly as he jumped up like he had been bounced.