Dungeon+Harem+Master

One of the three vampire knights. The “Great Eagle” dalamite burst straight into Tomoe as she stood her steel hook claw. Daramitsu is a small but agile man with thick muscles.

Tomoe jumped out outdoors as he kept his distance while walking together. It is visible that if you are flown around in a narrow mansion, you will be disadvantaged. There are thick black clouds in the sky, dark nights with no view of the moonlight. Tomoe's forged eyes capture the impending movement of the blood-sucking species even in the low light intensity and do not interfere with the battle.

Outdoors, ashes, the remains of the earlier swept corpses ghosts, are splashed in the wind, on weeds and trees. The garden trees in the cut together gardens were each arranged to become a symmetry, too geometric for some realism. The wet sesame grass is loose as it plays droplets. Running, the shadow of the treasurer appeared behind Tomoe's brain for just a moment.

but right away it was smashed to the slaughter of a vampire like an attacking beast.

A little boy named Dalamitsu's dead man flew toward Tomoe running on the ground as he flew in a shameless move to the two names of the Great Eagle. Dalamitsu's weapon is a steel hook claw. worn on both wrists. It flew from above with an unusual roar.

Tomoe calmly saw through the claw blow, cutting a dragonfly and squeezing it backwards. Most importantly, Dalamitsu's onslaught did not subside to that extent. A series of attacks looms like rage tearing the sky apart. Tomoe continues to retreat with Zunzun, not having time to rebuild his posture, just to engage in an attack. I see a despicable Shi 'a behind my back.

Immediately, with the rear pillar on his back, Dalamitsu's shaken nails made a noise and ate into it, thick. Was it instinctive intuition that Tomoe left the pillar? Dalamitsu's nails collapsed Shi 'a as he easily chopped the thick columns so as to cut the melted butter.

"Woman. It's a lot quicker just to escape, like a butterfly."

"You're going to be dictating, there's a heretical flair"

"Well, it's about running around at best. I really like to see a beautiful daughter like you cut off her limbs and cry. Yes, why don't I cut off your long, beautiful arms and legs, strip your clothes, and blame you like a kettle in front of that man? Most likely, a man named Klando will be eaten by Wendigo before he gets to Dracool."

Tomoe had a crush on a monster named Wendigo. He is a giant bald headed wildling man, a ferocious monster who lives in the woods, often attacks people and ravages crops.

"If so, this is it. Damn it, I have to get rid of you and protect that guy. At best, if you run away and survive, you'll be framed for giving us a little novel from our drakur. Damn, humans are fragile and vulnerable creatures. Hehe, the one named Klund had a big, but sex-rooted face. Most of the time, it's called looking down."

"One thing, okay?"

"What is it, little girl? Are you willing to surrender?"

"No matter how much I envy your back, it's impossible for your mustard pellet-like body to change forever. I can't do this."

"What the...! You rotten whore!!

Dalamitsu squeezed his face oddly, calling him to cry, causing his eyes to slay bright red.

"That's right. Call me, you little sushi. Your sister will adore you!!

And, after cutting the words short, Tomoe lowered himself and took the long sword on his back. The lower body of the Dalamitsu, which kicks the ground and flies, stretches wide into the void.

Normally, it is not difficult to change the location of an attack in a chilled head.

but Daramitsu waved his nails at Tomoe's deliberately exposed defenseless back, leaving it to the fierce.

- It took.

Actually, that's the invitation.

Tomoe, with the blade of a long sword that flushed down his back, easily received the hook claw of the dalamite, saw the palm bottom thrust to his empty lower body.

From the powerful left arm, the sacred energy to destroy the blood-sucking species broke.

Dalamitsu's screams rang in the dark night as he emitted a blue white phosphor.

Continuously Tomoe swings his long sword quickly and cuts off Dalamitsu's right arm. The face of the man who flew away behind his back swelled ugly and hateful as he let his black blood stand.

"Gi, gizza sooo ahhh!!

"What's up? Do you want to brush even the broken nails untrained? Losing your back is a word for a man like you."

"We're done playing. Oh! Hmm."

Dalamitsu exhaled heavily and concentrated as he returned his wrist to its original position, which was on the verge of falling. The cutting surface, which was powerfully bleeding like a puppy and geyser, stuck like the original. This is the powerful resilience of the dead, the son of a vampire.

"Stupid woman. I am the Great Dead and the Three Vampire Knights are the Dahlamites of one Great Eagle. Such attacks do not cause any itching for us! Sorry to hear that!!

"- You were crying for it. Little one."

Tomoe laughed lusciously, letting him wink loudly with his cleavage eyes.

Daramitsu's complexion turned blue or red like a signal. I wonder how unfamiliar I am with being scorned. The man's patience had already crossed the threshold.

"Huh. That's a cheap provocation. But I dare you to ride! To that provocation!! That's your last word. Ahhh!! Die, Yee!

Dalamitsu either came in early or almost like a bullet at a horizontal angle.

With unprecedented speed and strength, the tide of battle was here.

"Rogue flow. Secret Knife"

Tomoe followed the gait conveyed by the ancient Sword Saint Sidulka Rogue and saw a special sword strike at an imminent subject uniting his spirit.

Its velocity, its force, instantaneously accommodated the atmospheric mana into the blade, bringing the blue-white flame together into the blade itself.

"Flame slaughter!!

Dalamitsu's body, approaching at a tremendous rate, looked frozen in the void.

Tomoe's wielded long sword slashed Dalamitsu's body diagonally wide open as he drew a blue-white trajectory like a meteor.

The bright blue flame, as it burned down the vampire's body in an instant, flashed sharply like a fallen star on earth, turning the five bodies into bright white ashes at a rate of instant.

At the same time.

Cordura was confronted by one of the three vampire knights, Isaac of "Fiery".

For one thing, it was a vicious eye.

The long back is almost like a giant tree.

Just across the street, I could feel the intention of killing blowing all over my body.

"Sister, why don't you put it together and I'll take it?"

"No, I'm fine, Alexei. I'll take care of your big fat ass."

"Right. And I need to ask you a favor. Yeah."

"What is it?"

"Please stop saluting me. We can't be friends anymore."

"Yes.... no, I get it. Alexei, let me handle this."

Alexei was still concerned about Cordura, or he was glaring at him in a way that almost ignored his own enemy, a dead man named Arman, so he stripped one fang and made him roar.

"So I guess your opponent doesn't mind if I do."

Isaac is the so-called golden eye. Only eyes falling beneath my outstretched forehead are soggy and cold burning. When Isaac stood silently by Zhu Spear, he set his aim with the tip tip tip perfectly on Cordura's chest.

It fits the slightly chopped head shavings that should have been a habit. Cordura put the cane in her hand quietly to her feet and opened her half and fisted.

Was that the signal to start the war?

Isaac slashed through the sky and unleashed a poke at Zhu Spear without a thing.

Before a roar reached Cordura's ear, the red, wet tip shrugged and thin and long, stretching like a snake.

To fight an enemy with bare hands and good fortune, there is no other way to jump into their nostalgia.

Isaac, however, is a professional in magic.

He was creating an absolute defensive zone around him that didn't give Cordura the crevice to jump in, and at an unstoppable speed to his eyes, shooting a breathless series of attacks like a machine gun, and not letting him attack as much as half a step.

If this happens, Cordura has no choice but to rot in spinning the spear's tip.

A cold blade carved her shoulders and arms one after the other, adding definite damage, not lethal.

If there is only one advantage to Cordura, it means that her divine witchcraft, whose enemies belong to the category of immortal life forms (undead), and monks and soldiers, has an effect on the surface.

But magic, on the other hand, was a delicate technique that relied on mentality. It is not something to be otherwise surprised that you lack concentration just because you have suffered minor injuries and that you have problems exercising magic. For this reason, it was common sense among adventurers that magicians would always be protected in the least dangerous rear position, while not attacking at a distance, and would be thorough in recovery and supporting magic.

When it comes to the ratio of this world, there are overwhelmingly few people who are blessed with magical aptitude. So to speak, the users of sacred magic such as Hilda and Cordura were also in an exceptional position in the monastery.

Even if you continue to outrun enemy attacks like this, all of them will be pushed down by vampires who boast endless health. Although indoors, the cold is strong and intense. Even in the spacious air, which would probably have reached zero, Cordura was lit by fire all over her body, with puffy, rice-grained sweats on her forehead.

(I just have to do it -)

Cordura, at an exquisite time, kicked Isaac's spear out, jumped back and builded strength in the umbilical Tanta.

The enemy does not put between them, and without hesitation, they roll out the poke mechanically.

That moment.

Concentrating his spirit to its limits, Cordura walked in a sliding motion through the floorboard as he opened his hands defenselessly horizontally to the left and right, visible only at the impending tip of the ear.

If I didn't eat through my chest, I looked directly at the cold blade coming at me as I twisted.

Her soul is so focused that the pointy tip of the tip of the tip shows still in the hexagon.

Almost, in a divine motion, Cordura held the spear pattern beside herself, as if it were only natural to do so, when she saw the spear blow through in a critical fashion.

Zhu spears are wrapped in iron ropes in many ways, and the small and weak nuns are so harsh that they are likely to fall even when held up.

In reality, however, its spears, which are large and magnificent, began to make hard noises, as if they were blurry candy artisans.

Isaac's evil looks strangely distorted.

It was a mixed look of fear and perplexity, desperate to shake off the impossible imagination.

"Ha!!

Cordura flashed his temper, snapping the enemy's Zhu Spear with it tangled aside, throwing it into the face of Isaac, who grabbed it.

Cold tips thrown.

Like a thunderbolt, it glistened white.

Cordura did see the despair of vampires at her swinging fingertips.

The special blow pierced Isaac's face as it was sucked into the center of his face, not in different dimensions.

Long vampires scream as they hold their faces down.

Hearing the painful tree spirit, Cordura, without putting her hair down, kicked the ground and flew high.

The back of an enemy's head that folds its body into a letter and is distressed.

A beautifully stretched kick pierced him deeply.

A fluctuation of power in the leg neck runs around the vampire's entire body like a thunderbolt, shattering a cell called a cell. Isaac scratched his face with his fingertips, screaming, under the holy fluctuations within.

Isaac's face deforms violently like a boiling magma, while he loses his guzzles and snails and collapses. When it was no longer over, the moment Cordura unlocked the defense, it happened.

"Haaaa!!

The man, who was a corpse, wielded his last power and assembled it in Cordura.

If we combine, weight means things. Isaac pressed against Cordura's thin, white neck as he revealed the nature of the vampire and stripped out his long canine teeth.

"Ugh. This."

"Stupid. Ah!! How dare you, Isaac, how dare you!! I'm gonna suck all of Xama's blood out without a drop and just skin and bones. Ugh!!

Cordura, in the abyss of despair, identified what moves chills at the edge of his sight.

"Kappe?

A white blade stuck out of the mouth of Isaac, who was proud to win.

It is Alexei. He gave a tediously loud yawn when he pulled the sword through the back of Isaac's head unconstitutionally. Isaac collapsed into a landslide as he dodged blood tears from his eyeballs.

"Heavy, this -"

As Cordura peeled off Isaac's giant stretched over her body, at the same time, the vampire's entire body turned into a bright white mass of ash, making a light sandy sound and collapsing. Alexei single-handedly caused Cordura, who was sitting back, looking sideways at “Steel” Arman.

"It's not a Tyman fight, so I want you to take a look at it."

Arman, in the words of Alexei, made him laugh invincibly, replied with his hands together in front of his chest, exalted to sing up.

"Nothing to worry about. But if you lose the femininity, Isaac will be a fool who deserves the name of the Three Horsemen! Pretty cowardly and unintentional! Besides, I should warn you in advance that I can't do anything like that! Hmm?"

direction of Arman's gaze. When I was followed and turned to my face, I saw Tomoe rushing back there with a light foothold that had popped out earlier. Behind it, I could see about seven men in similar black attire.

"Hmm. Did my little girl break the dalamites, too? Besides, apparently they brought your people."

Tomoe told him with his lips damp with his tongue as he lined up next to Alexei with his sword standing.

"I joined my fellow surviving executors. We all attack at once and we clean it up in an instant."

"Your people are safe."

Forty tangled warriors, the oldest of a group of blacks, finally moved forward, looking sharply at Alexei from the front and screaming.

"The warrior there will be regarded as Alexei, one of Wuyingjie's brave men. I am Ethelbert, the chief executive of the Knights of Heavenly Gardens. I would like to thank Tomoe for the grant so far, but after this, I don't need any help. Beyond this, we're in the hands of the executor! Everyone. It's a fellow condolence fight! We're going into Shura now. Spare me your name!! Aim, thirteen dukes drakur's neck!!

"Respond."

"Answer!!

"Oh, hey, wait. You can't swallow it in the wind!

Dressed in disregard of Alexei's advice, the seven executors, led by Ethelbert, immediately turn to Arman.

but Arman kept his eyes open to the executors who were trying to push him around and just kept his words turned to Alexei alone.

"Huh. I see. You're Alexei, the brave man who asks the world. From the first sight, I saw him as a man who couldn't be easier for humans, but he was so powerful that he could work with all the knights. Come on, lightly prepare yourself. Let me warm you up."

Arman, on the other hand, still hadn't broken his arm and seemed to enjoy observing the looming men in such a way as Tattoo Young.

"Bullshit!"

"Are you going to make our selection of swordsmen?

"In the honor of the executor, I will turn you into ash."

The men, enraged by Arman's words, pulled out their swords simultaneously.

"Lay down the sword-style slaughter line."

To Ethelbert's command, the executors quickly semi-surfaced Arman in an undisturbed motion. The white blade that has been pulled out is flaming and slain. The exhaled exhalation of the men flowed into the void and whitewashed.

"What's up? Is this just how the Xamas are good at surrounding and viewing?

Arman's foolish voice. Almost at the same time, I wondered if Ethelbert had shaken up his arms, and the men he was surrounding were slaughtered at the same time with Arman in mind.

Like a fierce dog unravelled, the men were attacked.

From up, down, left, right, like a meteor, the silver wire is scattered and slammed against Arman's five bodies.

Simultaneous slaughter from multiple directions.

It was an attack of impeccable momentum and timing.

A long sword storm that moved as hard as a windmill.

I chopped Arman's thin jacket into thin pieces.

The smile of the synagogue, convinced of victory in the face of Ethelbert, who had a long sword.

"Iron Hao"

but. The reality was heartless.

The knocked blade was blocked by a forged steely chest muscle and could not inflict as many scratches as a hair.

Arman prevented the men from attacking him while burning his upper body bright red as hot iron.

With a special breathing technique, the sharpened blade is easily bounced back by putting up a struggle in every corner of the body. It was an out-of-the-way business that could only be done by the dead who excelled in melee fighting.

An expression of incredibility was engraved on the faces of the executors, who remained semi-surrounded and boasted immense advantages. When Arman sticks out his right hand and twists his fingers, that's all the men wander, don't know, and retreat jizzily in the rear. Different position, something like that.

"Okay. Next, shall we go this way? Mm."

Arman began spinning as sharply as a comma happened when his arms were stretched horizontally.

The thick, enlarged arms were reinforced by a struggle to show the men more altitude and destructiveness than steel. Arman turned around like a windmill, wild as a hurricane, approaching the men.

The three of them took a blow to the arm to be rolled out.

Together, he was blown far apart like a cunt.

One fainted after a severe blow to the back of his head on the railing of a staircase stretched out to the center, one knocked on the wall and spit blood reflexes, and one took a fist blow to the face by Moro, imminent death by submerging the center.

Head to the man with the sword standing on his bar and approach Arman as he slides down the floor.

A knife sticking out for the stomach area.

Easier than breaking a paper doll, he penetrated the man's torso quickly and got out to his back.

As Arman pulled out his knife in a loose motion, the man collapsed off his knees as he dropped his gaze on his pompous empty chest.

"What. To this extent? Not really, don't let me down. It's not even a prep movement."

"Bullshit!"

A man with a sword was slashed bravely but head-on without a small worker.

Arman, when he showed his white teeth, stopped the man's sword from slamming him from the front with two arms.

Kan, and the hard sound rings, and the more of the broken blade flies as it rotates through the void.

The man stunned, staring at the cutouts that fell to the floor, unable to move as if they had been sewn to the spot.

"Ah, ah, ah"

"The courage. Let's make a pass."

Bumped with a dense fighting spirit, the man was freed from fixation. Animal survival instincts moved the body unconsciously. Run, he said. I can't stand this guy, he said.

Arman caught the head of a man who had been destroyed and then retreated, in the palm of both hands. Well, he caught it into space.

Not that the executor was otherwise small, but from Arman the Giant, there was a historical difference between adults and toddlers. The man scratched the sky with both legs as he turned his eyes black and white, but slowly threw out his eyes and tongue as he was tightened tightly with thick palms on both sides of his face, letting loose his crazy monkey-like voice.

When Arman, um, gained momentum, the man's head crumbled like a crushed tofu and splashed around without clamping the prototype.

"What. Have you lost your temper yet? Besides the executor, he's a weak creature."

The two remaining men were almost slashed by Arman with a rash.

Most of all, with extreme fear and wolves, they lacked the usual calmness, which had dropped the level to an attack with no ingenuity, no practice, just to avoid it.

The men are attacked by Arman as they cry and cry.

"The attack. Disqualification"

Arman retreated a half-step backward slaughter from the left and right, letting him arm himself like a serpent and slapping a knife in between the two men.

Arman's palm, which brings the fighting together, cuts better than the sharpened sword.

He didn't even make a sound of beating the meat, jumping the men's necks into the void.

Two bodies losing their necks stand up spraying blood tides from their wounds.

The scene of the play was a nightmare in this world that only seemed like a joke.

"Bucket of shit, you..."

Ethelbert already had no fine dust to spare initially, and it was finally like standing with his teeth rattled.

"Bucket stuff? No, I don't have trouble getting it wrong. I'm not that strong. However, I suggest that you humans change your perception that it is impossible for the heavens and the earth to cover our transcendent species."

There was a red wind.

Ethelbert was reminded of how blessed he had been with the enemies he had confronted so far up here. This deceased is not the one whose common sense has prevailed so far.

And it was too late to understand at its roots that we didn't have time to repent about it or use it for later reflections.

An iron arrow that brings death together swallows itself without leaving a shadow.

Even if not, only stand up to it.

The last thought was the remnants of a familiar smile between his wife and son, awaiting his return in the King's capital.

As I climbed up the stairs and ran into the residential space, there was a strong death odor standing inside. It must have been overflowing with luxurious conditioning, but now there is no shadow to see. You can see signs of heavy fighting all over the room. Destroyed fixtures were scattered with lost snails, and the snowy white walls were littered with remnants of reddish blood tides, like brushed hair.

With a wrinkle between his eyebrows, the collector kicked up the half-broken chair at his feet and stopped the movement as he laid his hands on the knob on the door leading to the next room.

Engraved, the wound under the garment sends pain to the brain that makes you want to scratch it every time you move your body. When I look around my sleeves, my feathered epidermis, like sassara, peels off in tears. Directly below, what a beautiful pink meat peeked and it was clear that it was gradually demodulating. The blood has already stopped and the clear fluid is only slightly wetting the skin when it bleeds. Exactly, something like the crest of immortality. The treasurer decided that there was no obstacle to the battle, and swallowed his dry throat, snarling and salivating.

I hesitated somewhat but took my hand off the door knob thoughtfully and kicked it. I made a murmuring noise and every hinge of the door blew up. In the hall, a long vertical desk is broken and dispersed from the middle.

"Oh, my God, this"

The first thing that caught my eye was a giant bald headed monster. Muddy fluid is flowing from all over the limbs. The tip portion of the white bone protruded from the chopped right arm. On the chest part of the monster stands a long sword about half way through.

When the monster admitted that he still had breath, and the figure of the treasurer, he let his body flock, but the soul was already flying away, a wound that was not helpful, no matter how he saw it.

If I took it off the upset, besides the monsters, there were breathing survivors left indoors. With the sobbing groans, it is the knights who were serving Russia who are twisting themselves in the corners of the Quartet.

"Mr. Klund..."

"You are."

The knight, who made a bloodbath on the wall and woke up with his back in his hands, was undoubtedly a young man named Lynx, whom he met at the hotel. Hold the bloodstained, red-black iron helmet aside, and the chest plate is heckled, as decided. It was a scar enough to tell the story of how vigorously they fought in the hope of liberating Russia.

"The power, the power, it didn't extend."

"Don't force your mouth. Shit, turn back now and somehow call Cordura."

"It's useless. We corpses can repair ourselves if we have some injuries, but my wounds are too deep."

"Why, such a stupid mane. You could have left."

"I can't. Me too, everyone. If you see Wendigo, the hater who destroyed that village..."

Lynx glanced sideways at the giant of the fallen monster with his disillusioned eyes and, for some reason, cheered satisfactorily.

"Hey. Don't look at me like that. It's not weird."

"Take this..."

When Lynx takes the silver pocket watch out of his chest, he sticks it out with a trembling palm.

The collector stifled his face as he bit his back teeth when he received it, which was bloodstained.

"It's a magic tool called" Back in Time. "With this, you can rewind the target time only once. Master Klund, please. You should be able to use this to help Lucia rewind your time before you become a dead man. Run away from Dracool. If you go back before you become a dead man, the curse will disappear. That way, even though the Thirteenth Lord will not be able to easily find you in Lucia. He lacks the guts. If it disappeared, you wouldn't be chasing it so hard."

"Whoa. Why, if there's such a convenient thing, I didn't use it from the beginning"

"I didn't. I don't have the courage... If I use it, she remembers. those memories (...). I'm so sorry I seem to throw everything out."

"Ah, hey! Hang on!!

That's all Lynx said, glancing at his lips as he looked forward with cloudy eyes. Clarify your ears. A simple melody nose song sounds delightful, unfamiliar to the collector. It was a sure sign that Lynx's life would not last any longer.

"Sorry. Lucia. I couldn't be a knight to protect you."

A mixed voice of remorse and relief somewhere was badly cleared.

Lynx's body, as bright white as it had blown salt, instantly ashed and collapsed out of sight, as the wave tao washed the sand at the wave. The collector, squeezing Lynx's cakera, which became a sandcrumb, stood up flashly. Pushing the pocket watch in his hand into his chest, he travels to the sword, which is no longer a relic, still standing against Wendigo. I bled all the way to the pattern and discolored it, and I put my hands on it. What a miracle it was. Was it a dream that the sensory abilities hidden within the collector showed? Lynx's memory in the sword flowed directly into his brain, the world blurred white, and consciousness wandered the horizon of the void.