Dungeon+Harem+Master

Silver Star Cup Martial Arts Day.

The zodiac had an indescribable face and was sitting on the VIP seat located on the top floor of the arena viewing area.

Even at the qualifying passing party at the hotel where we stayed last night, Victoire and Meriandale, the winners, were so dizzy and depressed that they were concerned. Unusual for this man, the gloomy feeling didn't thrive with him, and the place ended somewhere like a butt-cut dragonfly.

In particular, it was also awesome to see Meriandale fall, the cause of his defeat. When, "I'll stop leaving too," he said, so much so that he was about to be slashed with Dorothea, his master.

Her morale was remarkably low, although only her resignation was stopped by the words of a collector who managed to surf consciousness. Meryandale also suffered terribly from the sin of leaving herself to her own impulses to hurt her loved ones.

In addition, at the table of the banquet, the discernment Sizka and Victoire became arguments. These two, when they only saw each other anymore or cursed each other in a dirty way, threw down their cups and finally never went back to the hotel where they were staying together.

What a sad mood. The collector did not enjoy himself as depressed while sitting in a chair so that he could hold Pordina. Pordina is much smaller than a keeper, but still weighs about the average adult female degree. But now the weight is comfortable.

The collector keeps pressing silently, stroking Pordina's head slowly through her hair and her dog ears. When I do this, I think of the Taro I used to have in Akita prefecture, and my heart is at ease.

There is the word animal healing. The collector sought the healing of her mother in Pordina, and she also had deep peace of mind in communicating with her loving husband by physical touch.

Cheerful Liza and Karen are also somewhat uninspiring, contrary to the exuberance around them. When Hilda muttered, I think I should go home now, Lacey, who was right next to me, stood up and sang in a cool voice.

Her song, Half-Say Lane, has a special curse. As if to softly wash away her rotten feelings, she wipes away the bad things her tone is in her body. After Lacey sang to the end, a clear breeze was blowing through the hearts of the collectors.

"Hey, Klando. I don't know what happened. Because of this, I have to have fun. Hey."

With a smile as bright as the sun, I could not help but see. Pordina spills a crunchy grin, albeit slightly.

- Oh, yeah. I fell in love with Lacey's smile. Then you're still not who you are to make me care any more.

"Bad. Now it's time - no problem. Come on, Pordina, have a drink! From here on out, I'm gonna have enough fun to take back yesterday's share. Yeah, eh!

After all, the main point of this group was the collector. If his expression clouds, they suffer, too. Even if you don't understand why. Even if it's airy, it won't make a difference while it's healthy. While we're almost screwed and making a scene, the gloomy mood also goes somewhere.

Thus, when the collector began to escape from pseudo-depression, a serious battle was about to begin between the fighters competing for the protection and affection of the martial arts gods in the arena under his eyes.

In the pre-war modem, there was a gathering of benign elites selected from among the three thousand warriors.

Five men and three women.

The truth is, in the history of the Silver Star Cup, there is only one instance of a woman winning until the main battle.

It was therefore clear that the three ladies here were powerful men who could not be judged by their appearance.

"Oh, hey, you were winning."

A small figure wearing an olive hood pulled Meryandale's sleeve.

"Ah. You were, then! Citrus."

Meryandale noticed Citrus, the boy who had helped out of the drunk even before coming to the occasion, and made a sound that jumped out of his head. Citrus hid his face in a thick robe hood, even during the qualifying match, so Meryandale never noticed what was best in front of him.

Citrus lowered his head with a sleepy face as he took the cover from his face. She has white hair like snow.

Meriandale softly held her chest down, reassured by the slightest increase in the number of faces she knew.

"Speaking of which, your name is Mr. Meryandale."

"Haha. I don't know if you had a name."

"Hey, you're an accidental store. You know, you've always won this far."

"Huh. That's what strength is. Well, you're amazing, too! Lucky boy."

Meryandale sticks his citrus cheeks with a gritty index finger. Citrus remains faceless and gently pays off her fingers.

"How about luck?"

"Aha. Sorry. Sorry. I don't know. It was like that."

"Keh. This isn't a kid's game."

Blocking the two soothing cheers was a man with total hair named Marchano, who was brushing his bare spear in frustration. In an instant, the air freezes. Meryandale, obviously wandering around, sees Sizka and Victoire, but they should have heard if they were already in spiritual unity, but they didn't move.

"Let's hold hands and win together, shall we? I don't give a shit, let's get that kind of play brought into this sacred tournament. Heh. Anyway, the Omei kids are set to lose the first fight, so don't make a scene like that. Anyway, after you decide to lose, you're gonna cry and stick around in that bunch of whorehouses and pussy, right? Damn, I'm annoyed. Half of the games make me look like a fool. If you want, you can hang around here in your spare time. Hey, hey!

"Oh, no. We just chatted. It's horrible to suddenly have such a good temper!

Marchano's not-so-much. You got annoyed a lot, and Meriandale pissed off your eyes and raised your voice of protest.

But Marchano laughs and cares less about Meryandale's words and so forth, distorting his brutal face even further as he tries to get up off the bench and make even worse noises.

At the same time, the cutting-edge of the sword to its neck muscle was poked at an electroluminescent speed.

The cutting-edge. It flashed.

It is the third consecutive winners of the twenty-first, twenty-second and twenty-third rounds, Veysel Bromstrand and Sizka, plus Victoire.

"Young man. A bunch of sarcastic, nasty gossip about ladies. As a knight, and as one gentleman, this Veysel. Don't shut up and abandon him. Apologize, or what? Would you prefer to be unilaterally sanctioned by these two ladies and me?

"Ah, uh..."

Just realizing his disadvantage, Marchano left the modem uncomfortably when he apologized to both Meriandale and Citrus.

"Oh, thank you for that. Mr. Veisel, and Vi to Sizka - even if it's not, Madame Butterfly."

"Yeah. This much is my taste as a gentleman. Naturally."

He showed his white teeth as Vesel rubbed his moustache.

"Mary, the battle is on, even though it's an understatement. It's a distraction."

Victoire keeps his high nose twisted upwards and stuck.

"That's right, Mary. Especially don't keep your mouth shut with these ocasina butterflies face-to-face idiots. It's going to be a nuisance for everyone."

When Sizka pointing her lips at Victoire's presence seemingly obnoxious, the two begin to mutilate their menthes as they rub their foreheads together.

"Ahhh. No more sudden fights. Yikes. Oops!"

"Lady needs to get along with Lady. I'm taking my seat off because I want to concentrate too."

Does Vesel look like he's in his mid-forties? He was a very casual gentleman and a friendly man for three consecutive tournament champions.

Whatever it is, it is the main tournament.

World War I, Sizca de Charpanthier vs. Lemonade Alamita.

World War II, Madame Butterfly vs. Marchano.

World War III, Meriandale Carlier vs. Citrus.

World War IV, Veisel Bromstrand vs. Regis Dopardon.

Just before, the combination was announced.

"Hmm. It's Victoire. Don't entertain me any more by losing the first round."

"Nyah! Nyah! Wow, if I lose every game, I'll be naked on this occasion and I'll dance naked in front of all the audiences here."

"This exposed maniac."

"What, you're going to win. Today is the day when Kotempan rarely gets annoyed! Wash your neck and wait!

"Unlike you, I also wash the back of my ears properly. Unlike you, my son, who Klander pointed out to me."

"Nah! That's different. I wish he'd behave like he was sticking his face in a person's neck."

"You. You're still provoking me. Abominable Yamatsu"

"So why would I do that?"

Meryandale stood in front of Citrus as she left my two noisy people.

"Hey, you hit it."

"Mm-hmm. Right. But I can't help it."

"Yeah, I might be happier with that too. Keep up the good work."

"Ha. Don't push your shoulders too hard."

"Mmm. Citrus-kun, I can afford a younger one. Yes."

"Stop it for a second, really"

Meryandale took his hand and let him hold the paper wrap as he pulled Citrus' cheek around.

"Is this...?

"Haha. A bribe. That's a lie. It happens to be extra, so I recommend it. See you later."

A citrus with a pocan expression is left in the modelroom. Meryandale, remembering something somewhat bitter in his heart, proceeded down the long hallway towards the center with the arena.

The first round began.

The bronze of battle is sounded.

The circular arena, unlike yesterday, feels unusually wide when it's just the two of us.

Sizka set a songblade on nature as she slowly approached the confronting Lemonade Aramita.

The enemy's weapon is a stick about four meters long. Probably a pure stick. In the qualifying round, I had a meeting with Victoire from start to finish, so I don't know in the hands of the enemy.

but I guess I'm not that much of an opponent when I see that I don't remember any threat even when I'm facing each other like this. It's simply a digestive match. Sizka's purpose is to be alone with that disgusting Victoire. Others were nothing but snake feet.

"Introduction!"

There is a voice for the referee.

The lemonade moved to the right with the stick in place.

Sizka against was sedated like the fire was out.

Then I hear a stupid voice that sounds like it. As Sizka stepped forward unconstructively, the lemonade kicked the dot into the cobblestone, rapidly approaching.

stick. The tip is wrapped in a bag, but the material must still be iron. Slow. What a normative speed.

Sizka felt worried and gazed at the white tip, approaching to raise her sickle to her throat.

A dangerous thought comes to mind as to what would happen if I ate this as it is.

The collector will probably grieve. And it was visible to me that I would tear the young man in front of me eight times in anger as a result of the fiery fire.

Speaking of which. Last night's keeper was somewhat unwell. Even while doing this, the seed of anxiety grows on my chest and grows fast.

I'm really doing something stupid. Even this past half month, I didn't even have to go calling it training. I was just bluffing. Although my physical fatigue was perfectly healed and in excellent condition because I slept in Cheap House all the time.

I know it's crap like truth, crap, but as soon as that woman gets involved, part of her head gets hot and the braking doesn't work.

As a matter of fact, I regretted it as soon as I left home. If I had apologized properly, I would have spent time with the collector. But I'm always too slow to make a decision, "I'm sorry" is not good enough.

Just to say that the Rudges were diving into the dungeon with their collectors instead of themselves, something, I felt a strong sense of alienation like I had been left behind, and sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night and was stunned even though my tears were spilling.

I think you've become so weak. Last year, just spending nearly six months together from around autumn, they became an irreplaceable family and were remembered as part of Sizka's meat.

I can't tell you how lonely I am.

Oh, what do I have to worry about a lot at a time like this?

- Speaking of which, I feel like I was in the middle of a game right now.

Sizka paid poignantly for the tip of the stick, which had been extended to hand, as gentle as releasing a spoon into a bowl. The track of the stick turns and falls to the ground.

Bounced. It was almost a reflexive move. Speaking of which, you had a sword.

Wow, the audience was screaming, but only now is the illusion that the sound is gone.

At his feet, there was a man staring over his head at Sizka with a flashing face.

Sizka ran down the void, as she flowed, hitting only a few song knives on the man's forehead.

What. If you swing through your thoughts, you'll be guzzled like a collapsed pudding.

- I'm such a sweet woman.

"Winner, Sizca de Charpanthier!

As Sizka fluttered down to the ground, the sight of the lemonade falling into a depression caught my eye.

From now on, let's do it a little better. I swear to God, it was Sizka.

It is World War II.

Strictly copper clattered.

The card is about Madame Butterfly, in fact, against Victoire de Barthelmy, head of the Kingsguard Knights of the Kingdom of Romeless, is Marchano, a master of martial arts with two names: "Great Storm”.

"Hey. How embarrassing you were earlier, crazy girl"

"Who's crazy? You disrespectful bastard! Who the hell do you know about me?"

Victoire barked as he put his hands on his hips, slightly leaning forward. A well-shaped rocket-shaped breast bounced.

"Madame Butterfly, right?

"Mm, muggle. It is, but it is. Something pisses me off!

Yes. Victoire's costume now looks like she's going to a masquerade. It's not the knightly outfit she dreamed of every day, coming down to the stage of the game with refreshment.

(Muggle. Exactly, there's no way the lord's daughter can reveal her identity and leave. Shit. Doing that would mislead me into thinking that this tournament itself is eight hundred)

Victoire stepped on the floor stone gradually, vehemently annoyed. For a moment, Marchano, freaking out and shaking his body, restarts the spear in his hand, even as he feels slightly pulled.

"I'm pretty cautious even when I look like this. Your movements in the qualifying round were carefully observed. He's quite a swordsman. Purely respectful."

"Uh heh. That's right. It's me. Ma! and Tochinka"

Is Victoire not used to being praised very much every day, or when he rode the enemy's mouthpiece, he stuck his characteristic rocket tits out front with a boinboin to leak a glimmer of laughter. Stupid round.

"Whatever those kids are, I'm betting on this game. I guess you do, too. To be honest, I don't know how far I can go with you. Let me try everything I can."

"Mm-hmm. Okay. Come on. Let's do everything we can against them."

Victoire quietly analyzed Marchano's power when he put his sword on the upper stage.

Weapons are bare spears. I have pulled the blade, but the tip is pointy, and if it were decided on, I would be sorry if it was free. Interesting, freaking out. Sometimes I get scared of myself for being a born combat freak.

"Ohhh."

Only then was Marchano's offense harsh. The "beginning" word of the referee is good. I jumped into my nostalgia before I finished, and I burst out of nowhere.

Fast, and heavy. Apparently the two names "Big Storm” are not Dada. It was a long, loaded, accurate and foolish offense. This hand type has no strange tangled hands. Instead, it's really hard to attack.

Victoire felt the rolling spear slowly retracted as he turned left to the right. Aren't we going to do it?

Victoire thought. If they don't find a way to open it like this and push it, it will ring out and the defeat will be decided. That is unacceptable. The tide of battle is perfect.

Increase concentration. Marchano's spear. Sure, it's sick, heavy, but that's all it was. Ugh, exhaling loudly, he waved his sword diagonally in the mood of tearing.

Moment after moment, the spear's tip adhered, as if it had been sewn to space. I can put my strength into the sword. The general struggle is thick and spreading until it conveys its fingertips and is visible.

Aiming halfway through the spear, he shook off his sword vigorously.

I'm not responding. The technique is that of an ordinary man. I guess it's sad, not very much with him, but this Victoire opponent doesn't serve.

Gah, there was a sharp noise and the iron bounced and flew.

It's a round sword with a blade pull. Otherwise, it was almost iron bars, so Victoire turned down the spear just because of the momentum.

As if the paper had been completely cut off, Marchano's gains had fallen diagonally.

Suddenly. In an instant, couldn't the brain collect things? That, if there was a moment, there was too much room to settle.

waved. Relentless, he slapped his sword down his shoulder. Ouch, the sound of a broken bone.

A destructive sound called a smudge, coming from the pattern. It's so freaking pleasant.

Fighting this is unacceptable.

Marchano opened his eyes and threw up blood from your mouth.

What else?

Victoire's sword reached almost the breast of his chest from his right shoulder.

The referee announces the victory with a blue white face. Immediately, a health guard and a healing magician rushed over and chanted their heels towards the dying Marchano. With all the cracking cheers on his back, Victoire stepped down the arena and walked to the modem, in a foothold that it was normal.

Citrus was mocking the candy in his hand while sitting in the bench bench where no one was left. How dare you? Things go crazy with that girl. I am only competing in this tournament as a priest of the Godlum Order. Naturally, I saw the move she showed in the qualifying round, but it was a mediocre one that hadn't taken off the boundaries of the amateur.

The original motor nerves don't seem bad, but they're not experienced enough. Besides, if you face your enemies, you lose degrees and most of your strength is like you haven't been able to draw it out.

Would she have noticed? that I did everything I could to keep secretly following and somehow let them stay until the end.

"No, you won't notice. Ooh. He looks like a troll."

Besides, she, Meryandale, belongs to the target Lord Victoria's matrimonial family.

In other words, they belong to a clear enemy faction. Citrus, in fact, didn't even believe in this kind of thing, such as the teachings of Godrum. The only place where I and my sister happened to be picked up, which was abandoned, was the branch manager of Godrum. Out of the question the preferred dislikes, have lived by the protection of the organization to this day.

"I want to see you, sister"

Citrus was summoned three years ago by the patriarch Lumay Godrum, the spokesman for God, and thought of his sister, Toad, who had never seen him since. My sister and brother were born with abnormal dyes and white hair. I endured an abominable shady and humid bullying in my mouth, thanks to my tender sister covering me up at all times.

I had, in fact, the aptitude for possessive psychology that Godrum is a secret. In other words, it had the potential to be a divine son who could handle God's moves, which were contraindicated.

If he knew he was fit, Godrum showed him the treatment he had beaten and changed and returned his palms to before.

When I faithfully carried out my organization's orders, I was only climbing to heights I didn't want.

"Jealousy is a pain in the ass. But maybe you should hang in there."

I could feel it breaking that girl named Meryandale, no matter how many games. I can be as brutal as I want to be with hostility, but I still can't do that.

"Think about it, eighth place"

"... Earthpane"

I didn't realize. There stood a man with a gloomy mind, like he was staining out of the shadows behind him.

The feeling of not being pleasant becomes more and more heavy. Citrus had made this elusive man the worst of the Order in a way. Because emotions are like unreadable.

"What can I do for you? I'm acting like I am."

The liver of the Victorian assassination directive is just one. I can win this tournament and approach her as an organizer just once when I receive the Silver Star Cup. The "washing" of Citrus' identity is enough. In the first place, the few who know that he is a priest of the Godlum denomination, even the same faithful.

Citrus assumed that Earthpane came here at the behest of Humberto in fifth place. That big fat ass has a lot of self-esteem, even though he's not capable of it.

Anyway, I guess I've put in a cross spear. I don't find this kind of jealousy, resentment, but it was simply a hassle.

"Don't say it's so unreachable. I'm feeling sympathetic. Together with this Godrum doctrine, as an unfamiliar heretic from the bottom of my heart."

Gusari and I felt stabbed in the back of my chest. Thank you, this man is troublesome. Citrus continued his words so that he could not be as emotional about the voice as possible.

"I'm trying. Then it's no use. And I don't want to talk to you. It would be very helpful if you disappeared."

"Well, you know what? I came to inspire you as one of the same Godrum people. Besides, I've been purchasing information specifically because I would like to know this. What do you say?"

"You can't even try to make me a loan. If it's a shake or a scratch, if you do it to that brain muscle humbelt. I think you can manipulate it without any effort. So. If you want something good, just talk about it?

"Yes, yes. Your sister, Toad. He's dead."

My throat was jammed. Hot as my whole body wants to burn at the same time. From the back of the citrus, the black wings thrive with makeup and noise. Ground pane against, without changing his expression in any way, on the contrary, let his cheeks loosen up a little happily.

"Um, come on. The joke is you pick the right person, right? Or are you, like, a suicide volunteer?

It's not a question of how shaky it is.

Only about my sister, I didn't want to be spoken of in a joke.

Depending on whether we leave, we can kill each other on this occasion. My emotions burned with melameras and I accidentally rose out of my chair.

"No, no, no. This is the truth without remaining. Toad was taking care of her around Le Mae, but the other day, she said that her belly flowed and she didn't even have a mother. It was unfortunate."

Blood freezes. I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense about my sister from this man. Citrus puts his strength on both legs, trying to flatten the man in front of him with wings flapping.

"And. I've kept this stuff."

"Ko, he -!"

Earthpane took out a little stone filled with blood.

That was a very important "because" only my sister and brother could understand.

"You were good at magic, so you should be able to read the remnants of your memories clinging to that stone. I guess I'm more persuasive than using 10,000 words."

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!

When Citrus took the star-shaped stone, he used magic to go into reading his memories, and moments later, he regretted it.

My chest is about to rip open and my head is covered in smoke in white. I felt strong nausea and stumbled onto the spot. She peeled off her white eyes and exhaled stomach fluids.

"I had stopped worrying about it, too, but how it seemed that I only thought of a man named Lemay, your sister, as just a tool. No, it was a real tragedy. Whatever, I didn't expect to blame a pregnant woman who was on the verge of breaking water that swelled up to that point for wanting to stop by and, quote, make a baby out of something like that. As for doctrine, you're right. Oh, and LeMay, she didn't know the toad was your sister. If I'd known, I'd have handled it differently again."

"What!

"Hey, I was asked to. Directly to your sister. She would have thought that if there had been a lapse by the Prophet, it should not have been your continuation as a priest walking smoothly through the course of birth...... There's a lot of bad luck. Don't let it get you down."

Earthpane disappeared just to say what he wanted. Citrus doesn't even realize that. I didn't think the world was great, but I didn't know it was this far, this far. The wind is roaring heavily in my ear. Tears. No tears. It's just that one sister died.

This is a dream. I desperately try to assume it's a dream. I squeezed it in my palm, the stone was packed with memories.

Once upon a time. Not yet, when I was young. The only entertainment I had was to join my sister and find stones in rare shapes in Kawahara. on the body to be fed by the Order. I couldn't stop being intrigued by wonders, even though there was still enough food for the day.

The toad said, "Look. This stone, you look like a star," he remembers happily, moisturizing his eyes and even a lucid voice.

The shape is such a terrible snore, but when my sister spoke of it, everything glowed, pimpled, and everything seemed real in this lying world.

I'll see you. I was going to see you, but you're not allowed to see me because my sister was being made the mistress of that man?

Only remorse slowly comes to mind in a cool way.

When Citrus took the candy balls in his hands out of the paper wrap, he chewed them up with gudges and drank them all at once, chewing on anything that might be worrying in the world. The world got cold as it froze.