Dungeon+Harem+Master

"I'll do Sizka and Victoire..."

"Take a look, wow! Holla, Klund. We both won in no time."

The collector was considering in his chest the results of World War I, World War II, when the battle was settled almost instantaneously, with his arms taken by Lacey, who remained screaming with excitement next door.

Watch footage by far-sighted magic that endlessly repeats earlier decisive scenes in front of you, with fried birds made to buy from the sale and cold barley in a kink with one hand.

When Sizka paid off the bare stick that was barely protruded, he pinned the enemy with a blow after jumping up, and Victoire quickly stuffed the time and quickly fainted, wondering if he was also sending an enemy spear for a few meters.

"Hey, I guess that's a properly crushed blade, huh?

"Kland-kun. That's for sure. Because for her, there's no such thing as slashing iron bars and throwing them away."

Victoria, Victoire's sister, went with a cool face as she pumped a puff of wind into her chest with a fan. And, you know, there wouldn't be as much breast density as it gets hot - though.

"Anything?"

I get stunned with Giroli.

"No, nothing."

It's personal freedom to take a cool. Especially since she's over in her mid-twenties. What a lollie, I can't hope to grow in the future. You wouldn't dare pick up chestnuts in the fire.

The collector chewed the cunt hard as he threw the still hot fried chicken into his mouth. In the mouth, hot fat pours out, and the flavorful ingredients stimulate the brain. I also like the heavenly crunchy one rolling in the paper bag. With a snack feel. Chasing him and pouring barley wine, he accidentally rang his throat.

"Hmm. Kiku."

"Klund, Klund. Look, the one I've been making. You're gonna eat it."

"Oh, wow."

As Karen crouched upwards at her feet when she saw it, she took a handmade sandwich out of the basket. The contents are cheese and ham. It's a memento.

(Tsukasa, whatever, you're gonna make all this. Well, it's good because it's good)

Does Karen remember strongly in her brain only the successful experience praised by the collector when she cooked previously, or at any rate, all she does is make black panham cheese sandwiches for her travels?

In fact, even last night, at the hotel bribe, I was purchasing information from Liza that Loulou and I were gently making secret weapons for today. Yesterday was yesterday and the collector was also in slightly depressed mode. My health stained my eyes a bit when I thought you might have been worried about that.

My silver eyes are wandering anxiously odd. The collector, when he opened his silly mouth like a whale, swallowed a gabble and instantly flattened the contents of the basket, laughed with a lavish half-moon of his mouth.

"It was good. That's Karen. Thanks."

"Heh, heh. Don't get me wrong. Loulou made this, so I just happened to make it... But I'm glad you're feeling better."

The collector stroked Karen's cheeks gently as her father would make her daughter, as she fluffily pressed them around in the palm of both hands. Originally, I knew it was an act that was not so rare for women because of the breakdown in their hair, but the clumsy collector doesn't have a lot of repertoire of techniques to express favors, so now I'm getting a break from this.

Lacey, who was watching next door, and Pordina, are Nico's faces. This is exactly what Chenther sums up. Me and you have a WIN-WIN relationship. A smile saves the world.

"Huh! Or was it Vee who was wearing that little guy's face!

"Yes, Liza. By the way, Hannah produced it."

"... you'll never lose in that outfit. If I find out who I am, I can't walk outside anymore."

"Uh. Really? Hannah doesn't feel confident in the design."

In a remote location, Liza of Dark Elves and Hannah in a small samurai had a reputation for Victoire costumes. I mean, I think that butterfly mask is embarrassing. Anyway, if it's just a little perverted chick and inside the mansion, it's Chot who does that in front of all this audience, the collector thought.

"Hold on, with such a speedy settlement, won't you be catching on in the finals soon? Interestingly, you're not very good."

"Kland-kun. Right now, two games are the exception. Yeah. Usually, if it comes up to this point, strength will befriend you. First of all, yesterday's qualifier took nearly half a day. Because most vulnerable people would have been sifted off."

"Ah, haha. Right. The weak have been shaken down."

"Ah! No, me. Not in that sense."

Victoria naturally knows that the collector snuck in and pre-picked him off.

After that, everyone noticed that a strange silence had descended between the two who had been joyfully bickering earlier, turned a suspicious eye. I was bored when they thought about the extras, and I was forced to laugh "haha" all together. For some reason, only Liza was surprised that she was "suspicious of something," but switched the subject with force moves.

"Hey, that! Look, it's Mary's game."

"Mmm. Where are you, Mr. Klund?"

A critical hug as Hilda embarks on herself too far and about to fall downstairs. In the circular arena under his eyes was the figure of a small figure wearing a meryandale and an olive robe.

"Hmm. I don't think Mary, my first apprentice, will lose. It's not a concentration, it's Mary. You can always win if you show the power you can have!

"Well, it's Dorothea. Because Omei was forced to pull in. Do it downstairs about the second."

"Nyu?

Dorothea was snubbing the barley of the big jock as she tightly hit the boned meat. On the mouth is a shrewd foam stuck like a mustache. She also had a chilling century-old love ghetto with "Nhoofu," who brutally wipes the bubbles with her back of her hand.

"I'm tired of wrinkling. I want to watch the game now."

"... Hey, Karen. Liza, do it upside down."

"Hey! Hey, stop it!

The zodiac ordered the two of them to grab both Dorothea's legs, which were deciding to pacify him, and hung them hanging from the universe at the edge of the stand. Whenever I exercise up and down with Brumbrung, both Dorothea's body and the frizzy fruit shiver. I was satisfied when I waved a lot, so I forgived him.

"The Lord has no love for fright."

"Love, the word fades every time you say it..."

Dorothea strips her fangs and strikes. Trying to stop it, it happened to be a mix-up with Pordina & Lacey Momentum.

Artemisia is just deeply depressed that she can't see the shame in her body.

Victoria, on the other hand, had narrowed her eyes to eagle and admire the treasures' twitches. I don't think I'm willing to stop myself.

"You guys. Why don't you just leave the fight at that? The next Mary match. Here we go."

With Rudge's arbitration, we'll keep the battle for one second. The collector was put on a chalk sleeper by Dorothea, but didn't make it slight, and he saw it in the game under his eyes.

In a thick pig's neck that is forged to work out, the only thing Dorothea can do is feel a rich breast pressed against her back of the head, unless she uses magic to bottom-up her muscles. Viva, tits. Sieg, Piotz.

"Something's wrong, huh?

Before the collectors questioned him, two people who wouldn't even move with Pickle in the arena, namely the audience who boiled their businesses to Meryandale and Citrus, immediately began to skip the cursing booing.

"No, Klando. Take a good look. Mary moved into small pieces. I'm trying to lure them out. But the man in the robe doesn't move. No, I can tell from here. I don't feel like I'm willing to fight."

"I don't care, but you can either explain it to me as neck tightening."

As Dorothea said, it wasn't long before Loeb's opponents, when they returned the Succubus, left the arena on their own. At this point, the referee will swear Meryandale's victory, but there's no way the cursing storm will subside. Ants, how the two tiny shadows try to connect and walk away to the canteen. Liza had her neck clenched with a pocan face.

"Hey, Dorothea"

"I know. Well, I'm worried about the Merry one, so I'll see how it goes."

"Ah, so am I."

Lacey pushed her hips up, but Dorothea lifted her right hand and went "I don't want it," lightly.

"I'm still his master. After sales service is perfect for the frivolous Topian stream."

"Mmm. I don't know if it's a tight line to have the one I've been drinking with. I don't think there's anything there, but be careful. For once, you're drinking."

"Hmm. Don't worry. I don't know if you think it's my stomach drunk with this liquor."

"Still, it doesn't make a difference if you have alcohol in it. The one who took unconsciousness from the drunkenness of the invincible masterpieces of ancient times is Goman. Oh, I'm getting worried about something. Por. Send it."

Yes, your husband.

A submissive Pordina tries to lend a hand, but Dorothea barks and pays her hand as she shivers like a much wetter dog smashing a slightly reddened face. She's the shortest of them all.

"I don't want it!... but the liquor washes her face and wakes up before she boils. That'll do."

"Okay."

The collector also refrained from any further words, lest he hurt his pride as the swordsman of Dorothea. She is passionate and emotionally expressive, or she is a weatherman. If you think you're angry, you're laughing barely the next moment. It's easy to handle when it comes to ease of handling, but because of her personality similar to mine, it was common for the collector to treat her with a slightly more complicated feeling as well.

The game is played lightly with the thoughts of the treasurer.

The Fourth World War was a good card against King Veisel Bromstrand and Regis Dopardon, founder of Regis Stream Martial Arts.

As is well known, King Veisel is an origami winning candidate who has won the 21st, 22nd and 23rd consecutive editions of the Silver Cup Dance Games.

The opposing Regis was a rare fighter in hand-to-hand combat in this tournament, where he defeated the swordsmen alongside him to compete in the main battle.

There is a reason for this. Normally, in the Romless, the noble moves were determined by the sword and the market. This was due to the story that the founding father, the first Romless King, had the most respect for swordsmanship in martial arts, and in all martial arts, mastery of the sword was first encouraged as a minimum manners.

In comparison, the very thing of hand-to-hand martial arts, which is not very ancient in this world, was the subject of contempt as a weapon of the poor, who could not even buy the so-called sword, which is handled by the subordinate people.

If you string history from antiquity, among the brave men summoned by the king's clan, there were many genres that let the other world pass on hand-to-hand fighting techniques and, as some secret moves, or "royal streams," do not even show archery to the other. Speaking of the gatherer's party, Hannah's unique, customized octopolar fist flow is also a fist technique.

This bald-headed favourite Regis Dopardon was also one seeker, who swore to his soul that he would defeat every enemy with only his own flesh, one of the few to the Romless.

Regis is one hundred and ninety-six centimeters tall. He is great because he sees his weight as one hundred and twenty kilos.

"Please be gentle."

It's like Vesel's anxiety to call on a decade-long friend, but Regis stands quietly in the middle of the arena with his eyes closed and doesn't react as much as a hair.

Well, and the bronze tap went off. It is a signal of battle. When the referee raised his initial voice, Regis finally opened the eye lid that had been closed and took the stand.

- Strong.

Regis felt the strength of the man in front of him at first glance. His demeanor is a common orthodox. He puts his right foot forward of his feelings and turns his body toward him perfectly so as to hide the midline of his body. It's not like I don't feel like fighting.

At first, I thought it was faint. I could understand that as we confronted each other in this way, it was extremely sharp and sharp. As water stains your brain, your fear of your current enemy, Vesel, spreads.

out of step, there is the word. Regis was easily confident of being slashed from the simultaneous quarters in a merciless brawl in the qualifying round.

but this man is different. There are no gaps. No, I don't know a bit about it, but it's completed at a level where it's not normal to judge the feet like it does or to balance the force that just gets a little flattered by the hands and feet.

The force is probably better on me. Combined, I am confident that I can easily hold back to the ground. The product in your hand is also a blade puller. Now, even if you take it with your arm, you don't have to worry about getting amputated. Using hand-to-hand combat should be much more advantageous to you than this middle-aged man. But I can't move. Looks like a frog stared at by a snake.

Up to this point, it will be less than a few seconds of offense, but it has already declined with momentum that is likely to squeeze out both physical and mental energy.

Regis, did you compete in this Silver Star Cup just to stand silently?

No, it's not. Win. Win and win, to let the heavens know your martial name. Just for that, until today, twenty years. I've been training and auditioning so hard to pervert myself.

On a harsh winter night when the wind blade chopped itself up, he gazed upon the great trees to his enemies, repeatedly poking them until the morning when the sun rose, and even in the summer days when the creatures on the ground burned with heat waves, he ran through the earth to nourish his muscles.

- I'm strong. Yes, to win, I've been practicing carving.

"If you're not coming, why don't you come from me?"

Then. Vasel has packed the distance with the watery nature that flows through the creek.

The tide of battle takes its extremes here.

Regis flew into the great sky as he stood tall as a strange bird. Eh. Under the kicked right leg. The cobblestone cracked with weighting and splattered.

It's a flying kick.

Decided, I thought.

Speed, power, timing. It was perfect in everything.

Capture it. The toe of Regis turned it into a meteor without deciding Vesel's right eye.

Such a natural movement, with fluffy feathers, dust dancing slowly into a light universe.

Disappeared. All I could think was that Vesel disappeared.

Reflectively, he moved his eyeballs around uncleanly.

Where is it? Where are you?

The next sensation that struck the brain was burning.

A fierce fire ran down his right leg as the tip burned from his tibia. I don't need to be sure. With his own kick, Veysel's sword struck Regis in the leg, turning to the defenseless side.

My legs bounced. I felt like I flew. but it doesn't end here. It can't end. He extended his left arm with a beastly roar. I thought I stretched it.

Yeah, now I did see it. Vesel's posture was precise enough to show the mould of archery, and he smacked himself in the hand.

Blimey, and. It sounded like something I'd never heard before. It's ringing. The bones were playing.

It was like listening to music in heaven. The iron rod is approaching the torso smoothly.

Stay afloat in the universe. Virtually, in a motion that can't react to anything, Veysel strikes lightly.

Back off, back off.

At the end of his memory, Regis burned and blacked out the extremes of a round, sprawling azure sky into his eyes.

In the midst of Vesel beating Regis gorgeously until he was skinless. Citrus, who renounced the Third World War, had been struck at the edge of an unpopular passage by Humberto, the fifth-priest of the Order's thirteenth priest.

"Is Temehe licking? I didn't mean to lose such a winnable battle. Now, when you receive the Silver Star Cup, you missed a thousand chances to bust Victoria!

"Humberto is right, this is an obvious act of enmity. How do you explain that?"

The man standing beside the Humberto of the Giant Han is a lean middle-aged man with no distinction as to how to hide what, in the thirteenth priest of the Godlum Church, is the apocalypse eleventh in the hierarchy. He was clearly striving for Humberto's back wipes, always moving as he wished and playing a supporting role.

"The cuss. I can't do it, but I'm gonna squeeze it out, so this is what's gonna happen! What are you going to do with this drop? Ola!"

Humberto grabs a small citrus with one hand and strikes it between the walls with a cancer as if it were a cat's child. Citrus slammed his back of his head against the wall, unwillingly, sprinkling bright red blood with a bucket, but without a word.

"Chip. I don't know. Well, fine. And then I'll let you do it my way! Look, after today, don't ever do anything like mud on my back again. Now, it's up to you, too, to get dry. I'm not a ghost either. Again, if you're willing to lick my shoes and apologize, I'll use it for about three jobs."

"That's right, Humberto. What a merciful man. Citrus, thank you. All right?"

On his butt horse Apocaselli sputtered towards Citrus, who remained static on the wall. Yellow It flows down through the cheeks of Citrus. The grey-haired boy managed to get up, shaking his dirty cut robe, and walked out trying to wax.

"Why don't you fight back? Though your power should not be humbered and disgusting."

"... I thought you told me not to come out"

From the shadow of the wounded Citrus, let it gush forth, and make it a heretic of the Godlum denomination. Earthpane, thirteenth priest, stood.

"Are you saying that when you lost your sister, you lost sight of the honorable righteousness of our Godrum?"

"Earth Pane"

"What is it?

Next time, I'll kill you.

"Oh scary scary scary. I'm just saying I'm advising you."

Citrus glanced at Earth Payne with an awesome look. The shadow man scattered as the fog dissolved into the atmosphere in a gap with his eyes apart, leaving only a strange laugh.

"Fuck, man."

I didn't know how I got off the arena myself. No, I really understood.

With her, who looked a lot like my sister, I could hardly put my sword around her.

Even if you know it's someone else. In this state.

I have to do it. Victoria, the Zodiac Enemy, must be discussed no matter what.

But for what? Why? Why not?

There's nothing to say about Humberto playing half his fist, etc. The pain was more severe with this jiggle and painful chest than with the body and the like. Flirting, my body rocked.

- Oh, I'm already in trouble with everything.

"Citrus kun"

When you loosen your consciousness in an attempt to throw everything out. Also, I pulled Citrus back because you cared about him then. And now, she was the strangest girl I ever wanted to see.

"I love Hannah, the gentle brave man who can't help but see how things are going."

"Russai. That's it. I was just wondering about Mary. Yeah. Plus, the game was kind of a shoulder watermark."

The collector was taking Hannah down to the Participant's Desk in the basement as he stepped out of the former viewing area. Dorothea doesn't come back as soon as I go to see how things are going. Besides, the collector instinctively felt that the air standing in this arena was gradually turning into something unpleasant. Something's going on. Though words don't describe it well.

"Plus, there's Sizka and Victoire. I wonder why those guys are so unfriendly. Shit, I guess I'm not born with a horse anymore."

Hannah, who was hammering with a bright face, clouded her expression as the collector squeaked without any concern.

"What's up?

"You know,"

Hannah stopped at a good time.

I've only seen this face once. Yes, it used to be the same as when a collector sent Cullen to hundreds of thousands of enemy soldiers in the Step Elf War.

"Nah. Hannah. I'm definitely rude and nervous, and I don't even know if I can count on you. Just say something like that. Me. Because I'm an idiot, I probably can't think of a good name, and it might not make sense. It'll clear your stomach."

"Brave man. That's not solved at all."

"Ugh. That's"

"But I am. Hannah, the only man I trust in the world is the brave one."

"Ooh. But don't say that. You won't be seen lightly."

"It's not light. The brave man is all about Hannah."

"That's why I'm ashamed. So, you want to do something nice."

"Yes, that's about those two"

"You two mean Sizka and Victoire."

"That's right. For one thing, the brave man is mistaken..."

Those two, we used to get along like sisters, Hannah said loosely.

Victoire was quietly numbered in his head as he meditated in the modest room. Breathe constantly.

The heartbeat maintains the same speed as everyday. Earlier, the body was moderately barebacked.

There's a sizka in the same room, but she doesn't even make you feel signs. Think about it, it may be since then that we meet in an official setting where the crowd has eyes.

Thinking of the days that used to be, I have a tickle and chest ache, but I'm not as sure that Sizka will think of me as she does now. At one point, I did feel my heart had gone through it, but if it had been brought to my attention as a fantasy, nothing would have stirred up more hatred.

Why has this happened to us? Totally, we got along.

Victoire himself has never had himself tied up and struggled with complicated relationships, but he feels that the difference in emotions between women is much more serious and irreparable than between men and women.

I just know from the beginning that men and women are like different creatures, and it's possible to break them off, but I guess women are different from each other again. We really see each other's dark, cloudy shadows there. Victoire shouted in his heart, stuffing but pushing his voice to death.

loosely. In a motion like a palatine flame, a shadow stood in one corner. Sizka. She walks through the front as if she wasn't there. I stole a chill from the side. Definitely not a hateful face. Rather, it's a rare thing where you can feel like a girl, like you want to protect her somewhere. That worked for me too, which is same-sex.

As a matter of fact, Victoire wanted a sister. My sister was as hard and rigid as a beast. Victoire was weak enough to hold herself and sometimes comfort her when she was about to cry, craving a little flowery presence.

"What's up? It's time. Or... have you noticed?"

"Shut up. I'm going to yuck right now."

Sizka went to distort and mock her well-shaped eyes and nose like a doll. Its bell-ringing sweet voice and expression all make me feel disgusted. Do you feel that way because you are a woman?

No, it's not. I guess I attribute the greedy feeling of hating her to the fact that I haven't been able to digest one thing.

I stood in the chair. The flesh of the whole body is burning, and it is so extreme at such a high point that from now on, no matter how long we continue to meet as hard as we can, we will continue our struggle without end.

Up the stairs ahead, Sizka's defenseless appearance caught my eye. To the blade-drawn sword in his hand, he did not know, and his rigidity was applauded.

Um, thin, little back. I was wondering what this guy would look like if he stood by his thoughts.

As if he had reacted to a burning struggle like the flames of the Red Lotus, Sizka stood on the ground, not making a sound, as he flew quickly as a cuddle. And -.

dust, and. I laughed with a soft face.

He had a brilliantly beautiful, transparent smile like a forest fairy.

I want to crush you. I want to tear you apart. I want to break it. I want to eat it. I want to twist. Let's rattle that body, drag out the built-in, and sing a poem dedicated to Sizka in a scattered blood pond.

"Yes, don't hurry. I'm gonna kill you right now."

The sun wheel shines at the bottom of my belly. Fire is about to erupt from a pore called a pore all over your body.

Victoire managed to grab his left breast as a cuddly eagle enough to remember the pain to catch the urge to scream out. I could see it. It seemed like a little little miracle.

And I made Sizka laugh so beautifully and vividly that she couldn't beat me.