Fly the Flag of Fire!

The woman was immersed in fantasy and indulgent.

He's wrapped himself up with fantastic water sounds, warm. The rainbow light is shaking like Wanhua, dazzling. It is a joy to float close and soft fullness. There is no doubt, and I know that I am great without even having to spare every single hair. The long way over a millennium came, all of it, was for this present self… I just laugh as a guar.

The wind seems nice far away. The woman perceived it when the pressure pushed her like a wave. That's the first time I've ever stood up in a world where I didn't even know the boundaries between inside and out. It's a different stimulus from your own. It was a little hot.

The woman thought it was time to wake up. There is no great difference between staying this way and not staying this way... but they were interested in the thermal pressure that made them aware of the physical and mental contours. If I could play curiosity, odd tickles also occurred in my mind. More and more interesting.

If he opened his eyes as fast as he could, the first thing that came into his eyes was the black parallel line. There is such a thing as a combination of steel stubbornness against a bright white ceiling. It's an iron lattice: a beautiful white world, a black cage, a soft sleeping area… is it a sitting cell?

I stepped down to the floor. The cold feels fresh. I felt uncomfortable with the hair color as I tried to pay for the hair that tickled my shoulders. White. Was it this color... the woman tilted her neck as she teased her hair tips with her fingers. Nice touch though.

No, I guess this is what you deserve.

The woman loosened her mouth. There was a point. If you look over, you can see that everything is in a white room. It's a clear space with no conditioning or anything. It is filled with light that plugs through the light window. Even the shadow hates black and is gray clear.

In other words, only black iron lattices are foreign.

If I touched it closer, I had pain. It's cold as ice. Isn't it just iron? I will look at it with my white fingertips. It's only hard to touch because a woman is afraid of pain. This cage is repressive. It feels like some intangible force separates the inside from the outside of the cage.

There was an entrance to and exit from the prison. Locked. It does not open where pressed and pulled. But I pushed and pulled if the entrance and exit were there. The woman was thinking of leaving here. This place was cramped.

The sound of it was heard, or the door of the white room opened and the man in the sacrificial garment showed himself. Judging by the outfit and its decorations, is it an Easter? He looks surprised.

Behind the man, the outside world, peering through the open door, seems full of color. Perhaps the heat pressure is coming from there. I thought I finally had to go outside. My cheeks hung. Because it sounds interesting.

"Oh, this is good. Wake up... oh...?

Looks like his tongue hasn't turned well, but the guy looks really happy. A full smile. I have a radiance of curiosity in my eyes. That beard behavior is too dangerous. I'm not sure if I'm nervous or enjoying it.

"Please wait a moment. I will now come prepared for liberation."

As a yota yota, the man ran away. I wish I didn't have to go out of my way to close the door.

When she realized she looked down at her body. What is worn is the clothes of Kwynn textiles. Slip over skin with a wet feel. The color is glossy white. Naturally. Laugh.

Just waiting is boring, so the woman danced in the cage.

Flip yourself, walk gracefully and freely, and express to the world a feeling of omnipotence filled with your heart. Without a single doubt, the world is for itself, and its innocent and helpless likeness is similar to the plains of fresh snow. Waiting for me to be able to keep my footprints on defenseless. The woman laughed.

Let's celebrate. Sushi. I don't love you guys. Cute, cute, cute people.

In a black cage in a white room, put together the finest clothes, and the woman continues to dance alone. Still not enough. It's not enough to represent this fulfillment. Sing. Sing the words that arise from it as lyrics, pleasantly.

Proceed, world of despair. And get it, the human world.

Continue with me. I am hope. Gather in a miracle journey that opens the way to survival.

It is he who delivers man who is the brave one. He who is in the heart of you, and is able to receive.

There was no sunshine. Just to my surroundings...... no, I just laughed at the world spreading under my own eyes. I didn't need an audience or anything. There is no honorable one but himself in this narrow space of heaven and earth, only that the goddess of heaven and the manly goddess of earth are felt in the heart as great signs.

Everything is forgiven for being alone.

Sora, the cage obeys itself. Even if you can't unlock the key, the repression that works inside has disappeared.

Though she breathed into her breasts to express further satisfaction, the woman did not, however, turn it into a song. Stop dancing, too. Exhales thin and long. Stop smiling, too. Half-eyed.

Because there was a feeling of heat.

Think of it as a cut off for a woman to wake up, the first other person to show up where she was bathing in fantasy. That's why it caught my interest. I wondered who it was. I still think so.

But I didn't feel any sign of following the woman in this fever.

The disobedience was puzzling for a woman who herself tried to hold and love everything in the world in both bowls. It was uncomfortable in a white and clear world. Perhaps I could say foreign sense.

Isn't this fever slanderous for singing it up?

Doesn't this pressure corrupt you to dance and dance?

My chest hurts. My breathing started to build up something on the bottom of my belly. The woman wanted to fight.

The power that went to his hands and feet without a thousand times turned into something for the struggle. The beat is like a drum formation. My hand wandered around my waist looking for the weight of my gain. I need a sword. And armor. And horses. Quinn textiles and the like just itch on my skin.

"Ho... Is this what you call a brave man"

Is the voice a new one? No. It sounds transparent without heat or touch.

The door on the side of the wall was open again, with a man standing with a white mask covering his eyes and nose. Armed. Is it a cavalry based on the shape of a sword that hangs on your hips? The smell of a beast that reaches slightly...... still a cavalry. There's a lot of fighting fun in the stand-up.

"That's awesome. I heard it was an institution that had sealed off the brave men of history, but now there is no longer a shadow to see."

What is the word that is spoken from the mouth and received in the ear? Or is it something that is stimulated from the outside and begins in you? No, in the first place, is this masked man anything but himself? It's like you're a separate person.

The woman had heard more in her heart than the man spoke.

The man's words are like droplets of skin temperature. There is no irritation, only impact. The woman hallucinated as the watermark spread shallow and wide over the surface layer of her memory. The full content of the existence of self is recognized. That resembles the process of waking up from a dream.

"Bad cage or overgrown bird... so I'm called"

The woman understood and grasped this man who used the word "me" without having to be named.

It's a variant of the Holy Knight.

The Sacred Knight, who is the main “weapon” of his equipment, rarely creates a substandard presence in the manufacturing process. Individuals who should move freely as an extension of their hands and feet, independently of what is the only will, and interfere with concerted behavior. It is a defective product, but that makes it worth its use as a sub-command body. The woman finds out about it. Because immense knowledge teaches it.

"Put this on first. As it is now, the miracle drool is a good place."

I received what was unleashed in the cage into the air. It's an eyelid made of white peeled skin. The symbol of God is luxuriously decorated with gold and silver yarn. The feel is like ice. Ignore the meat and chill your life directly...... that kind of inhibitory force works hard. Looks like something to wear on the right half side.

"I would have worn it before the treatment. No inconvenience."

"... can I just have my right eye?

"In your case, that's what you call a pour in the water."

"Pour mouth... I don't expect anything other than bonelessness from you, but it's not much of an expression."

"Easy to understand. And put it on quickly. Something's gone wrong."

The holy power that overflows this body is neither the water of the water bottle nor the juice of the pot... but with that in mind, the woman tied the strings of her eyelids as she was rushed. Pressure from cold sensation was applied. That is physically and mentally shocking. There was a slight scream.

Are you all right, Margarita?

"Yeah, I'm fine, Gilly."

I scratched up my white hair and the margarata laughed.

"That was better than silence. Though it was a completely heartless word."

"If you can handle it to that extent, that's it."

"That's what I don't talk about."

"It's also about stopping wasting words. I'm no different."

"Ugh... that's what I'm talking about"

Gilly pulled out her old dagger and approached the cage to see what look she had on the inside of the mask. It is a blade that is not enough to penetrate the body, but it is engraved with a strange wording without gaps, first of all it is known that it is not a substitute for interrogation. I plugged it into the keyhole in the door of the cage.

"Again... I've already solved it. It's open."

Oh, yeah.

Letting Gilly open the door instead of signaling anything, the margarator walked out to the outside of the iron lattice. I leave the white room without looking back. There was also some trick on the walls on all sides, or the moment I went outside, I felt like I pushed an invisible liquid through it.

And the sight of blessings was spreading.

A high bow-shaped ceiling reminiscent of the magnificence of the sky. A cylinder that lines up like a light coming from the clouds. A blue-gray rug as soft as a smoking morning rug held in an ethereal dome. All the gold and silver decorations scattered in all directions represent the seal of holiness. The wall called the Wall depicts the legend of the Holy One without gaps. The fragrance of fresh flowers is flowing.

"O brave man, hallowed and spiritual, hallowed be thou, worshipped and served."

Dozens of people in white clothes were kneeling neatly in rows. If you look at it as a wavehead, is blue gray the sea? If it is the sea that is spreading through the world with a depth that is difficult to cross, then it is beyond man who treads comfortably beneath his feet.

Margaritas just smile. I know that's what a brave man is.

He drifts his mouth into his ear like he heard somewhere that goes on afterwards. Like an examination of strings left to play repeatedly, it's as if you don't care, don't just get bored, lean on the sound and let your mind play.

I don't care if you don't tell me. Even if they don't admit it.

I am the brave one. It is a miracle in the form of a person.

We can no longer afford to shine a light into the world.

Only when did those who held the priesthood sing a song. It's a song of joy. It's a celebratory song. Let the weak, frightened by the dark night, rejoice in the morning sun, celebrate the presence of the brave and praise this wonderful world.

"No, no, no! It's really not at all awe-inspiring, but Awkward Monk would like to show you ahead of this!

A fat man came forward in line with the end of the song. Margarita is also a familiar person. He is Joaquim Beck, bishop in charge of the central parish of the Eastern Church. There is a blade-like sharpness hidden behind a blissful smile.

"If you have a sacrament for the opening of Jinsai, please come this way! Anyway, let's start with that! Then!"

Following Beck, who leads by leaping gestures and gestures, Margareta followed the scene of the brave man's arrival. Keep smiling. Remain silent. It follows the back of a man who performs flat funny even in this miracle scene. Gilly is walking behind the margareta.

Twice we toured the corridor and crossed the clear waterway by bridge, entering the room where we reached a building with no rugs in the corridor. A small room. The height of the ceiling is conscious. There are silver dishes on the round table, with fruits and confectionery served as mountains.

Looks like Gilly waits outside the closed door without entering the room. Either the sound of him closing the door was the boundary of secularism, or no one in this room alone worshipped Margareta as a brave man. Only one obese conspiracy monk sits in a chair in such a way that he cannot withstand his own weight.

"The Chamber of Secrets. No one will ask you if you're here."

"You're so clear."

"The official name is St. Yuri Messo Martyrdom Prayer Room. If it is to represent the facts more accurately, it is the room that poisoned the priest and the Master of the Devil, who aspired to reform the Church. You've become a brave man, too, you know that?

Even if you don't know before you hear the word, if you do, you will know everything afterwards... there is a great store of knowledge inside the margarator waiting quietly for that time to be aroused. There are signs lurking that you can't bottom-up with enormous amounts of it. That's the power of the brave again. It's the power of the margarator.

Should it be a chase experience? It is word-independent information that springs up more than in the mind. Memory itself. It is also like a dream I had a long time ago not to involve feelings before or after.

Margarita found out where the room came from and laughed at the tip of her nose. It was knowledge that I didn't need. Moreover, it is also off-target. I scratched up my hair.

"What I said was about your attitude. Beck."

"Hmm, do you mind? I have a problem with the way the church has tools."

"Oh, it's your job to serve that treasure, isn't it?

"I won't deny it. But when you use it, do you have to praise and dance foolishness?

"That sounds interesting, too. Ugh......"

While delightful, Margarita took her seat by gracefully putting her feet together and so on. Take one of the bright reds from the bright fruit. Red jade fruit. I don't eat it, I swallow it in my hand.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not blaming you. I'm just impressed with your acting. It doesn't mean I've been totally fooled before."

"I know. You were poisoning your father after you understood my thoughts."

The margareta had been nursing early. That Beck is looking to full control of national politics by the Church.

More than before the founding of the kingdom, the kingdom has been politicized under the influence of the Church, but it was less uniform in times as to how far it would take a concerted attitude. Sometimes they confronted the Church head-on.

For example, the predecessor Wilhelm is recorded as a king within a historical king who the Church was relatively unable to free. The memory of a brave man sleeping inside a margarata finds out about it. There seemed to be a place where I pushed my will through, although I didn't defy it. And the Church saw that as a problem.

The once-invasion of the kingdom by the Empire may have been where such a situation to be rectified worked.

There was a figure of one of your princes floating in the back of Margarita's brain. A heavy-duty knight who makes his blonde blue eyes sturdy and emits a strong and arrogant force from his entire body… an impression of the Imperial Crown Prince in the eyes of a brave man. My chest squeezes.

I closed my memory. Why does Kako's memory seem to be accompanied by emotional colors? It is difficult to avoid and invites agitation. That's not necessary for a margareta.

"... knowing that you did, and you sent Gilly over, you're pretty good."

"I had a chance. Both the Predecessor and the Four Marquis recognized your abilities. Different circumstances would have made him an excellent king. Or have you assisted your sister king in waving her spicy arms? Both are inconvenient stories for me."

Beck's plot is ruthless. At the same time as eliminating the disturbing Predecessor, he planned to curse the margarata, which could create similar troubles. He was about to get dirty for the crime of killing his father.

Margarita was guessing it. Still got on with the measures. Because it suited my purpose.

My father should have died.

Defeated by the Empire. I let many kindred die at will, and I couldn't even protect my mother. I didn't approve of making love to my sister while the brave man helped me. Not only was he incompetent, but he was a disturber. Moreover, he is even an unclean man who married the daughter of the Hiltura family to her mother's cauldron. There should not have been any full temporal life in a peaceful world.

Because Margareta believed so at the time, she had no hesitation in curtailing her father's life and speeding up the arrival of her sister's reign. In that sense, Beck was a good collaborator.

It's all about the past.

The resentment was burned by the holy light and decayed. Every breath, the remnants are dried and scattered in the heart. Seems like other personnel no longer. I don't have the power to move myself now.

Everything is far away, both the days of escape frightened by the Imperial Army and the days of living as a second princess in the King's capital.

Even the days I was seeing the ideal for my sister...... it was just something I would miss for Margarita.

"Ugh... that's hilarious. I can't believe you made me brave."

It's a margarata that didn't know what a brave man was. I couldn't have hoped to be like that. On the contrary, he even threw out living.

Margarita became desperate to kill one man, and was defeated without fulfilling a single poke of the sword, crushing his heart by the time it was completely skinless. I was desperate. Both what I believed and what I wanted to believe became equally worthless... and instead one spark was burning my heart.

Unknown, to what... only obvious fire fever originates from whom.

Because Beck spotted and pointed that out, Margareta swallowed the secret drug and exposed herself to the secret, and is here now as a brave man. It was Beck who wanted this result. It is the insider of what is known as the Sacred Scripture of the Brave, etc.

"The king and the brave similarly possess the necessary qualities. I just learned on this occasion, too, but you already know what?

If you say so, you'll know it instantly. Margarita. No matter, I know.

Historical braves drew noble blood muscles from everyone. If it appeared to the west, it was the remote edge of the emperor; if it appeared to the east, it was the sidestream of the royal family. Not false for authoritative purposes. In fact, there is the power of living in blood, which is important when transforming into a brave man.

I think of the meaning of pedigree transmitted to each East and West. Though there is no doubt that it is God's blessing.

"... to the best of my knowledge, no direct line has ever been a brave man?

"We needed a strong brave man. That's all."

Beck's gaze increased sharply, and the margarator took it and deepened his grin.

Yes, the two of us have the same purpose here as well. I just think about the same person.

"Is Marco Hahato a demon?

"Knock it down and you'll see"

Laughter calls for strength. The red egg fruit crumbled in the hand of the margareta. Shake off the green one that was leaking. Dirt floors and walls. Rub what's left of your finger onto the tablecloth. Still, I tilted the water off the rest and rinsed it off.

Hiding his mouth with that sober hand, the margarata laughed. Much. Highly.

It was here that today's brave men were born with a mission.