Former General Is Undead Knight

"I don't know who it is, but thank you...... What are you..."

Al Ante, kicked by Flandall's human furniture 'desk' and lying on the ground, calls out to Rambal, a man of great armor - the benefactor of suddenly appearing life.

Flandall's stubbornness in human furniture was just distressed earlier by Alante himself.

Whether you use intense poison or cut your neck nearly half way, it is an instantly resurrected monster.

There was no doubt for Al Ante that Lambert, who slaughtered it with ease, was a man of unspeakable sword.

"You... it's not just that. I didn't expect you to break my desk so lightly."

Flandall looks at the man with the great armor who slashed and abandoned the spikes of human furniture, from the top of the 'chair'.

The man with the great armor - Lambert glanced back at Flandall with the great sword in his hand.

"Well, wait, don't be so angry. Your slapped desk was a masterpiece that goes into my, ten fingers, this genius artist. You despise my art, you deserve to die... and I'll forgive you specially, as usual."

Frandal lays his hands on Lambert, meditates his eyes and waves his head.

It was like I didn't want to fight.

But at the next moment, Flandall starts laughing by peeling out his gums.

"You, wonderful! I can feel it! Classy, proud, harsh! And that big beautiful body, I can tell! You were born to be furnished! You should be my collection! No, you're not! You want to be furnished! Yes, it should be!

Flandall opens his eyes and opens his arms to a hot valve.

I went mad in those eyes.

"What do you say? You're starting to want to be my collection, too, hey!? Hey!?"

Flandall screams, spitting.

Flandall's madness made Alante pale and frozen his face.

Alante, like the rest of the Angels of Death, regarded Flandall as incomprehensible, but he just recognized how Flandall was a mad man among the Angels of Death.

The origin of Frandal's unusual behavior, which he calls only 'furniture' by transforming man, appeared in his face.

He believes that the manufacture of that strange monster is an art and that it is something he should do.

Lambert stood flat, even while Alante was trembling under barometric pressure.

"I see you're not a very good person to talk to, because I don't feel like talking to you much more than I did, so it's convenient."

Rambale moves.

That's all frightened Frandal's maddening appearance.

While seeing the evil nature of Flandall itself, Lambert proceeds pale.

Flandall puts his hand on his forehead.

"Barometric pressure? Is this me? You think his pressure beat my noble art libido? Impossible...... never!

In Flandall's eyes, the colour of madness returns.

"Go, 'Shelf'! Get him!

A woman with no fat arms, bandaged in her face, runs for a rambal.

Lambert runs with his sword in place.

It is a formula that slashes and kills' shelves' toward a straight line and slashes and discards Flandal as it is.

(It's still slower than the earlier spikes... The meat is somewhat thick, but to this extent it doesn't matter)

Lambert put his strength into his arms to slash and kill a large 'shelf' with one blow.

"Indeed, the movement of a fully completed swordsman......! I know the limits of the human body, two steps apart and beyond. But power and speed aren't the only things that determine a battle!

"Ohhhhhhhh!"

Outside two steps between Rambales, countless holes were drilled in the body of the 'shelf', and massive amounts of things like arrowbutts were fired.

A storm of pointy metal strikes a sword-wielding Lambert.

Fill the 'shelf' body with holes and aim for Lambert's life standing ahead.

"Ha! You're saying it's a 'shelf' because it's got all sorts of things in it. Surprised? I didn't want to scratch my body as much as I could, but you're going to be captured intact, because it's impossible either way!

Lambert exposes his body slightly to the rear, waving a great sword at divine speed.

It was an austere speed that could not even be caught in the eye in a regular person.

The blade of the great sword slashes and dumps looming pieces of distorted metal one after the other.

One after the other, crushed metal scatters across the ground.

"Hey, what's going on...?

Flandall is unacceptable of the current sight and squeaks.

A 'shelf' after the ejection of a piece of metal just stands up and sits there.

The great sword of Lambert was swung up again.

The aim was to cut from the torso as well as the 'desk'.

Suddenly, from the fat body of the 'shelf', two giant blades protruded.

One from the chest and one from the lower abdomen.

Choosing meat, a pair of blades strikes Lambert like guillotine in two.

(Has "Truncated Head" been activated? Oh, that was a good material, but I can't do it for furniture anymore......)

Flandall sighs as he looks at the blade sticking out of the 'shelf'.

The last resort of the "shelf", the "truncated head", is such that when the "shelf" is pushed, the meat is selected and activated automatically.

Its strength is assured death, rolled out at a rate that exceeds the human reaction limit speed.

Whatever the mighty man may be, he will lose his life in an instant, not long before he recognizes the blade.

A special blow, therefore.

A sickle wave of Reaper, never to be removed.

The two make contact.

Black flesh flies.

"Ogogogogogogogogogogogogogogogo"

The fat body of the "shelf" sounded strange, but the universe broke out.

Fragments of the giant blade of the shattered 'Fragmented Head' fell to the ground, which appeared terribly slowly on Flandall.

"... what?... Ah, eh?

Lambert just dodged the blow of absolute death and killed it back the other way, or he comes straight to Flandall with the speed at which he runs, not even his teeth about it.