Fukushuu Kansuisha no Jinsei Nishuume Isekaitan

The young man confronting the war fairy called his name Mastema.

He liked to fight. Fighting is not. There was something we wanted from each other, and neither of them liked the whispers that arose as a result of their moves to get it.

That's because it's boring.

So the war between the Union and Arksbaona is also, to be honest, the extreme of boredom.

What he wants is a clash of pure force that requires nothing but victory and defeat. I don't even care about life or death.

The strong and the strong will be relative, dying of each other, and will continue to fight until one of them is defeated.

If the other person is dead, that's fine. If you can't stand up anymore, that's fine.

Which is up and which is down.

To make it clear, the battle is what he wants.

In other words, the one-on-one genuine and genuine bump and the awareness that one side or the other would welcome at its end was what we wanted.

Mastema has been pursuing only such battles since her past students.

Wandered the world and sought pure battle.

I didn't care about everything. I couldn't help but be hostile to all those involved.

When I see the mighty, I want to crush them and I can't stand them.

That's how he kept fighting, winning, fighting, winning, fighting, winning.

But at the end of such a mastema.

Toxic death.

Someone realized he couldn't beat Mastema in battle, and he made Mastema a deceased without fighting.

- No kidding! This is the end, can you admit it......!

I heard the voice of God as to whether the cry of the soul of Mastema had arrived.

"Poor thing. It's so pathetic, I bless you. '

It is unacceptable to die outside of a clash of pure force.

Miraculously, that hope was fulfilled.

"'Silver'... No, I guess I should say 'silver ash'. Beautiful colors. It's like me."

Blunt war fairies laugh miserably.

For starters, you pass.

Because so many people despair simply because of the color attributes, Mastema squeezes the activation into a moment so as not to enlighten them as much as possible.

But the woman in front of her is burning, knowing that she will not stop fighting.

"Ah, it must be 'silver ash'. By the way, woman."

"General Emeritus of the D'Artra National Army -" Heroes of the Break "is Parfendi Filatikapratica-Melagawayne. I'll take you down. It's a woman's name."

"It's no use remembering the name of the guy you're going to kill. I don't even know how to use it."

"It's a small care. When you talk about the cause of death in the afterlife, you won't have trouble knowing the name of the person who killed you. What is lacking in exuberance"

"Ha. Take care. That hurts. Then let's adapt to Temehe's fluency. It's a mastemavoice-feld note. If the hell you are, take this name. It's up to Themé to get excited."

"Oh, not 'Silver Ash Hero'?

"I don't give a shit. Can you slay enemies with a title? I don't need it, I'm just in the way."

"It was convenient. In this way, you can also storm enemies on a single horse."

"What, you're helping a friend of mine? Hey, Oi. I don't know. I'm sorry."

Yes, by the way, woman. What I was trying to say as a continuation of the

She was destroying countless dirt walls erected on the battlefield by Mastema's men.

That leads to the rays of the Daltra army forming in the fort again.

Correct. As a soldier, too.

But boring.

"You're wearing a military mask. Temehe would be on the same side as me. Just to kill a single enemy in front of you."

"The maiden is a beast."

"I don't mind wearing it. War maidens must be women, too. But don't delude the essence. I was hoping you'd be stupid."

"Expect it on your own, disappoint it on your own. Oh, man, you're really on your own."

"I'm here to kill each other. Themé showed up there. Then don't lean your consciousness aside from the enemy in front of you, though Xing will be cold."

"Oh, my God, I'm standing here as a soldier, so what's wrong with behaving like that?

With that said, the woman's expression is distorted with joy. In emotional terms, rather, it expresses its agreement with the youth.

"Instead, there's a problem with those who allow other states of consciousness to be pointed at? He said he didn't set up one approach, and then turned to a woman, and so on - he was a pitiful man."

I mean, if you want to fight, do you want me to prepare a situation where I have to focus myself solely on Mastema?

"Ha, it's just worth turning around"

"Since when did a man get the right to determine a woman's value?

"Chip. Right, I mean, I said something boring. I'm pulling back."

"A special victory. I'll give you two points."

"Oi, since when did a woman get the right to score on a man?"

"It must have been decided from the beginning."

The woman says as a matter of course.

"Right. I hope you have strength in your mouth."

"What the hell do you pray for, an Arksbaona military man who abandoned God?

"... oh, have we talked about that? All right, then, the gods of Temehe and the others."

If you'll give me the fight, I'll pray to everyone.

It would be the god who created the world, but it would be the evil god who erodes the world, but I don't mind.

Mastema tells the women behind her.

"Stay back."

"You don't mind if all four of us call, do you? Don't say cowardice."

"Can you do that?"

I don't want to win a fight. I want to fight and win.

"Turn around, it was - how about this?"

Everything.

In order to make it easier for the Friends to target their enemies, and to delay their march, all the blades of the "Broken" continued to destroy the flickering dirt walls.

Bounced and disappeared (,,,,,).

The eyes of the war fairy were stunned and turned to this one.

"You don't look good, you're clever"

"How's Temehe? I hope you're not the fucking kid you dream of the way you look. To some god."

"Bad."

The intent to kill can be directed at us.

My whole body grows gross. Mastema doesn't hate the ability to feel scared. The fact that someone as strong as you feel fear proves that the enemy is also strong. It can be used as a messenger.

Fear feels. But I don't blur. On the contrary, the opposite is true.

Pleasant.

Oddly enough, the fighting styles of Mastema and Parfendi were very similar.

A wind blade with too much sharpening and a 'broken' blade.

Intercept them colorless and transparent, relying on each other for magical reactions.

The bouncing sound of compressed air continues.

If this place had not been a battlefield, it would have filled the space with sounds like shelling and surprised what it sees.

But hate, this place is a battlefield. Such a sound was not uncommon.

"Why not use 'silver ash'!

Mastema can't keep her lips from rising to the shape of a laugh.

Parfendi is immersed in the battle at the earliest, forgetting his deliberate tone as well.

Let me use it.