Hakai no Miko

Piata dea Romanianis, the owner of this alien, who even overlooked the two Ethereal Horses and Solon.

There was only one person outside the Romanian country who knew of this alien existence, known only to a limited number of people, even within Romania.

It is Balgibor, a small country in the northern mountains that is almost halfway between Erdoah and Romania.

The Baldivian State is a small, poor country. Much of the national territory is occupied in mountainous areas, with little or no flatlands suitable for cultivation. It seemed that the people were clinging to a tiny bit of land about the cat's forehead, growing grains that would bear fruit even on lean land and not managing to eat them.

Naturally, that is not enough to feed all the people.

Therefore, martial arts and entertainment have long flourished in the Balgiborian country, and there was a custom in which the people became mercenaries and tourists and went to other countries to earn money. The State of Balgibor is such a country that it manages to be made up of foreign currencies brought about by such people.

Balzea, the king's capital of the Balgiborian nation, is such a small and poor country.

Barzea, the king's capital surrounded by hilly mountains, is undoubtedly the smallest king's capital in the West. At the same time, as the steep slopes and staircases all over the Wang capital show, the high and low differences within them will undoubtedly be the best in the West.

To the northernmost part of Balzea, the king's capital, was the royal castle. The royal castle, which was built through a chopped rocky mountain, also appears to have been engulfed in the mountain.

In the dim room in the deepest part of the royal castle was the man.

"Right. Did that old man escape the Romanian country?"

It was César Balgibor, king of the Balgiborian nation, who said so, as he turned to the drawing board.

That is the private room of King Cesar. But when I looked at the paintings placed narrowly inside the private room, paint materials such as paint and drawing boards, and paint marks that didn't say floor but wall, but all that or even ceiling, it just looked like some drawing room.

That should be it too. King Cesar was a king whose skill was enough to make the top painters worthless, but also known as the rare Dark Lord, who would indulge in painting too much national politics. And the alias with it is "picture madness". Seeing the likelihood of this room, it would be satisfactory too.

But from those who belonged to the darkness of the West Side, they were also called by another alias.

As commander-in-chief of the intelligence organization Root, which spreads through the darkness of the entire western realm, the poisonous serpent of Balgibor, who poisoned all his brothers and seized the throne.

That is the king Cesar of Balgibor.

"Sincerely, Your Majesty"

Delilah, a female interlocutor from Root, an intelligence organization dressed as a royal palace working woman, continued to report pale.

"The old man, now named Solon, has returned safely to Eldor. It seems that by now we are reporting the Romanian state's internal affairs to the Son of Destruction."

King Cesar leaked small, "Hmm," and his hand was dancing on the drawing board at all costs. Not just the brush in his hand, but sometimes he uses it to the tip of his finger, belly, and even the tip of his nail. King Cesar puts paint on the drawing board.

"That old man also shaved. I didn't expect to cut through Gordian measures as well as the blades of the militant generals."

So King Cesar sighs again.

"We should have put our hands directly on this. It's a shame that the 'roots' can't move when they're at stake."

To King Cesar's monologue, Delilah thought, without changing his expression, "I can't help it either".

Only recently, by the order of King Cesar, he decided to assassinate two important figures of the Romanian state: the Chief of Staff of Bruces and General Daraios. For this reason, there was now a rigorous search within Romania for domestic detectives by Prince Gordia and Prime Minister Montius. If we move the "roots" in such a place, we even fear that the whole "roots" within Romania that we have stretched out because of it will be pulled out. For the moment I had to quietly dive deep underground and wait for the eyes of the search to loosen.

"I'm thirsty. Hold the water."

King Cesar said as he gazed over his painting. Delilah takes the water drain placed on the desk in one corner of the room while skillfully sprinkling the painting material scattered across the floor. When Delilah, who poured water of water into the vessel, takes it, King Cesar says as he opens his hands, still stained with paint, to show them.

"The rest of my hands are dirty. Let them drink water."

It is King Cesar's prank.

But when Delilah contained the water of the vessel in his mouth without any stray, he pressed his lips against it and gave it to King Cesar to drink water for his mouth transfer.

After a while, Delilah leaves King Cesar with a hot exhale, finishing a thick mouthful just to give him a drink of water. Then when I remove the scarf, I wipe the drops of water that had leaked slightly between the lips and passed from King Cesar's mouth to the neck muscle. King Cesar glanced down at the delilah, who poked his knee in front of him and wiped his throat cold.

"You didn't poison him."

To King Cesar's words, Delilah shivers her spine slightly.

"Play with me..."

King Cesar sneered and laughed at Delilah, who rose up dressed in peace in a handkerchief.

"What's up? Something bothering you, too?

It is a picture star.

But for Delilah, the "root" man, doubting the intentions of his commander-in-chief, King Cesar, is an unforgivable grand crime that alone gives death. Immediately Delilah denied "No". But there's no way I wouldn't answer if King Cesar ordered me to say even more.

"Wasn't this intervention in the Romanian country a little too much?

Though I worded it "no way," it was too modest an expression.

I just think that the assassination of General Darius and Chief Blue Seth's squire is just too much to make King Cesar a joyous liar in any foolishness or outrage.

At any rate, the roots that were stretched over the royal castle of the Romanian nation have been dimensioned because of it.

Stretch the roots that become assassins to the closeness of the two pillars of the country.

In words, it's easy, but it doesn't come true overnight to make it happen. He continued to twist and root for generations, never to be understood, and finally arrived at the person also known as the pillar stone of the country.

Without the tremendous amount of time it took to get there and the enormous amount of gold thrown, and above all the patience and effort of the "roots" of history, it could never have been done.

But in the first place, too, the roots that stretched wide into the earth sucked water and nutrition up into the trunk of the tree, so as to bring information to the Balgiborian nation. Never to make you do assassinations or anything like that.

If it extends to the crime of assassination and so forth, there will naturally be a thorough washout of secret detectives. That would not only capture the spy in case his identity was revealed, but even his companions would be hoisted to an even more potato ceremony.

In order not to do so, I will have to stop even contacting you regularly so far and hiss my breath.

But that alone can be fatal for the "root".

The intelligence organization Root is not the only organization of an information network consisting of mercenaries and tourists touring western countries. Connected with the people of the land visited by those who tour those countries, they lay their roots down on the land, and then continue to bring information about connections with the State of Balgibor. Besides, that's not a one-generation story. All my friends and acquaintances around me or even my family will hide who they are and let them inherit their roles to their children and grandchildren. It can even be that a servant who served me for many years, a friend for decades, a neighbor with whom I have a relationship from my grandfather's generation, is between the "roots" that were circulating my information.

That's how the intelligence network that connects it with the people that spread all over the West Side is the biggest intelligence organization in the West Side.

However, there were also weaknesses due to its organizational structure.

The more rooted in the land, the more physically and spiritually separated the Intermittent threatens to become from the State of Balgibor. In order not to do so, we had to stay in touch, encourage and continue to indoctrinate our consciousness as "root" intersections.

In situations where we cannot even carry out that regular contact, it is not necessarily possible that there will not be a withering root that will abandon the role of the intermediary if we do poorly. All of that, or even asylum to another country while holding information on "root" illegal intelligence operations, could have been a crisis in the survival of the Balgiborian State.

That's why it's an unlikely choice, such as using the "roots" to crush them in just one assassination.

That is the last resort not to be used, if not when the Balgiborian nation has been attacked and has become a crisis in the diaspora. Tissue is ready to take a fatal toll, and it's a trump card that can only be used once.

Besides, the situation I used is bad.

The Eldor Nation - the former Holmeer Nation - was rewritten as a bloodbath by forces inside the Royal Castle as a result of the earlier Battle of Holmeer and the civil unrest immediately after it. For this reason, the roots that had stretched over the years into the royal castle were dimensioned and barely functioning. Though it stretches out the roots that remain in the city of the Wang capital one by one, it was a situation that I never wanted to imagine how long it would take to get through that sharp warden's vigilance and put the roots inside the royal castle again.

It is tantamount to an outrage in which the Eldor State is in such a situation and further lets it stand to the roots it was spreading to the Romanian State, cutting it off to its own remaining arm exactly where it lost one arm.

To that Delilah's point, King Cesar snorts small.

"Are the old men on the table noisy?

The old men in the table are those who are the faces of the table of organizations that have inherited their function as mutual aid associations for the Balgiborgs, who are the predecessors of the intelligence organization Root. They are only intended to support the Balgiborians in the countries of the western region and are not a good idea to intervene in national or regional conflicts.

"Leave him alone. Old people who can't do anything with all their mouths anyway."

King Cesar scoffed.

The "roots" that used to move in both the front and back wheels were also, since the time of King Cesar, slanted towards the role behind them, and many who differed from them were solemnly purified. It is only being missed because the old men who remain today have neither the courage nor the strength to move into action.

"More than that, now he's the son of destruction"

King Cesar's eyes sparkled brightly.

"We must defeat the Son of Destruction. Whatever you do with him, you have to take him into the darkness of despair."

Fatty, crazy flames were shaking in the eyes of King Cesar, who lay in nothingness. There's a grin on that mouthpiece that reminds me of an inhuman reptile.

Besides, Delilah felt uncomfortable.

King Cesar's strength is his cold judgment that blood cannot pass through. King Cesar, desperate for the world, has nothing to obsess about but painting.

All alcohol and women, even if suspicious drugs give them temporary enjoyment, will be repainted into nothingness at the next moment.

Because he is such a king of Cesar, he cuts it off lightly if he thinks that there is no profit in the huge investment plan, which everyone hesitates to cancel. If necessary, I'll be fine with doing the opposite of the plan until then.

That is King Cesar, known both as the ghost and the serpent.

But that was falling apart recently.

He is the son of destruction.

King Cesar somehow demonstrates an unusual obsession and hostility towards the Son of Destruction.

Delilah thought it was horrible.

Never be involved in the Son of Destruction. If you engage that man known as the Son of Destruction, the future of King Cesar awaits terrible death and destruction.

Delilah remembered such a feeling of certainty.

However, it is overbearing to speak of it. It went into the back of his chest, and Delilah expressed another suspicion.

"But if it's to defeat the Son of Destruction, isn't it painful to let him lose Darius even more?

In Balgibor, a weak and small country, we could not have fought against the Erdoğa country, which swallowed up the great power Holmea, known as the male in the western region. Only the Romanian State can no longer confront the Erdoğa State in the western region. All we can do is stir up that Romanian country and hit the Eldor country.

But the assassinated Daraios is the pillar stone of the army of that Romanian country. All the martial arts of the individual caught his eye, but he was also an excellent figure in his tactical eye and command.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that the Romanian National Army's power has been halved by the death of Daraios.

To that delilah's point, King Cesar laughed out loud.

"You think Darius led the Romanian National Army to consider the son of destruction?

Delilah nods and answers the question thrown by King Cesar with a cold smile.

"I know there is no other god of war in the Romanian country."

The opponent is the son of that destruction. If Darius could not do it, he could not think of anyone who could defeat it.

"That's different."

But King Cesar denies it under a word.

"The horror of the Son of Destruction lies in his extraneous knowledge and in the thoughts upon which it is based. If we consider the Son of Destruction, who wields knowledge and thought outside of it, we must be one and the same outside."

That was also understandable to Delilah.

Because we serve beside King Cesar, who shows obsession with the Son of Destruction, the information of the Son of Destruction brought there comes naturally into our ears.

What I felt from it was the very abnormality of the Son of Destruction. Breaking that anomaly would not be possible with a decent force that would fall within the scope of common sense.

"Indeed, the warfare of Darius was extraneous."

King Cesar says as he turns his gaze to the ceiling, thinking of the bravery of Darius in the Battle of Holmea.

"I hear, however, that the Great General of the State of Eldor has met with Darius with each other. In addition, because of its extraordinary strength, there are rumours of a famous Dinosaurian general. Still, Darius, who carries the Romanian army, may have been able to cut them off more than just each other."

King Cesar made a mockery.

"But what happens then? Behind them lies the son of destruction."

Delilah opens her eyes small when she realizes what King Cesar is trying to say. King Cesar continues his words as he watches it with pleasure.

"In the first place, Darius' outrageous courage was meant to beat his rival Darius. Because Darius was no match for intelligence, he had to be brave. If the knowledge of the Son of Destruction, who defeated Darius, strikes him where he was stopped, there will be none."

So King Cesar cut off his words once.

And King Cesar affirms.

"In Daraios, you can't beat the Son of Destruction"

In Delilah's ear, the words echoed as the truth of the world.

"Darius had a better chance when the son of destruction was still afraid of the plot."

Delilah asks, with confusion, King Cesar, who whispers his nose small and mocks Daraios.

"But how would you like to discuss destruction?

To Delilah's inquiry, King Cesar's eyes are directed far beyond here - toward those with Romanian statehood.

"There's a wolf in that country."

Words like monologue leaked out of King Cesar's mouth.

"It's a wolf who's had to hide his fangs until now because of his position and birth, and he's fit in for a somewhat nasty dog."

Leave Delilah alone confused about what the hell he's talking about, and words like King Cesar's monologue continue.

"It was Darius who realized the nature of the wolf and was baking his care for me for nothing. Darius, at his discretion, loosened his wolf's collar, stretched his chain, and expanded his freedom of movement."

The fever began to linger on the voice of King Cesar, who was calm.

"And because he knew it, the wolf also relieved himself of his collar, and remained within the reach of the chain. Conversely, the wolf had to be quiet because of Darius."

Delilah had already disappeared from King Cesar's consciousness. Except King Cesar spins his words with the enthusiasm that springs from his own chest.

"But that Daraios is gone. All around you are fools who insult (ah, etc.) the Son of Destruction. Well, can you stand the situation? No, I can't. You can't possibly do that!

King Cesar, who sparkled his eyes with a giraffe, took the paint softly on his index finger as he stared into the drawing board in front of him.

"Female wolf of the Romanian state. The collar that connected you is gone. Eat up on the throat whistle of your thoughtfully destructive son!

And King Cesar put his last colour on the drawing board.

The painting, which was thus on the finished drawing board, was the figure of a single female knight who stood at the head of the cavalry of a different style and waved her long golden hair to make her run the horse.

◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

On the outskirts of Romanian, the king's capital, there was a barracks that had not yet been built.

Numerous inflexible knights and soldiers were encouraged to stand up for training in the soldier yard adjacent to that barrack, where the smell of new building materials still remained.

What came there was a daughter who knitted three long silver hairs and drooled them on her back. A woman was wearing armor and hanging a sword on her hips, but that's weird, that's the girl. And behind it, he followed with a tenacious knights who seemed to be warriors of war because he saw them.

Her name is Demetria Loga.

She is the granddaughter of Darios Loga, the grand general of the Romanian country, whose death was made public in the past.

Demetria walked straight inside the practice field, and as she came to the command deck with a flag raised nearby, she pounded one knee and drooped her head as she rang her armor.

"Your Highness. We are out of time, but today we are returning to this Demetria, Her Highness the Princess."

Listening to Demetria's words, her master, standing on the command deck watching the soldiers train, turns around and looks back at her heels. Then, a long blonde hair hitting the waves slowly spread flutteringly and heavily with the momentum.

In an age when it is considered the sagging of noble children to tie their hair high, they cannot help but say that hair cannot even be knitted into one like Demetria instead of tied together. But the golden hair that shined through the light and shined brightly reflected divinely as though it were a light back.

Demetria's master opens his mouth with a smile full of glow.

"Well done. You're back, Demetria!

Behind Piata Der Romanianis, alias Princess Grandma of the Romanian Country, a flag painted white lilies on the wolf was hanging in the wind.