Lower Whorehouse Joint Event. It is a survival game in which "Wind Clouds in the Industry" uses toys that are manufactured and sold.
"The Battle Royal has disabled attacks from the same sex. If you get hit three or four times, you lose."
That's all the rules are. Whether it hit me or not is self-declared, but a rapidly increasing vibration in the fourth would not be something a person can hide on their own.
"Dear Doctor Slime, this way, please"
In a golden mask, I was led upstairs to the roof by a concierge after the briefing. And with the concierges and other invitees aligned there, he looked down at the square under his eyes.
Gathered in the center are more than fifty contestants, men and women alike. Everywhere, what you see on the upstairs veranda would be an audience other than the special seats.
'Then get started!
Using loud magic, the thief mustache old man declares from the roof. The contestants go thoughtfully to hide themselves.
"Again, getting up can be something quiet"
Grab onto the railing as you stand and talk to the red-faced old man next door.
This liquor-baked middle-aged man is a concierge at the End of the Century Whorehouse. Experienced and familiar with only the stores with the most exciting survival games.
"That's right. It takes courage to shoot first. At the beginning, you'll see how things are going, Theory."
I listen with interest to the narrative pointing to the streets within sight.
"Oh?"
The red-faced old man tilts his neck and I move my eyes to the square in front of him, too. For some reason, an arrow of light was launched directly above it.
As the rooftop and ground gaze gathered, it was the slightly tough-faced girl dressed in the uniform of the Knights of the Kingdom pilot who emerged from the shadows.
(Ponytail!)
Walk straight out into the center of the square with dignity, but no one will aim.
Everyone's on guard.
The social status of the pilots of the Knights of the Kingdom is higher than that of anyone else on this occasion, even if it is flat. And it's that fighting power that supports your identity, for one thing.
It would be the opposite of fear for the amateurs, such as' battle experts who look full of gaps'.
By the way, the guild leader is equal to the Knights leader, but he's ruled out because he's hiding his identity with an eye-catching hat.
(What are you gonna do?
Ponytail with one hand on his waist looks around with an invincible grin. Then, when the short wand (wand) was raised toward the top of the sky, it fired again.
It's like letting everyone know, 'I'm here'.
"It's flashy. Sounds like it's going to interest the contestants, but what kind of operation is it?
A red-faced old man who can flaunt his face for unexpected events early in the start. On the other hand, I have a bad feeling.
After swinging a trademark ponytail, a former classmate of the School of Pilots declared with his chest raised and jaw loud.
"The active pilot of the Knights of the Kingdom will deal with you. Come on! Come out without hiding!
The red-faced old man rounded his eyes and mouth, probably because it was just unexpected.
With that on my side, I look into the shadow of the ponytail coming out. There, my best friend, Braided Big Super Boobs, was nagging me with his head.
(Maybe you think, 'In duel form, one from the front, one from the other'?
That behavior, knowing that the majority are lurking. It's not impossible.
A ponytail who admires the 'true pilot' and prefers to behave squarely and standing. Believing in her correctness, she assumes at will that others do the same.
(Sounds like an old samurai with the right origins)
So they say, 'Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. I'm the one -'.
A ponytail that grabs a short wand (wand) on its shoulder and awaits the adversary with a confident look. But unfortunately the battlefield is not as beautiful a place as she thinks it is.
Looking down from the heights, I could see. In the shadow of things, I wave up my short wand (wand) all at once, and I see the men.
"Coward!
Before that word ends, many arrows of light pierce from the front and from left to right. Shortly after, the beastly roar of ponytail echoed.
(Sleep in peace. I won't forget how brave you are)
A ponytail girl falling and lying on the cobblestone of the square and bouncing around like a water-fried fish with her lower abdomen under control.
The thumb stick must be rumbling around in her stomach right now. Even a heavy wooden table, with kinetic energy that moved it out as it went low.
"Stop! Help! Somebody! Please!"
Repeat screaming, bridge opposite shrimp. The water-colored underwear in the tight skirt is round, and you can tell from here that it's even wet to the thighs.
But braided tits super big tits don't move.
Ruthless but natural. If he shows up, it's obvious he eats intensive fire. There is only one more bridge in the square.
"Ah, hey"
Finally, a ponytail that strives to keep its distorted mouth open. They decided it was dangerous, and the staff on the operational side carried it out on a rushing stretcher.
Braided tits super big tits dropping off her best friend passing by lying around with worrying eyes.
(Don't step, it's suddenly the maximum output)
Without exercising preparation, take a full walk downhill. Or a cold cut body, like jumping into a hot bath.
The burden on the body is considerable.
(I know it's tough, but support him)
She'd think you couldn't leave me alone. Tell me something. They are close.
But the next moment, I peel my eyes off behind the golden mask. I saw a little man in a black eyed hat behind her braided boobs.
(When!)
Strike an unexpected blow from behind. Shortly after the target shook and looked back at the shell-shaped super boobs, another blow. Kick the counterattack against the wall and escape into the air, striking another blow as it rotates.
That 3D manoeuvre, definitely Grandpa Goblin. Exactly the same as when you treated the female giant with disrespect.
"Unfortunately, the fourth shot doesn't seem possible."
A goblin that leaves words behind and disappears into the streets like a chamosica running through the mountains. The counterattack began with the surrounding women, and I guess I declined.
Braided Tits Super Big Boobs declares both hands up and losing instantly. It is a desperate shape, only shortly after seeing the misery of ponytail.
A series of noises started a heavy shootout here.
"Um, aren't there a lot of people retiring in the second shot?
Looking around, I tell the red-handed old man.
What we are now on is the roof of a few houses away from the restaurant. As the battlefield moved, so did we.
A wooden bridge is built to connect the rooftops of the buildings on the land roof.
"The look of her in the Knights. It had an impact."
A slightly unfortunate red face.
"I never want to take the fourth shot, so I'll giveup with the second shot"
Apparently it's not against the rules to give up early. I know exactly how you feel.
"Well, this is also about the challenges ahead. If you think about hand-to-hand warfare, you can make a difference."
Put your hand on your chin, a red face that circles your thoughts. Looks like he's thinking about his shop.
Young women and older husbands with bellies. Playing on the same terms does not allow the men on the customer's side to enjoy.
It would also be possible to make adjustments that would make women out twice and men out in five degrees.
(But you think about it a lot. What kind of person is "Windy Clouds in the Industry"?
Maybe I'll see you. That's what I was hoping for, but unfortunately there was no such person on the roof. But I'm the main sponsor, and I guess I'm looking at it somewhere.
There are no-pan restaurants with glass ceilings that don't suit me. Still, his idea is to add a definite color to the Wangdu Hanayu world.
(More than me, it would be "The Treasure of the Hanayo Realm")
I will gladly give you two names, so I would love for you to accept them.
Even then, I moved over the roof in a way that was guided by the red-handed old man.
Dozens of minutes pass and the location moves to the corner of the junior whorehouse event venue.
Three men were walking in an unpopular narrow alley.
"What happened to your eye-catcher grandfather?
Ask in a bitter voice, the old man whose head runs the butcher is stuck.
The bald but hairy old man also has a spicy look on his back of his head, shaking his head left and right and exhaling with words.
"I've been hit. I ate two shots and it was moving badly."
What floats behind Andale's brain, to which I replied, is a small old man who was showing so much movement that there was a scaffold in the air that it seemed.
But it was only intact, and each time it was hit, it went abruptly dull.
"I don't know what else to do. The stick's shaking in my ass."
A pair of bald fathers, the husband crowd in the mall, have already worn arrows of light twice.
The only intact is the thin young man on the line who looks back worried from time to time.
"You're good, aren't you? Shouldn't you have been a pilot, not a knight mechanic?
To laughing Andale, the herbivore returns a troubled look.
"I'm not fit for magic manipulation. And I don't have the guts to fight for my life."
To such a son, a father with narrow eyes and a smile.
"If you can protect what you want, courage will come to you."
I just tried to go on with the words further, and the butcher's father's hand reaches out like a whisper. When I saw it, I was distorting my face and squeezing my jaw backwards.
"Here we are, rookie"
Those are the ladies dressed in glossy "Ah so" or something. They range from similar to blazers and sailor clothes to paleo in swimsuits.
Some of the forerunners must have gotten a blow or two.
"More than five people nasty. We can't all get away with this."
Andale turns to his son, agreeing first to the words of his best friend, the butcher.
"We'll buy time. You run to the back. So hide in the shadows and intercept."
The herbivore returns with surprise.
"You've both already taken two shots, haven't you? If you fight that number of people, you'll go all the way to the fourth shot at once."
You should surrender. My father looked at the suggestion and laughed lightly.
Staring at his son with gentle, carefree eyes, Andale utters words in a tone of utterance.
"I told you earlier. Courage comes naturally if you can protect it."
Did you light up your rhetoric or turn to the side with your fingers under your nose?
Niyaniya and the butcher's father, who watched, hung words to the thin young man of the line whom he had known since he was a little boy.
"That's why. Andale, your proud son. We'll take care of this. I think it's one of filial piety to make your father dress up."
A herbivore mechanic who bows his head deeply after distorting his face to endure.
"... thank you. Good luck."
Neither do you, bald fathers returning and dropping off running away youth.
"I'm sorry. Let me go out with you."
Andale apologizes, but the butcher's father doesn't accept it.
"I don't mind. I just couldn't walk."
To his best friend with a suspicious look, the butcher, after scratching his hairless head, spoke of the secret he had hidden.
"Actually, I've already had three shots. I managed to walk all the way here, but I can't move anymore."
Breathing is rough, and if you look closely, there are a number of large grains of sweat floating around your forehead.
To Andale, approaching with a serious look, "Declare Retirement Immediately," the butcher shakes his head gently to the left and right.
"I only have a daughter."
The butcher continues to tell his friend who grabs his shoulder.
"I've always admired a father who dresses up in front of his son. I rarely get a chance like this. So just give me a break, too."
In the meantime, the women were packing their distance as they conveyed shadows such as buildings, street lights and trash cans placed on the street. He'll be in range shortly.
Come here. Andale also decides to be ready, opening his mouth as he looks at his impending enemies.
"... at all. You're the best."
The butcher didn't answer, he just laughed at the edge of his mouth.
And it begins, a harsh but very short shootout.
"Awww!"
Shortly afterwards, my middle-aged father's filthy screams stuck to a narrow alley wall.
(That's the butcher's uncle)
A herbivore mechanic who hears a familiar voice and prays for blessings in his heart.
He's in the back of the alley, in a big crate left in front of the building. Lifting slightly under the box like Tanishi, he is watching what is going on outside.
(... Dad!
The next thing it arrived was the mad screaming of my father.
(I will take revenge)
He vowed strongly to his heart, and waited for the raiders who would come after him.
Me and the concierge went back to the roof of the first restaurant.
The battle took about an hour from the declaration of initiation.
(What is a herbivore mechanic winning)
It is rudely unexpected because it is not the type to strip away much of the struggle.
The right to play, which is a commodity, is open to any woman who participates. But what he chose was a red-haired, three-knit, blushing girl.
He's the one who's packing in and out.
(Well, isn't that nice? They seemed happy)
Compassionate love, very fine. I'll do my best to make you a body without a herbivore.
But not right now.
There's a second war, isn't there?
After a few hours of rest, there will be another battle. A slight replacement of personnel will also take place.
By the way, 'Uniform store. I'll have all my uniforms. Come on, you too, now, uniform, conquer!' The elderly concierge rushed back to the store.
It seems that the daily vibration exposure was greatly exceeded by "Nishinnawakuru", making it difficult to return the ponytail. That's why they're calling the poor bodied big black tights junior as an understudy.
(I wouldn't expect an active Knights member to take irreversible damage in the first fight)
He's still in a state he can't show me, so I haven't seen him either. I just hope that this experience will help her grow.
When I go down to the ground floor, I see two people relaxing on the couch.
(Hmm?
One is Grandpa Goblin in a black eye-catching hat. The other is an old man with a stunning long white beard while wearing an eye-catching hat as well.
It just looks like Santa Claus who transferred to a thief.
"In World War I, I didn't see you."
Black Santa opens her mouth happily when she calls out while trying not to touch her identity.
"No, it looks like there's been some vacancies in the mall. He was summoned as a surrogate."
The merchant belongs to the Merchant Alliance. I hear the flow from there hung my voice.
"I'm really excited. I wanted to leave and I couldn't help it."
Santa Claus, unidentified, starts a standing and ready movement on the couch. Unlike the Guild Manager, the Deputy Guild Manager, who prefers your three houses and advanced whorehouses, probably did not have enough junior whorehouses to be considered regular.
(Because it's pretty strong. What happens?)
I was a little flattered to be able to compete, but I immediately remembered the fourth vibration and shrugged my neck.