"Follow the smell of Fayria, hurry!
You haven't gone that far yet. If you want to embarrass yourself by multiplying this confusion, as long as you are with those prominent people, you will not escape in a noiseless direction. Especially not to the aristocratic district.
But I don't know who that pair of black clothes are, so it's not necessarily that Fayria and Viscount Augrain can't split into two hands. So I rush Raswiwok.
Raswiwok stepped down into the halls of a civilian neighborhood with weak firehand momentum, from which he began to sicken down the road. From time to time, the wind pushes firepowder and phosphorus moths flying through unpopular paths.
The phosphorous moths stood in the odd motion of flying into herds at some point. It's no different to fly around the area in a crowd, but it doesn't twist like a wave.
Rather, I thought that was too creepy.
The unusual behavior of demons has been going on all these years. But it can't happen unless it's a precursor to a natural mutation, such as behavior that clearly deviates from ecology so far. That's how the accumulated knowledge denies it.
'Impossible' for a phosphorus moth to cause this as a natural action.
─ Then is this in people's hands?
It was three years ago.
The forest baboon (Abilijana), a warcraft that abruptly appeared in a human building after leaving the territory. He was terribly drunk and excited by the blood of man. But given the nature of the creature, it's impossible.
Although the forest baboon (Abilijana) is highly intelligent, it does not change that it is a warcraft. The essence is the beast. In other words, its instincts should not have allowed it, such as obstinately hunting non-food animals in a fire-handed building.
... When something is happening that cannot happen naturally, the factor is mostly human hands involved. I don't know how, but do you mean there are people out there somewhere who have the means to storm demons and warcraft?
Raswiwok roared low at me as I was circling my thoughts.
Did you find it?
Pull out the sword on your hips.
Although it is a fine sword for liturgy, it is not sufficient as a gift.
In a small square with a fountain, I saw two men in black. One bears Fayria on his shoulder and the other guards his surroundings with a spear in one hand.
A shadow appears on the other side of the fountain.... You're not alone Viscount Augrain. One or two, there is a shadow standing relative to the Viscount.
Do we need to get Fayria back first? Nothing can be done if the hostages are taken. ─ ─ Don't let them take her away for personal reasons.
"Go, Raswiwok. It's hunting time."
Moments later, Raswiwok popped out like a released bow.
Raswiwok's scales jump the tip of the spear, which was shaken hastily in a sudden assault, eating at the defenceless limbs. The fountain, stuck in the momentum, shaken and scattered water high on one side of the perimeter.
At the same time, my fine sword jumped off his back and stabbed straight through the section of the man who restrains Fayria.
Hostages don't take charge, they make sense because they make them stand on their own arrows. You'll remember that in the next life.
From the shoulder of the man who gave birth to the tip of his sword from his mouth, he pulls Fayria down so that he can take it away. He rolled down the ground with a screaming girlfriend and killed the impact of a landing for two. In a nine-year-old little body, it's hard to take a girl who turns 16 on a boulder.
"Stay down."
Terminal words have been ordained in their usual habits. Put down Fayria, who looks up at me flashly, and wakes up his body, snatching the spear from the hand of the corpse that Raswiwok threw away. A little heavy, but reasonably usable.
At that moment, I heard the sound of dosari and heavy things falling from the other side of the fountain. Beyond the water, which falls like rain, two shadows sway, turning this way.
"... This is, Eliza Cardia. I didn't expect to see you soon. Really, try to kill people vividly by resembling their father very well"
It was the moment I saw the man, with an inadvertent gloomy grin and letting him line up a terrible praise with some strangely floating, tangled voice.
I was stunned to be on the spot.
Both the dark hair wet in the water and the hard red eyes wet in the blood have exactly the same color as the one I looked at so badly over the mirror.
For a moment I thought it was my mirror image. However, the hair and clothes dropped off are different. That's how Ning Lo's memory matches his insanity.
".........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
It was as if a nightmare burning to my head and not leaving had come out of reality.
The man, almost intact with my father, slowly tilted his neck, reminiscent of my father in memory.