If It’s for My Daughter, I’d Even Defeat a Demon Lord (WN)

A young man was still walking through the deep woods.

Even though there is still some time in the day, the woods that are not in people's hands are dim. There's nothing you can hear but the occasional sound of a bird. It was a place, with signs of severe pain drifting in color.

He looked at the sword he had offered in one hand, distorting his face in an unpleasant manner.

"Ahhh... damn"

Rub your sword against nearby grass as you throw it away. The mucus with a bad smell sticks on it.

"Nobody wants to do it. It's work, right?... Damn, before you go, will you take a bath in the water?"

He looked even more bitter when he saw that his own leather coat also had mucus on it.

It was about a moment ago that he took a leg after a request to crusade a warcraft resembling a frog, which bred heavily in this forest. The crusade itself hasn't had much difficulty. For him to have some confidence, both in the handling of weapons and in magic, round-trip times were more laborious.

"It was a relay I received because I had time to make my next request... was it a failure..."

Drop your shoulders in a sigh of sighing as you hear your own footsteps stepping on the grass mix with the chibi and the sticky sound.

The greatest reason he undertook this job was the distance he could travel to and from the city where he is currently based, on day trips. He spewed a curse on himself for making such a cheap decision.

The job itself was no big deal.

It was an easy task for him to discover and destroy the colonies that the Warcraft were making behind the woods.

Not even in their fluids and spit mucus.

Is it the only salvation that the smell so terrible that it paralysed my sense of smell early?

But even returning to the city in this state would distort your face to a face-to-face gatekeeper.

He has become quite a facetious adventurer in the city he is currently based in. He's just turned 18, recognized as an adult in this country, but in his town he is treated as a single person at the age of 15. Having defined this operation as a business since that time, he had sold his name to such an extent that he was not insulted as to be young, with several years of experience.

Brown mixed brunette with a long coat of Warcraft leather and a demon prop cage hand on his left arm. exterior feature, to the extent that his name Dale Leki is evoked.

"" Water, my name commands you, deliver your voice. "" Exploration: Water. ""

cast a spell and exercise magic. Changing course to signs of water that grew stronger as soon as possible, Dale split the beast path in.

Ahead of the sight opened, there was a stream flowing. Dale looks relieved at the object.

Take off your coat and expose it to zab and water. His streak of magic, that's all it took to flush the mucus. I also play the water so it dries quickly. Dale dried his coat to a nearby branch.

Think about it for now.

If I looked over at myself and double-checked, I somehow remembered the smell and mucus discomfort. Put your hands on a blade-proof cloth top, wondering if it should be washed in earnest.

It was also Dale's marginal act of knowing that warcraft living in this forest and, to the extent of beasts, would not be a threat to him.

The coat is dry, but the top and trousers are dripping. When Dale set the fire, he was sitting down in his underwear on a spreading coat and searing the riverfish he caught as he bathed in the water.

By the time the fragrant smell drifted around, the clothes were also dry. Dale quickly gets dressed while worrying about the fish. Exactly not fat enough to enjoy a meal in underwear in a place like this.

I heard a rustle.

Dale thought the small animal had come to the smell, and turned his gaze to you, and he was stunned.

A young child watched him from across the bush.

My little head is peeking right out of the bush.

Dale was surprised, first of all, that he misread the signs.

Next, a young child is baffled by wandering through the woods inhabited by such a warcraft. I noticed it (...) thinking there shouldn't be any villages around here either.

The child had a curly shaped, black horn on the side of his head.

("Demon Clan" or... that's a hassle...)

Strike your tongue inside.

A race with the greatest ability, closed and hostile to others, among the seven existent 'human races'. The physical characteristic of the 'Demon Nation' was that it had horns in its head.

(Kill...?)

That also seemed like a quick way to go.

There are only signs of trouble.

Dale put his strength into the gripping sword pattern - and let go of his hand.

I don't want to get blood back, even though it's right after I get water for it.

Yes, I went through the corner of my head for a direct reason.

The child stared at this one with big gray eyes, so much as it was about to spill.

Once Dale took his hand off the sword, his head was cold enough to be able to observe the child. I realize the reasons for discomfort from the moment I first saw it.

The child's horn was broken from one root.

(Dude... are these kids sinners...?)

Dale, taken aback, makes me look dumb myself.

It's one of the Devil's habits I've heard from fellow adventurers before.

- - The Demon Nation considers the 'horn', which is also a symbol of being a race, as sacred. For that reason, the guilty will be banished with one broken corner.