Kuro no Maou

"Humbuguuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!

And, flying a corner bubble and screaming is a handsome elf who just told me what it means to be unnamed (nameless).

Thin eyebrows catch above the limit, eyes run half white, tongues draped and rough breaths out as starving dogs point their teeth out.

Now the beauty has no shadow to see.

"After all, should I have stopped..."

The elf, who went into the arena with a refreshment, was surprisingly sharp to the point where he had just been cursed and possessed by the Lizard Man with his sharp spear.

The next moment he grabbed a magnificently unnamed (nameless) sword, he was to follow the same path as Lizardman.

"Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

And this is so.

How awful, I almost want to put it on my head, but worse is the audience.

As the brilliant colored man Elf was ugly and possessed by the curse, he seemed to be more popular than Lizardman, and the venue's exuberance is on the way up.

"Come on, the next one to show up is a Black Wizard Chrono, affiliated with Element Master, a Rank 3 adventurer party that has been a covert topic in the Alliance lately with a steep rank-up!!

This is the first time I've heard anything about it being a secret subject. It's hard to tell if it's an unexpected fact or a lie to cheer it up, but, well, either would be fine now.

While listening to the announcement of the hot man echoing the venue, the attendant standing aside gives me a GO sign to go to the arena.

This is the athlete's passage to the battle stage.

If you dive through the entrance, which is three steps away, the crazy elf roaring near the center of the arena will instantly recognize and attack me.

This entrance, no, boundaries as surrounded by all directions of the arena, and the guy as transparent as the boundaries of the Daedalus Wall, it's laid, so unless you get inside of it, it's impossible for a mad man to attack the curse.

There must be a magic of perception inhibition and other robust defensive magic that prevents ranged attacks from flying to the passenger seat.

It is an advanced junction that should have been imposed on an important castle fortress, but somehow it seems to convey the passion of the Spartans to put on a sword fight.

Besides, let's just get the game over with now.

"Let's go."

I shrugged so little that I ran all the way to the arena.

"Come on, the next one to show up is a Black Wizard Chrono, affiliated with Element Master, a Rank 3 adventurer party that has been a covert topic in the Alliance lately with a steep rank-up!!

By loud magic, the moment a loud announcement was made, clearly audible even in a cheering venue, Elina, sitting in one of the tens of thousands of guest seats, had a heartbeat.

That's not because Teng himself is a covert topic in the guild, but more purely because he worries about his own thinkers.

(Krono, are you sure you're okay...)

The cursed sword that is now being wielded in the arena has driven all opponents crazy to curse since the first round.

That elf swordsman was a rank three adventurer, and his swordsmanship had definite skill. I was then numbered several times. I refused it all.

Anyway, even he has the strength to do so, and he's lightly possessed. No matter how bearer (nameless) they were, they were once again the elina of thoughts who were shown the threat of a cursed weapon.

(Yeah, it's okay, 'cause that killer was more scared)

The Elf Swordsman's insanity is reminiscent of Joe, the serial killer who knocked Erina down to the bottom of her fear, but she never tries that one thing as a nightmare.

(Chrono, you will never lose!

At the same time, a black figure danced to the arena like a disease.

From the ground floor equivalent of the arena to this second-floor audience, the size of the venue is quite a distance away, but the junction that surrounds the entire arena incorporates magic that is great for watching.

Instead of being the type to bottom-up vision like Hawkeye, the surface of a transparent junction acts like a lens and is zoomed in so that it is well visible to the guests watching the match.

Therefore, even Elina's clear, empty eyes clearly show her figure.

One man flipped a coat with the same shade of black hair and appeared lightly in the arena.

"Yikes! Chrono, keep up the good work!!

Elina yellow cheered for Krono, a player in Game Four.

Regardless, you can't even reach Chrono standing in a remote arena. Given the noise of this venue, two or three seats away would be the limit.

"What, that woman?

"Come on, don't you know a player like that Chrono?

A young female guest sitting next to her looks at Elina with a few white eyes.

(Well, I'm glad you guys know how attractive you are.)

Elina was so angry that her feelings for Chrono were stronger than her embarrassment.

"I prefer the elves I just saw."

"The black coat sucks, too."

(Krono, do you understand the charm? Ahhhhhhhhhh!!

Elina scolds a woman who critically criticizes Chrono's appearance with grudges and flanks.

"Come on -!

Nevertheless, I want you to apprentice your neighbor, who is honestly cheering, while Elina lowers her drinks with steel reason.

The brunette red-eyed child has a neutral face that can't tell if she's a man or a woman. But from wearing a men's uniform from the Royal Spartan Seminary, he identified himself as a cute boy.

Erina's heart is soothed when she sees her classic watching item, popcorn, sent to Chrono with one hand and cheerful support.

"Well, it's game four early! He's a rare class Chrono player named Black Wizard, but whoa, if you look closely Chrono player, he doesn't possess a weapon! Are you going to fight with your bare hands like a monk (monk)!?

It's a live dialogue hot enough to even feel whiteness somewhere, but it didn't really come into Elina's ear watching the kid next door chewing popcorn somehow.

"Come on, Chrono, show me what the hell the fight is -"

Bobong.

As soon as the overlapping explosion sounded across the arena blocking the announcement, Elina returned her gaze to the arena as to what was going on.

There was a chrono holding the long sword of the curse with his right hand, and the body of an elf man who had been the bearer of that sword until now.

I can tell at a glance that it's a corpse because the top head is almost bouncing off my forehead, flashing blood and brains to the ground of dirt.

"... Huh?

Apparently, Elina wasn't the only one who questioned what happened.

It was only for a moment that I was keeping my eyes open. Then, during that moment, Chrono somehow took the sword of the curse from the elf and blew his head off.

The surrounding audience should certainly have seen that decisive moment, but everyone seemed to fail to understand what had happened then.

The doubt immediately becomes a ripple of deliberation and rushes around the place.

Chrono does not raise his winning name, but at some point throws the unnamed (nameless) sword, which had changed into a black monochrome, into the shadow that stretches behind him.

I guess it's spatial magic (dimension), the sword disappears as it is sucked into the shadows, and Chrono is powerless again.

Thus, as if nothing had happened as it were, he turned his heels back and began to exit gently.

"Oh, what, what?

There was still no one who could answer that question.

Only one pseudo-complete steel bullet (full metal jacket), which is the normal demon bullet (Barrett Arts), and one grenade shell (Grenade Burst) combined with two bullets that suppress the power of the curse is needed to tail a crazy elf.

To make sure he lets go of his curse weapon, he fired a grenade at his right wrist and a demon bullet at his forehead as a torso in his body.

Once possessed by "The Curse" Tsukuba ", Goblin was definitely an" antimaterial "to the Demon Bullet, back then, still" Rifle, "anyway, he saw it cut and dodged, or hyper-reacted enough to play it with a blade.

If the grade is low bearer (nameless), I can expect the level of fanaticism (basark) to be lower than that.

Finally, shooting normally doesn't hit you, does it? I thought so.

And the anticipation is the middle, and the bullet is brilliantly the middle.

"That's a shame."

Blood from his forehead, and from the back of his head, he squeals like that as he looks at an elf man falling and lying down punching all the brain misos that fit inside his skull.

I already have a bearer (nameless) sword in my hand.

This isn't a wack I did it for. A sword blew up in a howitzer shell (grenade burst) just happened to come towards me like a bullet liner.

It was a trajectory that would hit me in the middle of my face if I stood still, and it was troublesome to pick it up after I dodged it, so I decided to keep catching it.

He flew in like an arrow, but to Dada, I'm not a modified person. Even if there is no magic enhancement (boost), there is no making to grab as much as one of the flying swords.

Then, as exemplified by the example, the resentful voice that sounds like a gripping pattern to the head is blackened and mullified, and stored straight into the shadow space (shadowgate).

At the end of the battle, which is so lame, the audience is just complaining or not, and not one of the applause flies.

Well, I didn't join in to please them.

Thus, my first gladiatorial tournament came to an end, Maru.

"... hmm?

That doesn't seem to have happened.

It was me walking towards the entrance and exit of the athlete's aisle to exit, but I accidentally saw signs of magic from around me - no, more simply, something glowing.

I have a very bad feeling about it, but the option of not turning around here would be unlikely.

"Something tells me I had a similar experience before..."

There are eight sources of light combined.

A circle of about two metres in diameter, combined with geometric patterns and different world alphabet characters, is depicted in blue light.

I don't know what kind of technique that is, but I can instantly understand the magical effects. Finally, summoning magic (samon).

From there emerge eight people, each carrying a different weapon, different from humans, elves, dwarves, goblins, oaks, ramiahs, cyclopses, gargoyles, and also different races.

They are all uniformly white-eyed, sniffled, and roaring with covetousness.

A state of complete fanaticism (basark), and, needless to say, the weapon of curse that is hard gripped in its hands.

"Ohhhh! There's been an incident here. Ah! Apparently, the Cursed Weapon Users of Refraining have been accidentally unleashed by the Arena!!

I see, is this the guy who's surprised?

I know, but you don't like this situation, but you remind me of 'Arre’.

There was one enemy on the circular stage, and when I thought I had defeated him, ten reinforcements appeared.

Yes, that abominable manoeuvre experiment that I activated for the first time.

You remind me of something I don't like.

Inside the shadow space (shadowgate), intense signs are transmitted to pulse with the dokun.

He's the only one who responds so sensitively to my anger.

"Fine, it's been a while since you've been with me on my eight hits -"

If you hold your hand against your own shadow, a pitch-black pattern appears with momentum like a hungry beast jumping on the bait.

- Let's go. "Absolutely." "Break your neck." "