Kuro no Maou

"Hey Sheep...... damn, I knew it wouldn't work"

As I dived into the woods to hide myself from the streets, I spoke toward the grey gloves I wore on my hands. but as a matter of course there is no response. From the side, he's a pathetic bastard with a head who talks to his own hands.

But I know very well that this glove is an item of curse, and that it is home to an obnoxiously chatty tentacle-based maid.

Sheep, officially known as the "Black Chain Curse" Iron Cage, "the cursed glove has a glossy brunette hue dyed grey as if discolored. The only thing that barely remains of the original black is around the wrist. It looks like the design just has a black line in it from the beginning.

It wasn't until this morning that I realized that I was looking so different. The gloves were thrown down on the floor after I pushed Sariel down on the bed and scattered them all over my clothes. I don't know what to say, Suman, Sheep. I'm really, really sorry.

Anyway, the sheep turned gray like they burned out that way, but I still wouldn't even say yeah if I tried it on. The effect of reacting to black magic to enhance the demon hand (bind arts), of course, stopped even feeling the great attachment that fits to suck on that hand.

It really seems as if it has become just gloves.

"Impact through Heavenly Delivery Gate?"

White magic swirls at high density. Metastatic magic, I just think it's caused by an array. White magic is naturally valid for undead because it has properties very similar to light attributes. In other words, it also has a high effect on purifying the curse.

I don't have any damage or negative effects on myself, because I'm a demon. Even if I'm a mad warrior, I'm a human body. No matter how evil your heart may be, there are no special weaknesses like undead in an organism called man.

Maybe if I had walked past the gate with a 'neck break' or some other cursed weapon, I'd have broken it perfectly. Should I be glad I left you there? Perhaps my beloved series of cursed weapons has been recovered by the Lillies, so I'm not so worried about losing them.

Now put it down, the problem is with the unwaking sheep.

"... you'll be fine, sheep"

I want to believe that if I keep equipping and continuously supplying black magic, I will come back to normal again.

The corner, defeating the Apostle... must have been helpless nonetheless. It could be called victory as a result. And yet, I'm sorry that sacrifices can be made here.

Sheep are not people, but still, they speak to me with a clear will, nasty, but why he's so cute. I mean, I don't know if he really is just a 'curse' word to clean it up, but as far as I'm concerned, you can call the sheep one of your most important people.

If we don't see any signs of recovery after a while, we'll have to think about something when we get back to Sparda. Let's hit it off and bring it to the Arms Chamber run by Chairman Mordred, who calls himself the Cursed Weapons Collector.

"Nevertheless, I really have to rely on one of my own"

The curse weapon is not on hand and the sheep are on indefinite leave.

The fairy spirit pills have already been used up by me and Saliel. The only other things left were The Protector of the Pale Flame (Nanablast Amulet), which was wrapped around the belt of the hips, and The White Wings of the Heart Guard (Aria Guard Feather), which was strictly wrapped around the pocket of the trousers. Fiona and Nell, we were fortunate not to have to lose each gift, but unfortunately magic equipment (magic items) that prevents fire attributes and attacks of the mental system are of no use under this circumstance.

In other words, the palms are the same.

I don't care, but this was the defo at the time of the manoeuvre experiment, so we'll figure it out.

Tell yourself so, and I'll finally start acting.

"Demon Hand (Bind Arts)"

Without passing through the sheep, I form a black tentacle from both hands with a sea urchin, entangled in a large tree branch as it soars in front of me. So thick a branch that I'm not going to break on top.

That's how I ended my tree climb about five meters above the ground. It is an easier task than hanging on the Great Wall of Galahad and rumbling around.

I don't have anything particularly covert about it, but for now, I just lurk my breath and give in as much as I can. Fortunately, the color of the robe is white, so it just becomes a protective color on the snow. To scout, it would be quite the outfit it deserves.

"... is this a pioneering village?"

About an hour after I left the house, I had already come close enough to visit the village. If you climb a tree in this way and secure your sight, you can catch a glimpse of the village even from the woods.

The surrounding terrain and the way the streets pass, and most importantly, the wooden fences that prevent the monsters from entering, make it possible to conclude that that is where the village of Iles was located.

And it was confirmed at a glance that a new village was being built inside that fence.

The most prominent building is probably a church, situated on the site and thoughts of the Adventurer's Guild. Only one thin spire protrudes on a white painted wall that assimilates to snow, one head higher than any other building. Of course, on the heavenly side of the tower, the symbols of the white cross were illuminated and sparkling in the light of the sun as they exalted the dominion of the land.

With the exception of that church, to the extent that there are wooden architectural houses lined up with no other features to say this. Speaking of big buildings, they're about two stories long and then there's the warehouse.

Almost all the buildings are assembled within a wooden fence that diverts the village of Iles as it is, and within its marginal range is a settlement of such a small size that it is not yet full. Outside the fence, things like a small storage shed are just pompous. There are probably fields spreading around it, but now in winter it just looks like a whole lot of snowfields.

"You're so small that I can easily control you by myself."

It is also suspicious whether it has a population of 100. The knight stationed, too, is this one or two, then?

Well, whatever it is, I'm not a wacko who wants to slaughter. Such a chinky village. Then you can't expect a lok harvest, but you'll get about as much food for the moment.

Me and Sariel both have enough strength and stamina to march at full strength without drinking and eating for a week, but not without hunger. It's better to eat properly every day, but you can naturally help.

The preserved food left in the cabin is only two or three more meals away. At the very least, we cannot lead to future action unless we have access to food.

"There doesn't seem to be any particular lookout... OK, let's go"

When I tried to jump off the branch, I noticed.

"What, that smoke"

In Russia, from the centre of the village, a glimmer of black smoke rose up against the clear blue skies of winter. There's not much wax burning a big campfire. No way, a fire - when I thought so, the villagers and the shadows, along with the screams, seemed chilli to rush out into the scatter.

From here on out, I'm not sure what's going on there. But at least there seems to be some kind of incident that could have escaped the scene right now.

In the meantime, as far as I'm concerned, I don't feel like infiltrating a village in this state of emergency right now.

No, now that there's some noise going on, it's probably a great chance to sneak in... at least it won't be too late to take action after a little more snooping around to see what's going on.

"Come on, how far are we going?"

Observing the village as it was, two small figures appeared just where I could see it well from here.

Wearing a blue robe, it's a girl. We're both dressed in the same outfit, and our age is probably less than fifteen to be considered adults. At first glance they look like good sisters...... one has white skin on blonde hair but the other has brown skin on silver hair. It's like a combination of elves and dark elves, but my good looking eyes firmly captured that their ears weren't in that distinctive shape with elongated and pointed ears.

Such black-and-white combing girlfriends climbed up to the wooden fence at the border between the village and the outside, unexpectedly lightweight, as they proceeded butterflies to draw over the snow.

After crossing the fence, jump from the middle and land to roll. Soon they got up again and rushed out - I thought they jumped into a nearby storage shed.

"... what the hell"

Are you playing hide-and-seek? No, if you have two kids just out of sight, sneak up on them and listen... no, it would be too criminal if I did that. No matter how many Sinclairs, your conscience blames the boulder for what you do to your child. Or a whisper of pride doesn't allow it. I put my hand on Sariel last night, so I changed my mind.

Within the midst of making such distress smoke, a new figure appeared again.

Now he's a man who feels like a villager to see, and he's wearing a brown coat with the season. Just like the two of us earlier, as we rushed towards the fence - in two, its body cut off.

Suddenly, the upper and lower body are separated, turning into a sea of blood on one side in Russia. Sprayed with blood and intestines in abundance, the man's body sank into Blood Pond Hell.

"Is that... the wind? It's as powerful as a whirlwind blade.

Look, it was not only the man who was cut off, but also the wooden fence that was in front of him. With a sharp, sharp sword, as I used in "Flashing (Slash)," Marutai, the pillar of the fence, exposed a sharp cross section and collapsed to perfection.

But what matters is not analyzing what the magic that killed a man is. Before that, you should think about the fact that a man was murdered.

"Damn it... you don't even have to think about it, this is..."

From the shadow of the house, the killer who attacked the man showed himself.

A pair of men. On one side, a guy with the appearance of a wind magician (wind merge), featuring a robe in white and green two-tone colors. A short wand (wand) with a dark green demonic stone in his hand would be the murder weapon that tragically killed the man.

And the other one. Brilliant in silver is the plate of Holy Silver (Mithril). He is dressed in flashy armor decorated with goldsmiths and emeralds. From its back is a familiar green cloak. For a moment, it was painted in the middle of a flickered cloak, the same as the knights of green armor who had turned it back on the walls - yes, I am sure, Count Bergunt, the crest of a nobleman.

Fiona told me you attacked Sparda, a nobleman who forms the core of the Crusades. In short, the man is a man who will be part of the Earl's clan, and no, before that, he was, like, a crusader, soldier.

"... a massacre"

The Crusaders were also attacking the village of Iles in front of me.

"Ha, ha..."

I get a dry laugh.

It's like a time slip. Looks like he picked the worst timing for chest feces, pinpoint and got flown.

But I don't have a chance to start over. Time never unwinds.

It's not the village of Iles they're attacking, it's the pioneering village they're supposed to be brothers in. It's a different village that's burning. Killing someone else, too.

"Are you kidding me... what is this about..."

I don't know what's going on. I can't imagine. But that's all I know.

A pair of aristocrats and sorcerers, blind to a man's slaughtered corpse, go outside with a slashed fence. The aristocratic man jumped out in a rushed manner and was surely kicking around.

There, the magician lifted his finger. Ahead is a storage shed with no philosophy whatsoever. That's where two little girls rushed in earlier.

I could see a nasty smile on my face, not wanting to think that the noble man was the same person.

Yes, he was after those two.

It was this morning that a unit of the Crusaders arrived in the 202nd pioneering village.

"Refrain! The young man who brings you here to the Earl of Bergunt, Master Mashram Joshua Helvetia Bergunt!

Introduced so loudly was a luxurious outfit with a family crested green cape on silver armor, but above all a poor, seemingly hyorous young man who could see at a glance that he was unfamiliar with knight's gear.

You can't imagine waving your sword on the battlefield so brazenly, such a heartless look as a boy with a blue and white face. With a mushroom-like head with patsy green hair cut out, I don't see Piercing as a very squad-leading nobleman looking around in a restless manner. If you look closely, it was Roba, not the horse, that he was crossing.

"Master Mashram hastily returned to Sinclair's homeland due to fire conditions! We shall then requisition the supplies we need to march to Virginia! Things fight for a moment, give it up immediately!

The priests and other inhabitants of the Church, including the mayor of this pioneering village, who issued such a unilateral order and gathered in Central Square, with the viceroy of Mashram and the man dressed as a thought magician, gave a uniform expression of confusion.

"Oh, I am afraid, I would say… this village has already supplied much food to the Crusaders and there is only enough left in the warehouse for the villagers to manage to get past this winter. If it's for a few people, it's still this big..."

The words of the village chief, who speaks terribly with a blue expression, were by no means queasy, but true.

This 202nd pioneering village has only a slightly higher population than 100 people. And the Crusaders' troops, led by Mashram, showed up, roughly around thirty. Food for 30% of the population, which is also a desperate consumption if the road from here to Virginia, on the far east coast, is roughly a month's worth.

In the first place, before the Fortress Galahad strategy, it was the Crusaders' supply unit led by the unparalleled Mashram that provoked supplies to the limit critical.

No one in this village knows that he is an officer entrusted with a supply base set up in the 23rd pioneering village next door, a relatively large village with stone walls, formerly known as Quaal.

The fact that such a person has suddenly said that he will return to his country is highly questionable, but it is more a question of whether or not he will be fed as a villager than the circumstances of Mr. Wei.

"So, for the shortfall, please, in the villages ahead... the villages to the east from here are still populated and large, so I was wondering if we would gather enough supplies to satisfy you -"

"Then hurry. If we don't do anything about it here, we won't be able to follow Master Mashram's will."

"Please forgive me! We're all really hungry."

The village chief's tearful appeal was forced to strike there.

"I didn't expect you to go so far against Master Mashram's life... nothing more than to consider him a rebel."

The deputy man waved a short wand (wand), not a sword. But the blade of wind emanating from it became a sharper sword than a hundred swordsmen waved, and attacked the village chief.

My head flew beautifully, de no neck corpse fell over the snowpath.

In Russia, the villagers scream.

"Soldiers, hurry and gather the supplies you need. Slash him who stands in the way. May I, Master Mashram?

"Come on, hurry up. I can't believe I'm in such a remote place, and I'm never coming back, and I'll do whatever I want."

"No, you can do whatever you want."

That's how the looting began.

The number of armed villagers is very small, and they are slaughtered without skill by high-precision wind magic emitted by their deputies. All that remains is an irresistible people without weapons.

The thirty or so soldiers that Mashram can obey are well equipped compared to the common Crusader infantry. Wear armor to protect your hands, feet, and torso, and its gear level can be estimated as a platoon captain class.

Amazingly, the five of them are heavy knights (armor nights) with huge halvards and tower shields in heavy full body armor (full plate mails). Even if the village vigilantes have an equal number, no, triple the number, they will just be kicked in unilaterally against them.

But not a single reckless man challenged the dreaded team of heavy knights, and they proceeded to the warehouse, where food would be stowed loosely, to take the horse who pulled the luggage.

Only a dozen men were loyal to the task of procuring supplies, solidifying the heavy knights and around them, and the majority of the soldiers were rampaging around, like they couldn't contain their desires. Some are slaughtered anyway toward those who catch their eyes like serial killers, while others start setting fire to the house just to show off.

The village square quickly turned into a hell of a picture, with scorching black smoke and blood odor, and mercilessly on the backs of people fleeing, and a sad cry played by the blade being shaken down senselessly.

"Hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey he

With an oddly stained laugh, Mashram shouts his displeasure over Roba as he sees the soldier grabbing and dragging down the villager girl's long hair.

"Hey, don't leave the holding area. If you're gonna do it, make it this place."

The soldier, who had received forgiveness from his superior officer that he could do anything if he did not leave this place, was holding the captured villager girl forcibly, with a really dirty grin, whilst wandering about how embarrassing it was to do so outside, etc.

"No, no, that's not what I'm talking about. Come on!?

Marshram complains of his fingers in front of his men entering full enjoyment time.

"Ha ha, I know. If you enjoy the mashram, I would like to know."

This is how the deputy continued as she floated a smile stained with make-up laughter with a nigga.

"Right...... how about, you know, little Sister?

Just because I understand the Lord's hobby well, the church right there is where the deputy pointed confidently. From that entrance, two girls were peeking at their adorable faces as they gazed at what was going on in the dreaded square.

"Oh, whoa, whoa! Fine, fine, that girl! Both!"

"It seems to have come true for you, more importantly"

"Hi-hi, fu-hi, look at you, alle, those red eyes and black skin! I've never fucked a barbarian and a dirt man in a boulder before!

"Sure, sounds like Barbados and Ibrahimis"

Once, two of the three great enemy nations that threatened Sinclair. There is no stranger in the Sinclair Republic to the abominable names of Barbados in the north and Abram in the south, and of the barbarian and cursed kings who led their respective nations. And that both of them were defeated by the Second Apostle Abel, the White Brave.

By the conquest Abel carried out a hundred years ago, the two countries have completely diminished their momentum in previous years and a large part of their territory has been swallowed up by Sinclair. It is not so uncommon that the peoples of the two countries, because of their history of formerly hostile to God, are clearly differentiated from the second-degree divine people, even when they become Sinclairs, but are therefore sent as immigrants to far-flung lands like the Pandora continent, nor are they in the care of the Church as orphans.

But in the eyes of Mashram, the Barbados, characterized by ruby-like red eyes on his blonde hair, and the Ibrahim, whose brown skin often stands out on his silver hair, each wearing an ecclesiastical monastic garment, seemed so fresh as to move his forefingers.

Besides, I was wondering if the two years were over the age of ten. In the middle of Marshram's taste.

At the next moment, Mashram, descending from Roba's back as he fell, rushed out to church at first sight.

"Oh, wait! Please, just stop putting your hands on your kids!

Standing before him was a priest in a position to represent the village alongside the village chief. The hair is so old priest that it is white stained with no one left, but it is tall and stands without protecting the children is splendid as if it embodies the fraternal spirit and self-sacrifice of the Crucifixion.

"Hey, no, no! Don't interrupt me, you piece of shit! Out of the way!!

"God will never forgive me for this."

But it was helpless.

Pathetic, the old priest follows the same end as the village chief.

"Wow, hey, wasn't it a little bad for a boulder to kill a priest!?

Marshram screams in a hurried, uphill voice whether he learned to resist as a crucifix's end to the matter of the priest's neckless corpse rolling in front of him.

"Rest assured, Master Mashram. The idea that the Church still does not recognize the second-degree divine people as formal believers also remains deeply rooted. The backcutter who kept the suspicious heathen hidden, I don't care about escape of speech etc... I can't even slow down here much more than that. If you're looking forward to it, hurry up or you'll get away with it."

What the deputy is ahead of him with calmness that he doesn't even care about, such as killing a priest, is how two Barbados and Ibrahim girls started running away from the church as a result of a friendly hand tie. It is a brazen child in front of the shocking scene of being killed in front of his guardian, the old priest, but also being able to act like he can run and escape without hesitation.

"Oh, wait! Wait, stay!!

A mushroom of momentum like chasing a carrot hanging in front of you is dumb from the side, but it would not have been a pleasure to be chased. Because his eyes are so cloudy with frivolous desire that even a child must feel a sense of crisis.

The priest's taboo consciousness of his death and other things are so driven to the corner of his head that he is turned into a kedathing that is driven only by his own urge for pleasure.

"Oops, Master Mashram, don't go too far alone."

Looking at such an ugly figure of the Lord, the Deputy Wind Mage (Windmerg) followed him with warm eyes such as a smile, remembering the role of escort.

"Ha... ha... duh, where have you been!? Hey, hey, where are you!

After dating a marshram interested in an outward chase, slaughtering and killing about three people in the wind along the way, I finally see the end.

Dive through the wooden fence cut by the momentum that cut off the villager man, the third victim. What is spreading ahead is a wide snowfield with snow falling over the fields and the woods that you can see beyond.

With the two abruptly disappearing, Mashram is in a great hurry to shake his head to the right to look.

"You can only assume you escaped into that storage shed. And the footprints remain intact."

"Ooh! I see!"

Zakuzak and the snow. Marshram thrust, and then jumped into the storage shed with all the momentum.

All you have to do is indulge in the bodies of two interracial girls the way the Lord thinks.

"I am on the lookout outside, please call me if you need anything, Master Mashram"

I didn't hear back.

But the deputy decided to stand guard just outside the storage shed, faithfully defending his work everywhere.

On a thin slab wall, it is expected that the screams of a sad girl who will be heard from inside from now on and the screams of a beastly marshram from then on will sound softly, but to such an extent disturbing his ordinary mind, he was not of the beginnings.

As such, he may have been aware because he was not distracted by anything and was able to turn carefully to the vigilance around him.

"No way... are they watching?

I felt like I felt some kind of gaze, no, faint killing.

Explore the surroundings more carefully while passing magic on the short wand (Wand) so that you can release the Wind Blade (Yale Sagitta) at any time. Apparently, it doesn't mean they're being targeted with arrows from the shadows of the house.

Then where are you? and I finally realized when I turned my gaze back to the snowfield where there was supposed to be no shield.

lurking in the woods on the other side, some hundreds of meters away. Someone did.

"- Damn!?

That's all I noticed.

What the deputy saw was that something like a blackening arrow flew straight in. By the time I understood it had pierced my throat deeply, my body had already fallen sound free on the snow.

Without giving you one groan, lift up the snow.

Help can't even come. Someone came and realized it wasn't a helpful wound.

But above all, what convinced me of my death was this blow… an assassin who unleashed a black-colored knife that pierced my throat appeared dignified.

The expression assassin, etc., is raw. The man dressed in a white robe that went through the woods and straightened him across the snowfield was letting him go without concealing too much of a nasty intent to kill.

Are you trying to confirm the life or death of the person you attacked? The assassin man, who has quietly walked over, stops by his side. That's when I caught a glimpse of his face, hidden behind a deeply worn fur hood.

How much anger is burning his chest, the man's shape is so angry and distorted that he can even look directly at it. Now the black right eye like the dark night, and the crimson left eye that giraffed as it burned, dwelt in a cold light everywhere.

"Ah... ku, ma... meh..."

It was truly the incarnation of anger, fear, and death that deserved to be called the devil.