Living in different worlds (no chanter) - The Yufuwa Talent Dispatch Life of the Regenerating Wizard

I recently started learning how to make magic props.

It's nice to bump up "the fusion of magic and magic props" and hire a magic props expert, but in the end I found out that about one person needed someone who could do both.

So far, it's unclear what technology we have for each other and what it can be used for.

It's really hard to learn about the discipline of a world where expertise is oral, I didn't expect to know the thanks of the Internet encyclopedia in different worlds.

Well, I was also honestly interested in demon props, but there are some places in our school where we didn't have demon prop researchers and we've given up.

It's a profitable job, two birds a stone.

"Huh, Kandinava, huh? I've heard of it, but I've never attacked you."

"Well, there's still a truce with the old Crounia, but if Laura ever attacked, it's a problem."

Mr. Laura brings to the letter the lol that was melting with the magic props on my stove, and gently places a seal of wax on it.

This is what I'm asking you to write.

It is an amulet that will prove its identity in the name of the Sleira family when the slaves' trading squad is stopped everywhere by nobles and public servants.

Honestly, now that we have a Japanese lead up north, I'd like to head directly to the area if I can...

Unfortunately, I'm in a position with an army collar.

I can't get away from Turkiiba very much now that I have a job that is informal but involves royalty.

I chose family over home.

You won't regret it, maybe.

"Look, it's a letter to major city deputies and nobles."

"Thank you"

"What, it's like I'm tying you up here, it's cheap."

Mr. Laura wipes the cold wax seal with an indescribable expression.

I poured hot water into the pot from the medicine can I was putting on the stove and filled her cup empty with tea.

"It's not what Mr. Laura cares about. It's my personal sentiment."

Having heard the words, Laura sighs, moving her mouth against the other side of her mouth, something that is really unusual as she is always clear.

And I said in a low voice, staring at the clouds of the sky that I could see outside the window.

"I mean, I hate myself for letting the personal sentiments of the fifteen men through."

She explored her chest pockets and reminded herself of the absence of tobacco, drinking tea with a bitter face.

"Laura, I told you before."

"Mm."

"If I could go back to the world before, I wouldn't go back."

"Oh."

Take Mr. Laura's hand.

My cold hands were shaking a little.

"The place I live now is this Turkiiba. Where I'm supposed to be is where my family lives."

"But..."

Her carefree gaze hurt my chest.

Even I had the feeling that I was putting extra effort into it.

Mr. Laura is never clever.

Not that it's a cold human weapon, commensurate with the number of buddy medals.

For those who enter the inner line, they are more incapable of thinking things through calculations.

Previously, she said that she was taken care of her parents' house, but that can't be true.

The fact that there are people in this country who have fought so hard to get rid of their demons is flattering.

There is no way that Sleira, the house of Takemen, would expel her like that.

Maybe she didn't want her family to see herself, thin, old, dying to wither.

I guess I wanted myself in my family's memory to remain strong and beautiful.

So I left the house myself.

It is both her virtue and her helpless weakness.

That's what her weak eyes said.

"It must be a heavy load," he said.

"Can I stay here?".

Rugged eyes, shaking small.

I lay my forehead on the back of her hand like I worship her.

"Thank you, but that's not what makes Laura sick."

…………

"I chose not to go north, not because of Laura."

I stood out of the chair and said so that I could hold her head against me.

"Mr. Laura seems to be your sister, please stand with Dawn. I'm not going anywhere."

Yeah, and by the time I came back, I'd run out of Stove's demonic crystals.

We both felt no wonder and cold.

The formation of the Turkiiba Talababara Trading Team, which is due to leave next week, had a few problems.

The group of adventurers made a fuss of self-nomination by sorting the representatives of the trading team and the convoy escorts.

I'm the one, no, I'm the one, because you're a miscellaneous fish, and I'd be better off if he was going.

All right, then it was yesterday that I decided to be smart.

And the day after dawn, almost all of Schenker's adventurers were assembled at the usual planned theatre construction site…

I happened to be off today, too, so I came to see with Mr. Laura in her spare time.

By the way, the representatives of the trading team decided quickly without any rubbing.

He's a candidate for managerial positions.

She will officially be in management when she returns from this trip, and she's motivated.

I'm still in the middle of a pool where I drained water for use in the ring, holding a loudspeaker and doing a divider.

"Fine hey!? One of the remaining winners today will be the head of the convoy, and the rest of the team will be decided by that child!

"Oops!

"Oh man -!

"Do you fight dillen too - Huh!?

"That's not true! You're gonna decide who's gonna protect me!

"What do you mean?

"Come on?"

Gillen also still doesn't seem to have enough piercing, and the progress is interrupted by the guys around her.

I'm still unfamiliar with it and I can't help it.

It's just inside you today, and you should get used to the compartment slowly.

It's cold out there, but Laura and I are comfortable sitting on a magic heater mat I handmade, sprinkled with a magic warm blanket, boiling water in a magic kettle and drinking tea.

"You, at some point, you can make anything."

"I can't do anything, it's just something to warm me up yet"

Convenience is convenient though.

I can't adjust the temperature, so when it gets hot, I have to adjust it by cooling it down in the outside air.

"You guys listen -!

"Oops! Mr. Roth!

"Yikes! Tosaka's still standing today!

Inside the pool, Gillen had been deprived of a loudspeaker by a loin of red-haired fishermen.

The dillen with the loudspeaker taken crouches as she moves out of the way while sogging.

I can't help it.

It's all an experience, from now on.

"It's cold, so let's get this over with. You can recommend yourself or someone else, I'm the one! This is the one! If he's here, gather here!

"Oooh!

"It's me -!

"Do it!

"Here, Maam! Go, go!

There seemed to be a succession of adventurers gathering in front of Roth, with about twenty entries.

There are, of course, early members of the Centaur pickle, as well as the Scaled Men's Mensch.

The Birdman Bongo seemed to turn to support by entrusting the battle to his partner Pickles, something like a flag waving diligently.

"That's enough. Look! Fight two by two, you better stay winning! The rest of them fight and it's better to win again! The last one left to win!

"Bet. Bet. -! Torso to Storo! It's time. It's time. Whoa!

"Come on. Yikes! Raffie!"

"Mahmoo! I'll bet on you. Hey!

The pool is full of backers and musicians.

I don't know because there were few events in the winter.

Should I have thought of something more to look forward to?

"Gillen, hold on tight."

"Yes."

Dillen, who was round his back, also seemed somewhat distracted when Roth gave him a loudspeaker and slapped him on the back.

"Have you decided on the first two? Otherwise, get out of the pool!

"All right!

"Easy win!

Scales and werewolves move into the center of the pool with bamboo spears wrapped in cotton cloth besides handles.

And without even having to set up, the meeting suddenly started.

"Start!"

The voice of the powerless dillen overlapped the copper of the late ringing start.

Kah! Koh! Bocco! Me and Laura eat pound cake and drink tea as the battle sounds.

It's bad for us, but it's surprisingly compelling and it's pretty fun to watch.

Laura seemed to enjoy herself too, waving her arms up and thriving.

The game continued afterwards, and in some games the head of the Magical Schenker group, the Scale Men's Mench, finally came to the stage.

"Menchi!

"Good luck with that!

Cheers fly from around, and the guys who grabbed the colored stick wonder if it's a wager bill are making a scene with a rash.

The opponent is Maam, a sheep tribe.

He was a good spear, and I remember seeing him perform once, but he was quite powerful.

The girlfriend distances herself from the mentch as she turns the spear like a fan, but the mentch approaches unwillingly.

Deviate, bounce, and beat the intense blow aimed at the side head with the scaly fingertips of your left hand.

Hard, Chari! Chari! I can hear it coming this way.

Are you in a hurry, Maam spears to pay at the foot of the mench.

But Mench stepped on it and grabbed the Mockingjay Maam's hair with his left hand, not holding the spear, and pulled him down to the ground.

Ah, looks painful...

I wonder if I can even cross spears if I have a difference in strength.

"How was it?

Asked Laura, who was sneezing and rubbing the edge of the blanket next door.

"Striking the Scales won't help, it was tough not to have a blade on the spear."

and returned extremely serious comments.

Perhaps it would have been more interesting to have Laura explain this event as well.

We'll see if we get another chance to do this.

And a few games went by without possibility or necessity, and there was a loud cheer from somewhere.

Entrance to the Centaur pickle.

The appearance of making a roundabout around the rink-bowl shaped pool to the bottom was powerful, and I just remembered a little horse racing from my previous life.

The opponent is Gabrico, a small swordsman of the Cat Clan.

A long-tailed girlfriend with a wooden sword wrapped around a cloth jumped bravely and resolutely on a pickle...

He was slapped down with a tentacle as it was and sunk.

I just can't do this.

Power and weight are too different.

"That's serious, but not from the front."

Laura says this, too, and I wonder if Gabrico had any bad luck with the tournament.

At least if they carry you here, let's play some regenerative magic with you in mind...

The Fishman's Roth game was opponent of a blonde pig child.

I thought I was spearing a meeting to the Orthodox, and at some point Roth tangled his arms and legs, took the back of his opponent and took his neck and brought him into the Cobra Twist position.

"Ah! He's here! He's here! What the hell! Stay with me!

I can hear the scream of the Son of the Pig Clan so far.

That's not just Cobra Twist, I think I taught you a lot back in the day about joint moves and prowl moves.

"Did you teach him that?

"Maybe, but yes"

"In other worlds, that's what's fashionable."

"It's not like that..."

In the end, the pigs gibbered up and lightly won the loin.

Surprisingly, you know, a prowl move like that, maybe you'll eat it normally if you don't know it exists in the first place.

The tournament quickly progressed to the semi-finals.

"Pickles! I'm gonna win. Hey! For my sake -!!

"Mr. Mench! Please! I'll back you up if I get a dividend!

"How about this month in cold poverty"

"Don't you have to work part-time on your day off?

The herd of musicians is also like happy mating, but even if they lose, it's obvious because it's an environment where they don't have trouble with rice and sleeping beds no matter how little money they have.

The semifinals are Mench vs. Pickle and Roth vs. Rafi.

Roth's opponent, Rafi, is a small dog tribe, a celebrity who is said to look like a great sword when she has Gladys.

As you can see from the fact that we have stayed so far, our strength is certain.

"Bye! Mench vs. Pickle! Begin!"

Wow, the copper clatter rang, and the mench popped out at the speed of the electrolithic fire protruded the bamboo spear into the pickle.

But the tip of the spear never touched the belly of the pickle.

Because she was grabbing the spear with her hand and making it stop completely.

As the pickle waved its arm as it was, the mentch that was grabbing the spear was swept up horizontally by more than ten meters and rolled in a gobble.

Everyone watches silently, but Mench doesn't come up.

He seemed completely faint.

"Winner! Pickle ~!

"Oh..."

"Awesome! Mr. Pickles!"

"Is this the finals?

"Shit, you don't sound good"

Roth and Rafi were blue-faced in the not too overwhelming victory of the pickle.

Centaur and Bei are completely different from humans.

"Centaur is still strong."

"Well, yes"

"I think the pickles are specially made among them."

"Really?

"I've never seen the rigidity there, either."

Laura laughs at how much fun she dulls.

At the bottom of the pool, a pickle with loosely fluffy chestnut hair in the wind lowered its head even though it was praised by everyone.

The second-place showdown, the match between Roth and Rafi, became a long one.

Somehow, the small Dog Raffi is only about half the height of a long fish loin.

Adding it up and messing it up is creepy.

Roth's got to hit the spear. He can't grab it, and Rafi's got no decision hitting without losing Roth's defense.

The sound of the meeting between the wooden sword and the bamboo spear also continued sufficiently to be the winner of the loin, almost in the form of waiting for Rafi's stamina to expire.

I know it was a pretty good game, but it wasn't flashy and I was a little bored.

Is it because I usually see wizards shooting up dokan dokan flashy magic at school?

Well, Laura next door seems to have had quite a bit of fun, so let's just say good.

And the final battle.

A loin that breathes on his shoulders and a pickle that walks leisurely as he turns the bamboo spear like a baton.

"Pickles! Please!

"Pickles! Pickles!

"Mr. Roth!..................... good luck!

"I pray you don't die!

"Please give him a break! Please!

The excitement of the venue also culminates.

Pickle support group Bongo's move to wave the flag also culminates.

Everyone seems to think Roth can do it, but the battle is water, you know.

"Bye! Final battle! Pickle vs. Roth! Begin!"

The battle was momentary.

A loin that ran low with the sound of copper seemed to sift a bamboo spear like a pickle's forefoot.

But the next moment, Roth was in the air.

Pickles, like a swing of batter that shrugged a low ball, hoisted the loin up with a bamboo spear.

Roth's spear broke and his arms, which he would have defended aggressively, were shattered and scattered with impact.

You're too strong for anything.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Pickles!!

"Yay! I'll buy armor!

"Drink, drink, drink!!

The adventurers of the Roth Squad were desperately running this way with their white-eyed roasts, roughly the noisy Doctor.

I'll get out of the blanket, put the cup down and head over there.

The wind at the end of winter is freezing cold on a body that has been completely warm.

No, suck in the snot, and look up to heaven.

The sun that was illuminating just now is about to set on the horizon and the stars are popping out.

The polar star was still invisible, just the wind blowing from the north pulling the hem of my coat hard and hard.