My Death Flags Show No Sign of Ending

It was the emotions that were difficult to describe in words that blurred its chest. Is it emotional that is most appropriate?

Finally, I've come to meet the main character of "Brave Hearts", Reiner. We had an encounter that would have been five more years ahead of us if it had been the original.

Though not entirely unexpected, I felt like my actions had so far proved to be no mistake in the fact that I was likely to have a friendly relationship with Reiner.

Unexpectedly, the corner of the mouth rises. That was a big evil grin.

The surrounding human being, who sees its face, falls back in unison after being struck by chills. Harold, whose consciousness has already switched to the liner, doesn't realize such a situation.

How do I get credit? What is Reiner's strength at the moment? Are you able to be as close to Colette as the original?

That's all that's been in Harold's head right now.

As a matter of fact, not long after he understood that this was the world of 'Brave Hearts', Harold had thought that he might not need to move around just once, while establishing a policy of avoiding his own death flag.

There's no body or lid, but this world is a creation.

A defined story of the end, in which the person and destiny defined by the producer interweave.

There is always a protagonist in the story.

And the protagonist has something called protagonist correction.

It can also be said to be the will of the producer, a generic term for the tremendous power that the surrounding environment, the flow of which is such that the world itself takes sides. Naturally, liners have also been helped by them in the game.

Otherwise, no matter how good you are, there is no way you can save the world with less than 10 high people alone.

But it backwards, as long as the liner is the protagonist, people, the world, side with him. This world must be made that way.

That's why I doubted the need for a tiny Harold Stokes to do all this. I don't do anything extra, I just exited the tabular stage called the original, and it's even more dangerous to be an unnamed villager a.

I thought I should just wait and fall in love in the corners of the world like a sidekick until the story gets a happy ending as it is.

Now I think that was an escape for wanting to butt into its own end and throw out a role. Still, I wasn't invited to sweet water because of the fact that I could have saved Clara.

Though by Harold's help, she survived the death that was supposed to have been ordained.

In other words, even if this is a world that resembles a game called 'Brave Hearts', there is no modifying power to keep the original story in line.

If this hypothesis is correct, if Harold escapes, there will never be a villain to replace him. It's like the story falls out. That could have a negative impact on the protagonist's growth.

Harold has remained involved in the original to avoid the fact that he could not save the world with a protagonist who could not grow as much as the original.

(... but that means the liner can also be enhanced if you think the other way around)

I never thought of it until I was actually face-to-face with all the attention on the negative side, but the liner might be stronger than the original by gaining experience surpassing the original or planting efficient tactics for each enemy.

With such soul and guts, Harold waits to face Reiner. The other participants I bumped into by the time I fought him beat him with a single armored sleeve without a leak.

And the showdown with the visiting liner was, oddly enough, a stage that someone had given up: the final.

Both wins are overwhelming. Few were able to strike swords with them.

The audience thrives when those two confront each other.

"I've come this far, as promised."

"Naturally. If it's not just your mouth, prove it."

"Just what I want!

With a face that seemed so defensive, the liner ran out without cowardice. The thought of winning absolutely comes to mind.

I guess I couldn't contain that feeling. The liner has set it up at the same time as the game started.

A flash of horizontal twist like paying the opponent. A chase of liners quickly packed in time strikes Harold, who backed it off and avoided it.

From the right, from the left, from the top, from the bottom, sometimes directly in front. Harold calmly strikes down the whole story with an uninterrupted sword attack.

Speed, force, technology. Indeed, compared to the opponents who have fought so far, one of them is out of his mind.

I'm also convinced that he's been dangerously up to the finals.

But that was all. I don't feel threatened by the liner's strength.

(Dude... are you serious about this?

From Harold's point of view, it was clearly fifty hundred steps with the other participants.

The liner at the moment could be level one when it comes to gameplay, or less if you add age. Based on that point, I can't help but wonder if Harold can truly be a hero of saving the world if he says he wants too much.

Seeing the strength of the liner, what Harold felt was neither anger nor disappointment. He was anxious as if it were heavy.

◇

That was a shocking sight for the liner.

Fighting competitions in which I participated with a sense of willingness. The boy who appeared before his turn ended the game while blinking at a speed that only seemed to disappear.

Harold. That's what the divine speed boy named, who is even difficult to chase with his eyes.

And Harold, with all that strength, recognized his strength. It was a joy for the liners who had worked hard to gain the strength to protect their loved ones in order to be strong.

At the same time, however, I felt regret that there was such a strong boy of my age.

So I mean it. As always challenged against bouncing parents, the liner stood up to Harold with more feelings, if not more.

Like bumping everything you have.

But still, Liner's sword doesn't reach Harold.

(Why don't you hit a blow!?

Over 50 sword strikes. Most of them are played with swords, and those that are not are easily avoided just by distracting themselves.

Though a long, thin, lightweight sword, it is freely used with one hand to easily attack the liner.

Besides, Harold hasn't fought at a rate that would disappear once yet in this game. I keep stopping my legs and giving the liners a chance to attack all they want.

It's like a war prevention party. The audience stood up to Harold to make a difference from the flashy way they fought so far.

But for a sword-sharing liner, he was reminded of a clear difference in strength each time he made an attack. It is also close to a strong fortress with high and thick walls and a sense of despair as if attacking it with a single sword.

The moment a small crack occurred in the liner's heart, Harold retreated in anticipation of a slightly dull sword.

And throw up the liner's strength like this.

"That's unexpected. I'm not talking about it."

"What!?

"It's true, isn't it? Your attack will not even blur. [M] How many times have I told you, it's useless?"

"Harold didn't even attack you!

"Stupid. You can always do that, you know."

Harold executes the word. At the same time he realizes he's disappeared from sight, he's slashed off the sword he was holding with both hands.

The torso is cut into two pieces, and the tip of the sword slips over the ragged and stone floor. What was left in my hand was a sword that was less than half the length.

All of the weapons used at the Martial Arts Games are forged knives with crushed blades. I can't even imagine how much skill it would take to get this far clean.

And most of all, the surprise is still that speed. It was completely different from actually confronting it from the outside. I'm stuffed in time without even seeing anything really.

"I can only imagine how unresponsive I am."

"Damn......"

Lost. Needless to say, they showed more difference than adults and children.

It was the first time in my life that I had lost to a human of my age because of the power of my sword. I never thought that would be so regrettable.

Liner lay down his face so as to divert his attention from Harold's presence, which was too far away.

The rest is over with my loss already - and that's what I thought, but the referee won't speak up for long.

What I saw in the eyes of the liner, who looked up wondering about it, was Harold poking a simulation knife at that referee.

"... Huh?

Regret and defeat are blown away at once by sights beyond comprehension.

Harold at heart was somehow threatening referee.

"Hey, you, what do you think he's gonna do when he doesn't admit to losing?

"No, because his weapon is broken and we can't fight any more..."

"Then you could use something else."

"Yeah......?

The word now puzzles me with liners and referees aligned. Ignoring those two, Harold began winding up his sword from other tournament participants who were under the stage.

Whoever sees it, this battle is Harold's win. I had already admitted to losing just because the liner wasn't in my mouth either.

"Liner"

"Hey, what?

Harold comes back in front of the liner with a simulation knife that seems to have been handed to him conveniently. And to the foot of the vigilant liner, he threw it unconstitutionally.

"If you're still willing to fight, pick it up."

……

The liner stares silently at the thrown sword. Usually he would pick it up and try a rematch without getting lost.

I hesitate like this now because Harold was too strong. If I had all these powerful enemies in my age, I wouldn't be enemies.

That's what I think, but I was afraid I was going to admit it.

Trying to protect your self-esteem, your pride, is close to instinct. Not to mention Reiner never lost anything but his parents in the sword.

That now defeats Harold without skin, and if he fights any more, he will paint the loss even higher. It could break my heart.

So I tried to stop it, and I thought so.

"What do you want strength for?

It was Harold's inquiry that kept the decision in mind.

"What, for..."

Why do you want to be strong?

Because it's my dream to be captain of the Knights? Because you want to beat my father or my mother one day?

I do have that, too. It's an old dream, a familiar goal. But it didn't feel right.

How did you end up with that dream? Why did I admire the Knights' captain?

(Be strong and you can be a knight. Because being a knight can protect a lot of people......)

Protect. What vague, and simple thoughts.

But yes. The liner's thirst for strength, at first, was so simple that it made me laugh.

When I was younger than I am now, one of my friends was abused by an older village child. The difference between a year and two in children is very significant.

To overturn it, the liner asked for strength. To protect friends, to defeat opponents whose bodies are big and powerful.

The sense of justice that breathes in me. I had to be strong to put that into practice. I wanted the power to protect what was important.

"... I have something to protect. You have to be the strongest to protect it all!

I also promised him that I would always be a loud childhood friend.

I won't make you cry again. Try to be stronger than anyone for that.

So no matter how strong the opponent is, the liner must win. You can't give up until you win.

"Protect everything? You're like a hero."

"But that's what I'm ready for."

"Well, no matter how much I'm prepared for it, if I don't have the power to match it, it's just hilarious"

"If it's power, I'll put it on! Here and now!

Once again there is a flame of fighting spirit in the eyes of the liner. I grabbed the sword. My hands are hot.

The heat spreads from your right hand to erode your body. Feels like your whole body is pulsating and your blood boils.

My body, my mind, lightened up at once.

"Come on, Harold!

He kicks the ground forcefully and lets himself be slaughtered by a floating sensation. I just did that series of motions and found out.

That I am now swinging a faster and sharper sword than ever before. Yet I can still feel more and more power gushing out of the inside of my body.

I can't contain Daughter. No, hairless liners, such as those willing to contain, carry on a fierce onslaught as they are.

If you look at Harold, you'll only be bouncing back the attack, just like earlier, but his expression was hatefully distorted.

The sound of a chipping tongue tells me that I'm pushing Harold. With the victory approaching, it became even more powerful.

"Ahhh!

A slaughter with all the power of your body.

Harold barely dodges it. When the sword that cut the sky crashed into the stone floor, a crack ran to the floor to tell the story of power.

Harold leaks his words when he tries to do so sideways.

"You think it's 'Brave Mode' here? Again, you..."

"Ha, ha... Brave, mode...?

Hear back the first words you've heard. So I finally realized that my breath was rising.

It is unlikely that we can continue this state of affairs for long. Then everything you think is behind you.

Regrip the pattern of the sword and launch an attack that you don't know how many times it will be at the earliest, raising your temper voice.

"Yeah, yeah, no!

"Don't worry about it!

Now Harold responded to that. A glaring sword strike reward.

The audience drinks solidly in a battle that does not seem like a battle between children, and the metal sound of the swords bumping into each other dominates the venue. Everyone on the spot is attracted to the two of us, and I care where the battle goes, but I want to watch this battle for as long as possible. Such conflicting feelings come into play.

But there is no such thing as forever. Eventually there will be an end to the battle between the two of us.

"Gu......!

The leg of the liner avoided the attack, and he manages to stay where he is about to fall. It was due to the sudden heaviness of the body, which should have been light.

It is as heavy as the muscles of the hands and feet have degenerated into lead, and it is painful to breathe but no longer be able to take in air.

(No... I'm back. As usual......)

The liners themselves were turning back moves that they didn't normally think they could do. The recoil was only triggered.

I already have a sword. I'm even about to reach my limit on my grip. My feet tremble just standing, and if I distract myself a little, I'm going to fall.

Well fought. I couldn't let Harold hit the attack properly after all, but it's still a big fight.

I couldn't have fought this far until yesterday. So you can take a break now.

I'm no match for Harold.

"... how dare you!!

The liner scratched out his sneaky weak heart with screaming.

Even if you can't win, if you don't enemies, you don't just give up. Even to fulfill my vows with Colette.

The pneumonia is still unscathed. On the contrary, it grows to burn.

As if responding to such liners, the surrounding winds wind backwards. The redhead is fierce as if it were a bright flame.

Next and last. It's the last time I pour in the bare matter.

It's the whole body and spirit that releases it. A full swing, with all the effort and thoughts the liner has piled up so far.

If there's anything you can take...

"Try to stop it. Yikes!!

A deep red flame erupts from the shaken body like a trunk bamboo cracker.

It is the flame in which the will of the liner dwelled. A thirst for victory, embodying his strong thoughts.

The best blow of all the years that liners have lived: 12 years. I was sure I'd let all that go.

The roaring flames strike straight at Harold. When you swallow that body, the moment the flame swells its flaming body.

A white flash just smeared my vision ran. Almost at the same time that everyone happened to meditate on their eyes, the sound of the air ripping off rings.

Some bow down, and some leak a scream with fear.

A tremendous assault of something, where living and living things are forced to perceive danger and fear.

Only humans away from the venue were able to recognize the identity correctly.

A lightning strike so huge that I've never seen it hit the venue. It suddenly poured out of the sky, which should have been sunny weather, which crushed the flames that tried to burn Harold down without question.

No matter who did it, you don't have to think about it. Harold is the only one who doesn't waver and is flat in the venue.

He let go, just a 13-year-old boy.

"Ha... Seriously, Kai..."

Even a squeezed blow didn't reach Harold until his soul ran out. On the contrary, he gently went over the liner.

I can only laugh anymore when I see such a sight. But the liner didn't even have the strength to just smile.

Both feet without Xiamen's vision and power. The liner falls forward without even being able to move one of his fingers.

It was Harold who took that body and supported it. Harold, holding him with his right arm around the liner's chest, says as if he was still frightened.

"Stupid. If you can do that, do it from the beginning."

"You're too harsh, you..."

I'm sure “that” refers to the last blow. It's a substitute I let go because I was caught up to the point where I couldn't stand on my own feet and still scratched my feet trying to win.

That's not the kind of move you can use.

The liner, stunned by the presence of more Spartan humans than his mother, was finally able to say so in a fine voice. Now you've really run out of power, you lose consciousness in Harold's arms.

Harold sends no one a compliment when he sees a liner that is kept by a rushed ambulance and carried on a stretcher.

"But, well, I'll undo what I expect. Your power seems to extend to my feet."

It was a sight of sight from above everywhere, but that was an unmistakable praise.

By the way, you won't be hearing Harold's words or anything on the lost liner. But the liner's face lying on the stretcher looked somewhere laughing satisfactorily.