My Death Flags Show No Sign of Ending

Celebration at the Berlioz family over three days. The moment has finally come when Erica's hard-working task of exposing herself has also come to her aid.

I am exhausted enough to want to throw up one of my sighs that it was really long. I was in the mood to praise myself for doing it despite all the mental fatigue.

Being embedded in a conspiracy between Itsuki and Justus and forced to take on Erica's escort without being informed of anything, he was assaulted by a brain man who said that if he stepped foot in the Berlioz family, and if he defeated it, he was advised to take the eight-year-old girl by his daughter-in-law, even by the original character who was at the celebration, who somehow turned the duel he proposed to round things up with a stop into an exclusive Harold death match that betrayed his marriage to Erica.

It is like being hit by a disaster in a row if you try to line it up again.

By the way, the last day of the celebration was familiar once Francis did it, Erica was somewhere behaving suspiciously, and Itsuki, who sees it, was nibbling all the way from far-winded, but generally at peace. If Harold was there, no other men would flock to Erica, and I would say that the mandate given did it perfectly.

But Harold's chest had no sense of fulfilment or accomplishment. There is such a grudge against Itsuki and Yustus that he deceived himself.

However, when it came to Itsuki, Erica put a tight moxibustion on the night of the second day, and I heard an apology to Erica in tears, so I was not willing to say anything from Harold.

What remains is an abominable boss, Justus. Once again, rocked by a carriage for more than two days, Harold returned to the Wang Capital, without waving aside, to the institute, and opened roughly with momentum that just kicked through the door of Yustus' lab.

Anger had risen from Harold to the point where the officials, who would normally turn to hostility, accidentally turned away.

"What do you mean, Justus...!

Tough voice like crawling through the ground. Even before that, Justus doesn't break his usual cold attitude.

"Are you back? I don't need a report on this mission. It was like playing."

That's all I say when I get a glimpse of Harold, I go back to my work.

I didn't come all the way here to make a report or anything. I guess Justus is saying it after figuring it out, but that made me unnecessarily angry.

"Oh, it was a crude farce. I'm not cooperating with you to do this."

"Cooperate? Remember that you are only my pawn. [M] Take a stand, Harold."

Pale, then uttering only certain facts.

Whatever dislikes or complains I hit against him, I pushed my arm against the warm curtain. All events are completed by Justus drawing conclusions within himself. It cannot be shaken and sensitized by others.

The solidity of the will to the point of being monstrous.

Still, I'm sorry if I didn't just say this.

"If you can handle me, do it. But the next time you try to get him involved, I have an idea."

"It's that important, that fiancée's daughter."

"Play. It's not compatible with him. Maybe more than you."

"Ha, say something funny! But I guess that's natural, right? Because you and I are alike."

Eustus, with his arms wide open at his feet, shaking his shoulders and laughing.

There is no light in his abyss-like eyes, and yet his cheeks hang in distortion, peeking into Harold with a mad grin. It's nothing like being treated like such a lunatic.

I said the least I could say, and even if I'm talking any more, the discomfort just solicits. Justus went on like this in a tone of intoxication to Harold, who just tried to walk away.

"No matter how much you fix it, your roots are the same as mine. I don't choose the means for what I want. I'm a madman."

Harold knocks on that door with unbreakable strength, just as he did when he entered the room, so as to cut off the spoiled word.

If you end up complaining, you get extra frustration. It was the end of the fall.

Harold hasn't been able to hide his frustration from the side. Even he hates it. Nobody comes near him in that condition.

Except for one.

"Um, I was back."

I just run into the opposing El. He also calls out to Harold, who is overflowing with grumpy aura, without even cowering.

However, there was no sign of Reefa next door.

"What happened to him?

"Reefa would be in her room. I'm going back to my hometown tomorrow, so get ready for it."

"Right. You haven't had any trouble while I was away, have you?

"I don't know if it's a hassle, but I guess it's enough that Justus asked me to meet Harold"

"What was blown in"

The scene of a dramatic encounter seemed to have been told in a certain sense, which was much more foot-colored if asked so. The facts are 100% included, but there were too many parts that differed from the facts. The creep of the sword is perfectly false, and it is terrible to highlight the danger of a human being named Harold.

In fact, the wording that Harold coincides with in his mouth is "Give me strength. I'll tell you what the real hell is." Even that seemed a little foot-colored.

Harold doesn't really know what Justus wants to do with himself. I had predicted that it would be used as one of the pawns for the plan, but I'm starting to feel like that's not all.

Well, no matter what happens, unless Justus stops the plan, we'll be able to see the flow of the original scenario. We'll be able to secure a standing position.

"That's why Reefa is listening to this story as well as me."

"Right."

"... that's all?

Elle listens back with a suspicious face, but as Harold, I have no choice but to react.

Harold can wave a major player because he is under the control of Justus, and the biggest factor is that he has become "the subject of Justus' experiment with the practical application of his developed sword”. You can't even say the truth about what Elle hasn't even grasped, and it's easier to affirm it on this matter.

Well, you should look at that fold and talk to Elle who's going to be a collaborator.

"What else do you want me to say?

"Well, I am. Reefa was quite shocked..."

(Shocked...)

I don't know to what extent that is, but I guess there are places where you feel it, even if it's the person you know often sticks together if you're going to die.

The truth is that there are no words to speak from Harold just because that's why. I also felt like it would be scratchy to be inspired by a dying human from Reefa, assuming he was comforted with compassionate words. Then why don't you take a particularly unusual attitude and treat it as usual?

"... he's in his room, isn't he?

"Oh, yeah."

It's troublesome, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone. Harold heads to the room where Reefa is.

Elle disappears in the opposite direction to Harold, leaving only "Say hello". Even with such care, this mouth can't spit out words of comfort, so I wanted you to accompany me along with the follow-up.

Harold knocks on the door of the room with such pity in mind.

"Who?"

Untense, always cheerful Leaf like voice. Things have been strange in retrospect for a while or so before Harold left for the city of Cabran.

I don't know why that one ended up either.

"Open it."

As soon as I said that, a doozy noise rang from inside the room.

The sound of things turning upside down continued some, and when it fitted, the door finally opened. However, only a few centimeters clearance.

I threw my toes into that gap and clenched them relentlessly.

"Ah......!

Reefa relaxes because of the momentum opened up. The face in my eyes was a surprised, troubled look.

Because of the preconceived notion of being depressed, even the skinny reefer looks even more luxurious. If you're worried and sad enough to do it, I'd be happy to, but it's more of a heartbreaking percentage because you're lying.

"I heard you could see a rare sight of you being depressed, but it's more normal than I thought. Boring."

"What the hell!?

Reefa that will be a full slot in an instant before Harold's dislike. The boiling point is too low.

It's easy to handle if you return the back.

"You're still going to say... who do you think you're more or less depressed about!

"You must have listened to yourself and just let yourself down. I don't remember telling you to do that."

"~ ~!"

Apparently, Harold's anger stopped him from succeeding in two sentences to too much of a statement, Reefa. The face is stained bright red.

Intense relationship, but given what's ahead, this much better to do without any later rot.

"No more! I wasn't worried about you!

"Don't lick it. I haven't fallen far enough to worry you."

"You're really the guy who says... and yet he never seems to brace his will alone"

"What do you mean?

"I asked Dr. Justus how he's been since the court ruling was handed down. Because I want strength, because I want to be strong."

……

Silent affirmation. With that in mind, Reefa has asked me this.

"I think Harold is strong enough. And yet why are you trying to gain stronger power until you've spent your life?

A terrible and contemporary inquiry for Harold.

The reasons for wanting power are determined. Because when a direct death flag hits you, your fighting power will separate life from death. By and large, I would have been executed if I hadn't gotten on there talking about Justus.

Anyway, I've never gone over it if I can deal with it beforehand so that the death flag doesn't activate, but if I recover the original event, Harold will have to fight the main party three times, and only pick up his life each time. There is also the danger of having to shoulder replace some of the events that the protagonists do if they assume the worst.

Harold must be strong for that time. That's what I'm dying for. To break, dodge, and survive all your death flags.

"That's a stupid question. I have something to do. Even if you risk your life."

True life. Otherwise, there's no way I can continue to train for more than ten hours a day for eight years. That much effort is needed to repaint a reality that cannot be avoided by character correction alone.

"Put your life on the line. But you don't..."

There's hardly any life left, but I guess Reefa gets stuck in words. Hi. I can't seem to look directly at Harold.

"Well, I don't think there's anything in this world worth matching my life for. There's no way I'm going to get killed on this thing."

That's why I don't die, and I speak insolently of mysterious confidence that can't even be called disjointed logic. So much so that I'm more shocked to hear it.

"Ha... that's what you were like. It's amazing because it really makes me feel like it's going to happen."

As Harold sees it, a grin returns to Reefa's face of something that is slight. It would be a lot better than having a spicy look, though it probably includes a scratch.

Time passes and she also comes to realize that Harold's story of being sucked into magic by a sword and dying is false. Until then, it's easier for me as Harold to get caught with a little laugh or so that there was a powerless idiot who threw his life away at the dob rather than being severely troubled.

Well, if it looks like this, it seems fine. Anyway, if we say goodbye tomorrow, the next time we see each other, it's probably hostile.

If you do, you won't like it, but you'll be able to blow it off.

That's what I thought. I almost left the room, Harold, but Reefa calls me "wait a minute" and I stop that leg. Harold's hearing was taken away when he tried to look back at what the hell it was.

It's nothing like magic. I can't confirm my appearance because I'm turning my back, but I guess Reefa is stretching her back and blocking Harold's ears with both of those hands.

A few seconds of events if you put it in time. Reefa's hand was already apart when she grasped the situation.

"What did you do?

"Nothing? There was just something I didn't want to be asked."

Then I swallowed the natural scratch of saying it when I was gone. I am also very lazy because of the tiredness of my long journey. Lost in the desire to just fall asleep, Harold ended up through her profound actions.

Later, if I thought about it, I wouldn't have developed into that much trouble if I had pursued it well at this time. Just don't stand in regret.

This choice was going to make Harold suffer after all.

◇

The sky is clear. The refreshing southerly wind gently rocks the grasshoppers.

It was a great day to travel.

Growing from a boy to a young man, the liner strokes the pattern of a sword once lowered to his waist, then looks up at the sunny sky and breathes heavily.

"Are you sure you're going? Liner"

Asked him in such an uneasy voice, this one also made the transformation he deserved to call himself a woman from a girl. But the expression is as full of anxiety as the voice, and the eyes are moist. A slight trigger was likely to decimate the lacrimal glands.

To reassure Colette, the liner makes a dazzling smile like the sun.

"He said not to worry so much. They ran away in the next town, so we're not going far."

"But it's dangerous! Outside the village there are monsters, and you might have to fight someone Mr. Leona or Mr. Orbell couldn't win!?

Colette tries to pin him down by giving out the names of Reiner's parents. It just seems unrealistic to her that Reiner's behavior is rampant.

A pickup broke into Reiner's house last night. The pickup went into a remote warehouse, not the house itself, but by chance Leona noticed it and went into a state of engagement.

The number is two to two. Even though it had been a long time since the actual battle, Orbel and Leona had once been regarded as skilled adventurers, the movement of picking up was outweighed by the two, wearing pitch-black robes that were distracted by darkness. I'm pretty sure that's what Orbel and Leona actually fought for.

After the fighting, Orbel was flanked, and Leona took a deep hand on her left leg. It was the liner that broke into the scene at times. The blow that successfully pierced the void was only a direct hit, but it tore the robe of one of the pickups.

At that moment, the liner saw only for a moment. The blue-white face of your opponent, exposed under the moonlight that shoots from the clouds. Taking advantage of it, the pickup dispersed, and the Griffiths escaped the difficulties.

But not everything was safe. It was taken when the two were active adventurers, a treasure sword that slept behind the ruins.

If it's true, they were supposed to give it to me when I left the village to fulfill my dream of Reiner becoming the Knights Commander. For the liner, it can't be left to be taken.

"I'm the only one who knows their faces. And I'm the only one who can fight."

Now that my parents were injured, the liner had the pride that he was the only one who could fight picking things up in this village.

So the liner decided to take back the sword with his own hands.

"So just give me a minute. I asked you about your father and your mother, didn't I?

"Ugh..."

Colette knows very well that what the liner decides once is not easy to bend. So I also know I can't convince you anymore.

I don't want you to go. I want you to be beside yourself.

Such thoughts dominate inside Colette's chest, but she couldn't spit it out. If I told you, I'd feel like I'd expose my weakness, which I'm used to being protected from.

If I could have told you that I would follow along with you at this time, if I was as confident as I could have told you, I'm sure the end of the journey waiting for the liner might have changed.

"Then I'm coming, Colette."

The look of the liner moving away step by step. Colette could only drop it off.

They have no reason to know. That this step will be the beginning of a long and magnificent journey involving even the destiny of the world.