Re:Zero Kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu (WN)

- Probably, no one will believe it.

"My name is Natsuki Subaru! Make him the youngest son of the Roswar Mansion, the king's candidate here - one of Emilia's knights!

At that moment, the Great Spiral turned everyone who was in the Great Hall of the Royal Castle against the enemy.

Even the out-of-the-box person couldn't hide some floating emotion and momentum leaving words and deeds - plus that there was just one, impressed man, etc.

The chosen sword I picked up was so tame to my palms that I wanted to cry for some reason. It's like, to the point where you're going to be so illusioned that you've been chosen for your sword.

I said it's nowhere in me right now, such as why I can put my chest up like that.

"Shh!

Compared to a broken love sword, he is slightly thick and has a heavy tip. But based on that, if you release the sword attack, some discrepancies can be corrected immediately.

Not all weapons familiar with your hand can handle a war situation. I was proud to assume all things and, wherever possible, to have been trained so that I could fight without choosing a sword.

"Hey, Omei."

A sharp spike with its pride is released toward the eyebrows of a man around the elongation. But the man leaned his neck and gently combed the tip of his head with a blade, spraying his redhead just as he fixed the tip of his hair, jumping straight back.

The distance it opens, trailing it with steps and feet.

If we are to comprehensively appreciate swordsmanship during the battle, it is not only swordsmanship that matters, but also footwork and footwork.

Naturally, the sword has an understanding. To reach the optimal position, at the fastest possible speed and to make the most of the opportunities, it is required to handle not only the arms, but also the feet, i.e. all the flesh.

Therefore, when I started training for sword moves, I was the first to be tapped into my foot.

He thinks he's blessed with a good teacher. The master's swordsmanship was somewhat inferior to his present self, but that was an area he couldn't help but age.

However, I'm pretty sure he was a better teacher of things to others than his own strength. He was a person who liked to talk about that, not only in the practice of sword moves, but also where the technology was born and in what way it was inherited.

Nature and I enjoyed hearing it again and praised myself for being able to practice it.

――――

Catch up to the jump, head to the landing point and tap into the sword strike. Up, down, left, right, three directions put in the turmoil, and fate is a slash from directly below.

"You follow my example, Omei"

The man easily altered the trajectory of the sword, which strokes from the crotch to the chest, with a broken bar. When the bar-cut that interrupts the ray touches the blade of the sword, the force is incredibly lightly diverted. Trying to resist, a swing of the sword is less than a second of instant defense - where the skill of a man who applies a delicate force or subtraction that easily threads the needle is exceeded.

"-"

A groan occurs in the back of his throat in amazement, and the sword strike falls overhead in momentum. Flip the resulting gap and command your consciousness to take the blade of the wind - no, that option is not available now.

The magic for restraint cannot be unleashed. This just made a gap.

"Hey!"

A kick before being stuck out pierced straight into the flank. The moment your barefoot toe is pushed into the gut gap so that you can decide, and your body doesn't happen to break, your leg is twisted with a prick, and the organs in your body scream at the same time.

Blow up. Moments, I flew myself in the direction of impact to prevent it from swinging to inertia.

But it's not like you can kill the kick penetration itself. While vomiting at the sight turning around and the feeling of the impact on his torso pushing him through his brain, he still gazed at losing sight of his enemies, slamming his foot on the approaching floor and maintaining his posture.

Breath is rough. Deep breaths take time to recover.

I was forced to squeeze my lungs and exhale all the remaining oxygen in my body. Once the contents of your body are completely emptied, reminding you of tranquillity in your forcefully rough breath.

――――

I throw up, I threw up. Now we can fight. You should be able to fight.

――――

vision, a red-haired man standing with a grin about ten meters away.

Jump over there again. We need to chase him down, slap him with a sword strike, and at least strip him of that extra grin. From there, to the real battle...

"Take it easy. Is there a lie or a truth to the battle, Omei? Even in a picture book, in a reading?

"-"

Instantly the distance is packed and flashed.

Right, right after the blink. The man stuffs ten meters in an instant, poking at a bar-cut that is his specialty in front of this one. He shook up his sword to pay for it, and inadvertently, where there was a big motion, he was struck in the side head and chest by a two-striped stick strike that arcs.

Sharp shock, consciousness is brought to the sharpness of a blow more than pain. He bit his back teeth, desperately scratched the consciousness he was about to let go of, and stepped on the floor vigorously.

"Oh, ah!

He barks in a slightly lower voice and punches a half-moon slaughter into the man. The man gracefully avoided dancing it, even as he danced, and his elbow slammed into the side. Again, consciousness shakes.

He shook off his leg and supported his will with a twitchy pain spreading across the back of his shoe. But instantaneous precise judgment is compromised. Therefore, the body chose the most familiar blow.

Simultaneous chanting of flames and water, a tripartite simultaneous attack with sword strikes there - underdevelopment.

There is no flame and ice cover and all that is released is an artistic flash that, after many layers of training, has reached the point of being called 'the best'. Or if they were just people, that would have been enough to hold them back.

"Pei."

The highest peak of the knight's sword moves is lightly bounced off the consolated bars.

A poking knee pierced the dovetail and gastric juice squeezed out with bitter ringing. A series of strikes is slammed from the front into the body that is about to collapse as it is, unable to fall.

"Oh?"

He collapsed backwards, not in front of the shock, and supported his body with a loosely stretched hand. Releasing a kick in the backward spinning momentum, the man leaked an unexpected voice and scolded it.

Rotate backwards, keep your distance. My nosebleed spilled. Wipe with white sleeves. The uniform was finally vividly stained with red paint.

Fine. Exhale sharply and pour the whole spirit into the sword that remains in your right hand.

It arrives, we have to let it arrive. You have to stay strong and strong.

"Have mercy, Omei. It's just the sword, Omei. I've only been holding a sword for three months, Omei. I'm a light slayer, but Omei's a light slayer."

"Now, here you are..."

"You idiot, Omei. Can you do it, Omei? I can't, Omei. I can't shake it until it arrives. I didn't shake it until it arrived. I can't shake it till I can. I didn't shake it until I could. You didn't do what you did, but you didn't just say what you did, Omei."

Instead of rebuttal, he slammed the sword in hard and hard once.

All in all in response to that sword attack, more than ten blows poured down and slammed in.

――――

Consciousness shakes, it doesn't fall. Why won't you fall? It's...

"It's scarce, Omei. It's not enough, Omei. It's not Omei's place. It's a different field. The actors are different. It's not for you."

Strong, you have to. With a sword, you have to prove it.

Lose your name, your home, your family, your master, your comrades, your friends, your soul-bound spirits.

That's all that's left. The only thing left is yourself. I pile up as myself, shapeless, this is all I have left.

Because this is the only proof of my existence.

"It's disgusting, Omei. Beautiful paste, Omei. Satisfied with the imitation of other people's monkeys, omee. No sword, no omee, no sword."

I was aiming for the top of my sword.

I used to wonder if I could point my eyes at the place.

Immediately, I let go that it was desirable.

When the red-haired boy realized with his eyes that the boy with the sword was carrying a great thing.

"Nobody's watching Omei. I wouldn't expect that. Don't be sweet because you think I'm doing it on the amusement run. It's easy to hit or kick, Omei."

I had an admiration. There were brilliant stories overflowing.

I thought it was too much for me right now to try to stand in line with them.

So I worked hard, scratched my feet, and sooner or later, based on the dream I let go, I thought.

――――

An unobstructed blue eye in the eyelid overlaps one of the many yearnings he has had since, with his long stretched flame-colored hair, a boy once cut off from letting go of his dreams.

I was going to spend some time, hoping to arrive, not lacking effort.

"It's not enough, Omei. Not enough. - Life is not skipping."

I am thrown away by a longing that I wanted to reach and beaten with one bar-cut.

The only thing in my life that suddenly collapsed, even the one that believed this was all, was trampled down, saying that the blood and sweat that had piled up had been helpless, without even having my sword waved, without having been able to deliver the sword that I had waved, and that it had been pointless, such as an effort that had been overlaid.

――――

Something creeps up.

That scratched out what sprang up more than that.

"Oh, my God! Are you crazy? It's getting tough, Omei."

With tongue punching, light gushes and limbs are worn.

It collapses like a puppet with a broken thread. That, but violence will not tolerate.

I get hit in the torso. I can't breathe. She grabbed her hair and swung left and right. He is slapped straight to the floor and kicked in the face by a rolling clap. He circles around like a disc and slips through the floor, rolling the endless white world in extension.

I slapped the floor. Jump up your body and look in the direction of being kicked over. On that face, the knee of the man who jumped in struck directly. At the moment of the clash, you meet your forehead on your knees from here, and you succeed in bouncing a man while he cracks your forehead.

A gap was created. I can rebuild my posture - I'm supposed to, but my body can't move.

"Phew, ku..."

My whole body was screaming. Especially the damage sustained to the head. I don't know how to shake my mind, and if I lose my mind, I'm going to spill the contents of my head at the next moment.

The sword, the sword, where did it go? To be sure, slowly, I can put my strength into my right hand. There, there was a definite sword pattern feel. Relieve.

I can't let go. That's all. If we let this go, what will we have let go of?

- Or is it something else in the form of a 'sword' that I have in my hands right now?

――――

He said there was no mistake. I walked along believing that this was my way.

That still is. I've been thinking it's unlikely for a lifetime, such as that it shakes.

So that slipped through this hand and disappeared should be a different issue than right or wrong.

- Or was it an error?

Is this because you have lost your way, missed the path you choose, and missaw what you believe?

Lose your name, your home, your family, your master, your comrades, your friends, your soul-bound spirits.

If this was the only thing left that wasn't enough, not enough, not enough support, etc.

- Being strong and supporting you, I swore to my lord.

- Remembering strength, just one remaining friend told me.

Even though in a world where everything is gone, its' strength 'is the only thing that supports this body.

Even though only that 'strength' was this, fragile and weak own, indelible 'sure'.

- Lost in the sword, Omei.

――

How much time did you spend asking yourself?

Probably less than a second of a moment. But if there is a gap in that moment, it is the same for a man - 'Sword Saint' - who has had the opportunity to slaughter his enemies indefinitely.

He pulled his sword up against the sword and tried to prevent an impending attack.

A tall noise echoed. If you open your eyes to something, there's a sword rolling down the floor.

Slip off this hand, and finally even lose your sword.

What then stands here without a name, without pride, without a sword?

"Unqualified to lead to Heavenly Sword. - Omei, you can't even do a child position."

Thirsty voices coldly told him, 'Kensei' grabbed the bar cut in turn and dropped his hips.

- For the first time, it's the moment when "Kensei" set it up.

Shortly afterwards, the bar cut roared, and the sword struck - it was, undoubtedly, a sword strike.

Absolute sword strikes are unleashed, rubbed by shock waves, and blown away.

――――

A different blow, whether fisting, kicking, or any previous violence.

This is not violence. This is the top of the sword, the highest peak of the sword, the sword moves unleashed by true 'strength'.

Swallow by the light, consciousness flies.

Do you see death? Do you see anything beyond death? I don't know that either.

I just had a slight voice the moment I was blown away.

"Julius -!!"

The absurd voice is somewhere full of sadness.

It's like being desperate, running up a long staircase, and running into a decisive moment.

Such a voice was screaming, which gave rise to a grin out of place.

'Best' knight. Kingdom of Lugnica, Kingsguard Knights. Make him a Euclidean, the next lord. King's candidate, one knight of Anastasia Horsin.

- Julius Euclius.

"Ha"

Do I now deserve to be called by that name?

Such a question was finally raised, Julius' consciousness swallowed by the light and plumpingly interrupted.