Sanzen no Souru Supina

"This is... my country"

Unexpectedly, from Alma's lips, a voice similar to a groan leaked.

In front of you, the desolate land stretches everywhere.

Once the richest part of the peninsula, Torano (often) was completely distorted by crust fluctuations.

A black rock bed burst everywhere, turning it into a blazing hell.

The green meadows wither away, the trees wither away, only exposing themselves to a reminder of the bones.

Plants that fight the wilderness slightly create green islands.

A swarm of wild dogs roam with a shitty (Ranlan) glance, shadow painting across the clouds of mountain light and temper that blow up the fire.

Alma cried in pain like being piled to the chest.

Tears abounded.

War, famine and drought, disease, and natural mutation.

The figure of a hurtful fatherland determines my heart.

I gave in to the thought of being torn apart.

"Well... take a look"

Knight: That's what Nahat said.

Don't look away. This is our country, he said.

"What a treat - what is God doing?"

"It is not God who saves humans. Only the cause of man can save man."

Master Alma and Dextrus are back. It's okay, Ignace can be rebuilt.

Yes, Nahat undertook.

I should have decided not to go back. I was going to abandon my country and dedicate all the rest of my life to God as a nigger.

But the past captured the chase Alma.

I was in the middle of a service at the orphanage.

There was a man among a group that made donations to orphanages.

Nahatwerg Parow, named.

He said it was a gateway to a knight who served the Ignace royal family.

Alma didn't know him and his house.

No, maybe he knew, but Alma's flesh even refused to recall the royal lineage that awakens abominable memories.

So I peddled what the man said.

Nahatwerg pleaded with Alma to rebuild Ignaş.

He appealed to Alma, an orthodox blood muscle, to return to his country.

The plight of the people living there (cucumbers), the countries fearing the spread of epidemic infection, simultaneously sealed off their borders and told them that tens of thousands of refugees were living in camps scattered.

In the midst of a life that may be tomorrow, the people are waiting, believing only in the coming of the Savior.

"I don't have that kind of power. On the contrary, it does not have any power, such as in the blood muscles of the royal family. There is no remedy."

My chest pulses when I scratch.

Alma can't stop a cracking bell from ringing in the back of his temple.

I felt the dull black emotions swirling in my lower abdomen start to rumble.

Terrible nausea. And yet I can't be so nauseous.

It was as if he were sealed in his mouth and bewitched by the agony of eternal robbery.

"No, if you are, it is all you can do"

Nahat has recruited such an Alma.

Based on what, this man says, Alma doesn't know.

You don't even know what I think of the people.

My hand shook at the anger that brought my sickle.

"" Dextras "- the royal treasure of Ignace. Paragraphs and holy relics."

Check it out. Nahat offered a piece of paper without even discussing it in Alma's chest.

Always like this, Alma thinks.

The world always comes strong on me. He will hold me accountable.

We can't even take it ourselves. We're pushing it.

Alma followed Nahat, who gave him a piece of paper in thanks of his servants.

When I received this, I felt like I could never go back to Armastella, the Nissan.

Two, the younger saint's face passed the back of his brain.

I was wondering if you would come if I yelled.

Would that human be willing to fight even with my past?

Such a dream went by.

It was a dream.

Paper pieces depicted familiar items.

It was rarely the first son of the Ignache royal family: a treasure handed down to Gashyn.

- "Dextras".

Focus equipment for pouring in all kinds of "twists" - "focus" was asked childhood. Alma knows it's a gamble.

It floated in my mouth like a mockery.

"How did you get this?

Did you also vandalize it in the grave? My own soothing voice came out of Alma's mouth.

"I had an ancient document. I have borrowed a royal collection of books."

"All the royal possessions were given to the people - in the way of robbery."

"In the midst of that revolution, Mr. Gashyn was entrusted with secrets by our Parrow family."

"Your father."

Alma listens to Nahat's faint answer while finding it hard to believe.

"But... Knight: Nahat," Dextras "is a gaga to show the people the legitimacy of kingship. Even kids will know it's a dream story, such as any" twist "coming true. Besides, if Dextrus' legacy were true, the royal family would never have perished."

Dextrus is a product that doesn't work when it comes to paragrams. Alma says.

"Even King Gashyn didn't know where the" paragram "was. No, I'm sure there's no such thing as a" paragram ".

of folk grass - "Focus" that can collect and accumulate "Everybody" - there can't be such a thing "

Nahatwerg has flatly recieved words that deceive children and return sincere glances.

"Forgive me for the delay, my princess. It took me a while to find out where the paragram is."

For a moment Alma's head turned bright white. I don't know what they said anymore.

Nahat turned back as he spattered.

"The" paragram "is real. Royal Valley, Descent King: In the Grave of Gran"

There can't be. Alma denied it.

No, and Nahat also pleaded.

"I have been guided. To King Grant. There is indeed a paragram."

Nahato saw Alma with his eyes wet by passion.

"Her Royal Highness Princess Almastella would like you to take Dextras as the rightful owner and return home soon."

Alma has already half-hearted the words of Nahatwerg, who drips his head deep.

My whole body was hot, like I suffered from an epidemic.

What would you wish for if the legacy of any kind of "twist" were true?

Grandfather: To Gran, yes, I felt whispered in my ear.

If you have already given up your life, do not hesitate to spend it trying to ascertain the authenticity of the gaga.

Alma was possessed by such a renunciation.

I didn't feel like I could be a hero of the Redemption.

However, if I can get those days back that I lived with my father, mother or grandfather...... I dreamed of that.

When I realized it, Alma had become an accomplice to Nahat.

Everything is lost in an instant.

The pallet drowned trying to help the two squires who came out of the water.

The hand of the dead lurked beneath the water became a net and dragged the young knight into it.

Miley skewered her frightened squires as she held them like her mother.

A few rusty tips pierced her chest and hung her.

Solas became a shield to the end and sheltered Ashley and Eunice.

Many times an unpleasant sound arrived in Ashle's ears, which crossed the horse and drove at full speed.

It was the sound of throwing spears and arrows of stone bows that could be thrown against Solas' armor.

"Never, never look back!

Ashley broke the words of Solas at the end.

There was a loud noise and a spear pierced Solas' armor.

Ashley reached out. My left arm reached the front armor of Solas.

Before Ashley's arm was pulled out of her roots, her armor was more ripped off.

"Please go. Live, live!

Solas screamed his last twist.

A scream burst out Ashle's throat.

If Eunice hadn't taken the reins, she would have fallen short of horses.

Ashley's optimistic accumulation that he should take it back immediately if he deemed it dangerous was shattered brilliantly.

Three days after marching on Ignache territory, Ashle lost all his men, except Eunice.

All the bodies dumped and stacked in the land became deceased, and the bones waved and pushed over.

This land, this country itself, was a mass of malice that rejected every intruder.

And in that escape play, Ashley will also lose Eunice.

A cloud of black temper blocked his eyes as if he were a creature.

Ashle instantly spotted it as something of a hostile will.

My hands move reflexively.

Divine Spear: Unsealed "Shivnir".

In response to the opened "Shivnir", the "Spindle" swirls over the chest.

To the cause that made Barrage's lineage possible: "Spindle," Ashle was half instinctively torqued.

Light emits seepage from the inside of the "Shivnir" with a fragment of the triangle cone.

No joints found. When it splits in triplets without sound, Ashle felt energy converge at the center of the space.

Pallet's, Millet's, Solas's, and the death of his squire were behind his brain.

Ashley opened up the power of "Shivnir" with passion.

Light strips were ejected along with a roar similar to the roar of a dragon.

A band of shining ultra-high heat particles cleaves the black clouds in a straight line.

If the remnants of the splashed particles hit the ground, they were red-hot and raised the flame.

Ashle tucks his horse's body into the open penetration.

It was then that the unforeseen happened.

Ashley's beloved horse, Vitrion, has been on the battlefield since Ashley was an adult, so to speak, comrade of war.

He had assembled his fears of riding and shooting even frightened (Shivnir) horses if he was unfamiliar with them by training, and more importantly, he had deposited his full confidence in Ashley.

But Eunice's riding is not.

As is the case for many organisms, Shivnir's radiance stimulates instinctive fear.

It was Eunice's skill as a rider that prevented him from falling after seeing a horse that had become a pole.

But the delay made it fate.

If you noticed, you two were separated.

Ashley ran so much that she didn't know where she had escaped.

Just trust Eunice is safe.

Trust each other to live and meet again.

At the end of his escape, he was caught up on a lush green island.

If not more distressing, blossoming flowers.

A flock of wild roses with blue petals.

It was hilly there, and if there was anyone to look down on, it would have shown Ashley just like a rock left over by a wave of full-blown death and a wreck clinging there.

Ashle got off the horse and laid down a whole perimeter defense (Round Parry) setup.

Even so, only one and one line of defense.

You whipped me in the ass, but Vitrion didn't run away.

Stupid guy. Ashley can only tear at the instrumentality of her beloved horse.

One and one of them prepared a desperate base defense, that was then.

Huh, and there was an intermittent voice.

To that lesser extent, even the herd of deceased, who is a stopping hand, stops to their feet.

Huh, and I had a second voice.

Then something stood up in the back of the bush.

White gray hair was stretched all you could.

He has long ears and limbs to spare.

He looks at the world as if his faintly pigmented red eyes were half-opened and obstinate.

Suddenly he looked back at the rare guests who appeared behind him, and the moment he looked back, Ashle looked away.

Because it was that king's face and two melons I dreamed about.

However, the only thing that looked alike was appearance.

I'm not even wearing that heavy crown of gold.

It is a complete separate thing when it comes to haunted aura.

Is it a ride? A creature with a dumb face, similar to the Lord, appears in a loose and unreliable foothold.

The mundane thing was that neither of them appeared to have been harmed by sharp (bulky) thorns.

"Don't panic, don't"

A man topped Mojamoja's hair with rose leaves calmly said and let go.

"Think of Spindle. You can do it."

Saying so, the man casually laid his hand on Ashle's shoulder.

Heat flows in.

In the meantime, Ashley felt the Spindle excite.

One man's behavior, just that, multiple "spindles," were activated simultaneously.

"It's okay... I can do it"

unfounded, the man says.

Ashley was willing to believe the word for some reason, even though she was told from a high place. Shivnir deforms as he responds.

I was releasing moves (arts) if I noticed.

"Shivnir" opened his foretips to open his arms and developed a silver glow.

An ultra-high thermal and heavy mass plasma band over 10,000 degrees of focal temperature was released across several meters wide.

It was an instantaneous event, but it burned down a herd of the dead.

Ashle fell to her knees, emitting super high heat that evaporated even the rock bed. "Ensel Hylow". There is unimaginable wear and tear over the use of great moves that you have never done yourself.

The earth was boiling.

The flock of the deceased, who were now just about to stick their claw fangs up to Ashle, is distracted in an instant.

The attack, which actually buried dozens of bodies temporarily, should have definitely awakened fear if the target were an organism.

But all of the countless neighbors were deceased integrated by a certain paranoia.

That is, resentment toward the living.

Though he showed hesitation for only a moment, he did not even hate (or say) that himself would be burned by the red-hot earth, but on the contrary was about to step on the burned and resume his march.

Ashley learned a total furry fear.

I can't help myself, I suck in the hot atmosphere.

"Limits?

I heard a slight voice like sugar candy. It is the voice of that man.

Under a painful breath, Ashle looked up seriously at the man.

Surprisingly, the man's ride was sheep.

It's also as long as a horse's legs - those legs don't have hooves (hives).

I don't know where I'm looking. There was somewhere through the sheep's eyes and the man's attitude.

At a glance, a man looks down at Ashley like he sees a troubled child.

He had a light, peppery paper-like attitude.

"You're young, but you're early. You don't like early men. I shouldn't. I need to have more toughness. Like me. Hey - Princess."

Ignoring a flock of looming deceased, the man looks back at the rose bush.

Turn your neck back, like an abalone.

There was a voice to respond to.

"I'm no longer a princess. Because it has already been erased from the family line. - And in that context, it seems I'm supposed to like you, or a man who's not fast enough?

I heard a familiar voice from over Ashle's head.

A girl stands on a sticking rock.

Ashle was stunned by the way he looked.

Theonzafir - Princess of the Night Devil.

The hot, seared brunette was leaping.

I could see pure white lace from the hem of the turned black coat.

A dull, light-emitting gauntlet fitted both of those arms. Familiar as it was. That was the Holy Relic - "Hands of Glory" - itself.

You - got out that far and Ashley coughed up.

Resist folding seizures.

"Isma, what have you done to this child?"

Theon reprimanded him in a tone against the person who raised his hand to my child.

"Ya, I just lent you a little" spindle. "Okay? I still didn't seem to be able to get the hang of it."

I'm not bad at all, and a man called Isma gestured.

Sion's whimsy lifts up crisply in an attitude that makes a small fool of him.

"Why don't you fight for yourself?"

"I'm a diplomat. support specialty. White Soldier Warfare is a bit"

"So you crushed the country."

"Princess, that, correct ♡"

"Don't spare me. Kick it with Moonshine Favor!

"After that, my identity will be in danger. Because it's dangerous, dammit."

"Who you are and what you've been doing since the beginning."

"Princess, Hidoyi. But what, this feeling. My chest hurts and I'm freaking out. I want you to tell the princess. I want to be familiar."

"That's... you're sick... of your head"

At the feet of two missing urgencies, Ashley was in a predicament.

If Vitrion hadn't fed Isma a headache, Ashle might have been desperate during the prolonged multiplication.

It hurts, Isma ripped her teeth off to Vitrion.

"I had a hard time taking this position. The princess is up, I'm down. Just inside!

Low Angle Is Justice (The Princess Loves Better Than Down Direction Shh)!, and Isma looked up to heaven and said:

Theon's sole rides without sound on its face.

It was Zion who abandoned the rock that punished Izma.

"What do you say? Can you watch it often?"

It's going to suck. I don't know what you're talking about. I guess that would happen if I fixed Isma's voice to words. Rather, it was a reward.

Please, Ashley thought.

"Well, good. Anyway, this is one of the purposes."

Theon sighed and saw Ashley.

"Don't be dramatic, you'll die."

grin, and Zion smiled as the flowers broke.

Ashle also found that undeniable relief stains and soothes chest pain.

Theon speaks to Isma in the scaffold.

"You have to support it."

Isma replied as she took Zion's entire weight, how tough her bones were or how she worked out from time to time.

Both hands make clenching fists all the time and become victorious poses.

I was happy and shouted out to the feeling that Isma shouldn't.

Theon turned his gaze to the universe.

Eyes looking up at heaven.

Then I declared to whisper.

Cherry lips move like petals.

The incense of the lush wild roses behind him overwhelmed the smell of standing around for a moment.

"Seal it - get out. Rose, return to my hand -"

Ashley will never forget the sight that curled up in front of her then.

A suddenly curly wind, a hurricane, scattered rose petals, surrounded by bright blue rose blizzards.

The flock of the deceased was pressured by the momentum and stopped the attackers.

At first I thought Ashley was an illusion. Extreme fatigue and fear, showing excitement.

In the midst of a tornado of snowstorms, Ashle saw a blade of silver.

Countless, sharp, burning blue.

But when I saw every single one of them stood up and burned down at the looming deceased, I realized it was not an illusion.

That was an unmistakable blade.

It is also to destroy the immortal...

Ashle looked up to Zion.

Theon stands, trying to throw himself halfway into the universe.

She looked like a girl holding a bouquet of flowers.

My deep purple eyes are shaking as I think of my dear man.

Ashley can only watch the blade blow in hand and form a snail with a miracle watching heart.

No, that was actually a miracle itself.

Holy relics that should not even be touched by the immortal - "Rose Absolute".

The holy sword, which should have been lost, was now about to rise in the hands of Zion, the princess of the devil at night.

With the legendary resurrection in sight, however, Ashle's heart had been taken away by something else.

That was the look of pity on Zion's overly beautiful face.

Why does not even a piece of this messy blade stand against me?

I felt a resentful pain from it.

The dancing blade converges rapidly, and the sword comes to fruition.

And Zion laid down lightly a sword that exceeded his back.

Ashle trembled in the courtesy of a knight without a single gap.

"Stay back."

Saying so, Theon jumps into the sea of the dead, which wraps a whirlpool of resentment.

The battle of Zion, which uses the weight of the sword and uses itself as a fulcrum, is better described as an elegant and magnificent dance rather than a sword move.

The white blade twinkles and reveals a leg line wrapped in Scion leggings.

The races dance, and the deceased are annihilated as the fat muscles pass by during the bending.

"It'll be hard, the princess."

At some point, Izma was pulling over for a ride.

Speaking in his heart, Ashle was irritated for a moment, but poisoned by the face of a man trampled by Zion and drooling his nosebleed.

"Oh, yeah. You should drink this."

I guess a man named Izma doesn't think in particular about what psychological impact he will have on others. With a slight grin (he may think it arouses a dear affection), he handed me a glass medicine bottle.

It contains a small amount of green liquid and a handwritten label.

It must be a kind of psychotropic medicine.

"I've had a lot of temper. Ordinary land will heal for a while, but not here. Drink, all at once, believe me."

How can a human feel "uh-huh" when he says himself, "Believe me"?

Ashle saw Isma. Isma agreed.

Ashle saw an unusual sheep that was riding. I didn't know where I was looking.

I got thin and saw Vitrion. I thought they told me to stop.

Oh, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, and Isma's stirring up at odd temperatures. The blade caught the coat. Izma rolls to the ground like a bug.

"Who said to stir up the child while I was fighting? Silly."

It was Zion, who had finished annihilating his enemies.

Ashley was relieved.