Sanzen no Souru Supina

■ Twenty-second night: empty ears

So it was no coincidence that the scream of a woman who wasn't even there jumped into Rattegart's ear.

Dajra's planting and tricks.

A move deliberately deflected to reach the maiden ear of a true knight - delivering sound.

The earthspider assassins retreated as if they were scared of Rattegart's blow or literally chipped to scatter spider children.

I wasn't expecting anything like a squarely grand battle, but Rattegart's emotions were even more upset by the lack of stray.

Nothing to help the wounded.

From the assassins of Sibiri Sumeri, tactical retreat is nothing but shame.

And they are educated that injuries on the battlefield are their own responsibility.

That's because they know all about the difficulty of the retreat.

We know that if we fight the war by exposing ourselves in front of an enemy - Rattegart - who has a great firepower capable of mass killing to help the wounded, it will result in the wear and tear of nasty troops.

So I dare throw away the wounded.

Planning and calculation. Cold, but reasonable. That's Civili Sumeri.

That can only be described as a difference in thinking in battle.

But Rattegart can't accept that.

I abandon my people. I can only see them as impotent and despicable to spit on.

Super moves: Rattegart looked around without alarm so that he could stop breathing and bouncing beats disrupted by the exercise of Shooting Star Implementations.

Naturally, it's that powerful. The wear and tear is not half.

Around is the sea of fire.

A suspension bridge, and an urn built on it, is licked by fire one after the other, burning up to the bones.

But this flame will soon subside.

If the suspension bridge burns, it's because there's no more flammable material.

Both shores are rock-skinned cliffs, with walls even dripping with water.

It wouldn't even have been this far in the normal fire.

Demonic Fan: "Karan Karakubi" - a terrible curse, Rattegart thinks.

The assassins of Sibiri Shmeri seem to have given up their resistance in the face of Rattegart and the Holy Spear: "Svennir". They don't even shoot arrows.

They fear being burned down by indiscriminate, widespread attacks.

I guess I managed to avoid a direct hit, no sign of a man coming to help me with a loss of one arm and barely a glimpse on the wall.

If you mean to pull, Rattegart doesn't want to chase you.

Not to mention, I'm ready to be sniped from behind, and I don't have a hobby of shooting the guy who popped up.

So if anyone were to fly a white flag and come to help this man, I would have missed it lightly.

I see, Rattegart concluded, that the idea of Erma and Isma trying to go help with their flesh parents and companions with their lives is peculiar for earthspiders.

Speaking of which, during the hot bath, Elma, along with her sister, Ele, temporarily as an assassin of Sibiri Shmeri, also meant that she attacked Isma and her companions with resentment.

Instead of killing his sisters, Isma is risking her life to solve misunderstandings and throwing herself to help even her sister imprisoned by Sibiri Sumeri.

"Isn't it splendid?"

How can you crush such a thing?

Rattegart has not yet become aware of the movement of his mind.

Rattegart looked in the direction where the earthspider assassins had fled, and then turned to a man who would no longer just wait for death.

The loss of hands and feet on the battlefield, not knowing if you are among the heroes Tan, means that it is almost as good as dead. The arteries are severed, which naturally means a large amount of blood is lost instantly. If you don't do it immediately, you'll be shocked in a matter of seconds, or else you'll die of blood loss.

The man of the earthspider clinging to the wall is about to unwrap the clasp belt on his armrest with his mouth and stop the bleeding.

According to Elma's story, the inventions of the "mad old Doctor" - "Greed Gate" - give the subject a pseudo-limiting "spindle" ability, but I guess this man doesn't have the healing moves.

This is the result of pursuing only combat capability.

"Pathetic."

Rattegart decided he should do most of it as mercy.

More importantly, at the death of the heroic candidates, it was their job to follow the crossing this way (note/crossing = offering todome).

But sooner than the tip of "Svennir" targeted him, the flesh of a man dripping sweat, saliva and blood tide burned up like phosphorus, and the next moment, the knife he was wearing and his bones became the weapon of murder, exploding.

And before that blast and fragments reached Rattegart, a swarm of radiant light entered and stopped them from entering between. The last piece of Sparklelight Wings, which was flying to protect Ratte, instantly nullifies and flies away the attack of a man's abandonment.

Until earlier, a man hung on the wall, washed by an overly plundered stream of high energy.

There is no shadow to see, such as the remnants of a man.

Unmaimed. Only a shrug frowns at his reckless death.

That's when Rattegart heard the scream.

Pain and sensuality - the scream of a woman fooled by it, which she did not want - clearly reached Rattegart's ear in the midst of a roar that suppressed her surroundings.

Elma, or looking back, I could see her trying to end the dance.

Then when he thought, again, he heard a cry even more clearly.

It sounded familiar.

It's Io. It's Io's.

If that voice contained even a slight melancholy, or would have suspected a rape plot.

But that impatient cry was a plea.

About Io, I still didn't think Rattegart was the enemy.

The method could have been wrong.

It is true that, in accordance with the law of the true knight, it should have been denigrated as an evil law and an outward path, and this result would not have been a natural act, so to speak, if it had been criticized as a deserved by the clan of earthspiders, Sibilli Sumeri, and Bessarion.

However, the feeling of a woman who had to silence the relationship between the falling princess and the Gentile man and, as a consequence, offer herself as an experimental material for the apoptosis of the clan was awkward to Rattegart, and only a scratch can tell.

Io's hospitality was so thought-provoking that he didn't think he was a puppet of "Haytred Crowla".

Respect and love for the princess witch, and the push and kill for Isma, admiration.

The io is making me cry.

It was obviously the voice of Io, who blamed his opponent and was excited to catch up physically and mentally - engraved in inferior preferences.

If you think calmly, the situation was clearly unusual.

Doubts should have arisen.

Because right now, even if you don't think of it as an enemy, Rattegart is crossing the blade with Haytred Crowla, to which Io and his compatriots have turned.

But Rattegart remembered Io's clenched smile, which dropped us off from the hermitage.

Blurb, and a kind of tremor rushed through Rattegart's flesh that was not frightening.

Blasphemy, I thought. Forgive me, I thought.

The voice arrived with the alien powers of the earthspider.

I don't even realize it's meant to fly words far away and make the person I'm after hear it from.

With angry eyes, Rattegart searched the scene.

A few dozen rock shelves on Merte from Elma, if Rattegart, descended for a few seconds, and found something approximate to his treacherous deeds.

He was at the base of the burnt suspension bridge, at the border between the rock shelf he stuck out and the cave that leads from it.

I saw Io retreating from behind and taking him into the cave.

Izma is across the shore and can't rush right away.

Rattegart made a number of judgment errors in this unusual situation.

Firstly, one did not even try to think deeply about what it meant for a woman who was being stirred up to be an Io.

The second did not even consider the possibility that this was a trap to capture itself.

And I'm on my way to being single.

At the very least, only the last one, the rendezvous with Elma, which was dying, should have been fulfilled.

But to the Maiden of the True Knight, who burns in anger, he has obeyed his righteousness, above all, with the highest priority.

It was a trap.

"That co, what, are you doing?

At the end of Elma's gaze as she breathed roughly and looked up into the universe, I saw Rattegart diving into power.

End of the dance, Fan: Aura, who had risen from the flesh of Elma, who had finished [Karan Karakubi], disappeared brightly.

Shivering and fatigue.

The essence of Kagura dance lies in perfectly controlling the act of relaxing and disrupting dance.

You can easily imagine that dancing and dancing at high speeds causes considerable fatigue.

But on the contrary, it's not surprising to know that slow movements are the same or give dancers more fatigue than that.

You should try spreading the fan to correct your back and stick your arm straight forward at shoulder height to see how long you can maintain that posture.

If you can sustain enough, its flesh and its will are quite good.

As soon as the dance was over, Elma felt sweat gushing out of her whole body.

I was just impressed to see that the sheep, who had broken their knees and finished their dance, had begun to do it again.

It was something I had never experienced before, such as dancing and dancing while riding a divine beast, but I managed to play it all out.

I didn't feel it while I was dancing. Fatigue and enthusiasm hit me, and Elma coughs up.

The madness of fire is a big song that lasts about fifteen minutes.

It is fair to say that Elma is at the extreme of exhaustion.

I saw Rattegart descending at an arrowy speed and descending onto the overhead rock shelf in Elma's eyes, which brought his body to the back of the saddle and breathed open with his fingers in his collar.

I can't grasp anything more because I'm overhanging from here.

"What, are you going to, are you?

I have a bad feeling. Elma thinks.