Sanzen no Souru Supina

"What is this?"

"This is a succubus. You've heard of him before, haven't you?

"Succubus... well that's why I feel this way... But what's this guy over here? Clarify it, it's not a bucket."

"This is what it looks like after being fascinated by desire and falling. She. No, it's him too, but the succubus' flesh is too plastic. If you don't continue to prescribe yourself strongly, you will fall by taking in an infinite amount of carnal desire like this"

To the secretary's commentary, Snow breathed heavily.

I found my throat cramped.

"Take in the carnal desire... this is how it will be"

"Even once, fallen succubus seek others, driven by an impulse to be called delusional. The first target is also the Succubus. And because of its high plasticity, the succubus are virtually immortal. So they build castle-like monasteries in secluded places, impose a closed and abstinent life on themselves. The distorted snails of the priests who must live in prayer."

Speaking of horny demons, Snow, who just thought he was the incarnation of desire to dive into the bedroom and corrupt men and women alike, trembles at the difference between previous impressions and facts.

"But a priest is, in short, about a boy, right? You mean monks, niggers, priests, right? Why is that a succubus?"

"Well, I don't even know why. However, there are examples of temple whores and public roads... whoa, you were still a minor. Let's not talk about this."

Snow was dissatisfied with what seemed to have been teased, but it was also a public body to dig roots and dig leaves to hear stories of horny demons from himself.

Somehow, being a woman of her age, I don't want them to think I'm too mundane to eat on such a topic.

It was impossible for Snow, who recognized the clerk as a man, to begin with.

It wasn't humans that showed up next.

No, I don't suck at people's snails.

"Nanicole... a complete beast, or monster"

"Yes, it's that impression. They are warcraft. When there are Romanis who continue their journey without nomads or settlements, the distorted appearance of an eyeless people. And in a way, of fatherhood, but also."

"Fatherhood, is that your father? What do you mean? Why is your father a warcraft?

Snow also somehow knows about the nomads and the Romanis.

They don't have a settlement, they're paper heavy with bandits and burglars from Snow.

In fact, Snow's country, Trantrim, has fought those people in the past.

The Isolationist - the Front for the Liberation of Pure Humanity (Purebred Liberation Front) - who serves as the Inclusion Beast is just one example of this.

But I don't know how that connects to fatherhood.

To such a snow, perhaps what, the secretary explained.

"Probably what, but irresponsibly remit the child, and then leave it alone as a being"

"It... terrible"

"Even if you look at nature, males have a strong tendency to do so. The system of making connections and caring for and protecting children can be numerically, rather, an exception."

"But by father, I mean this, the Warcraft is originally human, right?! Human fathers protect their children, don't they?!

"I will shelter your father... but right, Snow, are you the demon of the middle of the night? of Trantrim. Right, so"

The look on the clerk's face, who looked suspicious, turned to comprehension.

The characteristics of the Night Devil's bloodline, while immature, are manifested in Snow.

Specifically, canine teeth grow in response to high emotions.

"Wow, I don't even have a father. In the sense that you'll always be on your side and protect me. But my mother always liked your father, and I've always thought of him, and I've never heard anything bad about him. He told me that he had begotten me at the end of a lovely love, and he gave me a gift every year, and my father... when he was growing up, he was supposed to climb the castle, become a knight apprentice, and meet your father there."

But I can't do that anymore, though.

Because it stripped the vale of the decorations that the Ashlets had covered the trantrim and destroyed the knights of the devil at night.

The secretary heard Snow's claims, including even the unspoken ones.

Shut up.

The secretary understood, about this source of Snow's excitement.

For Snow, the product of the "Dream" of the policy of reconciliation with the Night Devils = "Monetary Co-Prosperity Zone of Blood”, fatherhood is what reveals his own lineage, the authenticity of his being, the very flag of it.

To be tainted with it is the same as to be attacked, i.e., the backbone of one's own existence.

That's why I don't want to admit it.

The clerk sighed, then smiled gently.

"Absolutely. The same goes for the serpent witches, but neither motherhood nor fatherhood should be denigrated."

"It would. I'm so sorry."

Pugh, the secretary sighed heavily again at Snow, who missed his face.

The Warcraft have an ugly shape in the wildlife, like simmering and mixing every malice in a large pot.

What is characteristic is that its head has a face reminiscent of humanity.

The nightmare itself, in one way or another, that I can't face the front.

It's just that Snow missed his eye because there was a symbol of fatherhood in that vision that looked vicious.

It is not an organ for intercourse of love, it is nothing more than to describe it as a murder weapon for conquering and ravaging others.

Snow couldn't have looked directly at a substitute that would make even the clerk feel bad about his chest.

"Let's go next."

"Yeah, let's do that"

Snow takes the secretary's hand.

The secretary agreed and obeyed.

"This... ok. You're sick."

"Your answer. How did you know that?

"The Eleven Families of the Devil have come up with nine so far. Two more to go. And I'm sure he's not the Night Demon."

Snow was right, the presence that appeared in front of him looked painful in a different way than the Warcraft.

The healthy part is beautiful for the spirits and fairies, but the other part was an ugly substitute for the front.

The ends of the hands and feet, for example, appear to be covered in colorful scales, the fruit of which, all of which are scabies of different kinds, or skin diseases caused by mold.

A rash that has developed to the size of a strawberry colours the complexion as if it were an accessory.

The beauty of fresh snow and the alien wonders brought about by those diseases are flanked by tremendous grotesques.

Snow's head rejected any more direct portrayals, although there were no cuts if anything else was raised.

Ugh, I can't stop pushing my mouth on what came in.

"Sorry, I can't stand it. Let's go next."

"Right. Playgulft, the king of the sick, is both a man and a woman and boasts an unparalleled beauty in the world... but they are people who are inherently related to health care. The distorted appearance of doctors, nurses and pharmacists, that's the disease."

And finally, before the last hearse, the secretary and Snow followed.

"You don't have to tell me your name anymore."

"Right."

Among the twelfth was the same race as Snow's father.

Namely the Night Demon.

Boasting a dignified body with men and women also passes through the Dragon tribe.

However, compared to the dragon clan being the embodiment of intimidating royalty, it was something that made the Night Devils feel more sophisticated - aristocratic blood.

It seemed to Snow, as if the dragon tribe's host were ultimate power = i.e. violent, whereas the Night Devils' it was already the manifestation of the "Hiragana" of far-fetched rule.

"Same race as your father."

"All the eleven families of demons so far have been pushed into some role. Cook, technician, soldier? What was the demon pushed against at night?

"Oh, you want to know. Yes, they have been trained to play the role of aristocrats as rulers."

"Does that mean the ruler?

"I guess this is what happened when we embodied the Nerd of wanting us to lead ourselves to the right place. The nobility, the rulers, the bureaucracy, well the system of governance adopted by that country will be different, but the role of actually doing politics as a representative of the people"

"I'm just wondering... does that mean the humans who impersonated the Night Devil with that" twist "want to be ruled?

To Snow's inquiry, the scribe muttered, so much so.

"That's a pretty sharp question. To conclude, you're right. I want someone to rule me, and at the same time I want to complain about that rule. The eternal life and full memory acquired by the Night Devils means their function as targets who will self-regenerate even if they throw stones without knowing the meaning of governance, but who will suffer eternal robbery by not forgetting about it"

"I don't know..."

"What's the matter, don't look floating"

"I've seen the prototypes of the Eleven Families of the Devil so far, but I'm going to hate mankind"

Snow snapped as he touched Coffin's surface with his palm.

Perhaps it was because of the male form of the prototype of the Night Devil, which resembled Yugadir very much.

They're going to laugh at the sentiment around Isma.

"I impersonated him, gave up, and distorted him to the end of giving him to create the humans of that role. And turning it down as evil, we locked ourselves in a cage of thought stops"

"Because that's what a lot of people -- everyone's true intentions -- meant.“ Connectors (Harnesses) "and“ Gardens (Gardens) "revealed them and tallied them together, collecting their little" Threads "one by one. Bloom Tide has happened at the end of it."

"But some humans didn't let go of their" will "to think, to fight reality!

Like Yugadir before giving in to "Ideal Home (Garden)" or the Ashlets.

To Snow's theory of power, the secretary nodded.

That's right.

"Yes, it happened when Bloom Tide was blown into the world and cognitive alterations were made and until then the worldview was replaced by this realm called Worlds End (Realm)"

"That?"

"The Birth of the Spindle Capable."

"The Birth of the Spindle Capable"

Yes, the clerk nodded again

"Those who resisted that humans tried to let go of the Will. Those who did not stop thinking. They will be caught up with the Bloom Tide and the people who made the cognitive alteration by it, as a result. It's also unconscious."

"Why? After all... persecuted?

To Snow's inquiry, the scribe laughs bitterly.

Shake your head and answer.

No, it's not.

"The other way around, Snow. The people who let go of The Will tried to save The Will." Will "was considered a disease, and he tried to cure it. Because it's painful to keep having the will. So we all decided to run away, and those of us who are willing won't be able to escape, and we're going to be exposed to that pain forever, right? Wouldn't it be pathetic not to be able to take advantage of the fact that the world already has an Ideal Home?

"I tried to save him. Because it's pathetic..."

Snow shuddered at the fact of the shock.

On the night when everything changed, the sight I saw and heard on the tower where I could see it and the words "Virgin of the Rebirth” came back to life.

Why can't you receive this salvation, why do you refuse my hand?

True, she said that, and she was actually carrying it.

Brilliant, peaceful, perennial “Ideal Home (Garden)" appearance as if it were a light back (Hallow).

"Because whoever" will "tries to spot it. the falsehood or falsehood of this world, that is, deception (gimmicks). Keep consciousness and memory even in the depths of the Closed Corridor. But what does it mean for the whole world to spot its deception (...) in a worldview that does not require" will "and has been revamped with it? Maybe it will only be recognized by the masses as madmen."

Snow breathes in the words of the secretary.

For once, I can't answer well.

I just know how horrible that is.

"He who discerns that there is no" will "in front of him... madman..."

"Anyone who can accurately describe the strangeness of the world can only say that from the multitude of people who believe that the world is right-- that is exactly what it is. He said he was being invaded by madness."

"That's how the world caught up with the willing."

"Yes. But one day, it happened. One of mankind who can transform the Will into Him. concurrently. That's the Spindle Capable Man.

It is what you call the hero - the hope of mankind.