Summoned Slaughterer

Surrounded by refreshing morning sunshine, a group of thin dirt was tucked out of hand. Those who came out of the slam in response to the call of Bifron.

The effect of Bifron's call, whose strength was recognized in the slums, and Torquemada's corpse exposed as evidence, has been elevated, with less than 150 people coming out of the slums to the city through garbage streets. There are many men, but almost all the women and children were out. You have no power or will to defy your lord.

Bifron and his crew, who ran around the slam all night long, were exhausted, but given what happens next, they can't even feel nervous and drowsy.

"Good morning!

A pleasant greeting flew to where we were deliberately and anxiously discussing it.

When Bifron sees him, the girl walks in with a smile as she waves. Behind it are all men and women dressed as officials and several soldiers.

"My uncles are the ones who get out of the slums, right?

"Oh, oh."

"I'm Alyssa, the city's secretary of military affairs. One, two, three told me to accept my uncles, so the men are this way, the women are this way, and the mothers with children are this way with their children."

A man came in from behind Bifron as he tried to point his finger at Kym and Origa, who are in charge, and move on.

"I don't care what kind of joke a little kid like you tells me to do. It's not funny! Because we're slum people, that's not what I'm talking about!

Even when one, two, three killed Torquemada, he was the first man to raise his voice and soar.

"What, but..."

"I spared Mr. Bifron's face, but he came out pretty hard. There's no sardine that goes along with the kid's game!

Stuffed and as Alyssa looked mostly behind her, she caught sight of an arm-wrapped, royal Origa nodding.

"Ugh...... Yikes!

To the pressure of Origa's gaze, Alyssa, who decided to swing it out, was a pickel-shaped tool called a flying mouth.

For meditating his eyes and shaking them out, the pointy tip of the flying mouth pierced precisely the center of his brain.

"Thus"

Oliga lines up in Alyssa and speaks slowly to frightened residents.

"We will dispose of those who defy the will of our Lord, One, Two, Three. I'm not going to hold any extra baggage, so I'm going to. If you know what I mean, just do as I was told."

In an unsaid atmosphere, even Bifron silently headed to the place where the men had been gathered.

"Alyssa, well done. You don't have to listen to him."

"Is it really good..."

Origa smiles gently at Alyssa, who still doesn't look confident.

"You're confident. One, two, three enemies have been destroyed."

"Oh, right!

It creates a soothing air, but the gaze it gathers contains fear.

There, now one, two, three walked to relax.

"Oh, you're already talking."

It's too late, my lord.

Mukale, who was coming about Alyssa, says, one, two, three yawns loudly.

"I was talking to Pulfras last night and it was exciting and late. Don't stare at me like I'm a sleeper."

It wasn't the sleeper's fault that Mukale's eyes were tight, it was about the weapons Alyssa had and the response to the slum residents, but he gave up that it wouldn't make sense to say.

"Dear one, two, three, leave this to us."

"Oh, I left it to you. Well, I'll clean up the rest, Alyssa, and I'm gonna need you to drop me some last resort in the evening."

"Okay!

Those are the lords, the slum-dwellers who talk to each other orally, but when Alyssa slapped her hand and drew attention and instructed again, the shittiness and everyone left moved.

"Oliga, the men, as planned, help Pulfras. The women help the staff. Kids, you're the one educating them."

"Yes, I did. One, two, three, take care."

Waving lightly at Oliga, who bows elegantly, one, two, three went down the road to the slum.

"One, two, three, what were you talking to Mr. Pulfras about?

"We're talking about new weapons and tools of war."

"What?"

Oliga responded instantly to a question that Alyssa grumbled about.

"He said he was in a hurry to build the weapon he was going to use, and he was talking about preparing for war to create and lay it as a job for slum-dwellers."

I was Alyssa, who was acting with me from the beginning of the morning and wondered why I knew, but I had a bad feeling and stopped going in and asking any more.

As Origa knew for some reason, the dark magic storage of one, two, three had thrown in some new weapons.

It was one of those things that I took out as I walked through the garbage path.

Three iron bars of about three feet, a so-called "three-knuckle stick" chained together. I also considered a proposal to attach a gimmick that would be a single stick, but I was sad that the contract tree with the trick was lightly broken as well, so I had it made simple this time. It is made of metal to increase the killing power and sharpen both ends.

Walk the dirty path of the urchin and slum as you enter the slum with a mixed nose and narrow your eyes to the brilliant morning sun as you explore the signs.

Two, he stood in front of one old house and struck out the door with one forward kick.

Stepping in, my bearded grandfather is sleeping in the dark, full of the smell of alcohol.

"Oh, what?

One, two, three, shoved the tip of the three-knot stick into his grandfather's throat, blinking his eyes, whether he was drunk or sleeping.

"Geez."

My grandfather died when I heard things that didn't sound or speak.

One, two, three, which hit the neck bone but confirmed that the tip of the stick was not crushed, head to the next house satisfactorily.

I similarly disposed of some of them while checking the comfort of using the three-knuckle stick, and I could see the men on the road. Noticing the appearance of one, two, three, they shouted with their weapons slowly.

"You're the kid who's missing us or something!

"What are you going to do with a weird bar-cut swing!

When I think it looks like a country defect, puffy, laughter leaks out of my mouth.

"Lord. You don't have to remember."

The number of people is 8.

Running over to the first guy to speak in the middle, one, two, three slammed a three-knuckle stick swinging like a golf swing into his groin.

Guchari and something crumble, and the man dies of shock.

"Hih..."

The man I witnessed next door screamed. His hips pulled and his face was out front, so he stuck the tip of his hand against his eyeball.

Let go of the three-knot stick as it is and take the ten hands out of your nostalgia. Instead of the crossed type, it has the shape of an iron rod about a foot long, like the concentricity of the Edo period had. It was a shame that one, two, three didn't have a room because there was just no good ingredient.

Threaten the guy closest to you by poking the ten hands in order with your right hand.

"Oh, what with such a short stick..."

While I was saying it, I was punched in the knee plate with 10 hands, and my neck was broken where I fell without even screaming.

A sword looms from the side, but he hooks it with ten hands and deviates, striking his chest like a hammer with his left fist.

A dull vibration sounded and the man who dropped his sword sank powerless.

To the guy who lagged behind in fear, he flew one and approached him and stabbed him in the left eye with ten hands, punching the pattern with his left hand and pushing it in enough to jump out of the back of his head.

"Three more?"

"Ma, wait! I went against this... Hino!

"Oh, come on."

Approaching the frightened man with his bare hands, one, two, three took his opponent's arm and pulled him down to the depression, stomping his back of his head mightily.

I let go of the man's hand who was crushed in the face on hard ground and stopped moving, and the next thing I took out was my favorite clam.

"Chi, motherfucker!

"Who the fuck is that?"

The man who had been slashed by a rash let him fall on his feet as he shifted from his standing position, and the man who fell ignored him. Put your sword up and push it down to cling to the other who is hesitant.

"Guh."

At the moment of the fall, at one, two, three weights, the sickle enters the heart, desperate.

I see one, two, three, dyeing my face red with return blood and slowly getting up, and the man who was tumbled can't even get up anymore.

"Ugh..."

Slowly approaching one, two, three, with a bloody wet sickle in his throat, his body shuddering with fear will not move.

When I swung through to mow the grass, Zach, one of the last ones died.

"Hmm..."

Picking up the weapon you let go, making sure in turn.

"Ahhh, bending over"

The ten hands pierced through the orbit and thrust through the skull, wiping the creepy brains with a pocket and taking a closer look, had bent to just a little "kuno" because of the shock when I hit them.

"I did it... I was going to test it, and this kind of thing happened"

Twenty-three, who just wiped up the weapon they used and threw it into storage, went back to the city once they were hungry to buy and eat in the right stalls before returning to the slums, where they finished about 30 more people as they walked their way through the evening.

Most of them were bouncing young men who seemed confident in their arms, but no one or he could scratch one on one, two, three.

Besides the ten broken hands, while he continues his murder walk in blood, he also tries several times, and the basic knife also does so pale as if it were a regular archery menu, from the eight-phase, poking basics, to tibial slashing and shaving.

It was time to end up around the entire slam, and one, two, three, felt a strong killing spirit, gently slipped aside just one step.

A wind-cut noise passed by and an arrow stabbed the back splash house.

Turning around, there's a man with the next arrow toward us. He is a giant man that will be 2m tall, squeezing his big bow tightly.

One, two, three, who was delighted by the unintentional blow, spilled a grin and pulled out the knife.

"Looks like you're the last. He's got a big figure, but the bow isn't the only one who can do it, is it?

He doesn't come on the provocation of looking at the stick the man raised on his hips, and the second shot goes for one, two, three.

One, two, and three held the knife backwards, and stood his body halfway up so that his body overlapped behind the knife. A long time ago my master taught me how to stand against ancient swordsmanship arrows. I've never used it in action before.

(They limit the range to hit, pay with a knife and drop it...)

One, two, three consciously loosened the force of his arm when he actually tried it.

When I heard a hum and waved the knife with intuition, the broken arrow fell to my feet.

"What!?

You didn't think they'd slap you down the arrow, you're opening your eyes without even taking the next arrow.

One, two, and three, stuffed with distance in between, slashed the knife, which remained in his reverse hand, to be imprinted from under his crotch, but the man rolled and dodged as he threw the bow.

In the meantime, he was a happy opponent for one, two, three as he grabbed a wooden stick about a meter that he was raising on his hips and stood guarded.

"Like, like. Unlike other bonkers."

"... the monster"

The man has a bitter face, whereas he switches swords in turn and laughs karakularly one, two, three.

"I've worked very hard. I'm a normal person."

When I asked 10 people who knew one, two, three, 15 people said something they were going to deny.

The man comes down the stick silently, but one, two, three, goes down and down unmindfully to avoid it.

"No kidding!

Where the man swung over the large upper section, one, two, three dived under the other's belly and fell from his head, bearing it straight on his hips.

There was a blunt sound, but the man still gets up flirtatious.

"You're a tough guy."

"Strange move..."

The man put up his stick again as he roared his neck with a reddish face.

"The bow was so-so, but the way you swing the stick is monotonous and boring. Anything else?

"Ugh!

One, two, three were beginning to get tired of a man who was approaching with fierce momentum that he didn't like to affirm either.

So I remembered that there were other things I had made available to the pull flask, and I took them out of storage and sprinkled them at my feet.

"No!? Guh!"

Thoughtfully stepped on a small metal full of projections similar to the fruit of the rhombus, the man couldn't help but remove the stick and roll.

"Can't you stand boulders?"

Standing beside an extinguishing man while avoiding a slightly over-rolled iron rhombus, one, two, three stabs him in the heart with a knife and kills him.

"I've never used it before, but it might be good once in a while. The tension is shredded, though."

Pick up the scattered iron rhombus and collect it.

"... collection is a pain in the ass"

When he threw the iron rhombus he had picked up into the dark magic storage, he realized that he should have recovered it by drilling a hole directly into the ground, as he had done in Rhone. One, two, three returned to the Lordship Hall with grief.

Thus, the slums of the city of Focarol, which had been a prolonged sweep since history, were deserted in only one day.

The city of Focarol changed rapidly by Origa and five slave civilians who made the best use of the workforce they could recover from the slums.

The rails of the trolley have already extended the round-trip route to Alosale by the workforce from the slums, and experimental operations with people and things on board have also begun.

The exterior walls of the city were also strengthened, both the Wang Du side and the Arosale side renovated the gates and changed from what was a Skasca lattice to an iron plate gateway.

The slum-out women were also initially treated cold by the city's inhabitants, but were generally being accepted as they engaged in cleaning the city and collecting household waste.

Lords 123, who only made proper drafts of these kinds of undertakings and threw them round to the Civilians, were to the extent of occasionally confirming progress, and Alyssa was not as close to political relations as possible in a "not sure" word, reducing the number of people out of the leadership to help, and was busily killed with Mukale by training for battles under the direction of one, two, three.

Nature and the form in which Origa assigns work upon instructions from one, two, three have settled, and some residents mistake Origa for the wife of a lord or think the lord is a woman.

One, two, three, himself, it had become routine to simply sign the minimum settlement documents, basically ending his morning audition and leaving at some point wondering if he was taking a bath in the water.

Even today, one, two, three had disappeared from the office when he went to play in the name of commissioning a trolley that reached Alosale, and then said he was going to exorcise demons along the street.

"Are you still away today?"

Kym, the notorious civilian slave of “Ironhide” among the officials, looked at Kasha, who was in one, two or three clerks' offices as a voicemail, and muttered with no expression.

"Is that Mr. Kym? When Atashi came to this room, it was just time for you to leave."

"Will it help if you hold back a little?"

"Don't be impotent."

Kym, who had been watching Kasha for a while with the face that she had never laughed or cried, left the office silently.

It was Oliga who came in to replace me.

"Oh..."

Origa, realizing that the indoor was only Kasha, tried to leave the room as it was, but Kasha called out and pulled back.

"Oliga, if you need anything from me, I'll ask you."

Oliga, who stopped her leg, stares at Kasha. The face looked like it was holding onto something I wanted to say, unlike Kym.

"... no. One, two, three, when you get home, I'll tell you directly."

So Oliga, who tried to leave the room, stopped again.

"Kasha, you're an escort, even if it's just in your name, so why don't you train a little? Information from the scouts suggests that a massive battle with Vichy is expected soon, so meet with Alyssa to take part in the training on how the leadership will move."

Spit out what you want to say at once, and then Origa just leaves.

"Battle..."

A small piece of magic is in the pouch that Kasha lowered to her waist.

It's a simple thing to crack another pair when you tap it, but it's a pretty expensive emergency communication tool.

The request from Pajo is to be broken when one, two, three are seriously injured and in a critical situation, and Pajo is to be informed. For once, it is assumed that the apparent reason for being pursued is to rush to a crisis of one, two or three, but in fact, it was obvious that it was due to the intention of the princess and Pajo to assassinate one, two or three in Gotagota during the battle.

When you're in a situation where you use this, will only one, two, three die?

For a long time, Kasha was staring at the door where Origa had left.