Summoned Slaughterer

In the centre of Pursan, which proclaimed its independence from Vichy and turned from city to country, is Minoson's mansion, which changed its title from representative of the city to head of state.

The mansion is only a private residence and the government building is right in the neighborhood. He had breakfast at home every morning and it was customary for him to commute by carriage even at short distances. He has never been late since he became head of state, but only today he showed up through the front door a few minutes late.

The apprehensive waiter smiled for a moment at the appearance of his employer, who finally showed his face, but wolfed through apprehension at a face so faded that he could see it with one eye.

"Are you okay? Better get some rest today..."

"Oh, I can't afford that... You have to take responsibility for my choices..."

Minoson, supported by a samurai, finally boarded the carriage, was going to be distracted by the report he had read when he arrived at the government building.

The secretary who brought in the report also looks blue.

"Give me a detailed explanation…"

"Yes, from the old Vichy, as it stands, only three cities and the accompanying villages have joined us in the Pursan faction, half of which seem to bow down to Focalor and the rest to form a coalition to survive Vichy's regime"

"What's going on with the Central Committee"

"Only one person left to be respectful to Focalol. We have three left to keep the center, but we don't have much support from other city representatives to prioritize our city's defenses, and I was wondering if we could break it down as it is."

"Right..."

If it was just the war, the exchange of lives, Vichy might never have fallen apart so far, Minoson thinks.

I know it's a ridiculous story to say that I got out as soon as possible, but if it was just a war, it would have ended up being hand-to-hand at a time when we had somewhat shredded each other's fighting power, and it would have been more painful financially and laboriously to look at the losing, and desperate to rebuild for about a few years.

But not this time.

Minoson thinks the horror of a man named One, Two, Three lies in something different from his power of war.

After that battle, in which Vichy's coalition was lured into Orthon Grande territory and reduced to scatter, it can be said that the shredded territory was ruled fairly by one, two, three mentoring without even exploiting it, making it rather habitable for the majority of the inhabitants. I even heard that if I showed strength, I would be hired as a town mayor or civilian without even being removed from office as a representative of the city.

Now we will have no choice but to remember the question of what the inhabitants of Vichy's side were following the guidance of the Central Committee for. In fact, because of this, many cities have turned back to Focalor, and few of the cities left on Vichy's side have said that the people are against it, even if the delegates show a residual will.

"In other words, we lost both in battle and in politics. Sooner or later, the name Vichy might disappear..."

The secretary looked up at the potpourring words, but waved to me not to mind.

Now we have to think about protecting this country.

"Again, put up a messenger for Focarol. He wants us to save the crisis in this weak country, which has just given birth."

"Yes, sir."

If you can't help but isolate yourself geographically, but stay in Vichy and fight a complete war, this time you could be destroyed.

Minoson chose to endure the present and start behaving as a friendly country.

☺☻☺

In the Royal Castle of Orson Grande, the elimination of the prince faction was progressing, by a third cavalry residual group, mainly the captain. All the knights in the castle have replaced the knights belonging to the Third Knights, and even in the political arena the voice of the nobles belonging to the Prince has fallen to see.

The third knight captain, named Rotomago, was a man promoted by recognition of his achievements in intelligence warfare, such as intelligence, not martial arts medals. He is basically the type of person who doesn't show his face on a flashy stage, characterised by his thick eyelids and sleepy faceless appearance, which is not noticeable anyway.

Now he rarely went out on the scene and took command, but still rarely left the office.

That rottomago was now more watchful of Adore, the prime minister, than of the princess than of one, two, three.

The movement of the princess is also heavily related to the prime minister Adore. Although it brings together many nobles, its title and previous steadfast work are highly appreciated and play a major role in drawing nobility in rational persuasion.

There were rumours that the prime minister had recently been in a storage room in the castle at night, and Rotomago had also used his men to grasp that was true.

I didn't even know what that was for......

"... really, I guess there is such magic"

In a dim library, Chancellor Adore shrugged as he fished for magical-related records kept in the form of carving them into thin stone slabs.

"Yeah, sure. I have a summoning magic that the princess made a success of. You can even return it. There must be a record in the past."

I can hear what's wrong, voices that contain laughter, coming from behind the addle.

"... I didn't think the day would come when I was going to ride the evil spirit story"

"You don't listen well to evil spirits."

Only a blue-white face, wrapped in black mist, floats in front of the turned addle. That face with a nitanita and a pasted laugh, half of it wrapped in darkness.

"I told you I was a Reaper"

To the word of Reaper, Adore snorted in displeasure.

"The evil spirits name God and so forth. Then help me find you, too. If we keep going at this rate, we'll never know when we'll find it, even if we have a record."

"Unfortunately, you've only been able to resurrect to your face yet. You were the first to talk to me, weren't you? One, two, three, slaughtered me with that knife, and then I put a piece of my power on one, two, three, and put it on here, and finally I got my strength back this far."

Oh, boy, I frowned deliberately and shook my face.

"It's taking a long time to revive to name God."

"I shouldn't have that knife. Somehow, because it has God's protection of battle. Even I, the boulder, was about to perish. And..."

It changed from a smile to a pointy mouth and a teasing tone.

"It's something that doesn't use much of the dark magic power I gave you because of it, so you don't have much of a source of my power. Seems like it's just a convenient way to store things, and I won't be able to increase my presence for long."

It's troublesome, Reaper said.

"Existence..."

"Yeah, we gods gain the power to manifest ourselves in the world by being recognized in the form of being believed in or relied upon by people. So if you use the power I give you, that's all I get."

"Then wouldn't it be more convenient for His Holiness One, Two, Three to keep fighting in this world?

To Adore's question, Reaper rings his tongue "chitchat". I would have swung it to the side if I had my index finger.

"This is still a major god in the original world. The original world is much more cozy than this one, where the emergence of God himself is thin. To do this, we need to follow someone who will be sent back by return magic."

The interests will match, says Reaper, but Adore is convinced with a sinister face.

"Come on, let's do our best to find it and give the princess hope. If you're desperate, you've already made plans."

The despair in the name of the news of the death of Prince Aiperos had been stopped at the Chancellor's office.

☺☻☺

Arriving in Munster, the Focarol Army was divided into two parts after a night's rest.

It is a special task force led by Oliga to seize magic equipment and a main unit that drops a horrent from the front.

One, two, three will initially lead a special task force with Origa, but after the discovery of the magic equipment, he will go for the Royal Castle of Holland alone. The main unit is scheduled to invade the Holland from the front at daily intervals.

One, two, three and Oliga, led by 10 selected soldiers, set out for a relaxing Holland border in a trolley that modified the trolley.

The sky is blue and clear everywhere.

"Dear one, two, three, you've been blessed with beautiful weather"

"Oh, yeah"

In the warm sun, one, two, three, who sat tightly on the trolley, replies appropriately in a wandering manner.

On a trolley about the size of a light vehicle, in addition to one, two, three, the driver's soldiers are sympathetic. Two other trolleys also board, two of which are basically open except for weapons and food. To pile up magic equipment.

The trolley, which still has little luggage and no weight, gently travels down the street, making noises with the gutters.

Villages near the border have already passed, and we plan to reach the border fort in no time.

"When the border approaches, slow down. I'll come down and clear the way."

"Ha! I did!

The soldier, who managed to hear one, two or three voices disputed by the wind, replied out loud.

Not so much, dozens of soldiers stand on the front side of the fort, which has been visible in front of them. Some of the soldiers, who were temporarily led by the Second Knights, are providing security on their behalf, turning into the Border Guard, which was already wiped out once.

Beyond the fort, I'm guessing there's a Holland guard. It can be seen from a distance that the tingling air is flowing.

One, two, three, jumped off the trolley while driving, proceed to the two soldiers standing at the border.

"Thank you. I'll be right through. Oh, so are the guys behind you."

"Ah, yes. Go ahead."

The soldier, who apparently knew the face of one, two or three, paved the way in the face of tension.

"You don't have to be so nervous. They'll clean up soon."

I smiled as I pulled out my knife.

Looking at the end of the aisle of the fort, three Holland soldiers look at this one and put up their swords.

"Heh. Wouldn't you put a puppet in border security on a boulder?"

Crushing without telling anyone, the Horlant soldiers also finally showed their nervous faces to one, two, three, who lifted their swords to their right hand and came across the border shaking every bit.

"It's the Earl of Orson Grande, one, two, three. I need help with your king. I'll push through, if you want to die, just get out of my way."

As if to give time for choice, to one, two, three, who slowly walked, the Horlant soldier was baffled, but no one tried to escape.

"Excellent."

As soon as his distance from his opponent cut five meters, one, two, three, ran out so he could play, instantly ripping the neck of the three soldiers. Do not touch the bones at all, only cut off the soft throat meat nicely.

Waiting for one, two, three, who made a fountain of blood and slowly came out through it to the Holland side, was exactly what fifty Holland soldiers looked like.

"Ooh, nice to meet you. Besides, I'm glad I'm not a puppet. Now think. Run or die, one in two."

When a fifty year old soldier, thought to be the field manager, roared at the provocation of one, two, three, the soldiers arrived in unison, without order, formation, or measure.

"You're a bad guy."

One, two, three, smiled bitterly if the enemy allies were to be disturbed yet, but if the enemy arrived cluttered even though he was alone, the allies would be in the way. But he liked the guts that went into him without timidity, even though he was a soldier at the end, and he is in a superior mood.

Stay low and dive into the midst of the soldiers, off the center where the enemy is concentrated.

This alone has already left the majority of soldiers blind to their opponents.

Sliding loosely through a group of enemies, one, two, three, approached the man in charge as he was, clasped his neck without sound.

When the rear-tailed soldier turned in doubt to deafen his boss's voice, the body of his uncircumcised boss rolled on the ground and the appearance of an enemy that could not have been in front of him.

"Huh..."

I was about to scream, and one, two, three left hands grabbed my cheek, pulled down by all the thousand cuts, and stabbed me.

As it was, more than 10 people were killed by one, two or three hands and about 5 by each other when they poked and killed the crisp from behind the enemy group and all noticed an anomaly and spread out of the potato wash condition.

Though he besieges one, two, and three again, this time to the soldiers who are distant and unable to approach him, one, two, and three lay down their swords and slapped their hands.

"Hey, that was a hot, bitter fight inside. So, how does it feel to have killed an ally in a fanatical quote? Some of the guys at the center of the group would have felt a response to their weapons, wouldn't they?

Some unwittingly lay their eyes down at the words of one, two, three, full of mockery.

"All right, then..."

One, two, three removed a simple metal rod from the dark magic storage.

"Shall we continue?"

The only thing that was taken out was actually the stick part of the contract tree, which was broken when I was beating the tree up in a voluntary audition, but I decided to use it as a cane (jaw).

Of the soldiers who rushed to rebuild, those who responded the slowest were the first to sacrifice.

The cane, which was struck on the side of the head with the momentum twelve or three spinning overhead, crushed the skull with every simple helmet and killed the enemy instantly.

The swinging wand strikes and kills yet another soldier with the momentum to pull back.

"Well, if you don't fight back, they'll kill you unilaterally."

Around one's back, he puts a wand around his neck, back-to-back and throws it on his back.

The soldier, pulled up with his throat crushed, died with his neck around him.

They use just sticks that aren't even blades, and one opponent after another kills them, and the surviving soldiers are already on the run.

"Ugh..."

But fleeing the battlefield in the Holland will undoubtedly result in the death penalty.

Running or not, the result is the same. There's only a difference between dying now or getting caught later and tortured to death.

And there were those who watched from afar the Horrant soldiers who were slain one after the other.

These are the Origa and Focarol soldiers who have crossed the border following one, two, three.

"... don't you have to help?

One soldier put one wound on his mouth to a large number of passive situations, even though he had not sustained one wound, but he immediately regretted it.

Oliga's eyes turn to the soldiers once and for all.

"Do you mean to interrupt your pleasure? And I couldn't contain it. You want me to be reprimanded again?

"Yes, no... sorry..."

"Shut up and watch. And if you can, you learn one, two, three moves. He wants the inhabitants of this world to be more capable of fighting. Aim not to fight with him, but against him."

All the Focarol soldiers here are those who saw the battle of one, two, three in Rhone. Everyone thought it would be impossible to fight it against them when they said there was still a unilateral genocide going on in front of them.

At the end of Origa's gaze, which gazed at the soldiers like that, there was a figure of one, two, three waving their wands with delight and beating their enemies to death.