Summoner of Miracles

The clock is so close that the start of the BoB tournament arrives little by little.

And just as Rosen soothed Yasna and others, in a café in Tokyo, poetry similarly held a cup of coffee and looked out the window at the often pedestrian, who could see God without realizing it.

“Asada... Asada... Asada...! ”

I don't know how long it took for such a voice to come into the ears of poetry.

“Ah!”

Poetry is the only way back to God, looking across from him.

There, Kyouji sat helplessly.

“What are you thinking? Ashida? ”

Kyouji looked at the poem and his eyes were full of worry.

“I'm not thinking about anything! ”

Poetry smiled very reluctantly at Kyouji and denied it, but made Kyouji's worries worse.

“Since I asked you out, you've lost your reaction several times along the way, just like that, all of a sudden you look out the window, not like you normally do.” Kyouji looked at Poetry with hesitation and finally said: “What happened? If you need my help, just let me know. ”

Kyouji, the poems are as close and gentle as ever.

This made Poetry blame himself in the dark in his heart, actually so abnormal, Kyouji worried.

In fact, poetry also knows that there is something very wrong with the way I am right now, not at all like my usual self, so simple, so not so close to human feelings.

But poetry is out of control.

Yesterday's dialogue reappeared in my mind.

“If you don't kill me, it's my turn to be killed, even the one next to me. ”

The teenager made such a declaration directly to himself.

“So I had to kill, and I had to kill anyway, and even if I did it again, I would still choose. ”

The words, which caused a huge wave in Poetry's heart, never calmed down.

Because, in this way, poetry is a resonance in the heart.

That's what poetry thinks.

Why didn't I try it this way?

The result is the present self, a young girl who must struggle constantly to overcome the greatest weaknesses in her heart.

But poetry is exactly the same as Ro's.

Even if we knew it would come to this, and let poetry be chosen once more, poetry would still be chosen that way.

The reason is simple.

Otherwise, it would be my turn to be killed, even the one next to me...

So, besides having to kill, like Luo Zhen, is there a second option?

No, I don't think so.

So poetry doesn't regret making that choice at all.

It's just a little, really just a little...

If only someone could understand...

Poetry couldn't help but think about it a few times.

Although, over the years, a lot of people have said to poetry, "I know, it must be painful, it's hard for you", poetry is repetitive in your heart as you listen.

“Have you ever killed anyone? ”

If not, what makes you think you understand?

This makes it difficult for poetry to trust a person to remain so isolated.

And now...

If it's him...

If it was the teenager who said something that resonated with him, you'd understand, right?

Understand how painful I really am.

That's why Poetry couldn't help but catch up with the teenager and talk to him.

No, even now, Poetry wants to talk to that teenager again.

Want to ask him, if he has never regretted it and would have chosen to do it again, how on earth could he have kept himself, unlike himself, with such a humiliating weakness?

Is it because he's strong?

Must be, huh?

It was because he was so strong that he was able to overcome such a thing and to remain so calm and calm even in the land of death.

Well, here comes the problem.

How the hell am I supposed to be as strong as him?

Poetry is constantly thinking about such a problem that it only faints so many times today.

What the hell...

Poetry was once again inevitably so amazing that he didn't find it. Kyouji, sitting opposite him, looked at himself with increasing apprehension.

Under such apprehension, Kyouji's eyes still show distressing emotions.

I can't help it.

“... is it because of that person that Ashida became so strange? ”

Kyouji asked this question in a low voice.

“What... what? ”

Sinathon was slightly flashed.

Seeing such a poem, Kyouji's eyes became even more painful.

“I'm actually a little worried.” Kyouji said in a disappointing tone: “Because Ashida is different than usual, it gives me the feeling that you can always go far away. ”

These words make poetry seem a little uncomfortable.

Because this is no longer a conversation between friends.

Poetry feels that Kyouji is now craving not as a friend, but as a relationship.

This makes poetry somewhat uncomfortable.

At the moment, poetry can only be spread.

“Where can I go? Isn't it still here? ”

Poetry already feels a little confused.

Instead, Kyouji looked at her and her eyes began to burn.

“I just want Ashida to be who she was.” Kyouji's voice seemed to carry the same heat: “Or the one who was always ruthless and transcendent, not shaken by anything, very strong. ”

“Is it... is it?” Poetry had to look away, "he said.“ Perhaps that's just a mistake. I'm not strong at all. ”

Speaking of which, the tone of poetry has also become depressed.

“You know that, don't you?” Poetry is a low voice: “I have a fatal weakness that cannot be described as strong, and as long as that weakness remains, I will always be just the one who lived in the past. ”

Poetry is hard to reveal.

However, this was in exchange for Kyouji becoming more enthusiastic.

“But Ashida's classmates in the game are different.” Kyouji was anxious to say: “The player in the game can freely manipulate powerful weapons, and he is still such a powerful sniper, obviously I led you to play the GGO game, but you have unwittingly surpassed me completely. Even when I persuaded you to assign the ability value to AGI (agile), he did not fully listen to my old player's advice. Instead, according to his actual situation, he raised STR (muscle strength) with foresight. ”

Such poetry is already one of the strongest players in GGO.

At least, in snipers, players stronger than poetry don't exist.

“I think that's what Ashida really looks like. ”

Kyouji's voice and vision are getting hotter and hotter.

“That ruthless sniper was the real Ashida classmate, and I've always believed that. ”

Rumor has it that poetry is a gentle drop of the curtain.