Summoner of Miracles

--" Death ".

This is not so strange to poetry.

Not that poetry has experienced death, but that death is often with her.

In the beginning it was Father.

Poetry has never seen his father's face.

When Poetry was two years old, her father died in a car accident.

On that day, Father and Mother took Shinai, a family of three, to Mother's home for New Year's Eve, driving in a county in the northeast, but the car came from the opposite driveway on the old one-way road that stretched along the slope of the hill, and the big truck that didn't make the turn hit directly.

At that time, the trucker broke through the windshield and fell on the road, dying immediately.

The poem that was hit by a truck on the right side crossed the guardrail and fell below the hillside, before it stopped falling because it was blocked by two trees.

At this point, the driver's father, although seriously injured by an unknown consciousness, did not die immediately, his mother in the passenger seat was merely a broken left thigh, and the young poem was not desperate because the seat belt in the back seat of the baby was almost intact.

Unfortunately, on that infrequently used road, especially in the late hours of the night, even the telephone in the car was damaged by the impact until the car passing the old road the next morning noticed an accident.

But that's six hours from now.

In these six hours, Shi Nai's mother could only stand by and watch her body become cold due to internal bleeding, and eventually her father, who died as a result, eventually suffered a mental breakdown, and her mental age returned to her teens before she met her father.

At that time, poetry was the closest death to itself in life.

The second death from poetry was five years ago.

At that time, Mother and Poetry had long since left Tokyo to go back to their mother's home and live in the rustic countryside.

Fifteen years have passed since the accident, the insane mother may just think of poetry as her sister, but fortunately, she still loves poetry, she reads books and sings lullabies to her every night, so poetry is the mother in memory always looks like a vulnerable girl, so that poetry always tells herself from the beginning to be strong, to protect her mother.

For the poetry of the day, the outside world was filled with factors that disturbed the mother's peaceful life, making her head always think that she must protect her mother.

However, this idea eventually led to what is now poetry.

Poetry will never forget that day.

On that day, Poetry went to the post office with his mother, but he encountered a break-in bandit at the post office.

At the time, the bandit held a black star in his hand.

It was an imitation of the "Tokarev TT33", officially adopted by the Soviet Army in 1932, using a 30-calibre, 7.62-mm steel core bullet with a lot of gunpowder, the initial speed of the bullet can exceed the sound speed, possessing the most powerful penetration force of the pistol, but because of the excessive backseat force, in the 1950s the pistol was replaced by the Soviet Union with a miniaturized 9-mm "Makarov", the full name "Type 54 Black Star Pistol".

The prisoner held such a gun, shot a post office employee who tried to report it to the police and turned his anger around and pointed it at someone else.

Unfortunately, Poetry's mother was beside her, crushed by fear and ultimately screamed uncontrollably.

Hearing Mama scream, the poem rushed almost unconsciously, biting the prisoner's arm, snatching the other's pistol in the fight, and finally - "shooting each other".

Yes, it is.

This is death caused by poetry.

Even if, at that time, poetry led to such an action with a strong desire to protect the mother in a completely blank state of mind, poetry did pull the trigger against each other, over and over again, when the prisoner rushed angrily towards himself.

Afterwards, it was reported that the prisoner had died as a result of the gunfire.

As for Poetry, there were no traumatic injuries to the whole person other than two broken teeth, two wrist sprains, a back collision and a dislocation of the right shoulder.

These injuries were quickly healed.

However, there have also been injuries without the rule of law.

Since then, Poetry has seen guns throw up or faint, not even on TV, in comics, or even with a hand imitated pistol.

As soon as I saw the gun, the poem was like being able to see the man's face when he was murdered, seeing the other man with a bullet through his eyebrow, smiling at himself with blood, and opening his eyes.

In other words, poetry suffers from mental illness.

Post-traumatic stress syndrome.

This is the incurable wound of poetry.

Poetry didn't regret choosing to shoot at that time.

However, just as her body, heart and spirit were not under her control, it would be unbearable to see the gun and what was associated with it.

This gives poetry a kind of "no regrets" in its own mouth just to say the beautiful words of the crown palace. In fact, I have always regretted it and should never have felt like this in order to protect my mother.

Psychologists can only say things like "We understand you," but they can't let poetry go.

So poetry is what makes you want to be strong, to get the courage to say, "In that case, it's natural for me to do that."

In this case, Poetry accidentally encountered Kyouji and, under Kyouji's introduction, entered the GGO and was able to come into contact with the gun again.

Amazingly, perhaps the body in the world is virtual, or the feeling of touching a gun cannot be completely reproduced at long last. In this world, poetry, when touching a gun, not only does it not work, it also loves several types of firearms.

Since then, poetry has felt that if you become the strongest player in the world, you will become stronger in the real world.

“As long as I keep knocking down more powerful enemies than that bandit, touching more powerful guns than that black star, getting used to them, going beyond them, my experience in this world will surely become an inner and spiritual stiffener, so that I can be stronger than them in the real world. ”

With this idea in mind, poetry will be almost paranoid in pursuit of strong enemies, using anti-equipment sniper guns such as the Great Killer, to make their heart and spirit stronger, one day, affect themselves in the real world.

But now...

“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock...”

Poetry's heartbeat was accelerating like an unlimited amount, causing her to breathe fast, sweat directly, twitch all over her body, have a blank head, and be completely unable to herself.

This feeling is exactly the same as when you come into contact with a gun in the real world.

It's just that this time, poetry wasn't about touching a gun, it was about feeling a third death coming.

Do you have to face it again?

Do I have to die again after the first two?

But the first time, she was lucky not to die, let her father die, and the second time, she did everything she could to kill others, let herself survive, this time, who died?

Yourself?

Or is this the teenager who came to save himself?

If I could escape this death, would the teenager die in front of me?

Killed by yourself?

“No! Never! ”

So, fear rises and makes poetry cry.

“You... you go...! Let's go...! ”

Unfortunately, Luo Zhen did not listen. With only 12 o'clock left in his endurance, he raised the dagger in his hand and burst out more power than ever before, resolutely chopping it down.

“Bang!”

In the crisp sound, the dagger broke the chain.

“Boom!”

The durability of the broken chains is completely zeroed, dissipated as polygonal debris, and disappeared.

“Drop!”

And at this point, the countdown is -- "0: 02."

Luo Zhen did not hesitate to hold the poem directly.

Not long after...

“Boom boom -! ”

In the warehouse street, the explosion sounded so loud that the fire swept away for a long time.