The Demon King Seems to Conquer the World

By the time I was done with the job and back at Carol's, the night was already completely dawn.

"Yuri"

Carol, with her face up, seemed to be shaking in the cold.

My body was warming up because I kept walking, but Carol spent the night in the wind without burning a fire.

I guess I haven't slept one night.

I dropped the load I had.

It's not just the luggage you need, it's the luggage you carried as a weight.

Leaving both Carol and her luggage, I thought the rest of her legs would be unnatural because she would weigh less than half the weight, and I carried her away.

What's going on?

"There it is. About thirty minutes ago, there was a scream..."

"Right."

I couldn't move my mind surprisingly myself.

I'm taking the facts.

My hands aren't shaking anymore.

No signs of tremor, no drowsiness, and moderate loss of body power.

Excessive tension makes the nerves hypersensitive and causes the muscles to lose control.

My hands tremble because my nerves are invaded by exciting substances and my muscles move on their own.

In such a state, the idiotic power of the fire may come out, but the exquisite movement is lost.

Now, that's not true.

The body moves as freely as it thinks it is.

I don't know if it's because I've decided to be ready, but good.

"I'm sorry, but I'll borrow your share of the knife."

"... yeah"

"I'll leave the knife instead."

I gave Carol the knife I was using to cook.

The blade crossing is short, not a knife so well trained, but it would be enough for the degree of self-harm if it were.

………

Carol looked back questionably at me staring silently.

I tried to say something, but I can't find it.

"... bye"

In the end, I couldn't think of anything to say in particular, leaving only short words and waving gently.

"... yeah, good luck"

I walked away without answering.

From Carol's place, I walked a little while hiding the rest of my legs and I got to where I was sleeping yesterday.

Yesterday, I carried Carol from here, moved in a direction that wasn't there, and left Carol behind.

He then returned to his original place, carefully erasing the handmade potatoes with one hand and the rest of his legs with his hands.

So I walked back into the woods again.

They'll find where we slept last night.

So I unloaded my load, and I should know that I slept.

If you don't have any more legs left from it, you'll also find traces of it erased.

But apart from that, the remaining legs are stretched further ahead from the traces of the wild boarding house.

If so, I don't doubt it.

In reality, it seemed like a lot of legs were moving towards where I walked last night.

If I hadn't, Carol wouldn't have been safe earlier.

And I thought I'd replace the alarm last night, and I set one trap there.

Sneaking closer, the trap had traces of a catch.

First, a thin twisted string is stretched between the tree and the tree at a snake height.

The string seemed to have crossed.

Whether you were in a hurry or were afraid to hook your legs and activate the trap, you remain uncut.

But this string is really just strapped to the side, and even if you hook your leg, you just fall.

It was the hole beyond which this was crossed that was the main fate.

After digging lightly with a shovel, he stood up his arrowbutt, and a hole just with dead leaves on top of it, if he stepped on it, his arrowbutt would eat into the soles of Zackli's feet.

The first step in the big strand across the rope was extra snuggly, as the weight should be on it.

The holes made by the two had obvious traces of treading on one side and blood seeped into the soil.

After stepping on it, he fell on the spot, hitting harder, and I can see signs of a mess and roughing up the ground.

The other one was either detected before stepping on it or was gently dug back to remove the arrow butt.

Well, you'd be too stupid if you stepped on both of them.

Two holes were made because they could not cover both if the holes were crossed with one right foot and with the left foot.

So it is within the assumption that one is underdeveloped.

I didn't see the arrow butt of the one who didn't stab me, even throwing it there and disposing of it.

But the other arrow butt fell to the ground nearby, all covered in blood.

Wipe gently with a boro cloth and keep in storage for collection.

Then, more strings were recovered as well.

Looking after his legs again, he seemed to have lightly stopped the bleeding on the spot and walked with the injured person.

Even when it comes to hemostasis, I guess I just tied him tight.

They weren't complete, and traces of blood were making footprints like stamps.

Following that, I went further.

Walking a few hundred meters or so, there were people there.

I put my wounded leg down and followed him for a while, but I guess he ended up leaving me.

One man sat with his back to a tree.

From his right leg is bleeding, creating a blood buildup on the ground.

It's pretty impossible to walk down the road with an arrow wound on the back of your foot, even if it's stitched up tight.

Just tied up, still impotent.

Human blood pressure drops considerably if not a litre of blood spills.

If you bleed two liters, you'd be dead.

With the wound open on his leg, if he walked with a lot of blood, it would be quick for that much blood to spill.

Though I'm not dying, my consciousness should already be quite hazy.

He also has a much worse complexion.

"Hey, did they leave you?"

I approached him, speaking in Kra.

A man looks up, he looks at me.

I hide my ears and my clothes are on what I took from the Dragon Knight.

The design is different, but since it's the same Kra clothes, it won't look as heterogeneous as the Ciyalta ones.

You shouldn't feel so uncomfortable because it's a collection of a wider variety of armies than you used to.

If I were to feel it, it would be more in terms of my age of being too young.

The man was in a predicament and never doubted it, and he looked at me with a puff of glow on his face.

He's probably an old man like he was in his thirties.

I had a lot of mustaches.

"Oops... sorry but help me"

"Right. That's the role."

When I answered that, the man got upset again.

Get close to the man.

When I pull the knife out of my sheath,

"Hey, are you okay? Look me in the eye."

I said.

The moment a man raises his face, he inserts the blade into his throat.

The sharply sharpened blade of the famous knife pierced the throat of the man with little or no resistance.

"Ohh... kah"

The blade inserted lying down blocks the airway.

There were troubling circumstances when they screamed.

There is still a good chance that there will be more of them within reach of the shouts.

"............"

The man put his hand on the pattern of the sword.

But I can't pull out a man's sword.

Because I was holding the patterned head with my empty left hand and trying not to fall through the sword.

When I found out that the sword couldn't fall out, the man grabbed my arm and made the most of his resistance, but with more blood than he had lost, even suffocating, he didn't seem to have much power.

While I was doing so, the jitters were gone, and my breath stopped completely.

Then I waited another ten seconds and pulled out the short knife.

Even after my heart stopped, there was blood dripping out of the hole where I pulled out my short knife, whether it was accumulating in my throat.

But it doesn't blow up like a fountain.

In clothes with sticky blood paste and thick smooth leather, there is also a problem fighting.

I've made you feel painful, but I can't afford to be putting my thoughts into the way my enemies die.

Now I was right.

I feel a little sick as a corpse fisherman, but I caught a man's belongings just as quickly as I could.

First of all, the sword.

Shortcuts are more used to it, but you might want to use a sword.

I thought so, and I pulled the sword out of my sheath, and it was still, or a double-edged straight sword.

Except for the shorter length, neither thickness nor breadth were characteristic of this, ordinary swords.

If I were to dare classify it, would that mean a short sword?

I have been trained in daggers with the opposite, so I am not accustomed to straight swords or anything like that.

With little interest lost, I tried to use the ground to reverse the sword.

...... not contrary at all.

A giddy feel stroked his arm, as if layering the blade of a cutter knife.

The sword, cooked until it was red-hot, was bochanted down into the winter water and pulled up as it was and lightly grinded. Something like that.

In something like this, if you even take a blow from a rigid spear, it will pokey break so that the dead branch breaks.

I wasn't expecting much, but I didn't think to use this sword no matter how much.

Fish other luggage.

Besides the food, from bags like pouches wrapped around my belly, for some reason, iron cannon tools came.

Man, he doesn't have an iron cannon, and from what I've seen, he doesn't look like he's keeping it close.

The pouch was filled with bags filled with grains of lead and, apart from that, gunpowder, and there was even a flame rope in the flame rope bag that remained smoked.

A grain of lead is what you heat, melt, and bullet.

Instruments for bulleting grains of lead are, simply put, shaped like bakers, with cavities that make round bullets instead of the ones you want to bake.

Not as big as a scab, palm-sized ones are common.

The caliber of the cannon is not determined by common standards as to how many millimeters etc., so if you take 10,000 of what you make and distribute it to each soldier, that bullet may not get into the mouth of the cannon, or it may be too small to use.

So the cannon has a set of instruments that are pre-calibrated, and the soldier distributes lead grains, and each bullet melts and produces lead.

The lead dissolves at a temperature of a little over three hundred degrees, so the heat source is sufficient for incineration.

If you put a small ball-like instrument on fire, dissolve the lead grain, and pour it into the baker you want, the bullet will be finished.

The man, even with the grain of lead, did not have the baker that was the key.

That one is something that will always be handled on a set with a fire rope gun, so I guess I recovered it.

I don't need them because I have enough fire ropes and lead grains, and gunpowder left behind. Is it from the judgment that

The enemy has at least two cannons.

For a moment, I felt Zun and my heart get heavy.

Restore your mind immediately.

Not if it's getting dark.

Come to think of it, the fact that this guy has the tools to this point, this guy can be considered an archer.

Even if someone had an iron cannon in the form of a succession, he wouldn't be the original iron gunner.

Anyway, we got gunpowder.

Will it not be available somehow?

Gunpowder can only be used for artillery.

If you expose your skin to a handful of gunpowder, even if you just burn it, at close range, it will produce enough heat to expose you to heat and burn you.

Simply burned would be dazzling.

For a little while, think about it.

Would you have thought about it for about five minutes?

I thought, when I fished the man's luggage again, there was something in good condition.

It's a plate of copper.

Is it usually brushed abusively, scratched and floating to green and blue?

In the march, a plate of copper that can be made thin will be useful because it will crack with a plate of ceramics, and because it is thick and bulky with a plate of wood.

With this, I think I can make something somewhat useful.

I took a short walk through the surrounding woods and looked for a bigger stone.

On a short walk, a rock the size of a human head had a face on the ground.

I gave up using it, putting the sword the man had on the rock.

When I looked for another stone that would fit in one hand, I slapped my sword with it.

The sword, sandwiched in stone, was easily broken in two, pakings.

A few fragments, flying in momentum.

Even now, I realized it was very dangerous.

It would be tough if the fragments even got into your eyes.

I look into my clothes and it hurts.

I went back once where the man's body was, and taking off my clothes was resistant, so I retrieved the bag I was carrying, threw away all the contents, and stabbed my sword instead.

It's a sturdy cloth, so there won't be anything like pushing it through and scattering it.

Return to the stone, wrap your hands in a borough cloth, and continue the work.

He crushed his sword.

When it was almost over, I wrapped it in a bag full of holes and took it home.

Returning to the body, a broken sword patterned part was used to groove into the copper plate in a straight line.

Repeat several times to deepen the groove.

And lined up the fragments of the sword.

When you take a little powder out of the powder bag and sprinkle the bolo cloth with powder, use it as a ignition line and insert it into the powder bag.

I put that in the middle of the plate.

That's when I realized.

What about lead grains?

It could be like a shotgun.

I tried to put in the lead grain for about a grab and stopped thinking about it a little bit.

Let's just keep it a little.

If the mass is too large, the force may be dispersed too much, stopping with the skin instead of the meat.

Then the boulder makes no sense.

Finally, copper plates were cleaved and bent at the mercy of force, folded across the conductive wires, and made copper plate sandwiches of gunpowder, iron pieces and lead grains.

These explosives become more powerful when the contents are somewhat stronger.

It took a lot of time.

I hope it's worth the time.

We have to hurry.