Tower of Karma

"Raphael? Stay out of my way."

"It doesn't work either. Only your troops stand out too much. The pile that leaves is struck. In ancient times, there are similar sayings in every country."

"Well, the real thing is till we get out to get slapped."

"Haha, you're the real one,"

Without waiting for the Lord's command, the swordsmen of Ostberg penetrate Raphael.

The opposing Raphael had no glance at them, and his prepared soldiers held back the swordsman.

"Oh?"

"... this is"

skill enough for the Swordsmen to admire. Whatever the difference between a long pattern and a sword, it doesn't matter what the difference is in the power transmitted by meeting. If they are a group that has elevated their swords to art, they are a group that has elevated their skill in dealing with weapons called Hulberto. There was an incompatible view of warriors on both sides, although it did not change that they were aiming to become stronger.

"Earlier many immatures were mixed up to get their heads in line. Not now. Excellent work I've prepared just for you. Still, the skill is good against the enemy. But I'll fill it with the difference in performance between the sword and Hulberto, as a weapon. Your devotion will be shackled."

Excellent weapon made Hulberto extremely good. Beautiful weapon, so I extremed my sword.

Why would you use a sword?

"... you don't understand."

I was fascinated by her beauty. I was fascinated by the sword, the mystery of her beauty. I guess Claude was the same. That's why he threw away his sword. Because I realized I couldn't win with a sword. On the contrary, he knew somewhere else it would be a battle.

I said that I - I never thought of that as a once.

"... throw away the interest on the horse?

Raphael descends his own horse.

"For once, I really wanted to get along with you and see it. Maybe I can beat you now."

Beatrice laughs with her nose.

"Have you ever beaten me before?

"No, I don't. But..."

Raphael has a distorted grin.

"Even you don't think you can beat Claude anymore, do you?

"... it's a relationship now -"

"I thought I could beat you."

A faint shake. Raphael doesn't miss it.

"Huh!?

His sword is the same reasonable sword as the other admirer. It is a sword that thoroughly pushes rationalization and responds to all battle stations in the shortest and fastest possible time. If that's still not enough, fill it in his unique way that doesn't have a prefix by human understanding like William or Alfred.

That was to create sway. A battle type that dares to punch, confuse, and poke its sway into a hand that deviates from the scope of the opponent's thoughts rather than the best. Regardless, it can also lead to taking risks. It's not the best hand. A high-risk way to fight that turns them into normal hands if they don't shake and bad hands as soon as they're reading. But if Raphael, an ordinary man, wants to go further, he has to take risks. He has no madness, such as judging people and knowing what's in them, and dropping it into the sword, and he doesn't even think of it.

So he usually takes risks. If it's someone in character. I didn't want to fight the superficials in the first place, and I was better at rooting them out so they wouldn't.

But if you're a Beatrix opponent, even if it's superior, you had a chance. Knowing her well makes it obvious what she rocks into, what she thinks, etc. I don't need to shake it with a sword. You can shake it with words. This is a battlefield, there is no chance of being liked anyway.

Well, then...

"Since when, when did you guys stop fighting when you were always fighting face to face?"

"So that doesn't matter now!

Interestingly rough sword. The person intends to let go of his temper, but the unmeshed force is just excessive motion.

Beautiful, elaborate, about finished beauty, collapses with just a little stain.

"From you? Or from him?

"He says it doesn't matter!

Shake each other. Raphael bites his inner teeth at the fact that the difference was so wide as a samurai. How wide is this difference between her and him? It would also be a hundred million to think. Real and fake, real beyond real. The three of them, who used to be equal, are now stuck in a distorted triangle, on the verge of collapse.

"Woohoo, each other,"

"Shut up!

More rough swords. The sway gets bigger. One more shake.

"To keep you from getting hurt. Not to hurt him."

"No! I just..."

"No, it's not. But I have no choice. 'Cause we're friends, right? Not a rival. I can't help but care.' Cause we're just friends!

"Shut up, Ye!

Maximum strength. To the shake, Rafael let go of the counter.

The Queen of Beautiful Swords is stripped of her 'skin' and stands flaunted with a peeled look. Raphael's counter was so perfect.

There's nothing I can do about it anymore.

"Master Beatrice!

of exfoliation before death. She broke pity.

○

Alfred had gathered all the information and overlooked the whole thing. I dare not wave my sword and just hit my bow from time to time because I don't miss even the slightest opportunity. Make your eyes look like plates and see the streets. Don't miss the sound and smell the slightest.

I was dropping my men's reports into the overall picture and exploring something.

And...

"Exactly! All right, now we're in the march, too. We'll decide once and for all!

I didn't miss a few flights.

A slight, flowing starch. That's - a testament to the limited functioning of the head.

In other words, it was proof left that Cress was doing his job.

○

"… move location"

"But the order hasn't come back yet,"

"You can't wait. You won't make it."

That's what Angelum said. He moved his troops. Now 10% of our allies, 20% of us will be in constant contact with the main force if we do poorly. This is because the most primitive means of transmission is created by making it the biggest key supporting Angelm's flow.

Unilateral orders by decree. The transmission is communicated by the main unit at the point where the order is communicated and when it returns. It appears to be in constant motion, but releases it again while retrieving its fruitful returned transmission, and moves it to retrieve it at another point. I was repeating that and communicating the order to the whole thing.

By turning a significant number to the transmission, including backups, it had succeeded in making the virtual image appear larger than the real number, and furthermore the main force had been unable to capture it.

This also required a corresponding level of proficiency and experience on the part of the recipient of the order. When receiving orders, they may be captured in combat. Undo the combat state, create a temporarily safe state, and receive orders. We have to do that naturally.

This flux exerts great power in mountain warfare over careful downsearches, special but offensive in cities like this battlefield. It cannot be built unless the head is good and the hands and feet are good and obedient, but once it can be assembled and turned, it will be difficult to break.

It is precisely Angelm-filled measures that make the aerospace theory on the desk a reality.

But only one pawn drove everything crazy.

○

"All right, that's close."

The preaching order we captured earlier was blind, and only in that it was here did Cres come to an answer. Flashing and theoretical construction. Previously, he would have moved just by flashing. There was a gap that went in there, but now he was holding the brake back indefinitely by flashing builds the theory ahead and fleshing the flashes.

Reasoning hasn't reached the realm of Valdovino and the others.

If the two were in full operation in action, he would now be endlessly close to the apex. Now there is no means or place to compare it.

"Leave him alone. I don't think you know anything, and you're not gonna leave the one you know behind. I'm tightening up. I'm wasting my time. More, more, chop it up..."

Everyone moves out with one of the things you wave at. Questions, concerns, the risk of leaving this man alone, everything scratched out with one of Cress's orders.

If he says so, so be it.

(Woohoo, depositing it on this back, it's comfortable)

But he said it was dangerous. If you are the one who stands above you, you should still have doubts. You must not keep everything.

It creates regret, I said.

(It's not easy. Against this gravitational pull, that's the great power, it takes the will)

Running herds.

With amazing intuition, he breaks through enemy measures and runs through the shortest with minimal damage. As if everything was clear, as if the whole thing was visible, he gives instructions.

Strakles decided that Kimon was enough to entrust the next generation. I bumped into him with the white knight of the period when the fat rode. I carved his name as a defeater in history, but if he had been born a little sooner, after knowing so much about 'what if' and so on in history.

If it had been the same generation as William and others in the true sense, perhaps the fourth giant star would have blinked in heaven. It's a pointless assumption, and it's only with that defeat and the regrets that he's had since...

"A few rides to the stop. Dive, it's your ass!

The moment he turns around the corner, Kres dodges as he sweeps an attack by a cavalry that was hidden in the shadows, the black steel he was packing behind, the heavy-duty cavalry slamming him against the wall with each helmet, crushing the enemy soldiers, making his way.

"You've finally met me."

And...

"Brilliant. Eving der Ostberg"

Finally, Kress and the others came as far as to see Angelm. Regardless, Angelm and I will not intercept you helplessly. Soldiers holding back behind are sharp, and soldiers who seem relatively weak are not usually proficient in crossbows or anything else.

Still - I found it.

"I'm just a cress. I've lost all my credentials for spitting resentment on you guys. Me and you, ghosts, we don't need it in the new era."

Kress carried it this far.

I just don't know if he could have gotten this far if he was focused on the battle. He didn't use it at the end anyway. The poison that broke the black sheep's kimon, an unethical technique similar to that. They were not used until irrational.

So Kress understood. This is an unlimited state of close proximity to actual battle, but it is not that extreme state in which the nations decide between female males. Something close to war, something he gets after experiencing war and losing is not that much.

That's why Cress...

"I found you, Angelm von Kruger!

Turning around, there was one young man who ran the horse and ran out before anyone else, before the order. As reckless, impotent, foolish, barbaric, and all the words that came to mind as a whole were to be punched out of my mind later, whoo-hoo, and Kress remembered the admiration.

"Cover that fool. Don't die."

"I know!

Heavy mounted cavalry piercing off course to scatter enemy archers. Behind it, a cavalry that can also use a bow has set a target for not crushing a deadly blow.

"... whether its diligence is genuine. Let's find out. Fire."

Arrows pour down at Angelm's command.

"Knock."

While receiving it with a shield, the horse also receives a bow in the heavily equipped gap, injuring himself in the same way. Why have I penetrated without waiting for orders? Why do I remember so much anger?

('Cause you're a Gunter? But I only know Master Kimon on the story. It's quite an angry story, but still would it have been enough to be so impotent? Woohoo, and it hurts. This is the pain in action, this is the battlefield -)

It can't be fatal, but it hurts if a chunk of iron sticks up wherever it is. The more likely I was to throw it out, the more painful the real pain I would take on the battlefield was. So much so that my longing for the battlefield scratches off, this pain has no romance shards either. (i) It is the pain of a soldier.

"Wow, wow, wow!"

Still, Palomides ran. Horseback riding also echoes and hisses. I guess his readiness propagated. Riding horses to good knights is loyal. His readiness gave horseback riding the readiness to die.

Still, the arrows poured ruthlessly, and at last the horse collapsed.

But Palomides von Gunter doesn't stop.

(That's right. I can't forgive this view more than anything else. Whatever the reason, I can't forgive this view of grief and pain for the people of my country!

Smoke, blood, and screams that destroy Arcas' routine.

"I'm Palomides von Gunter."

The face of a loved one comes to mind. The world surrounds them floats. Yes, this is Arcas, king's capital of Arcadia, my country. Here's the thing to protect.

"Arcadia knights!

The pain left everything behind, and Palomides ran. Born in the land of Ostberg swallowed by a nation called Arcadia, planted with various knowledge by the adults, also tied to a house called Gunter, he has lived.

When I threw away all the decorations I said that, all I had left was a small little world. I don't even spare my life to protect it. I will not condone anything that hates it.

A brilliant glimmer of light from behind it. Standing on horseback riding in Angelm. That's Cress's sword. Cress, who threw it, was smiling. Losing his horseback and descending into the land, he grinned the same way again, but when he had laid his sword, it had been lost.

"Can you take charge of your country?!?

Angelm releases his sword from his abode. Palomides is cut from the top.

"No questions asked!

I don't care about the country or anything. You burned the world to protect. So I say no. A haughty blow with simple thoughts crushed Angelm's sword.

"... at all, the paralysis in this hand is unpleasant"

I cut off Angelm, the knight of malice, as it were.

"… cause and effect, tour, or"

Angelm had already died as a samurai. Fighting with the after-effects of Leno's defeat, on the contrary, could not have been done at the time without someone's support, even in everyday life. Things have been going well over the past few years and I can do my daily life alone, but still not enough to stand on the battlefield as a samurai.

Still, the last time we were together, we had a little response.

Grasping that remnant lightly smashed, Angelm smiles.

(Would I have won if I had been full? Woohoo, did such a heart exist for me, too? A little faster, yes, then, if I'd bumped into that guy as much as I wanted, I'd be damned, really ugly. Such an excuse, something to carry the business can't be better)

In the middle of a collapse, the last word spilled from him...

"... excuse me for this. But even if I perish, malice will not perish."

It was a line that served the given role.

"... then every time I take it down"

The beast of malice left the world by mentioning his advice and ale to a new era.

○

For a moment Gregor turned his gaze in a certain direction. It was only a flash of finesse, but my men, who ran through the battlefield together, find it visibly.

Often silent. Gregor opens his mouth, wondering if his compassion made him uncomfortable.

"... contrasted from what to what, but oh yeah, I guess, he was my best friend, I think. I don't know what he thought."

"... has Master Angelum fallen"

"He was an excellent man. I thought he was more awesome than a surprisingly clumsy Gilberto. For once, I've really bumped into him with half a light mouth. I'm so jealous of you. That's when he said this with a bitter smile. I envy you."

"... what did it mean"

"I don't know either. I don't know, but he was a man who felt the shadow of saying that from time to time. I thought it was cool to say that, but maybe, just a little, it was different from people. Just a little bit. But one day the shadow disappeared into the border. Ever since I met that guy."

Gregor was staring far away.

"Encounter and serve someone you admire so much that your life changes. It's something I couldn't do. He would have wanted it too. I served as a shadow, you know, Angelum."

Thoughts on scattered comrades.