Tower of Karma

Raphael remembered. About the day that man threw away his sword.

"Neither he nor I were, catching up with her. I was polishing my sword to get over it. But you must have noticed one day. He threw away his sword and brought his spear. Spears I've never used. As long as I use my sword, I can never beat her, so she wants to go on a different path than the one I admire, but she wants to go up there."

"The admirer... that's a stupid question"

"Oh. The White Knight was a swordsman. I had a pretty strong obsession with him, too, but I guess I still thought Beatrix couldn't beat a woman. I know you didn't spill it back then, but you didn't tell anyone."

Raphael looks far away. I'm sure she'll be meeting that man.

New determination. Now if you have turned your sword as a challenger, then surely her sword will reach a new stage.

"She's Osvalt's girl, and she's the only one allowed to hold the sword. History, not a single one. That's all so special. Not even that Osvalt."

"... that's exactly what you know"

"I guess it was my first love. I made a lot of noise. But the only thing in her eyes is the strong, no matter where they go. Now there's just one, Claude von Lewis,"

Crushed scattered first love. Now - I'm convinced.

I just kept on burning at opponents I couldn't beat. He kept drilling to get beyond, though he was in a hurry by an unbeatable opponent. There is no point in drilling with inertia. It would be a meaningful drill to have a vision to go beyond and do your best toward it.

She was being chased, and if she realized it, she was on the side of the chase. Without being able to admit it, she flirted again. If it's going to change today, if it's going to change today, it's not going to change for the rest of my life. There is no vertex before the pointless drill continues with inertia.

Claude is greedy. No, they had all been bought, including Mary, showing intense passion and obsession with just living. A feeling we don't have. Their backbone is their passion to survive and crawl up anything.

It's difficult to be chased, but it's also difficult to follow. Because they will strive as a matter of course and do their best as a matter of course. They know. Just live, the height of that hurdle. Good luck living and pointing up.

That's why they're doing everything they can. If you're going after that back, you still have to die. I bet everything, I burn my life, and if I'm not ready to reach out, I just burn.

"Claude is strong. I want strength no matter what, because I wanted to protect those who weren't there anymore to protect us. Because we were born with a bad diet at the bottom. Take anything in."

"... I'd love to hear you say that. Now that's why I'm interested."

"It's not a very beautiful story."

"I have to pick up one thing at a time that I didn't turn to. I tried to be a loser. Okay. I, apparently, hate to lose. I don't want to end up losing."

Raphael's eyes were already on their way tomorrow.

"I think it's good. That's how the synchronized world comes to life."

"... Seven Lights, though"

"Only Mr. Rafael thinks so."

Raphael laughed again when he saw Mary. Now I'm still a loser, and I still don't know tomorrow. One, two, ten, twenty years, let's try again. Build it up carefully from scratch and be a man enough to reach out.

"Sometimes, can I talk to you?

"If it's okay with me, I'd love to"

Life is long. You can always start over. With one readiness, the world changes.

(You stay on top for a while. I'll get you over it right away, another way. I just don't want to lose to you. Claude von Lewius)

If the world changes, it changes itself.

○

Beatrice von Osvalt was a genius. The Osvalt family, a house of swords, is such a pervasive clan of men and women that it has even fallen out in this age.

The man told the swordsman that the woman was a device for giving birth to a swordsman boy, and that was Osvalt's rule.

Until she was born.

(... Damn, that's a warrior. Sometimes it will turn into a clap of some kind. Hit the ceiling and still do the archery, one day suddenly breaking through and flying. Even I've skipped ten or twenty of the stairs. But, you're a little too busy. You are)

Talented enough to change Osvalt's rules. The swordsmen gave her a lot of groaning family members who wished they were born into a man.

Experience sharpening talent with talent matching moves. As a result, there were no enemies in her generation more than at a young age, and thus she obtained a sword that was too beautiful.

"Clovododo!"

Her only sword is herself. Absolute self, a crystal of polished drills. That's so beautiful, dull. There's not even room for other people to intervene there, rather than enemies. To put it badly, it was a solo sword. It grew as it protruded but thus distorted.

A struggle is the first thing that is made up of having an opponent. I can wield my sword the way I want. If it's a level difference you can win, it's good to stay put. But there's nothing you can do with a solo sword against a warrior of equal strength, a character opponent. That was her ceiling as it was, a shell she called obsessive.

She took it off now.

Until earlier, only readiness preceded. From the thought of doing anything, I grabbed the dirt and dared to blink my eyes. It was nothing but foot scratching, even to play with children. But little by little, she learns. An ordinary man like Raphael will recognize the 'other', whom he stretches far from the bottom, like Claude, holds for granted, the 'enemy'.

A solitary sword walks up to the other.

"Claude! Claude! Clovodowo!"

Obsession to abnormality accelerates evolution.

Once all over the mud, once again the sword was regaining its beauty. Previously, white light shines in white blades polished in action, not as beautiful as wall decorations. The sword flash resembled Gilberto, a second generation sword saint, of some brother.

"... Seriously or this guy"

The Ultimate One that shredded waste. On top of that, there is also the glamour to push the other person to make choices, enforce judgment, and push waste. Yes, if you cut yourself off, you'll have to push him next. Push, add, and repeat the spec difference.

That's the move. The existential significance of what is called a move.

"Look at me! Just look at me!

Where she rides her passion. He was physically shredding off and adding a burning soul to his place. The difference with my brother is where she is, and now she's on the battlefield she wanted from the bottom of her heart. No one's in the way. No one will ever see me.

Only one, the man I admitted to, is there.

There was only two people in the world. Then I have no choice. There is nothing better than burning and burning and burning out and continuing to fight until one of them is ashed. That's her expression of affection, the only woman swordsman born in a sword house.

This is the confession of Beatrice von Osvalt.

"Me -"

Except - men are monsters again.

"I told you? I'm strong."

Boom, the body of Beatrice flies with just one twig. Strength and moves to take with each take. He has also brought back the legend "Ryuno type" lost by the spear Nedeluxe, and has accumulated numerous fierce battles to this day.

Even the god-eating dragon laughs.

Beatrix shudders at the feeling of skin rejuvenation, even as he is slammed against the wall. I should have gotten close. It was fleshy now.

But Claude smiled and came to throw him away.

"Don't you dare!

Beatrix stands up and attacks immediately. Jump into the opponent's pocket, cutting through the distance, which is a long-standing advantage. Long steeple, this is the realm of the sword. But for that to happen, it's too easy to break in.

"We're in the middle of something."

The spear, which becomes as if it were a creature, sounds like a dragon's hissing, and storms the beatrix from the blind spot. A blow that would have pruned your consciousness in an instant if you hadn't been stuck. Yes, he had enough moves to respond with a spear, even in between swords, while having the physical ability to jump through among men.

Moreover, it has been possible to accommodate all directions, up, down, left, right, front and back. The abundance of moves is off track while also improving the quality of moves.

A bad diet that eats all the experience and makes us who we are. He was born at the bottom, knowing of the loss, and desperately ascending and cutting the thread that one man drowned, which is why Arcadia, Nedeluxe, together, are allowed exceptions. Because you can't let go of either.

Claude von Lewius has become too strong. Now there is no one to compare to him in his generation. He stood in heaven in such a way that he would be replaced with Beatrice. Unless Gilberto really responded, otherwise even in the two countries there are no enemies.

I haven't been eaten in a long time now. She pulled me off, and something came off that I suppressed. If she becomes a genius, a beautiful sword princess, he is a dragon, a heavenly dragon in the realm.

"Do you still want to do this?

"Yes, I stopped. You think I'm gonna say that?

"I'm sure you won't stop."

"Then shut up. I'm finally feeling better. Now I'll tell you who's the strongest."

"Haha, say it. I never said it because I was embarrassed, but, well, what? Even if I look at the kids in Olumpia, I don't feel those two, and I'm proud to say I'm the strongest. Oh, you're right. I'm the strongest."

The strongest, this man finally put it in his mouth. The moment I put it in my mouth, the air he holds together transforms. A dragon that combines the strength, ease and sickness of an instant thunder in heaven. A little different from the dragon in Laurencia, but if the national outline or the black stars saw him, they would say this clearly.

He said he was a dragon that could fly in heaven, a star instantly in heaven.

"I'm gonna break your nose column."

"Try it."

The prestigious Tenryu. Opposite is the sword princess, who has acquired a tough beauty.

The real battle was about to begin now.

It was supposed to start.

"... Huh?

Claude's atmosphere rocks. It was a beatrice that tried to jump in with a gap, but seeing him too upset, I finally understood that something was showing up at the end of my gaze. Turning around, there was a giant tower, and as much of it - something red was floating.

Rising black smoke is a testament to the anomaly.

"Why, the fire, 'cause there you are, both of you."

"... Mary said this was a farce, because I felt that way too thinly. But not now."

Two people interrupting the battle in a flash. There is no longer a fighting spirit in that eye, and we can only look worryingly at a suddenly changed situation.

"... I'm on my way. I don't know if I'll make it, but I can't help being blustery here."

"... is that good?"

"Alfred is also a disciple to me. I don't care about the other one!

"Don't run out of words. Isn't he a king to you? Well, I'm sorry."

"Don't forget to make up for it"

"... aye"

Two people rushing out at full speed. If this wasn't a farce, everything would disintegrate. If it's no longer a ritual to take over the throne...

Sometimes people are prepared before death. Sometimes death drives people crazy.

Whatever happens with the White King is not strange.

There's more to death than just lying there.