Wolf Barrel 5.56

I'm like a hero, Tan.

I wanted to have such a hot kill.

Not a duel.

Where Buzz Holminov's life and death depends, it has to be on the battlefield.

Sea of blood and corpses wherever you look.

There's a mixture of gut fluids, blood, and screaming in the air, and I can stand around. If you're a regular person, you could freak out. In that hell, you collide like a bull with a growl.

For someone who seems to think he can be killed.

Hit all your beings with a sword.

I wanted such a beautiful murder.

I became a military member of the Cannibal Nation just for that.

When I was just a blue kid with an ass.

The Cannibal countries, which continue to experience rapid economic growth, were under obvious diplomatic pressure from neighbouring countries. Home affairs interference, and territorial aggression.

Wrap up the money for a reason.

What you're doing is the same as a chimp.

In contrast, the Cannibal State withdrew to protest and prevent war.

The Cannibal nation is surrounded by countries large and small. If it develops into an all-out war with some country, then at that moment, the neighbouring countries will form an alliance and attack at once. The calculation was obvious.

To avoid doing so, the Cannibal Nation dignitaries were desperate at the time.

But territorial violations got worse every year.

Build a fort on your own inside the border, saying, "This fort is what it was originally. And this is ours. So this area is our property. You're the ones who are wrong! Pull back the border now! If you have a complaint, pay for it!

Protests don't help people who say that to their faces.

Ma, there seemed to be a lot of things going on, but I'd be glad to be on the front line.

The death fight I wanted was there.

Bloody battlefield.

All of my life is concentrated, sparking and illuminating my sword, that flash of brilliance.

I shuddered. I still have that excitement in this body when I say it's been a long time since I left the front line.

But that annoys my heart.

With a bitter reluctance on his face, a snake formed on his arm stroked an ancient wound like a bump.

It is a mark that can be done when a large ripped wound is forced to pull with crude healing pills and welded with burnt iron. These wounds are all over me.

It's my medal.

As I stroke an ancient wound, I think of the past.

I fought a hundred captains of an enemy country, and I still can't forget that sight.

Clear your ears, you can hear the roar of that time.

Each other's swords broke and they picked up a weapon of a body that rolled to the ground.

I raise a voice that does not speak, but the pain does not appear on my face.

They took each other's lives, acknowledging each other.

And at the end of the day - as much as the moment the opponent admitted his own loss and stabbed a stop with a broken helmet, etc., he was at his best. Return to the base with a full body of bored rags and receive miscellaneous allowances, talking about the death fight we have just waged, discussing alcohol with our people.

I was really happy.

That's what I think, while I drink. And glanced at me.

Alcohol wasn't such a sap-like tongue back then.

It was a sober, spring-watery throat.

... Damn.

Reflectively, I tried to slap the liquor bottle on the floor - but I stopped. Waste.

Instead, I decided to carry on more memories.

My happy hour began to collapse with the advent of Claudia.

Claudia Cannibal.

The strongest and worst card ever cut by the upper management of the Cannibal Country after bitter tannins.

At first, I didn't have the impression that something had changed.

Now that it's over, I realize that from the moment that woman stood on stage, this country came together rapidly. Though I think it was an absurd unity, like wrapping barbed wire around the body and letting the rough horses pull it.

Anyway, something beyond my imagination had already begun.

And the visible change occurred suddenly.

A lot of small countries suddenly collapsed internally.

It's like I pulled through the pillars of the house. I don't know what happened inside. All of the records were 'done' on blank paper.

What an alliance they offered to Cannibal when they stopped standing as a country. Almost an absorptionist merger rather than an alliance. He wanted to abandon his name and be incorporated as a town in the Cannibal Country.

Naturally, there is no way the neighbouring countries will shut up and overlook this.

"It's the muscle that gets our permission first." "This is a conspiracy set up by the Cannibal Nation!" "We must not allow any more barbarism!" "It is I who have the right to do so. Deactivate the alliance!

Despite Aye, I've made mysterious claims.

I see the real thing.

I just wanted to take my wallet from the side where my owner disappeared.

Claudia Cannibal's response to this claim was indeed simple and clear.

Call me if you have any complaints.

It was Dronford, a bloody country located west of the Cannibal Country, that reacted as soon as possible to the statement, which was nothing but its provocation. As if to resonate with its initiation, the neighbouring countries strongly condemned the Cannibal countries.

Thus, we entered an era of war.

Everyone thought so.

I thought so, too, and inflated my chest with anticipation.

But it didn't.

Claudia-led war. That was no longer... a war I knew.

Claudia's private army. Commonly known as "Troop 175".

That handful of elite troops, made up of unknown swordsmen and wizards, trampled and vandalized my beloved battlefield.

There was no such thing as Theory, and the destruction work alone almost got pieces on it.

It doesn't develop into a collision like swimming in that earthly stream, where quantity and quantity collide.

No matter how many times I entered the war, it was the same every time.

Destruction.

This word, which I know, strikes the barracks at best, to the point of jamming communications.

It was only about our front seat that followed.

But the phenomenon that their unit 175 generates wasn't that easy.

Once, I broke into an enemy base sooner than planned.

Beyond the high ear sac.

There's a "red poison swamp" out there.

Hundreds of enemy soldiers were being returned to the earth alive.

Before we stood up, the crew and the dark elf in black said this with a smile like a flower seller's daughter.

"You shouldn't peek, kids."

We helped the women work as they told us.

In cave-like silence, only the sound of dobond bong and throwing carcasses into the swamp echoed.

It was a creepy, sloppy time.

Men known for their desolation, but no one speaks. Because if I spoke up, I thought they'd kick me in the ass and drop me in the swamp.

To who? To a monster with a luscious grin in the back.

Troop 175's crew was nowhere else.

I mean, I was alone, creating this hell.

It doesn't develop into a large-scale battle. These things were happening intermittently in all the battle zones.

It should take some time to prepare to localize the "red poison swamp".

I mean, this plan has been in place for a long time.

Perhaps before Claudia makes a provocative statement.

The scale of the fight increased, but the number of prisoners never increased.

Why?

Because Claudia didn't have a warm word for prisoners or anything.

The man above didn't want to put him on the table until the end of the day.

And extremely, it was that case.

I sighed and looked out through the window where the board was punched.

From that gap, you can see the forest at night.

This forest is alive.

But the "root" part is dead.

It was Claudia who killed him.

Great Spirit. A paranormal being, also commonly known as God.

A private unit led by Claudia literally killed three of the fourteen-pillar great spirits present in the country. The reasons are theoretical.

I don't care why.

The fact is that Claudia killed the Great Spirit.

As soon as this fact came to light, the war and other fires sank.

Naturally.

You're no longer a good opponent for spreading war on coin earners.

Thus Cannibal became known as a military power.

Even minor clashes stopped happening.

And I lost my life.

The switchers switched to adventurers and mercenaries. Some of you became knights.

But I stayed in the army.

Maybe tomorrow, I couldn't abandon the faint expectation that Laugh if you want to be feminine. That's all I had.

But the rest of the scum, too, was lightly lost.

I was tangled up by drunk young men, and drunk drunk I cracked their heads open.

There is nothing else in life, but the sequelae are full.

It was not a felony because of the recognition of legitimacy, but he was expelled from the army.

Literally, nothing's gone.

Even though a good reputation is hard to spread, a bad reputation spreads like a whirlwind.

I can no longer be a soldier, an adventurer, or a mercenary.

Immersed in a whorehouse.

And it depended on what was dirty, and when I realized it, I was the leader of a little villain.

I had another sip and looked down at myself.

Attached to the body are iron carcasses.

Until a few years ago, a misrill alloy torso was fitted here for the platoon leader of the Front Line Infantry Unit of the Cannibal National Army.

When they chased out the army, they borrowed their own men.

But it was also sold to buy booze and women.

Speaking of which, it's been since then.

What took you so long to abandon yourself?

It's not just protective equipment, your body has become poor.

The abs, who had received an elf arrow, became daldall like the belly of a dairy cow.

His upper arm, which was as thick and tough as the pillars of the fort, was also thin and faded as a farmer.

It's not just the body, it's the mind.

I learned that my men slaughtered the old man in the middle of the day with half the play.

I didn't feel anything.

I put it on the crotch of a whore, such as a reproach of conscience. What others have learned, no matter what happens.

Instead, don't play while you're at work, it's enough to piss you off.

The brave and courageous way of fighting somehow turned out to be a miserable object, like a fox erasing the marks of Shomben with his hind legs.

It fell to the point where it fell.

I grinned at myself.

If there was even a chivalry in me,

I guess that soul died when I let go of my armor.

Pride as a warrior that was in my chest.

Right now, there's only a cavity there.

I poured another sip of liquor to fill the hole with cheap liquor.

Then,

"Gahahahahaha!"

My sentimental ears popped with a silly laugh from my men.

Interrupt your thoughts and turn to your men. And one eyebrow jumped. These guys.

When I looked at the table, I was celebrating too soon.

At some point there are multiple crates of wine at your feet.

"Hey you guys. Didn't I tell you not to drink too much?"

"But parentage. Is that how careful you are?

A red-faced employee twists his neck.

Well, I know what you're trying to say. But kidnapping is the hardest way to escape. If you missee the escape route, you get caught and tied up. Same on the right even with legs. In the first place, no matter how thorough the vigilance net is, it makes no sense if you can't run straight through the woods and get away with it.

But talking about it from one, this guy won't understand.

That's why I explained it.

"Deceive me and follow me!

"hey, hey"

Pull in the doubt, my men stopped saying anything more.

I'll make sure of that and then I'll skip the instructions exactly.

"Ngo, you drink water and piss. Drunk is better. Prepare to patrol when you can walk straight."

"Heh."

Sitting at the corner of the table, the skinhead nods.

Next thing I know, I jumped my gaze at the little guy at the end of the table.

"Enyotte, when you get your current look back, look at the nearby 'tricks'"

"Yes!" the little man sounded fit for his body, a tall voice.

"Oh, I haven't drunk at all yet!

"That's why. Grab the trumpet and wait downstairs."

"... heh"

Enyacht raises the patrol trumpet on the wall around his neck, floating the colour of tannins on his face. Then his men sat next to him.

"Then come and take a bullet with the body."

"Shut up. I'm not gonna let you lick my ass."

"Ooh, I'll lick you, so get your ass out of here. I'll stick that trumpet in you."

"Mm."

"Just go!!

Yelling to kick his ass, Enyacht made his body jump viciously and jump out the door.

The noisy indoors finally restore calm.

Sighs at him, dampens the dryness in his mouth with alcohol.

Then one of my men, who was not instructed, asked.

"But why are you wearing a torso?

casual words, but behind them, anxiety could be seen.

Is there something dangerous going on after this? And I guess I'm frightened. He's twice as small as a human being.

Besides, I don't like people's blood on bandits.

I only thought about it and then I answered.

"To tighten my own mind. It doesn't matter if you do what I say."

Saying so forcefully, tension fell out of my men's faces.

I checked it horizontally, and then I saw what was going on outside through the clearance of the board.

What I just said is half true, half lies.

I just had a bad feeling earlier.

This feeling is similar when ambushed on the front line.

There's probably going to be a fight.

That's what I tell you. Ancient wounds groan to affirm it.

I doubt my feelings away from action will help now. Even if I tell my men about this, they just make me feel unwanted nervous and I can't move normally when I have to.

So I thought, "hehe, hehe," and suddenly I laughed.

"Parenthood?"

My men wonder.

"Nothing. Drink some water and let me out, too."

"Us"

A man of greater stature than himself drinks water honestly.

When I saw how it was, I had a self-derisively distorted grin on my mouth again.

A lot of bad guy bosses on the board, huh?

I wonder what people who made ends meet with me think when they look at me like this?