Yakudatazu Skill ni Jinsei o Sosogikomi 25-nen, Imasara Saikyou no Boukentan Midori Kashi no Akira

I'm totally sorry about the way Yingjie was called.

That's Kikiriri's candid thoughts.

The truth is I didn't feel comfortable going up to the Vajra either.

If you knock down a slightly obscure muddy giant, the big one and the loud one are because they have given way to a light promotion.

Well, that's no choice.

It is only natural that those who are capable should be treated as they deserve.

And to a hunting ground full of spicy mud, I was sick and tired of it, too.

That's why I'm not convinced that I'm forced to go to such a dark and cold place, and I'm just dealing with troublesome monsters, either.

In the first place, Kikiriri doesn't have an in-laws risking their lives for the people who are swooping around in the safe walls.

You've never even got a weapon in your hand, but they fight.

But it's the chillies who actually drown out sweat, blood and piss and run around dying.

Therefore, there is no interest at all in the recapture of the land where such humans speak loudly.

The unscrupulous lovers who want to challenge the Lord of the Labyrinth are willing to do it on their own.

Gold to be free there and the respect you deserve for your position.

And then the sun's up. Relax, beat the monster to death with occasional stress.

That is Kikirili's ideal.

But I need a track record in order to live like that.

At least we have to show some success.

Sometimes when there are too many more monsters and the Border City stops standing, that's troublesome.

Thinking it was a good idea, the warrior, shining both purple eyes, glanced at the blocking giant.

A rocky mountainous torso on a long neck covered in black scales.

The open jaw is likely to allow a light swallow of chilli.

Lifting the wings that had become only one, the dragon of the corpse roared at the unholy intruders.

But the vocal cord had decayed long ago, though only the deafening sound of the air passing through.

The body of the dragon, named Zoldamarg, was subjected to various treatments until its life was exhausted.

To avoid escape, the right wing is cut off from the base, and the left rear leg is not from the knee down either.

Yet the other leg is connected disappointingly to the back wall by a thick chain ring.

However, it is the head that shows the most unbroken appearance.

White bones have been peeled out on the right half of the face because the meat has been shredded many times.

The jaw is also heavily distorted due to the fact that the fangs have almost been pulled out, and cannot even be properly meshed.

And that top.

The eyes were not where they should have been as a result of any experiment.

Seven eyeballs are instead arranged in distortion on the left side of the face so as to follow the long-posted maxilla.

All but the bottom one remains covered in white dura, and now it's just a useless long thing to move around with.

A head that is not functioning properly.

The wings of the front leg and the rear leg each lose one side, and it is also irresistible to be further connected to the chain and move loosely.

When you hear that, you'll think it's an easy opponent.

Labyrinth lords in fixed dungeons are not sweeter than the earliest decisions can be made.

The troublesome thing about the means of attack left on the dead dragon is the mouth that lost only one remaining decent eyeball and fangs.

Its eyes, called tied eyes, have odd powers, and when you can stare at them for more than a second, you can't move off the spot.

And the biting power has been lost, but the famous dragon's exhalation is still alive.

The most Zoldamarg releases is not the turbulence of flames, but the breath of ice that freezes the whole body if bathed.

He stares and stops moving, relentlessly shredding his strength with extremely low temperatures that are extensively spit out.

If you go around trying to avoid it, the wings and tails swinging intercept.

This one, too, had enough power to crush easily just by plundering, if about a tiny human area.

In terms of protection, there is no escape.

The black scales that cover the dragon's decaying body without gaps can be as large as a shield in both hands.

Its hardness did not pass through semi-productive martial artefacts, and it even had troublesome qualities.

It absorbs and nullifies all spiritual properties such as heat, ice, and thunder.

However, there is a limit to that amount, and if you expose it to some attack, it will discolor white and lose its powers.

The last crusade was a victory at the opening when he uninterrupted his magic moves and brought them into the state, pushing them at once with the martial arts that freed him from it.

But this time the two guards have no more powerful magic moves than Ninessa.

Plus, there's no convenient straccia to take the offense on all of us.

In the first place, the twins slipped through the "platinum claw" because these two were gone.

Instead, I came to the uplifting stripper of swordsman, a constant and approachable flame.

The apparent decline in the power of war leads directly to death in this labyrinth.

And when Straccia, who was acting as a shield, disappears, it inevitably becomes the feather for the two of them to come forward.

If there's no change in treatment after the danger increases, it's stupid or incompetent to stay there.

Kikiri and I thought about it until we retired lightly, but there's an unexpected voice there.

"Would you like to cooperate until the crusade of the labyrinth lords on the fifteenth floor? After that, we'll arrange for you to enter the right competent party."

It was a sudden offer, but the twins decided to take it.

If you have a track record of crusading the dragons of rotting corpses twice and treading more fixed dungeons all the way to the third tier, you are in enough condition to become a high priest of the temple.

Of course, the stated human sincerity is properly heard, and it has been confirmed in Nene's < Thunder Eye Scrub > that there are no lies.

From the dragon where he began to wander, Kikirili, who cut his gaze only for a moment, put the surrounding landscape behind his brain.

The fifteenth floor has only one room, but the ceilings are high and spacious, with plenty of room to move around.

There are a number of broken pillar remains on the floor, and you can choose where you want to hide yourself.

There are also numerous irregularities in stone walls due to deterioration over time, which do not render the scaffolding unfettered.

His eyes caught on the indented window-like part at the top of that wall, and Kikirili glanced at him only slightly.

That's apparently remnants of the sights.

The stairs that came in have already gone down the iron lattice and escape is unacceptable.

but if you put a heart for two on the pedestal next to it, the entrance and exit were a mechanism to open.

It is a remnant of the brutal spectacle that used to take place here a long time ago.

Worst case scenario, Chill tells me to use our share, but Kikiri doesn't have plans for that.

Not because I want to put my people in my hands, but because I don't envisage losing.

The warrior, who shook a floor filled with frozen chills, proclaimed softly, holding each of his favorite axes in his hands.

Come on, let's get started.

That short word contained a fighting spirit to the point of awesomeness, in the back of previous inner monologues.