A Wish to Grab Happiness

It's like, begging, praying to God in heaven through thick clouds, such words.

"Oh, we got caught together...... HELT, I wish it was HELT STANLEY......!

And before that prayer, I'm gone.

Exhalation is hot. It is produced in the lungs, passes through the tubes and feels the heat being carried throughout the body. There was so much heat in the body that it was circulating.

Have you ever conceived this exhaling fever and the hatred that is likely to devour the outside world, even when you were travelling with this woman, Fiarat La Borgograd?

Oh, even in this day and age. Is that still the same for you? [M]

I remember. Even if I remember. Mage Hall. This is not such a stuffed occasion for cutting feathers. Naturally, you weren't that disturbed. But every time you looked at me, you said it.

- Oh, what was that about you? I wish it was a helt.

The exhalation of the heat boiling in your body falls zero out of your mouth. Oddly enough, the body steams.

Naturally. Naturally. I'm a locust rat wherever I go. Until I gave it a natural rating if it was a fia alert. Really totally, great.

Only our shadows have ever rocked, the flames of a pottery candlestick, noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Kacha, that's approaching with a tiny noise. Is that what you should call a soldier with a beheading sword, no, a decapitation official, while covering his expression with a helmet and wrapping his armor around a few faces?

"- Stand up, come alone. The Virgin has reached it. Have you finished your prayers?"

Apparently, they cut the paralysis early. I guess it's a soul guts trying to kill one to show off in order to capture two people who would still be running around the passage of the underground temple.

Fialert raises her voice without a voice. His face is completely blue, wolfish, and hopeless. He had that look on his face.

Naturally my assessment is a dove rat. In a fialert, that rating can't change, no matter what. So let's take that.

But there is no reason to suppress this emotion by crawling up your spine and throwing it out of your mouth and eyes.

"Absolutely fine. You're no different than any other time, my magician."

Loosely, a shadow rocks and rises as he falls asleep on the wall.

The ceramic candlestick, made of warcraft fat, was vibrantly shaking the flame as it wobbled itself. Drop the bite cigarette that was left in your nostalgia on the standing up clap and you will add extra momentum to it. Just a little closer, enough to see the enthusiasm.

Fialert stared at me as I stood up completely, round those moist eyes. You're trying to tell me it's unexpected. I don't know that.

"As you can see, unfortunately, I'm still a rat now, in the past, and in the future. So I cannot rescue you as magnificently as Hert Stanley."

Besides, I show you a rope tied to my back. Neither the watch, nor the look on my face when I stood up, distorted my expression in surprise, did any harm as soon as possible.

I suppose so. They have their own aesthetics. You must be trying to kill me in accordance with that aesthetic and technique. In addition, there are five or six soldiers on watch here. Whatever Gorotsuki does, when he's caught up, he's so tall.

Oh, I'm a business belly. []/(exp, v5r) to be crippled/Burning fever is raging around your stomach. You underestimate me. You, too. Oh, you guys, if this were Hert Stanley, would everyone have consolidated their spear-held perimeter?

Pull the rope and stick your elbows out, turning stupid thoughts equal to such delusions. I could see under my eyes, the flame of the candlestick waving strangely.

I see, just kicking it up is weak. Besides, we have to do something about them.

"But the Sorcerer. Dobrats have dobrat possessions. Please step away and watch. And when you have a gap, you can run away."

Slowly, twist it out with your fingers, hiding it in your back pocket so that it only looks like a fia alert.

It was bought in Galuamaria, a sticky liquid made of warcraft mucus. Originally used as an adhesive, it can be easily bought as a daily necessity. You can take the knife or the golden-eyed thing. No one has eyes for crap like this.

But this is a treasure. It's convenient on a daily basis, of course, but at any rate, it burns a lot.

What, a simple story. They took my knife. I can't cut the rope anymore. Then already. I just have to burn it off. The handkerchief I received from Arueno has to be left behind. If it's in the water bottle, if you're lucky, it'll stay.

- Well, it's from the elbow. What, back in the day, I would have done something similar. I was the only prisoner then.

With the nostalgic once sight on my eyelid, I stayed put, kicking my feet for a moment and gaining momentum.

From the elbow to the ceramic candlestick, he hit the entire weight and hit it well. Press the stiffest part to break it.

For a moment, I saw what, and the fialert that moved my lips. But leave those words behind.

- Gashahan.

Making such a white noise, the ceramics collapsed.

The first thing I felt was severe pain piercing my whole body, not just my elbow. From the tip of my elbow, it's so painful that I think my body will crack in two.

The elbow, slapped into the pottery and protruded straight into the cobblestone of the floor, is unmistakably anomalous. Oh, my arm was safe and helpful.

And at the same time given, burning pain. Oh, yeah. This flame is pain. The phase of no longer being hot passed early.

The flame of freedom is burning from the elbow to my clothes, fueled by mucus, and I'm trekking to get that momentum across the room.

Dry trinkets without moisture burned up in the blink of an eye, as if to clear the grudge that was tucked away into a small candlestick.

Naturally, that momentum comes down to me, too. It ignited. It runs around from arm to hip and burns the skin as it is.

Yeah, burn it, burn it, burn it. We don't have enough. My gut holds more heat than that. Can you burn me out to that extent? To that extent, can you kill my feelings?

Hitting the earlobes were the high screams of fialerts and the watchmen's hurried and fumbling voices.

Oh, pleasant. I think it's delightful. You underestimated me. You underestimated me. You are.

I guess I panicked. The decapitation sword slipped from the hand of the decapitation official standing in front of me. Oh, and you forgot to tell him.

"A water bottle! Water bottle.

I've already burned my rope.

With the flame on his back, he picks up the beheading sword so that he can accompany his hands. And keep it that way.

- The black muscle sewed between the flames, so as to stroke a slight gap between the armor and the helmet, and decided on the neck muscle.

That wasn't the move I was after. Yes, I can assure you. Smooth as it is picked up, swinging like the ultimate in martial arts.

The flesh was torn, the cervical vertebrae amputated, and pitifully the mouth of the decapitating official further from the torso, with the devil, I certainly saw it so shaped.

That look is fear. Fight. That must be it. Its expression staring at the alien. The same goes for those who dare to turn their spears around. I see fright in that look. I see fear. Yeah, then it's easy. It's all because I'm captive.

The black sword muscle of the beheading sword fitted well with the flaming red.

"- Huh. Ga, ha!

Die, don't die. Undisputed. I die here. That's good. You're dead.

Something cramped and whimpering, falling down around you. Something that makes you cry of fear. Something that started to fire around my body, just like me. Everybody, everybody, just die.

The exhaling breath is truly feverish and my throat burns and hurts terribly every time I breathe. But not yet, not enough for the heat in the body yet. It's not like this. It's not that hot. It is not enough for a fever that feeds on hatred.

- But that body is already clearly taking its limits.

The most damaging left arm is no longer sensory. Exposed to flaming fever and pain, nothing is easy to feel. He said he should have a flame on his back too, but it still doesn't look like something that feels like it.

Every time your senses are lost, your vision fades. I still can't. I thought it was the limit. Somewhere far away, I felt like I heard a strangely deafening voice of fialert.

Yeah, but it was better for me. Is it what humans are supposed to be able to move with all this whipping of their bodies by the flames? Did you even include strong drugs or something weird?

Well, I don't mind. Whatever, at the end of the day, I didn't compromise. I'll stay with me. I can die with fever. Is there anything more? Oh, there can't be.

Fialert, please. If you can, get in this mess and run. My arms are tied, but my legs should be safe. If you didn't get away with trembling and frightening, give it up.

I can't take that much trouble saving people. I'm not Hert Stanley, I'm not a hero. It's just Rugis.

And you see, the black shadow that once brought me into this age. I'm done here, Rugis. This unusual way to save one woman. Ruined. I don't hate heroes like this for any theatre.

But don't you think you can make it into a dove rat?

- Oh, I'm just doing great.

Listening to such a voice at one end of his ear, his body, almost unable to breathe, fell and lay down on the spot to follow the logic of nature.