A Wish to Grab Happiness

Underground Temple Passage. A place where only a few lights shake yet. Only there existed breathtaking air.

"I decide what's right for me. He's the one who led me here. And I'm the one who decided to take that hand. If so, the choice is already made - me and him, we're one of them."

Dim, only the candlestick's bright lights illuminate the two of them.

Kalia pulls out a silver long sword and resides a brilliance of the same color in her eyes. And to her actions, Hert Stanley exposed his agitation but opened his leg width, letting his body take what could be called a battle march.

Its double-edged sword, pulled out as well as Kalia's, is modest in decoration, but has not lost its white glow even in the dark.

A moment of confrontation with swords pulled out of each other in a narrow passage. The two are in between, one foot at a time, but there is still no movement. The silence dominated the darkness.

Every inch, the fire in the candlestick shakes, and the light is brilliant.

We could barely read through each other. Do they understand or not? Are you reading through this situation or not? If it is no, death will not be spared.

Heavy sighs, like the one they represent, have tried to crawl out of both lungs and have been pushed over and over again.

Karia's eyelashes blink and the small hand of the hert leans.

- Zavan.

An instant, the sound of a blade stroking the sky. The sound was the signal.

Half-hearted and stretched out his long sword, Kalia draws a flash of stepped silver into the universe. Straight-line movement that makes you fall in love from the front.

There is no tremor at the end of the sword, and there is no time difference in the linkage between the hands and feet. It is that blow that will be the gift of daily training that will not mix the talent of the gift and the cloudiness with that talent.

As opposed to it, the white of the helt is brilliant. Stand with your right foot half-walked, your tip diagonally backwards to the right and pointing downward. There is no longer any stray or confusion in its open eyes.

Almost simultaneously with the silver flash. A white line rips through the air. In order to draw an orbit that can also be described as streamlined and determine the underarm of the opponent, its strength and sword weight are fully utilized, and the speed is swinging. Its orbit is that of the shortest, sharp as eliminating any waste.

The contact was concurrent. Blood escapes from the sack called man, and shakes his body freely into the sky, and flesh is determined as if it had been so from the beginning, blossoming and opening.

The silver flash scratches off his neck, and the white brilliance chooses meat from his armpits.

There was an almost simultaneous sound of two meats collapsing.

"- At the end of the day, you weren't looking at me. I don't even know if they scratched me in the neck."

With a white-white voice somewhere, Karia pulled the silver long sword out of the unknown, who was nearer than the back of the helt. The neck is spitting out endless blood, informing the owner of his death.

"Let's return the same dialogue, Mr. Kalia. You're the one who won't see my orbit. What time have you noticed?

Kalia responded, clapping her shoulders.

Hert was mowing the left arm of the black outfit like crawling out of its shadow behind Kalia and summoning the person as it was. I can't even ask for that look because of the black fabric wrapped around my face, but my eyes expose my agitation, my impatience, and finally my doubts.

Why?

We thought we were going to end the broken intruder. Thoughts can't keep up with the abruptly transformed situation, and even confusion and panic emotions are shaking his brain.

When I saw how it was, Karia exclaimed, oh.

"You're good. He kept me alive, or I slaughtered him. I just wanted to talk to you."

"You want me to crack your mouth now? I'm not sure he had anything to do with Fialert or Mr. Rugis."

Saying so, Hert ties up the man in black, his chopped left arm mouth, with a cloth. Blood gathered and for the first time severe pain ran to the man.

The feeling that should have been lost, paralyzed by that extra intense intense pain until now, brings me back to life and tells my brain. He said it was dangerous. Stop the blood, block the wound, and I'll scream. A man groaned unexpectedly.

"Whatever. It's not decided, but it's not wrong. It seems paradoxical, but troublesome rolling means that when Rugis is tangled up somewhere, that's what I'm treading on. Besides, even the Knights, torture is in the right way if necessary."

Shaking her silver hair tip, she looked under the tiny lights, terribly frightened, and strangely intimidating. That's what I said. I was expressing that assertion in my attitude, whether it be in words or not, but definitely doing it.

A man's gut shrinks like an eagle grabbed him. There is more terrible pain ahead of us than death. But I don't want to put anything in my mouth, I want to strengthen my eyes. That's what assassins are for. Everything is ready. If this happens, choosing death for oneself will be the way to live in faith before the clothes called flesh are hurt and the spirit of the contents exposes its fragility.

A man opens his lips slightly in an attempt to chew off the poison planted in his back teeth. Later, in a flash, just shatter. Just get these teeth down. Even though it is, it is. I don't know what's going on, my teeth aren't lowering. Foreign bodies are screwed in the mouth. Forced, something that came into my mouth doesn't try to make me bite the poison like I was guessing everything.

"Don't die. I don't want your death. I even want you to live."

A quick plugged hert thumb and index finger fastened the man's mouth open. And as it were, I would remove a sachet with poison in it with two fingers from my teeth.

A man's face blued on the boulder. Not because they took away how to die easily. Nor is it because this begins the obvious torture.

Because I understood that Helt and the actions of those so called were undoubtedly carried out in good faith. I didn't use him to torture him and find out what he was after. I didn't even let him live to chop this body up.

Undisputed, because that's what I realized when I tried to keep him alive with well-intentioned actions.

Horrible. Feels like you can tighten your spirit with thousands of thorns. A trembling scare licked the man's spine.

"Mr. Kalia. I'll raise my hand to hear it out."

"That's surprising. You didn't think you were human."

Only with a gentle grin, Hert nods.

"Yeah, of course. But if I don't do it, you will. Refusing to do so while knowing is inescapable of cowardice. If I'm wrong, I don't want to be a coward and a backfinger."

Yes, I moved my lips, put my hand in front of my chest, and told the man this.

"Let's do our best for you. Do your best to keep your spirit from breaking so you can die."

It means that you will never kill me no matter how much I plead with you, and no matter how much I wish with God, you will not let me freak out. Yes, it's all from good intentions.

Dizziness runs. The man felt his mind fall apart easily, as he was supposed to be prepared, at the same time as his unrattling palpitations. There were many feelings for malice. I am used to being exposed to malice from young children. But, but. Isn't it not much that it is the good will that lightly surpasses its malice that meets at the end, God?

That prayer, mixed with excessive fear and whimpering, disappeared into the dark, unknown.