A Wish to Grab Happiness

Garrist Kingdom Patron Officer Jace-Brackenberry drifts small, white smoke in his own office.

His pitiful eyes were poured into the map in front of him with the tobacco in them. Breathing shallower, keeping one fingertip motionless, only gaze crawls through the map busily.

This is his habit when thinking. He hates being distracted by other things when he comes up with something. That's the same with the sounds coming from the outside, and the same sounds you make yourself.

Blackenberry prefers to let things snap in his brain in silence. Knowing that, his men rarely try to enter this office either. Apart from the essential reports, no one tried to knock on the door here.

For a few moments, Blackenberry narrows his eyes as he even stops breathing. All I think about is that group of Northwest Warcraft.

No, I no longer deserve the name Warcraft Group, etc. Calling is one thing that distorts the thoughts of those who listen.

That is an indisputable disaster itself. Suitable to call it the Warcraft Disaster.

Brackenberry crawls his fingers as he strokes the map loosely.

Fort Sziv, the northernmost part of the kingdom of Garrist and also a shield protecting the nation from the Warcraft, collapsed before the Warcraft disaster, and seven more days were about to pass.

Then again, the Kingdom of Garrist has not been able to strike an effective hand against disaster. In the meantime, disasters have gained more and more momentum.

It's as if we're expanding that force by moving and swallowing people. The damage was enough to make it silly to count.

This is not the case if you are like a normal demonic warcraft. It's all the fault of that monster you can't imagine.

- Fortress giant beast Zebrellis. A living disaster named by the Cathedral.

The giant piercing the heavens swallows its surroundings just by moving the steps forward.

Eat, squander and eat again. That is the only known disaster in itself. The only salvation would be not so fast because of the giant.

But even then, I was able to extend my life a little bit. Now countless displaced people are taking their dwellings, depriving them of food and fleeing to the Wang capital. Dealing with it alone lags behind in politics.

Brackenberry chewed his chest hard inside, saying this was his own fault.

He recognized the danger of the Warcraft disaster and insisted that it should be challenged with all his strength.

If so, if that wasn't the enemy, you should have hit your next hand. I shouldn't have thought about hitting things with less than half the soldiers.

I looked sweet. That's what I thought I could deal with, like a fold that once survived a crisis in the South and the East.

What arrogance. What disgrace. Even myself is incompetent enough to want to spit it out.

Because of his incompetence, he killed many soldiers, and so beheld his competent men. Blackenberry thinks of the face behind his lid of a man who defended Fort Sziff until the very end.

He was a gentle, unusual man in the National Army. He was a man who wouldn't let himself out, enough to be humbled. I've never even seen you argue with people because of your oligarchy.

I guess it's not strange because he was a very dear man from the beginning and originally aspired to be a civilian.

In contrast to him like that, Blackenberry was giving him some kind of appreciation. They are people who can accurately judge things without being overflowing with heat.

Without being invaded by the ambition to crawl through your chest, instead of being blown away by cowardice. People who can do what needs to be done. He didn't have the aggressiveness to go forward, but as a guardian he had enough qualities.

So I sent him to Fort Suzuif. Therefore, he is dead. He ignored the evacuation order and died using the fort as a headstone just to say it was necessary. The people around him picked up their lives in exchange for his death.

Brackenberry holds a piece of parchment in his hand, gripping it. That's what the man wrote down at the end, deposited with him by his deputy.

- The contents describe the scale and characteristics of the catastrophe, and in that way raise the response to Blackenberry by joining hands with countries whenever possible. Whether it's a final letter, there's no sadness like a suicide note and no emotional shards are noted.

Until that very end, he did his duty as a soldier.

Never waste it. I won't let anyone tell me that it was in vain. Jace-Brackenberry's thoughts were calm itself, but only around the back of his chest was feverish.

Blackenberry is certain. The Fortress Giant Beast Zebrellis is not as capable of relative force as the Kingdom of Garrist.

Garrist falls apart from the edge any day if he stays swayed with glory and greed. That's how the country dies.

Then I don't have time to choose the means anymore.

- Conn, conn.

I guess it's because I know the habit of a superior officer. A knock so modest, so bad that I thought I might not hear it, slammed the door.

Blackenberry encourages him to enter the room while he wipes out the cigarettes. The nostrils were slightly punctured by the smell of leaves. One of the clerks shows his face reluctantly.

"Blackenbury Patronage Officer. We have a messenger from the cathedral."

Without raising her gaze from the map, Blackenberry returns the words.

"You can tell me it's a hospital bed. Right now, I don't have as much time as a grain of sand to deal with the Priest. Besides, I know what to do."

Old Church - No, I have made up my mind about sending a messenger to the crest religion. They hate the crest religion as much as a snake scorpion. That's kind of unusual enough.

But that has nothing to do with Brackenbury. And what's the point of being attacked?

Indeed, the Garrist kingdom and creed are in fact in a hostile relationship. I would never call him a friendly opponent. But that's a substantial story, except formally.

Formally, it is the Catholic Church that overlaps only creed and spear. If it's just pre-construction, the Garrist kingdom is not involved in any of their feuds. In the Sannio plain, the soldiers with their crests and fangs are formally Catholic soldiers.

Regardless, I understand that they are nothing more than trickery. But still, it's not an error. There is no reason for someone to attack me.

Then there's no problem getting one or two of the messengers out. And. I didn't send out a friendly messenger.

I just ordered my men to come and chat a little bit about catastrophic warcraft in protest of the attack on prison Bella. That was a natural thing to do as head of the National Army.

Similar things have been done in the morning of Elizaldo, the Southern nation, and Volvato, the male of the East.

I don't know how much they make sense. But it doesn't mean nothing's gonna happen. The hand to be struck shall be struck, and all that can be used shall be used.

"More than that, how's the cathedral moving? Your hips are still heavy."

The clerk stiffened his lips for a moment, lifting his voice for a step, and said so saying that nothing was moving. He said he was sending priests everywhere as messengers.

Blackenberry raises his tongue as it was simplified in its contents.

It is only at these times that an organization called the Cathedral should take the initiative to encourage cooperation among nations. This time, the cathedral is oddly dull in those moves.

Things like paganism and disaster are supposed to be abominable to them. In fact, they were the ones who moved faster than any national or local city when the crest religion fell the walled city of Galuamaria.

Perhaps the upset caused by the fact that the Virgin was attacked by the crest has not yet subsided. Once trapped and cowered, beasts are even hesitant to take normal bait.

Blackenberry raises his eyes from the map and makes his lips ripple.

"As soon as there is a reaction from the nations, from each force, let me know. I will give His Majesty an accurate report."

That's what he tells the clerk, while Brackenberry weaves his costume. That's how I was working out in my head the words to be spoken to the king, it was then.

- Conn, conn.

A second visitor knocks on the door today.

This is how he named himself.

- With Olivia-Belch.