A Wish to Grab Happiness

Its shoulders are terribly frightened, as if the body itself were going to cry out.

Your own breath reaches your ears and your eyes moisturize your tears. Fiarat La Borgograd was swung by a storm of emotions trying to crawl out of his chest more than he could stop.

In front of my own eyes, a duel is beginning. On the other hand, Hert Stanley, an undisputed genius with golden eyes and hair. One, Rugis, who wears dark green clothes and is regarded as lead. Those two are crossing swords.

Emotions are going to cause panic. Unexpectedly the fialert gripped the clothes on his chest hard. Because if I didn't, my heart would rip the flesh and it would not pop up.

There's no way you can win. Wins and losses are visible. Fialert's eyes blinked and narrowed.

At first, if, the expectation was on her chest. If it's him, if it's Rugis, maybe a genius will get his finger.

But the result is unbroken. Multiple-cut slaughter is easily shot down by the white blade of the helt. It's a dispute between swallow and eagle. No matter how high the swallow flies, it is driven down by the eagle more than further up.

But that fact wasn't the only one that was more shaking and hounding Fialert's emotions. I suspected that I might be relieved of that fact.

Helt, that genius is inviolable. There is no one who can come to that talent zone. Yes, Fialert was unknowingly sure in his mind. I was trying to be paranoid. Dead, relieved.

A contradiction that prays for the inviolability of the helt, while wishing Rugis a retrograde attack. Fialert was about to be pushed away by that conflicting flurry of emotions. My eyes, my emotions overflow.

I don't like it, no. What am I supposed to do? As she shook her head like a child, she pushed her emotions away from her mouth.

Rugis, who is his ideal and his embodiment, who should lead to gold. Hert Stanley, a shining sun that is true gold and does not donate others.

- What am I supposed to do?

Once again, Fialert threw the question to himself. In my eyes, both of them are waving their swords. Until now, I've relied on someone. Someone was deciding for me.

Yes, both Rugis and Hert. I'm not here anymore. Both of them are starting a duel. Then I wonder what to take and decide.

Depends on what, I wonder. Which depends, I guess.

Fialert's reason was about to meet one limit.

With a slight wind hissing, the sharp pain broke in.

At first, I didn't know what happened. Very, not to the extent of comprehension.

The impact should be greater than the left half of the body. That strange pain, though. An incomprehensible flash crawls out of my right belly.

"And, hey... lizard bastard!

My voice leaks out unexpectedly into a sharp blow that causes me to poke my right flank.

Eat so much that you're about to shatter your back teeth that you push a whimper to death.

That's a blow over the back. Not the kind of hard blow that broke Hert's ribs, not the kind of blow that broke through my underbelly. Neither the knife, nor the double-edged sword, neither of which would scratch off the target, had glowed the sun in vain at the hands of the owner.

The only thing that made it for me was a single servel that the lizard stuck to my body.

"Captain... let the name of the Guard be lowered, such as the Duel with the Floater"

The sabel is growing so that you can poke your flank from your back side. The blood dripped to boast of its long-awaited turn and mixed with earthly smoke.

"What are you doing? From behind, that's what I used to call the Guards! That's what I said when I snapped my neck!

Helt's fierce voice.

Rare. Compared to him, who always had a constant attitude of including some leeway, how things are now looks amazingly human. Oh, it's a helt. I don't hate your expression right now. My fingertips, they tremble.

On the flank the devil protrudes its nails, and the pain is crawling around his whole body. It's good now. I don't mind yet. But the more time passes, the more severe the pain will jump, and at the end of the day you won't even be able to remain conscious of where you stand. It was intuitive and a rule of thumb.

The sound of a sabel chopped and a thousand cuts of meat was tougher than I could hear inside me. The sensation of the whole body meat, through the nerves, until it is painful is conveyed.

"Forgive me, Captain. But if we were to have a duel or something with the poor, these guys would follow. Then I should let you know. That you are not allowed to pair swords with the poor, and that you are just being trampled!

While being reprimanded by Hert, the captain, Lizard's voice floated somewhere. Hatred and sarcastic colors haven't even disappeared.

"In addition, this guy confessed to burglary and turned his blade on the captain in agony. We are allowed to have this circumcision."

Sabel makes a nasty noise and gets pulled out. Really, it sounds nasty.

The indignation that a part of himself is being invaded by someone, being left to his liking, is transforming all the sound into something unpleasant.

Yes, lizards are people like this. It doesn't mean there's no such thing as a straight path, cowardice or possession.

They just don't apply to inferior commoners like us. Selfish, exclusive everywhere. What's within your own admittedness is something for this guy to trample on and disappear from his sight as it is.

Not to mention the fact that the captainship of the Guard Corps duels against it and so on, an unlikely act for lizards.

My breath is rough. His gaze flutters, and he has no means of holding back the bloodstream that runs and stretches beyond his body. We have to get out of here. We need to get out of here.

When I put my foot back on, I saw a lizard swinging the servel again, flashing my neck and glowing blue light.

I'm not kidding. Oh, even if it's not a joke. I don't care what happens to the last time such a bastard stabs me in the flank and snaps me in the neck.

It's odd, but my chest is boiling when I say there's not enough blood and my consciousness is unclear. I whispered, "Move your limbs."

- Huh.

The wind hisses.

It was a natural act. I didn't defy anything, I didn't force myself to move. Just so you follow the core of your body. Draw a single line into the world while following a voice that is told by the body.

Smooth, relaxed movement everywhere. Your feet and your body are different from your own. My vision was strangely clear. Coming this way, lizard sabel. To keep it pressed, Hert brightens the white blade with the momentum of no longer clawing the lizard's neck.

But this one's a step faster. Slightly fluttering, but with momentum like falling forward, jumping.

Silver light cut out the world.

The feeling of slitting the fiber through the meat that can be transmitted directly to your hands. The feeling of shattering bones, keeping the momentum.

A flash of knife, slightly clawing his neck, but with a clear intent to kill, was cleaving and crushing the jaw under the lizard.

The eyes of a stunned open lizard stir the exhilaration. Oh, great. Your eyes have to be open that way. You have to be hateful. Exquisite, miserable.

- Huuuuuu

The wind hisses but remains strong in the ear.

"- - Rugis!"

The only thing I could hear right before I let go of consciousness was that voice, which sounds like it mixes with its hissing.