A Wish to Grab Happiness

In front of the Gaza Castle Gate. In order not to let the rebels in the interior of Gaza escape, if there was a chance, they would have carried out more raids than later, but several times more soldiers than usual were gathered here.

There are still no clashes between the forces on the border separating the interior and exterior of this Gaza Strip. It has not yet happened that the elves drip blood from one another, or men and elves, and dye the earth.

But undoubtedly, this place was also a battlefield. Similar to the street in front of the royal palace, it presents a bloody battlefield.

- Geaaaaaaa.

The voice just sounded like the liver of a soldier on the spot would be dragged out. Loud voice alone will bring small animals to death, demon.

A monkey, and a warcraft with a great mouth open in his belly, was here as an enemy to all.

The look was too tough. Far from the appearance of nature, it would also appear to have been made with some intent, but there would be no other failure to do so. The Warcraft was born in such a way.

The sight is impossible. It was something I didn't even assume. No one would have experienced the fact that the Warcraft struck Gaza, its castle gates, etc., in hundreds of years, no more than long before that.

The captain of the army, entrusted with the guardianship of the castle gate, had felt his heart boiling back with rage and impatience. Why, why this is the time?

"Let go. Yep! Don't stop arrows! If we can stand this place, reinforcements will be here soon!

As held back by the word, the arrow becomes the murder weapon at an austere speed, descending into a monkey-type warcraft.

The truth is, the commander himself, who spoke out, understood very well that reinforcements and other things would not come.

There is now a battle in the royal palace between Finn Largeas and Eldis' female male. As such, the troops in front of the castle gate were given the role of sharpening their fangs as much as possible.

How about that, actually? It is exquisite to let a single warcraft take your momentum and break through the gates. Whether you ask for reinforcements or not, that opponent is going to a more important battle than this one. It's not supposed to come.

But it was nevertheless worth it to have enough soldiers gathered to defend the castle gate. Undoubtedly, suppress the Warcraft, there is. The eyes of the soldier captain narrow and the desolate exhalation is slightly nearer.

The fact that it is swept by every single one of the Warcraft's throws, no doubt. Whatever, every time its mighty arm is waved, the trees around it snap, every time the scream sounds, the overflowing life disappears. Not very much, but not being able to seriously deal with them.

But if you can use a protective gear called the castle gate and use a flying tool to suppress its momentum, it's different.

Again, under the first decree, the sky is covered with arrows and poured into the whole body of the Warcraft. Much of it is bouncing like a tree cut every time the Warcraft wields its arms, but it is definitely starting to capture the body of the Warcraft.

It should only be possible to keep it under control. The soldier captain nodded to convince himself.

But why? Why is that warcraft so exciting? To the captain of the army staring at the warcraft from the castle gate, and to the soldiers, that was strange.

Seeing warcraft in the forest is not in itself. But many of them can be intimidating, and it's not the first time they get excited and storm like that. But how about now, I'm aiming for this castle gate so that I can stick to something.

Slightly, the soldiers' noses rattle. Has anyone stirred up alcohol for notice? Hi, the wine smelled terrible.

- Gah! Gah! Gah!

So, repeated monkey screams. Tremble the trees and the life around them, and also stir the earth.

But the soldiers responded quickly, just saying that it was no longer a bad karma. Prepare for the next decree, keeping bows and arrows in their hands one after the other.

The only person who drowned a nasty sweat was the soldier captain, only.

That was a different voice than before.

Like before, it wasn't like threatening and blowing this one up. Yeah, if you say so, it's like a voice, just to tell you something to make it sound around you.

That was just a hunch, something that intuitively ran off the brain marrow. But it feels as if it is no longer true.

Little by little, the faces of the elf soldiers turn blue. One, and another, dyes his eyes with amazement and despair from those who begin to notice the sight.

It was in the forest that I saw it. It was seen that monkey-shaped warcraft were beginning to gather one after the other before the castle gate so that they could follow the cry of the great monkey. An obvious upset licks the hearts of the soldiers.

One great ape, who had identified the gap as a target, did not miss it. A giant body swings, slamming hard on the ground, jumping. The sky, its large body ran.

In his disastrous eyes, he finally saw a city that seemed inert rather than a strong castle gate.

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

I want heavy rain. At the very least, to embarrass the eyes of the enemy avant-garde, to make him stand.

Fialert murmured in his brain marrow as he rebelled in his head the words of Rugis, who said so, utterly unscrupulous.

It's something I've been feeling for a long time, but Rugis apparently sees the one called witchcraft as a convenient tool for anything. The opposite is true.

Sorcery is nothing more than rewriting the structure of the world with the art of men, just a few fingertips. Even if you can start a fire where you can see nothing, you can buy a firestone if you just want to light it. Convenient but far from omnipotent.

Fialert knew that very well. I don't like it, I understand. It is because I have licked the bitterness many times and have seen the backs of those who do not reach me as a genius.

Originally, rain, but also heavy rainfall, is not out of order. Thousands of magicians would naturally affirm that it is impossible.

But Fialert took it on. Very naturally, leave it to me, even show some room.

The heart of the fialert sweats cold and narrows like a clogged back of his throat. Tension and agitation are crawling through my spine, I understand perfectly.

I don't want to show you the difference. I don't want to betray his expectations. I don't want to be abandoned, I don't. The mood was certainly in the chest of the fialert. Factors that have stepped out must still be feelings close to dependence.

But apart from that now, I have a hunch.

Like once, when you merged Rugis with the treasure sword and brought him back to life. Could a feeling like then, twisting reason and subjugating the world itself, be reproduced now if everything is in a full situation, both magic and energy? That thought was on my chest.

Now, then. We have to catch up now.

Magic builds up at your fingertips. I've never heard of or imagined the weather, the magic of manipulating nature on a massive scale. Therefore, neither the mould nor the formation as magic can be understood.

Wherefore, naturally, the fialert had his hand lifted to heaven. The hand, everywhere mediocre, everywhere, is like lead.

I always thought. Black eyes of fialert, instantly.

A woman manipulating a silver long sword and showing superhuman decisiveness, Kalia. She is an unmistakable genius.

Its wielding sword, its ability to make decisions that can be described as cold, its ability to act in front of ordinary people. Either way, it must be an ingredient she can affirm as a masterpiece.

And Virgin Mattia. He is a commander who leads the crests and has a charisma close to worship. The presence that does not attract the hearts and minds of those people can no longer be imitated at all.

I was feeling it. I've been feeling it. I'm the only one with nothing. Even if I'm forced to accompany Rugis, I'm the only one who remains normal.

I don't like it. As it is, I'm the only one left behind and that's how Rugis ends up abandoning me. Such anxiety has sometimes covered and eroded my chest. That's all, I really didn't like it.

Rugis decided not to let it fit with lead or anything. Then I, too, must follow suit. This body, and the man named Fialert, must be golden to match next to him.

I thought so and took on a request that seemed impotent and reckless.

However, in an attempt to refine some magic, the convenient technique of raining heavy rain did not improve. There's no more time. If you do poorly, it's not strange that enemy troops are imminent, even to the end of your eyes and nose. The agitation burns his throat and his teeth are distorted.

Oh, here it is. The world doesn't want to be interested in ordinary people no matter how much they want to be. Only heroes and braves open their hearts to the world.

- How hateful. How crazy. Yes, the world is not interested in me.

If so, if that is the truth, then there is no longer but one way?

Impossible magic theory that once occurred to me. Conceptual ideas that jumped reason. World figures without looking at precedents. If the world is not interested in me, I can no longer but transform this world itself.

Now that I don't know who I am in my brain, I took the pen. A magical structure that I don't even know Penn would write on parchment paper named Brain. Impossible magic theory.

Oh, yeah. It's this feeling. Instead of being pushed into an existing one. With your own hands, the pleasure of rewriting the likeness of the world. Cleanliness wielding the large iron that was holding this body down.

Now a new sorcery formed here, painted on the black eyes of the fialert. Ahead of a few horses, the enemy's avant-garde is visible.

"- Pierce the lid. Flood, crush the world and shake it here!

Piscilli, and, in the brain of the fialert, heard something smashing. He doesn't even know what it is.

But here and now, magic has certainly come to pass.

That's not heavy rain or anything. Exactly, like turbulence. They become waves, swallowing the avant-garde of enemy troops roughly.

Fiarat la Borgograd. At this time today, a piece of lead covering her peeled off. Undisputed, while lodging a golden glow inside it.