A Slave Career Planner Can Be A Successful Profession

It's a simple motive, Chitta thinks.

The desire to be strong, was gradually taking shape in her.

Wave your fist.

It sounds good and the mitt (and the merchant named it, but apparently the processed product of the skin gauntlet) can be played.

One-two for people's steeple. Two more good sounds.

Keep this noise coming. That's good.

That is how my merchant gave the instructions.

Sounds like he's practicing punching. Release the correct blow (punch) in the correct position. That is the challenge under Chitta.

It was the first one, not at all. He's really hitting me with the force of his arm, and he hasn't done it with a hard punch. It may be a terrible business, but the merchant couldn't do it at all, and he was making Mitt's set-up work for Chitta.

Mitt in this place doesn't have a very good fit rate.

etc., and seemed to be trying and erroneously finding Mitt's position to correct this form.

It was worth it.

Gradually, but he said his form was becoming the right one. It's really a basic one-to-one blow, but if you ask me, I feel the power is conveying well.

"Good for you, Chitta!

"Yes!"

With that said, how can merchants be so precise in their instruction?

Instead of being a good instructor, I have a good eye for details, and I don't know why, but I have a huge amount of knowledge.

He also has strength.

Even though the reflex nerve is not otherwise fast or sharp, for some reason the form is extraordinarily beautiful and the defense is poor, but the attack is as good as the example.

"But it's still sweet!

Don't be alarmed by mitting exercises.

When caught off guard, the merchant immediately strikes back. Mitt will attack you the other way.

Chitta has to flush it or avoid it.

I really dodge it a lot. A series of triplets and attacks fly in that gap, eliminating the gap that Chitta attacks.

Strong.

What if there was a kill on this blow? Suppose there was a cage of will and momentum to beat people to death.

"Don't make a fuss!

One shot to the body.

The body is really the axis of the body, even if it dodges a lot. For that reason, if they target the body, they have to guard or not.

Chitta's defense is sweet.

When he entered the body one shot, Chitta was to break her knee.

"... I look like a woman."

"I know! So what!"

"... hehe, yes!

Stand up, the merchant was giving instructions. Then Chitta thought she had to stand.

The merchants will not forgive you if you train your abs later. They say your abs will strengthen your body. Chitta grinned bitterly that the severity of this minute would make her abs a thousand times.

(You thank Chitta plainly. My moving vision is up)

I think while I hit the mitt.

I don't know why, but they use "shielding," "martial arts," and "visual enhancement" on the side of being hit with mitts, and they accumulate experience in those three.

I think visual enhancement is probably from the experience of trying to contour the darkness or something in the night camps, but in mitting it seems to lead to enhanced motion vision.

Thanks to this, I feel that the reflex nerve has only slightly improved.

(Well, I've been made to do it many times. I knew I'd been domesticated by modern society for a long time. I smell dull)

I don't think the dull smell is missing.

This is how Chitta strikes now, because Chitta is hitting precisely for Mitt.

I'm really an amateur. My posture breaks down and I can relax. If I flashed into the body at that moment, for example, I would fall apart.

Every time it gets tough.

He said I'd be dead in action.

But Chitta foolishly targets Mitt. If you give me a blow to the temple now, I'll go for Mitt even in the moment of death.

It's complicated.

Thanks to Chitta's form is good. It's getting better. I can't help attacking him, he's following his example.

The prospect of aiming for the steeple becomes dull in exchange. I can't learn where to win if I decide to be here now. I feel I'm blunting that sense of smell, or judgment.

Strength not measurable in appraisal skill conformity rate.

In order to polish that, I need to be able to do it again, and I need the technology to bring the mitts to the steeple.

(Well, bringing a mitt to the steeple though is the same as protecting the steeple with a mitt. Does it make sense that my shielding skills can be trained?)

This is the end of today's mitting exercise, thinking about things that cannot be translated as such.

The next step is to practice sandbagging.

There aren't many curtains for me to come out.

He gave instructions to Chitta that "the next step is to punch into the leather bag," and once returned to the commercial tent.

Oh, welcome home.

"Good luck"

……

The threesome that Hetty and Ili greet me with words and as usual react to the extent that Uffi lowers his head lightly.

As usual, I thought.

Hetty said, as usual, "Yes, I've also accounted for the potion sales in the meantime. I'm about to get my stuff to the Merchant Guild, so I'm going to pick it up in the afternoon," he said. I decide to make tea to work for Hetty. Magically chilled tea, by the way, is.

"You can't drink cold food without a store with a storage bin."

It was a luxury, Hetty said.

I think I'm a luxury, too. I thought nobility was the only one in the hot desert at noon who could drink this cold stuff, but magic is really convenient.

Iri also seemed satisfied with the cold tea and was breathing a rare fu. By the way, it is difficult to hold a cup of tea in a winged harpy, so it is both handheld.

It was Uffi who had a subtle face. I guess I'm having trouble reacting to the extravagant use of magic. But do you appreciate tea? I usually drink tea.

"Well, Hetty.... It's not hard to live alongside a nobleman as long as you have magic. Then it would be strange not to lead a life of nobility."

"... this is ridiculous"

Pompous and Uffi talk.

Wow, I thought something was wrong and I looked at her and she looked like she was gone and cut out in an atmosphere where I was forced to switch stories.

"No, I don't see pure poverty as a virtue, but I'm sure the idea is different that if you can live with a nobleman, you have to live with a nobleman. That way of thinking makes people unhappy..."

"Oh, no, that's not such a hard story"

I broke in unexpectedly. I know what Yufi's trying to say, but it's not going to happen.

"Something's definitely different between people who can afford it and people who can't. I mean, really, this is just my rule of thumb, but something's really different. So if you can handle it with a degree of magic, you want to give the slaves room too. Fresh, cold water, comfortable beds."

……

He said something. Eyes.

I guess Uffi is more painful than anything to be blocked from talking like this. That's all this guy always means. I wish I could lose my shoulder strength.

This is what I'm going to say.

"On a hot day, I want something cold"

Ili comments on her pompous and cute.

But I know that half of them dare to comment to improve the air.

"Yeah, maybe some ice cream or something this time. It would be delicious if I could make it."

"Then Hetty needs to work out more water magic and stuff."

"Hehe, if it's for sweetness, it seems like you can work hard. One of the less entertaining things in the world."

I thought it might be somewhat old to say ice cream, but when I pointed it out, there was a good chance Hetty would be obstinate and sweet, so I would shut up.

Sweet she's cute too, but the rush is subtly tiring. For some reason, I get enough experience with negotiation skills sometimes, so guess what.

"One of the entertainment of the world."

Well, I thought about the boxing I was dating right now. One of the few entertainments in the world.

I wonder how fun that is. If you get so used to a luxurious life and on the contrary want to go around and live in peace, the feeling is long lost.

I cared a lot about what Yufi was going to say, but I decided to forget about it already.