Fly the Flag of Fire!

Step through the blend of grass bushes to rape.

Jump over the clutter of the shrub and be fierce.

Choose Joki's arrogance and avoid it quickly.

Run. Beltran runs. Bring a large and small sword to your hips, flip a shadow coat and hurry ahead.

It is Dust Dream Forest.

Even the atmosphere is disabled here. Raw and heavy. The forest that sinks into darkness is like a dirty water bottom. Is it because the depression of vegetation is eating more and more heat and breathing out water and air? Or something where the dense signs of life even drift with a moist sense of mass. Or it can be a form of curse.

It is the cursed Great Forest where the witch dwells. No wonder no matter what.

It's full of malice, this forest. I'm pregnant with demons inside. Even though the open land is still an outer edge that can be seen by watermark in some places, there is already a suspicion in the flora and fauna. That's why they call it the Demon Realm. It's a dangerous and blasphemous place. It is a world in which a life-eating curse has taken shape.

Again, it sucks. Now, don't retreat. No longer, only run through.

We have to hurry.

Beltran knows. That the times are now increasing their speed to reach the end of one. That while there are things that come to fruition, there are also things that shake off and die.

Humans are being screened. Society is being burned to the ground. The world is being recreated.

To whom?

Regardless, it is by him.

He fell asleep fighting the brave. That further accelerated the turbulent world. It brought an unprecedented war. It was clearly hostile to the Church and the Kingdom of Asuria. This is, so to speak, a confrontation between the Old World and the New World.

So, come.

And all his unacknowledged will come unto his landscape of creation, counting him as absent.

At first, there were three armies approaching the king's capital from the south. From the western part of the Eteramaki territory, the Knights of the Holy Grail, led by the Flag Knight Ninaursula, is approximately five thousand; from the eastern part of the same territory, the Knights of the Holy Grail, led by the Flag Knight Topias, and the mixed army of the Eteramaki army are approximately ten thousand; and from the Tervahal territory, the Allied Coalition of Protectorates, led by Maryaranta Marquis Adolph, is approximately eight thousand.

The Salmant Army, which was defending Kalisalmi territory, retreated in part and lost in part. That's not good yet. Instead of preventing the crossing of the river by the Coalition forces of the Patriotic Nation, Ahmaniemi's army was devastated by the night raid. Still not the worst yet.

The worst occurred in the middle of the three battlefields. In Bow Zhang Hara, Yuriharsila Hou Klaus was defeated by a mixed army led by Flag Knight Topias, which led to the fact that he would adopt a delayed tactic with the remaining soldiers...... a vicious event occurred in the middle of it. Yuriharsila Marquis Klaus, dies. A kingdom-leading nobleman was assassinated, even called the patron general.

The death was hidden. Naturally given the impact. But there was also a crisis at the mouth. It is an armed uprising of insurgents in the Wang capital and an attack on the royal castle. This is the form in which the center of what was being built was targeted.

Defeats and disadvantages as if previous victories and advantages would be reversed...... it is a strong recoil against strong change. The world hates sudden changes and seems to hate extremes. The sharpness of the fine sword swings to the reverse and eventually the equilibrium rests, but the steep one is prepared with the steep opposite side. It's unknown.

The invasion with unprecedented speed by the Imperial Army was defeated by an unprecedented fire meter.

The advent of a special hero named General Ryu sanctified a special brave man over the direct royal family.

And now the kingdom to welcome the new world is exposed to attacks from the cold old world.

But... oh... even that's what he brought. He acts with familiarity with the world. For Huge, we don't know about trivial events, and the great currents to say even the tide of the times are inside his assumptions.

Beltran is sure. That this is a trial. He said it was a baptism of flames called him. The world is experiencing a wave when it's shredded by speed and burned by heat. There is no intrinsic difference between hostility and alliance with him, and either way it will be tried.

That's natural.

Because he is not a savior or anything.

If you say so, you're a referee. And a leader. Or pioneer. Or a culprit. Besides, he's a revenger. And for nothing... he is the ruler.

As one, I cannot escape his strange gaze. Living in this age is synonymous with looking up to the enormity of him, which at the same time means continuing to be seen by him.

So, run.

All of his admittedly brave men, even if he is not there, rush to the landscape he desires.

First Daniel Hackinen took his sleep first to let him control the upset in the North. We sealed off the land of the brave destruction, took the suspected Marquis Maryaranta and sent him to Chitoga immediately. There was no longer a man who had dyed his hands in strange colours throughout the world, and there was a figure of an exchanger with a spirit of immobility there.

Then Lauri prepared for a later counter-attack with intelligence. We have prepared a supply fleet that moves freely over the waters of the East Dragon River. At the same time, he entered into an intelligence war with merchants in Maryaranta territory, concealing him and the Cavalry of Fire together. The man, who was only trading with a load that he could bear, now only took on the fate of the nation.

And the kingdom was pushed into the three armies from the south... and one also rose on the night of the royal castle raid.

It's Yarucco. The old, weak, old soldier who retreated from the front, but was entrusted with his most important protection. And complete the task. They took out no one left to break in by arranging a black scarf over a hidden passage. It works so well that it bewitched him with a belt run.

Even if painted unharmed in a dusty underground tunnel, Yarucco's dead face said he was laughing. The old man, who had passed by in a cramped bungalow, passed away with a smile.

Even for Oiva Otara, who took that end, the battle is awesome. The two raiders who entered the royal castle, guided by the insider nobility, were on a platoon size. Troops from around a hundred people. It was suppressed only by leading only about ten soldiers. He's a big man who used to wind up tubes from daytime in a liquor store in the past, but seems to have blossomed a rare martial arts talent in the midst of a war.

As a result, the flow changed. It stopped the momentum that was being attacked and pushed in. And the flow reverses. The counterattack begins. It was a thorough inverted offensive, in a nutshell.

Accelli Arnell unfortunately demonstrated that all-purpose talent. You just captured the insurgents in the Wang Dynasty in one piece, or with the Kingsguard regiment five thousand, you touched the armor sleeve of eight thousand of the Confederate Guardians approaching from the east bank of the Dong Long River, and even recruited volunteers from among what and crossed the Great River west. Support the Uliharsila Army in guerrilla warfare to fight the Knights of the Holy Grail. It's not hard to imagine having a big drink. It works in isolation from the old days of misadventures on the border.

And one will was shown in the royal castle of the king's capital.

An old flag representing the sanctity of the Church was burned, boasting of the kingdom's renewal, but a new flag was raised as well. That's a fire. This is a declaration of war with a burning sentence from the Queen's hand.

The National Army was dismantled and reorganized as the Kingdom Defense Forces. Each colonial army, small and medium-sized knights, and prostitutes joined it. Even if it doesn't reach 100,000, it's a big army. It is an extraordinary legion where kings and nobles join forces in military power.

The general and total strength of the nation, the disease of the warriors who exalt the dignity of the human person… as if it were an army for the founding of the nation.

The Knights of the Holy Grail also seemed to be confused by the seriousness of the matter. Because the two armies, which were divided between the east and west of Uliharsila territory, joined and retreated to Kalisalmi territory. That alone is a historic event and a shocking incident. It was the army flying the flag of God that withdrew without fulfilling its purpose.

It can also be seen as some sort of recoil. Much to the north, but the late southbound.

But Beltran finds out. Another reason I let you judge that retreat.

That it was the reason that made the Knights of the Holy Grail hesitate and decide to reinforce them over the Island of the Holy Grail.

The likeness of a running stream that pushes the times back is his dominion, and everyone and he are caught in its intensity, and many cannot help but heartbeat by its intensity. It is no exception to those who will be clear in the high places of the Holy Grail.

Hin and one of those sharp, wind-piercing sounds.

I lay low and dodged.

A thin short arrow. But it will be more lethal than a spear. Because that's a poison arrow. If you suffer from a scratch, your blood will be destroyed. A limb would rot, and a stomach would suffocate. Two people have already been hit.

Lethal poison of fourth-chain snakes… poison secreted from the poisonous glands of snakes specially raised on islands floating in the purple cloud sea. Fighting the enemy in possession of it and the circumstances in which it is used without hesitation.

Running out again. Flying sound. I could avoid it only by twisting myself. The shooter knew the location by himself. Accelerate.

He is holding the sheath with his left hand. It has its index finger tangled in a fistula. On the other hand, the thumb is deflected to push out the tweezer. Identify the time between. They see enemies around the thriving area of the grass. It's like a blue headscarf on the spot. Beltran is also aware of the circumstances that will not remove it.

I see it. Luxurious body. I also know the types of things I can handle. I stepped in at once. I exposed the blade to the woods. He snorted apnea and slashed the tip off his elbow with each dagger. An eye-opening face. Young woman. Then whether the angle is like this or not, another giddle with a knife to give back. A thin neck was severed.

There is an occasional bloody odor. You can't wear that. During the confirmation, the cloth that wiped the blade was also thrown away on the spot. And it runs right out, too. Sound high overhead. Signs of snuggling beneath the ground. It... they must be headed for the body.

That makes sense. Because this is a forest of demons.

Hurry. As he crossed the fallen tree, he cut off the barefoot he had attacked with a knife. It means a poisonous bug that weighs enough to cut it off before it blows up. The feeling in the hand is also stiff.

That makes sense, too. To give it back, this is the Devil's Forest.

Outside the woods, there is an intensification of war, and even while we are doing this now, even though the armies of the kingdom and the Knights of the Holy Grail cross sword spears to fight each other over the end of the world, such things and so on, demons are bouncing and treading irrelevantly. The whole forest represents the alien demonic realm to the world as if it were a demonic beating.

Humans? Here we are all meat on the equally relatively weak side.

War? Here, doctrinal claims and the like are just fantasies of those who are not dying.

While sharpening his senses and walking like an arrow, Beltran realizes that he will make it. The demonic realm that entered again is unchanged and cursed and dirty. The density of life and death, similar to battlefield, clogs my breath. It's pretty clean to think about running here and leaping within the framework of a country. Because cowardice, cruelty and misery can even be felt courteous compared to the depths of life and the outspoken nature of death in the demonic realm.

Beltran thinks about it.

This world is sick, he said.

There is a demonic realm that poisons the healthy world. South of the kingdom, Dust Dream Forest. Northeast of the kingdom, the Dead Gray Desert. From the northwest of the empire to the northwest of the kingdom, the Phantom Forest. They are expanding while inhabiting unrivaled monsters of men within. It is a formidable threat.

There's no way to escape. Although some of the Purple Cloud Sea can be crossed, there is no means of sailing out to the Great Sea, and there is just a great icefield with nothing to live beyond the heavenly mountains that stretch north. Moreover, a wind of temper is blowing from it, invading the northern half of the continent.

What are humans doing to this terrible situation? Are you frightened and holding your knees? Or are you biting your teeth and fighting them? What is human society doing in a world that is slowly but absolutely doomed?

I didn't do anything.

I didn't do anything.

Pretend you don't know everything... or really don't know, don't even try to know, forget if you do, don't even notice, even if you do... and even smile at them. That's the general human presence in this world.

It is a serious matter at all.

I have nowhere to learn from the past. There's nowhere to look for the future. It just gets flushed into custom and it's like it's not independent. I'm convinced that if you leave me alone, tomorrow will come the same as now and I have nothing to doubt. On a daily basis of prediction and alarm, with misidentification and misinterpretation as common sense, I am exposed to the normal of laziness and dullness and I have no place to be ashamed of fine dust.

Because that is the right thing to do. For he that is not stained with it is abominable.

It is the fruit of the work of the Church.

It is a gift of divine teaching.

It makes reason wander with vain but sweet and gentle wording, making man an idiot. I don't even need to use precious psychotropic drugs. All you have to do is teach the baby to ring and say pointless prayers, and take a break in the shaking cage to lead him through his time to annihilation. Sing a lullaby. Shake gently. That's how we teach and oversee human society.

In other words, church work is nothing more than producing an euthanized death. It is the idea that if we are to perish inevitably, we should remain in the peace of mind caused by ignorance. It also makes sense to weaken reason.

Beltran unravels the Church.

Because he was once a man on the side of the Church.

Her mother is the daughter of an Eberian nobleman, and her father is a flush bard. The place where they were born is a whorehouse and the place where they grew up is an orphanage. The proprietor is the church. He was nurtured in the house of God before he felt comfortable, learned to be devout to God, and trained to fight God's enemies. The path to the priesthood was also open, but the talent of the martial arts led to the path of the dark vessels of the Church.

The green scarf that wraps its head is a testament to this.

It was awarded to the Church's shady army, the "Blade Regiment”, when it was recognized as a one-man power of war.

"I see it's a green towel. And it's you."

I could hear that voice. No, Beltran jumped to the side with all his leg strength. Draw swords with the fastest of the reversing high-speed sights of heaven and earth. Roll in dirt and grass. Stop to stand on your knees. I shrunk to the point where my elbows touched each other, hiding myself in my sword, but I stood like... I let my eyes and ears work without further ado.

"It's an hypersensitive reaction. Have you been under the illusion of your own death?

Up there.

Beltran jumped again without being sure or checking the position of his voice. It's a low jump like throwing yourself out. Force yourself to twist with the force of your arm to secure your vision. Inside the branches of the trees? No. I already heard it coming down. I'm in the shadow of a standing brown cylinder.

"Stunning until you stole the treasure of the church and hid yourself. But Kwong Fai is the one who informs us where he is. And pay for darkness. Uncover distortions. Correct the error. With that correctness."

Again, across the trunk of Oki, on the back. Beltran awoke cautiously as he ascertained the grip of his sword. The center of gravity remains dropped so that you can jump at any time. Move around rubbing dirt behind your shoes. The tip of the sword will never be removed from the direction where the enemy will be.

"I guess I was going to let the fire run wild and stir up...... that was a bad scratch. The desperation of thieves is to that extent. Remember pity."

Alone. I could see the end of the blunt coat. A tall man is standing with his back in the tree.

"It looks like the" Devil's Eye ”was conducting it, but that's a bad idea too. If I had, I would have known where I was."

Beltran sounds familiar in tones that drape lessons, in voices, and in both.

And it looks familiar.

Black leather pattern extending from the waist, its silver patterned head. Dark clothes under the coat. shallow black neck muscles peeking from it. Blue gray headscarf on head. Silver hair that zeroes from it. The color of the eyes directed at Beltran is bloody red.

"What's up? Are you too scared to talk? I'd be old enough."

"… not that you are immediately"

"Call me captain. If you don't take off that green towel."

Face it from the front. Just that makes me more alert.

He's a man from an anti-presbyterian minority, so he looks like a young man, but his actual age is not a known one. At least he's older than Beltran. He could be in his fifties, or even his sixties. I can't even tell when I was old from standing and behaving. There is just the silence of an exceptional martial artist.

This man is the leader of the Blade Regiment.

He is the man who stands at the apex of the Church's shady power of war.

A mighty man, not touching without sound, but with the same wind pressure that can be felt. Is it supposed to be sword wind or sword pressure? Beltran is concentrating his consciousness on a sword by abandoning options such as dark vessels and fights. I'm not exactly the one who can flirt with odd manoeuvres. A distraction would result in immediate death.

"Well... well done, I've worked it out. Even if you feel it, you're the sword's son."

"... out"

"Say please. If you want me to put on the archery again."

The position of the blue-grey headscarf dropped. My posture leaned under my blunt coat. Coming. No, I'm coming. More than a dozen steps were made. The time was invaded in a breath. Before I could think of the speed, the sword was moving and finishing a few matches. If you realize it, you're competing. I have bloody eyes in front of me.

It was an invisible and early task that did not show any hands in the enemy.

The beltran who opposed him responded with a thoughtless sword.

"Brilliant. Therefore forgive. Return to the regiment. There's a pawn shortage."

"Stop laughing... tens of thousands"

"Then make me laugh. You got a sad look on your face, huh?

Which punch broke the antagonism, that moment when they floated their special blades with both fists in front of each other, more than ten numbers of positive motions went by large and small...... Beltran lost three fingers of his right hand. Thumb, index finger, middle finger. Each of them mowed the other half. It is the end of the attack at the time of departure.

"Drop the sword and pick up your fingers. If you go back to the regiment, I'll connect you with psychic drugs."

The man who proposes so has a one-handed lower section. It shows the sharpness and the length of his body in his sight. It is not a light sword. I think of the skill of manipulating it meticulously and at high speeds, aiming my fingers at the tip. Compare it with your own skill.

And Beltran jumped.

Spike.

Fastest intrusion of the closest distance with the smallest operation. The aim is between the eyebrows. It's an angle that shows the sword to the dot. Drive a sense of distance crazy through the gaps in your quest for conversation. To kill. To kill this man.

I can't reach it. Did you back off? Stretch out your arms to see if you're missing something. Zero blood. Release your right hand and manipulate the sword with your left hand only. Twist yourself and extend your left arm. It's a one-handed left. It arrives. This arrives. It becomes a deadly blow.

I was struck down.

No refinement, no nothing, no sword from across.

Immediately devised a center of gravity. He killed the momentum by kneeling on the ground, letting him have the inclusions of a sword to return even as he returned the sword to the side of his right hand, and restrained it with his gaze and shoulders. If my fingers were alive, I might have skipped the dark vessel. But I don't have the fingers I need in my right hand, and Beltran concentrates only on sword moves in the first place.

Then there was a gliding flash. White blade. Head. No, a face. No, it's a throat. The neck. Hard and sharp light is trying to crush the blood vessels in the neck. I can see it. Beltran even looked at his face.

"Well... that's better. It's clever."

Standing up once in the open time now, Beltran is smelling blood odor. Jaw. Deep torn and bleeding. As a result, he opened his mouth and lowered his jaw. It would have made no sense if it had been a slaughter that had broken my neck.

"It's still a shame to kill. Go back. You've already torn off the thief plot. It will be time to wake up."

Even put the sword to the sheath, and the man... says a man who was more than a sword master for Beltran on Boy's Day than a brother, or even a father. I'll talk to him.

"The treasure and the man are no longer in the hands of the Archbishop. Light merges with light, and darkness is crushed without sound. That is the truth of the world. The same thing where it had even reached the witch's residence. The old darkness just ends at last. Not with you, but with you."

"... do you buy time with words"

"Don't be strong. You are not a man who can live without a base. Pious Beltran."

Beltran attached his left hand to his bloody jaw. I couldn't even laugh because of the pain and cramps. Hand over the coat and wipe a little. I put my sword to the sheath with my bloody right hand. I had a little trouble with the lack of fingers. I won't stop the bleeding.

"Exactly. How can we live without worshipping God even on the brink of time? I'm a devout man."

I laughed out loud. Every time I laughed, there was blood scattered. Blood is gushing from the scattered area. That passes to the pharynx and chest, so the rusty smell of iron finally gets stronger.

"Stand back on the path of holy faith, or Beltran. You're welcome."

"It doesn't extend to that. I live more as a servant of God."

I put my left hand on my hip as I answered.

"Except... the heavens and the earth, the two gods, the inert and the weak, are useless."

I pulled my little sword backwards. Twist your wrist and throw it. Run without waiting for a hit. Beltran runs. Both hands are attached to the long sword that remains on the sheath. It is the structure of the strike. It's a disease that lasts a long time.

"Stupid."

I didn't hit the little sword. It was avoided for no reason. The silver-haired red-eyed man, who gave himself up and avoided, waited for Beltran, slightly adjusting his posture. I'm still going to hit it out.

They approach each other by looking to the left. Between swords is between death... a comparison of speed.

Beltran is twisting his half to the left as he runs, with his right shoulder in front of him. That's how I build my stash and I have sword moves to pull out my sword all at once. That's the side I taught. That's the side I taught. The posture appears to have been mirrored. The outfit is similar: headscarf and coat. The belief in special will be the same again.

But no.

Hands for unplugged hitting...... not all those fingers. Everything is different.

Because they can only be different from each other.

There's nothing I can do where I lay my mind on top of each other. There is no good or evil there. Though various fantasies are created in an attempt to find something that is common to each other, it is only a fantasy wherever it goes, and in a more limited world than we want to see, there is nothing but ourselves.

Beltran to think so, so be devout.

Because I can't stand loneliness. A calm and peaceful world must not know, and this is a cursed world that is slowly dying. If you live in ignorance, okay, once you realize it, you won't be able to. It is natural to seek salvation in beings beyond people's knowledge.

God, save him. Lead me.

But neither the goddess of heaven nor the manly goddess of earth shall be spared. No matter how much the Church organized man to worship the Two Gods, Beltran could not find salvation there. The reason is simple and concise.

Because the two gods have already defeated.

That's why the world dies. The Church preaches doctrine as if it were to serve death, subject to the fate of death.

And Beltran realized. That true holiness is neither in the goddess of heaven nor in the manly goddess of earth. They are second and third. Then what is first place? What is the head. What is the most honorable God in this world?

Death.

There is only death.

This world is united in the God of Death. I give my life to him in the hope. If it is a living organism, it is a disease, but it was a sacred disease. Those who live to die in a world that is hard to avoid... those who breathe death and swim death... there are those who lead such a flock of the dead.

It's him.

He used to be in the form of a human being named Salomon, burned to a flame of human zeal, disappeared and reappeared, and now he's where he's flesh is subjected to the form of Marco. He is the God of death. He is the number one mighty God in this world.

I have a base. The devout Beltran is now also on the path of holy faith at this moment.

Oh...... lucky for me.

I am the messenger of true God.

"Fool, dude...... this......!!

It was the first time the man had heard a surprising and painful voice, so Beltran was distorting the edge of his mouth by savoring a little excellence. He keeps his cheeks and back in a weed he doesn't even know his name. Those vitals feel oddly ravishing.

Beltran was slashed.

Taking the blow of divine speed to his belly, he no longer seemed to be separated from the upper and lower bodies.

If he moves his eyes and looks at you, he's lying with you for once. But none of the senses. Perhaps it's just connected to an extent of sorrow by muscle, skin, or the edge of the garment. Beltran got one sense of accomplishment there as well. A man who can cut it off completely damages it... because he understands it to be due to the power of this move.

At that moment when life and death crossed in time, the moves unleashed by Beltran preceded the enemy.

Right hand piercing.

Using the position of pulling out the sword as a positive motion, he protruded his finger's missing right hand without even gripping the pattern of the sword.

No matter how fast the knife-piercing moves reach the exquisite realm, the interception does not extend to the fastest of straight stretching the empty hand if it moves the weight of iron with human force and arcs. Not to mention Beltran stepped in at an angle per body. Ride powerful enough, too.

At the end of the remaining pharmacopoeia and pinky fingers, apply the poison obtained from the blue headscarf that was slashed off along the way and stab the neck where it was the nearest exposed steeple.

I didn't aim for it, it stabbed me. The poison came in. It travels all over the body on a bloodstream.

"Oh... oh...!

Sora, I can't move anymore. Successfully stabbed. Let's reach lethal levels. I wish I could restrict movement even if it wasn't enough. This is how he sprinkles his own blood. The raging fierceness of the inviting demons would have stabbed me in the stomach.

Sora, countless giant ants flock to their bellies early. Front, the depression of the branches of the trees is also shaken by something that is not the wind. Is there anything that swells on the back and beneath the earth? Maybe even animals have grass roots that dramatically rip out of their blood.

And Beltran thinks it's a powerful poison. Your right hand is already full of heat and pain to the top of your elbow. Looks like he got poison from a slashed wound.

The pain came to my shoulder even while I thought so. Enough. If it's this much, it won't harm the enemy. Only this pain now gives Beltran peace of mind, as neither Xia's vision nor the tympanic membrane of tinnitus can confirm the results.

I accomplish a mission better than God.

I blame myself entirely on the path of faith.

If you close your eye lid as you pray, there is also something in the darkness of solitude that brightens with chickens. Is it due to the action of poison, or pain? Is it forbidden to fall asleep?

No... no.

This is a blessing.

Sora, the light now had color. Well, I guess so.

Green? Blue? Purple? No, no... gold. It's golden. It's a magnificent, great color of light.

"Phew... stay out of the way, idiot"

There was something to put in, and Beltran was unintentionally moving his tongue.

"Why should I remember your strange face at this time of bliss? Kuster."

I laughed like a child. I've never laughed that way before.

Because I feel comfortable. It also gave rise to pride, but it was also childish and I wanted to be praised and proud. And I felt praised by him. Finally, I also felt envied by a man like a wild dog who nostalgic for him.

Damn, I was in a good mood.

So laugh and keep laughing that way...... the beltran is over.

Dusty Monson.

Located to the south of the Kingdom of Asaria, its great forest lies beneath the bouncing realm of cursed witches. It is a magic state in which the Son of Man takes his life as soon as he enters. In the boat song is also sung the forest where the soul withers.

Shall I sound like a world of death? Or shall I sound like a disastrously raw world?

Either way, it was not a world isolated from the outside world, so the one who entered it and lived and died, that is, the one who was out of the history of interrogation.

Although the man with the green headscarf lived and came to the surface only once, the second time he died and became part of the Devil's Forest. Several other humans entered the woods at the same time, and many are dead. It is the end of life and death that is never specified in history.

Know that it is in that life and death that there is the truth of history.

The hiding place of the extraordinary beyond common sense is exactly the world outside the ordinary.

For example, yes… there is a princess who once reigned with a great presence in the world of the table, but played an act that could be both tragic and comedy during the royal sight of the castle, and scratched it off the stage of history.

The woman was bound by strong fringes with both the brave men of her predecessors and the brave men of our time.