Fly the Flag of Fire!

The time of the sword is the time of death.

There was one man who did not seek the landscape on the horses of the knights, did not seek the rows of soldiers, and the stones of arrows and everything was irrelevant to himself, just kept pursuing the intermission of the sword in the midst of a riot. A green headscarf on his head that slashed people, slaughtered horses, broke earth bases and armor, hoping the sword wind swept the battlefield.

Such a visit by a man named Beltran was shattered on one battlefield, seven years ago.

(One human being, even when it comes to brave men, etc. Across white horses, wrapped in gold and silver armor, where they were surrounded by armies... there's no reason to escape my sword. Let's prove it's just a meat bag with blood on it)

The Eberian Imperial Army devoured that army, foolishly isolated. Countless soldiers became flesh and blood oil and scattered them on the earth, exposing the notorious nobles and generals alike to the misery of equality beneath the sky. The defeated general dies equally. Mixed warfare realizes equality of life under the sword blade. Finally, the moisturizing green was the beltran.

It was one big man who stopped his sword mass-producing 20, 30 and murder. The guy, not even wearing armor to his satisfaction, must have picked up, swinging his horse spear like a stick, storming in the sludge of death. It is a situation where wins and losses have already been decided and how they will be eliminated. No one tried to get close to such an obvious danger. Why such a miscellaneous neck when there is an expensive and easy noble neck right around the corner.

Only Beltran was attacked. For for him death is a venerable phenomenon with equality, and it is not something that can be biased by nobility, men and women or by old age. There was no reason to avoid the big man in front of us. The sword and iron pattern clashed, causing a one-on-one between the bundles.

(Death only buys by death. With a sword against one of us, death will come to fruition. Death to each other. It is in the days of death that there is true life and death, and there is my God of devotion)

Beltran was to experience a dramatic change in the war situation as he handily slipped into the unexpected resistance of the big man. First came a scattered kick in allied soldiers. Massive. These are the Heavy Squads and Negative Injured Troops that have been placed backwards to form this siege net. Then the rain of arrows, the rain of stones, so much that the color of the sky changes. And it's an amazing alchemy cavalry assault.

An obstinate, sharp, endless attack of disease rage. Its thorough tactics of repeated separation and rendezvous with large and small oligarchy as a metamorphotic freedom, dividing the Eberian generals into hundreds and exterminating each one. It's not like the Imperial Army, which was being colored by human greed and attacked by the brave men. It was the production of death as if it had stuck a methodology for the total annihilation of the Great Army, rationally, efficiently and inhumanely everywhere.

What is frightening is that some of that methodology did not take into account the life-saving of the army led by the brave. Rather, it was used to create alarm, confusion and gaps. With the unwary Eberian rear soldiers, the Eberian front soldiers who were floating in victory, and the brave men who were gasping at the dead... they pushed those three kinds of soldiers into secret and tried to keep no one or him from doing anything, killing them all off the outer edge.

(That's the... That's the embodiment of death. And whoever directs its death...)

Beltran saw. At that time, he shields the sword of a big man who turned to counterattack, shields an uncertain corpse on the enemy's side, and flees while applying it to blood, meat oil, brains and manure. A man who commands his army like an incarnation of death, and kills 10,000 people like a pioneer of death. He dominates death without being ruled by death, he does not try to live, he does not even try to die yet he does not drown in death even though he produces death in cold bulk...... a descended reaper.

In the end, the Eberian Imperial soldier who was on the spot was not safe as one. No surrender was granted and everyone was nearly killed... in fact, no nobleman or officer was left... only a few soldiers and mercenaries survived and all became slaves. Beltran is one of them. It was chained and bought and sold as a labor force.

And I found out. Have a crazy flaming ritual… "Holy Flame Festival”.

I am not tired of killing a man who would have been a reaper for the Everian Empire and a savior for the Kingdom of Asuria, tragically and with the totality of the country, to degrade the wreckage, to denigrate the name and to do all I can to blasphemy. Beltran did not see it as madness. I was rather good at it. Saara, and.

That's what death is all about! Abominable, feared, and set on fire!

People cry as they are born. Cry that the signs of death have begun. Civilization is shaped by a desire to retreat, avoiding the sole that ends if we know. Death is the driving force. People try to stay away from “death," the biggest unpredictable thing. Cover up the death of death with cowardice in the name of wisdom, delude, turn away from the truth and hope.

Beltran came to conviction and faith.

He said he was still the victim of “death".

A man who was searching for God in between swords on the battlefield gained an object of faith in visible form. The day of the festivities, when Salomon was slain and the brave were celebrated, became for him the day of the divine revelation that God had shown. He established one religion by himself.

(It is assumed that God will show himself again after wanting to hide himself once. If... then!

Beltran killed his slave lord and ran to the back society. I didn't even think about going back to Everia. As a devout believer, he breathed in an alley of violence in search of the next revelation and kept waiting, now or now. Waiting on a year-by-year basis...... how long did I have to live my anger in my chest.

(Wet. The world gets wet. It is good to glorify the brave. It would be nice to weep. But there are limits to drunkenness. Have you forgotten your fear of my God? Why don't you curse more? Why not blaspheme more? Are you going to forget and sink into ignorance everywhere? Like a livestock that devours bukubuku and fat, inebriated sleep!

From one point on he became interested in the slave trade. He wanted to see who he remembered. Collect funds while hunting and selling off the livestock... and buy those who have experienced God's cause. Surviving that hell and enslaving the Eberian Imperial soldiers.

They scattered all over the kingdom of Asuria. Few of them were already dead, and even if they found them, they were not necessarily afraid of his God. Still, I searched for it, collected it, selected it and left it on hand. I've only gotten tired of that all the time...... but also had some interesting encounters. He is a big man. Back family business to collect funds. We met again, unintentionally, at some point in it. He always looked bored.

(That big man also experienced one of those battlefields. cause, but far from revelations)

The volume of alcohol in Beltran was increasing. Anxiety and indignation descend like a haze. Time is not normal. Even as he was angry at the ruggedness, Beltran was being swallowed up by a great river called the Everyday of the Masses.

Not until this time tonight.

"Salo, mon......"

As he called himself to the words he uttered, Beltran returned to the reality in front of him. Upstairs in a dark tavern. One of several sweeps in a rotten world. There stands one boy there.

(What... what eyes do you have? It's... its eyes... it's like that time... you know!

The two eyes that miraculously reflect the light of the lamp are blue. The cloudy vision is painfully clear, and you can't see anything else, just the light. Scary, Beltran thought. Glad, but Beltran thought. Various other thoughts overlapped...... I noticed he was on his knees and looking up at Bigeye. There were droplets that conveyed cheeks.

It was worship of God.

Beltran, whose name never appears in Marco's rushing history of war. Even in the history of war in the Everian Empire, the "Green Scarf Beltran" is believed to have died in battle during the "Battle of the Brave" in Asuria. History never recognized his existence. Nor has the name of the God he believes in been conveyed.

But such as the wording wisely summarising the infinite tumult, what is being interpreted is a fraction of the truth. It is only an act of partitioning the inseparable, shredding the unsharpened and breaking the sea with a drop of water, as we have found out what we cannot understand. The form of faith did exist there. There was a messenger who worshipped and died. A man inspired by the dead, angry and blessed by the blue eye.

And it is that hidden presence that will sustain Marco's feat from the shadows. Beltran and those found in him leap without ever being on the stage of history. Serving the absolutely reigning “death” on the shores of good and evil, as Marco commands its incarnation… as a fanatic.

Now it is to be feared that Marco, a boy of six years old at the time.

The attitude of Beltran, who was an adult who watched how things were going and showed a surge that he could neither understand nor respond to... I told him without the slightest agitation of dust that he was beyond thanking his minister.

"That attitude, okay"

Beltran feared the words he was told. Because I now exposed myself to inadvertent invisibility, and I recognized myself that was unacceptable. While I'm extremely impressed, I suppress my warring breasts as much as I want to scream, and I'm just awed.

"Sick, don't answer. You kidnapped a woman in this town tonight, or no."

"Ha. No, it is. Me... I don't know what to do. The only prisoners in this town tonight are those on the ground floor, the rest of them… those who stand up in arms and those responsible for the slave trade are currently staying in the territorial capital."

"For some reason"

"Ha, because there's going to be a slave city in the capital soon."

Slavery is an expensive commodity and no transaction takes place without gold coins. The gold coins in circulation in the Kingdom of Asuria are large gold coins and small gold coins, but they are about fifteen small gold coins at the price of common labour slaves, equivalent to 1,500 pieces if paid in white copper coins. Bronze coins are ten times that number. It is also a market without ceiling, and even the finest slaves say multiple large gold coins will be used. One large gold coin is equivalent to 100 small gold coins.

Since, on the other hand, it is also a costly commodity to maintain, slave cities can only be permanently established in urban areas inhabited by the wealthy. In Hellevi territory, there is only one other large town besides the territorial capital, and in this town, where Beltran is the root castle, it is only opened once at the beginning of winter. Those who fail to contribute will not refuse to follow.

For Beltran, who seeks Eberian defectors in that fateful place of death, the emphasis should be on the permanent city. New products and the like are just articles that roll and earn interest sheaths. Various sites… it can range from aristocratic bedrooms to beast feeding grounds, but slaves who would already be badly abused if they weren't here may once again flow to the market. There is a slave to seek out there. Occasionally held in the territorial capital, where slaves are constantly traded, it is easy to discover such slaves.

But his circumstances were irrelevant to the boy.

"Then, no use"

He was a beltran who shrugged for a moment on his back trying to walk away with his heels back and chased him barking right after.

"Oh, wait! Please... please wait!

No voice, just desperate to sue the boy who showed only his cheeks over his shoulder. He knew how difficult a miracle could be. No shame, no outrage. It's nothing to be ashamed of in the first place in the world he sees. He begged a boy who could only reach as far as his waist as he could cling to his heel.

"I have an idea! If you kidnap a woman in this town tonight and become a soldier's immobile, there's only one!

"Are you the Baron of Unabsent?

"Oh, naturally. But it's impossible to be the baron. The man is also vacating the mansion for the purpose of the capital city."

"... the family?"

"Ooh, ooh! Ri! Ri! Ri! If so, this is a situation that has arisen in the back shadow, and if you intend to reflect the Lord's intentions there... please, I command you awkwardly... please!

Did it distract you to be called Lord and asked for an order... the boy looked back. I answer with the same “death” in the back, even though I now refrain from the fierce light in my eyes.

"Can you?"

"Ha. Trading is something that cannot be done without distribution. Knowing evil is evil, and those evils cannot be isolated"

"How?"

"Ha. Tighten the fox to the tiger trap"

My eyebrows lifted small over the blue-eyed. That's a sign of arrival.

"Then I command you. Rescue Hannah, the woman from Kiko Village, who was captured in this town tonight."

Faith became. The joy began.

"As the Lord wills...!

The swordsman of Death Feng rose, retightening the green towel. Skip the instructions to the detaining party, which was unusually quiet upstairs, and rush off to the city at night. The men as well as the women go again. Beltran's unmistakable temper propagated, and both of the rehearsals, even the remaining Yamato, were agile.

Two people, Marco and Oiva, remain in the party's disappeared store.

"What... how did you do that??

After a while I finally asked, whereas the answer was a childish smile.

"Some people are kind."

He threw the wooden sword in his hand, and the big man summoned it grandly.

I was wondering if that was possible.