My Death Flags Show No Sign of Ending

That day, the new army building on the corner of the headquarters of the Knights of the Holy Kings was a topic to hold on to. It began a few days ago with a circular sent to the entire Knights.

That's all the content is that new joiners are coming. Midway admission without going through the annual public recruitment exams is certainly not like making a special fuss of what is a minority.

Then why are we talking about, when it comes to the age of those who decided to join the group halfway through, is why they were well below their original prescribed age.

Anyway, he is a 13-year-old boy. He is the youngest member of the Knights since their founding.

That's all that matters on the subject, but I can't stop wondering what the hell kind of person he is because he defeated dozens of senior knights on his admission exam by himself.

It was all the more noisy in the cavalry packed by the 94th grader in sync with the boy.

Especially when it comes to the seventh squad in the 94th grade, where the boy and I will be in the same room.

"Hey, what if the rookie in the example is the guy as rumored?

The squad leader of the seventh squad, Isaac, asks the squad members such questions in a soft-hearted manner.

"Talk about that again? The rumors are all hard to believe, and I don't think that's exactly..."

"But it seems it's true that I bumped a bunch of seniors, so at least it wouldn't be normal."

"He's a mucky bastard who's over two meters tall, beats down his opponent without a weapon, and no attack works...... right? I'm not sure I can do it with such a monster."

"As a matter of fact, some people were talking about the ghost where the resentment of the knights who died on the battlefield came together. Is that why you're not attacking me?"

"It's impossible... you don't, do you?

One word after another was a sign of the anxiety they felt. This is due to the fact that rumors about newcomers that have spread among the group over the past few days have become too distant.

It was something I wanted to smile at, but there was credibility I couldn't do it. Although the ghosts are just not too clappy.

That's why as long as I have time here. Oh, and not like this. We were bumping our own speculations about the rookie's character.

But that's the end of the day too.

Because a hot rookie is finally coming here today.

Unexpectedly, the knob on the door was pulled without being knocked. Four sights converge on the door.

Gigigigigi, gradually opens up with the old noise of And then I came across the door...

"Excuse me for a second. You got them all?

He was a barren beard man in bossy hair with extended collar legs.

Still a few months after joining the group, they didn't know the man, but take a salute stance by perceiving that he was a superior officer with a shoulder medal.

"Yes, yes, thank you. I just brought the delivery, so thank you later."

From behind his superior officer, who made what a throwing statement, a boy approximately 160 cm tall peered into his face with a sight.

The look on that face is harsh.

"You have a good nerve handling me, Cody. You want me to stick you in a barrel and kick you in the ocean?

I wondered if he was even nervous, and the boy suddenly scolded his superior officer without cowering. In front of a totally unexpected sight, the four people, starting with Isaac, open their mouths and solidify.

Freshly joined newcomers just don't use respectful language against their superiors. I can't do it because I'm a child or where the prestige is good.

Behavior far from our common sense.

"You want me to keep a glass of booze in a barrel then. You know, you can't always drink cognac."

"Patience with a lower ale. You look great."

"It's not cheap alcohol at all. It's not like the last supper of my life was a junior ale."

Even so, I don't have a superior officer or a superior officer who cares about it. Instead, he even had a hella grin.

While their heads are unable to handle this anomaly, their superiors leave the room waving, "Bye." Then naturally, only the boy who was brought was left in front of Isaac and the others.

He's not a two-metre tall, resilient man like he was rumored to be. I have a positive face that gives me a slightly more adult impression compared to my age, but still makes me feel like I'm young enough for my age.

Black coat on black hair, deep red eyes that are in it and draw the beholder.

Its eyes narrow softly, and its sharp gaze captures the four.

"It's Harold. You take great care not to offend me."

Even as a matter of course, and so succinctly that I might accidentally miss hearing it, the boy who named him Harold said so.

Running past businessmen and other unattended people. Though as an elderly person, I should probably expose my anger, but when I can get through this much, I just face it.

"... Ah, yes. I'm Isaac. Best regards,"

Isaac, who had managed to react in a dazed manner, was finally able to give it back with polite language as he pulled his cheeks. No one turns a blame on his younger opponent for his appearance.

Everyone was overwhelmed by Harold's intense presence not to be allowed to say whether he had it or not. Pathetic, if you say so, they are all without a leak.

This was the encounter I had with Harold, which I will never forget for the face of my 94th grade 7th squad.

◇

Is Harold basically an oligarchy, and from then on he stayed just exchanging the minimum words necessary? Partly because Isaac and the others couldn't talk because they butted into the silent Harold air.

The next day I greeted him with an atmosphere that seemed to clog his breath like that.

Recruits less than a year old, including Squad 7 from the early morning hours of the morning still in the morning, were gathered in outdoor training grounds. Nothing, it's the usual early morning training.

If you want to make a difference, Harold's introduction was pinched before the start.

"You guys would've heard the story, but he's the youngest Harold Stokes to ever join the army."

That word of the instructor spreads the blur to the recruits. Probably because he only looks like a normal boy, not a big guy like he was rumored to be.

Most of the whispers are skeptical about whether you really have the strength. Harold standing next to the instructor doesn't hear such a voice or move one eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter how old you are when you join the group. Treat equally in all. Harold, are you ready for that?

"Don't throw up stupid questions. It's as warm as they are."

"It seems true that you don't even know how to speak. You're in after 30 rounds of training ground! Go!"

Everyone is a little confused by the words of the instructor.

Early morning training starts with prep exercises and goes around the training area for 10 rounds, then punches and barebacks. Those who are late or judged lazy are rarely allowed to run additional training grounds as punishment.

Still, it is rare to be imposed a number of times such as 30 weeks. This is the first number I have heard for 94 students who have been in the group for less than six months.

Harold's attitude seems to have disturbed quite a few instructors.

Harold, who is ordered to go punished, runs out without answering. Shortly afterwards, the instructor raised his voice again.

"What are you doing! You guys want to run just like him!? If you don't like it, just run!

I get my ass slapped by that voice, and I run out at the same time saying I'm sorry about that.

The training ground is about 400 meters in a circle, roughly 12 kilometers if it's 30. Even the recruits have 50 minutes to complete. If you were about Harold's age, you'd be over an hour.

I don't think I have the strength to participate in the training after completing that.

It would have fallen off the first day. That's what everyone thought.

But around the second circle they notice discomfort.

that the difference with the preceding Harold never diminishes. On the contrary, it keeps opening.

"I don't care what you think, you're flying too far."

"That won't keep you till 30 weeks."

Some people who were side-by-side with Isaac say honest thoughts. Everyone was right, I thought.

But contrary to that expectation, by the time it was the fifth circle, Harold had left Isaac and the others behind. Still doesn't slow down.

Regular breathing, body without bumps, hands and feet shaken out vigorously. A light run still feels far to the limit and even leaves room.

I couldn't believe it. If we had run at the same pace as Harold, we would already be breathing constantly.

Even so, yes. Harold looked backwards with chirali, thought of something for a few moments, and then muttered like this to no one.

"Do you want to pick up some more pace?"

Whoever picks up the voice by ear is frightened. I was wondering if it would still be faster.

Harold's stride increases as soon as possible. In proportion, Harold accelerated.

Almost at the same time, your legs become suddenly heavy. I was usually so fatigued that I felt near the end of my early morning training as of now.

Why? The question arises, but it dissolves immediately. Harold caught me and Isaac and the others were pacing faster. My breath is rising, too.

Four weeks left. It's so painful that just being aware of that seems to stop your legs.

The disruption of the pace ended up delaying me by more than five minutes compared to usual to finish the 10 laps. Then the colour of fatigue is dark.

But most of all, it was surprising that Harold had also completed the 30 laps a few minutes after Isaac and the others had all finished running. It was amazing speed.

Even the instructor looks like he saw something incredible. Harold at the time hasn't broken his cool face while sweating.

"... you seem to have a lot of endurance"

"Naturally. I'm not working out as weak as I am."

"Well, I'll have you shake this in the next audition."

You thought it wasn't enough for Harold's light mouth, which still hasn't diminished, and the instructor handed Harold a long-footed sword that he wouldn't normally use in type archery. Long body length makes it extraordinarily difficult to handle due to weight and centrifugal force.

It is even difficult to swing through properly in a body that has not yet grown skeletons or muscles.

But that is a general theory. Everyone here, including the instructor, was beginning to thinly feel that Harold was an exception not to be imprisoned by such common sense and so forth.

Knowing or not the minds of such Isaacs, Harold, who received the long sword, waves endlessly when he takes a distance from his surroundings to confirm the center of gravity of the sword and the burdens involved. The spontaneous sword flash also looked like a dance.

It is then. The wind blew through with Zaah.

It wasn't as strong as a gust, but it rocks the trees and sprinkles some green leaves. The leaves of the new green trees that danced in the universe were led to Harold by the wind.

As soon as the leaves of the tree pass in front of you, Harold makes multiple slashes. of incredible velocity. Those only looked like remnants, Isaac had a long sword flashing. Perhaps the same would have been true of the other contemporaries.

It is obvious that Harold's behavior today was an attempt to cut the leaves of the scattered tree.

Is that possible?

That is the frank feeling. Uninterrupted skill and motional vision would be required, such as cutting the leaves of trees that move irregularly and escape with the wind pressure of the sword.

But it was doable for Harold.

The leaves of the six trees that were slashed tear apart. Carved into vertical and horizontal vertical crosses, to a total of 24 fragments.

The finely cut leaves wind up and disappear to the other side. Harold, who doesn't even care about them or anything like that, looks seriously at the long sword.

"Hmm, not bad"

Now it's just a trial run out. It's about a small hand check, naturally.

That's how Harold's attitude tells the story.

The blade of the weapon, collectively referred to as the sword, including the long sword, is thick. It is difficult to chop the leaves of a tree floating in the universe, as it was earlier.

If you can, just the sharp tip of the sword, a few millimeters away, to spike the opponent.

Precisely cleaves objects that move so soft and irregular that they are literally so light and easily reshaped that they are blown by the wind, only at the tip of a long sword that is heavy and difficult to handle.

If the slaughter goes crazy by even a millimeter. If you mismeasure the intermission for one piece of paper.

A stunt that can't be accomplished by just that much discrepancy.

How much is Harold's strength to do all that lightly?

Perhaps it is also true that rumors have overwhelmed the dozens of senior knights I have heard.

Everyone in the 94th grade understood. Harold said he was high enough that we couldn't reach it ourselves.

Instinct has enlightened me. That's close to the instant intuition that wildlife has on its natural enemies. Absolute sequence as it had been laid down since birth and fall.

Harold mastered all 94 students on the second day of his tenure by showing off his performance to the overwhelming point.