Sanzen no Souru Supina

And Bhogowoo, and the more earthly smoke that rose, was shaken away with a glimmer, and there was a deity, and Isma, and Elma, who were not wearing a single piece of dust.

A hole in the front of the divine shrine breathes in earthen smoke and purifies the atmosphere with tremendous momentum.

The spell is not the only Elma's specialty, worshipped as a princess witch in the underground world, where it is difficult to secure fresh air.

It was also its function to preserve the health of abundance, abundance, and folk grass, and the exercise of alien powers as the fulfilment of their prayers and spiritual experiments.

"The Great King: Izmagalum ignores the offer of the crowned festival, and foolishly pays the corresponding price for the barbarity that bows against him and his men. Taste all over your body. In addition, His Majesty Ismagalum has stated that anyone who likewise desires consideration may make an offer. Of course, the payment is immediate (...) and is direct"

With a good sounding voice, Elma speaks for Isma's words, but she was soaking up inside.

What world on earth would there be a king who would give treasure to the opponent who has attacked us?

Consideration is what makes you pay as revenge, and what do you do by evaluating it?

It's also instant money, literally a direct death sentence.

I have the secret to attacking the castle, so I'll leave it to you. If you believe me, I'll still have it.

The trick is too big to make you respond adrift without a meeting.

Thanks to this, Elma stays thrilled, and yet I don't know if I should be happy or angry because Isma is something to stroke my butt with.

Gold and silver treasures flow down from the fortress like waterfalls.

Underneath it there should be the crushed bodies of those who stupidly did not accept the recommendation, but the gloom was not dusty in the sight of Isma's appearance.

Every impact is a misdigit.

There is one emotion that springs up in people's minds when that misdigit delusion/sleeping remark appears as a real event.

I don't know, to this guy... in words, it does.

That's touching, giving up, desperation, but I guess it's right to say "shudder" because it's Isma's business.

That's how Isma's siege battle breaks down the frame of her opponent's thoughts and values.

"Will you come out?"

"I'm coming out. I got smashed through the front door of my house with a catapult. He asked me to redeem the price with a cannon of pure gold that I punched in, and I said yes. So I can't be a parent anymore. I don't like it, but I have to buy a fight."

And he asks about his qualities as a king, as he seems to sleeve a big one-handed offer so far.

Isma's arms were too vivid and exhausted in one brilliant thing to force her opponent to drag him out onto the board and, in doing so, eventualize this battle itself, minimizing the damage to civil grass as a result.

"Turn it into a Civili Shmeri building beam and Betsalion is king: Calcasas! How about a response?

To the calling elma voice, the payback was done by the spear.

A crowd of shining light bullets was slammed in front of Isma and her gods.

"That challenge, take it"

When the tremendous thunderbolt and soil smoke rose again cleared, the audience saw him stand alone in the fortress that was about to collapse.

Assassin's Church: Civili Shmeri's Building Beam: Calcasas Lucas Bessarion.

He was in pitch-black armor as opposed to Isma.

However, it is not a color scheme that tends to become individualistic.

The bold gold decorated, distinguished and tightened the figure beautifully.

It was long and alien.

The height probably exceeds the tri-merte superior.

Originally among the racially long earthspiders, Cal is blessed with his body.

But the pitch-black knight who appeared in the castle fortress had obviously crossed that standard.

Terribly long limbs, and extremely limp hips, opposite the chest pointy as the bow of a ship, the metal toge joining the back side reminds me of the spine of a dragon.

Only the head received thereafter was an unlikely beauty of Calcasas, but it was felt that somewhere adenopathic and ironic the grin lurked, full of confidence and the power to back it up.

Loose silver hair dances in the wind like a flame.

However, Isma's eyes were nailed to a stunning decoration, sculpture that adorned her chest armor, perhaps more than Cal's figure finished by the "mad old doctors”.

No, it wasn't a sculpture or anything.

Among the flowers of orchids made of gold, bound by their beautiful flesh and sealed by blindfolds imitating their horrible hands - whoever else - was the true knight's maiden: Rattegart.

Isma forced herself up from the throne and twisted down the urge to get her body out of the railing and scream her name.

No, if Elma hadn't put her hands gently on that knee, she would have jumped out.

About a day before Ismas reached here, what happened to Rattegart in the meantime?

The dreaded imagination became a reality, stripping away all forgiveness and making both Isma and Elma understand.

The sooner it seemed too late at first glance, Rattegart's flesh was chopped up.

It was beautifully demonic and had been replaced by alien beings.

And even so - those cheeks were trendy and seemed happy.

Alive. And in what way, they keep showing me their dreams.

Oh, and sometimes the breath that leaks is nothing more than that of a woman loved by a beloved man.

And right now, it was nothing more than Rattegart's spear: Sparkle Light Wings by Svennir that cut the foot of the Ismas, its bedrock.

Dajra's "Greed Gate": A further improved version of "Parasite Worm (Gouna)", "Hiraki" that captures the opponent's abilities and manipulates them freely.

Is that potency?

This was Cal's return of interest.

The rhetoric provoked the unrest of the inhabitants, preached Kyoujun, and showed him with a brilliant arrow in reward of what was relentless towards the blade, and Isma shaking, which also aimed at cutting from within at the same time by unimaginable and luxurious attacks.

attitude as a dignified ruler.

In an instant it was in a disintegrating army that destroyed an iron wall fortress and was completely motivated, and this is the only one, a hand that can overshadow an overwhelming disadvantage.

Cal, who can point his only hand at this earthen pit, is modestly one or other of the generals.

Psychological warfare had already begun long before the opponent's agitation and impatience.

The battle of earthspiders cannot be just a bump between Hiragana and Hiragana.

"I accepted the challenge. I replied yes, I said yes, Ismagalum."

Cal responded in his tone as king.

More than that, Isma had to respond accordingly.

"Let's decide which one is the true champion in a squarely grand one-strike"

This offer was also Cal's psychological attack.

When Isma herself prevailed, she questioned the aftermath, that is, the temper to rule the people of Bethalion as rulers.

If Isma is going to reign as a conqueror and as a true returning king, this word makes less sense.

But Cal was discerning that Isma's own heart lacked a desire to conquer and dominate.

The seizure of power is not the purpose of Izma.

Isma just rescued three women - Ele, Elma, and Rattegart - and restored their freedom.

That's why I'm going to kill Cal.

That too, without hurting the inhabitants as much as possible, if possible with their consent.

But that's too convenient.

If, after the abolition of Cal, Isma says that he will remain in the land as king and bring more prosperity and prosperity to the people of Bethallion, then this is not a problem if he is a people.

At least now we have shown a tremendous amount of tremendous wealth, and one end of the legend that goes with the blood of the ancient earthspider ancestors, and if Isma is going to reign as king, then they are safe after losing Cal.

In the society of earthspiders, the strong = recognized by "God," there is a trend.

But what if Isma doesn't intend to?

Sweet words, fried words that led the people, if they served their purpose, if they were going to break and abandon the covenant as soon as possible, and take away only the princess witches?

The remaining inhabitants will lose their leader Cal, become scattered, and no longer be conceived in dreams such as the rebirth of the clan.

Cal's words were poking at Isma's such sweet arithmetic and mindset and dragging out conventions and public statements at the same time.

Even if we let Cal down, unless we dispel his sweetness, he threatened to sweeten the lord to see what it meant to turn the head of one party against the other, leaving him with a long resentment, a seed of evil.

"Don't move to my name, a grand response, first of all its intentions and good"

Isma finally stood up and praised Cal for his response.

Slowly, with as much dignity as I could, but his eyes were burning with unhidden anger.

"But if my offer, O king of young earthspiders, is to return the maiden of the princess and true knight immediately, I will not take her life. My Nerd is not in control, and I bow down."

The organs (annoyed) would be boiling back to the core, and Izma spoke softly with good.

Isma was disciplining herself so harshly that she seemed to go crazy with the heartache she was listening to.

But Calcasas, Elma's brother, laughed off the offer.

"This is different. If you strike me down, all of them will be right, and this Sibiri Shmeri will be all yours, even though the land and the people of Bessarion will be yours? I have made it the blood of the noble Bessarion, and I have made it its beam. Will you accept the dishonorable surrender? If it ends, if it ends in battle as a beam, those who believe in me and scatter will not be rewarded! You'll be scorned in the land of death!

And I went on.

"The Great Ancient King: Isn't Ismagalm, the peace of my people, a promise? If so, this will be a personal struggle with me. Nor do I want the people and the land to be scorched. Therefore, I responded to a single hit.

When it comes to surpassing me - beyond so many men as have taken away “God" - the same is true of the family of Betsallion, whose glory was promised.

again, even if there was a loss. And if thou shalt reign a great ancient king, this shall be the same again. No matter what wins, the people can rest assured... where is there reason to fear?

The inhabitants cheered as they watched the change in things farther around the word.

Isma's magnificent attack on the castle, and the magnificent appearance of immobility in sight of it, Cal's instrumentality in accepting the offer of a single strike, felt against either, and was also a cheer in dreaming of the treatment of ourselves spoken of by Cal, its glowing future.

Brilliant preparation, I should have complimented you.

The nation is not a sweet creature enough for a king who is only cruel and brutal to govern for a long time with only his force and fear.

By cutting back at the earthen pit, Cal brought the flow of popularity into Even.

After all, it was one man or another = a king's vessel.

"Be brilliantly prepared and praised - and we'll be there as soon as possible."

Isma takes Cal's offer.

"This is something different, too. Weren't you the one who was offered the grand festival of the crown? There is something called preparation. Not to us, not to the folk grass."

Swallow the whole Isma proposal. Note that Cal comes into his own lead.

It's easy to set up from Isma's side right now, but you can't grasp people's minds with that.

In previous streams, Isma dragged Cal out onto the board by stipulating this battle as a single festival.

It is the people, and their hearts, who shall be the subjects of that festival.

If we ignore that, Izma will destroy her standing scaffold now, herself.

It couldn't have been better without it.

"So... how long will you wait?

"Two minutes (about four hours). The place is The Abyss of Ignorance. How about..."

"I understand."

"Now, men, prepare yourselves fully. Enjoy. Don't forget the booze, the whistle on the drum, the festival bell... and, of course, I'll enjoy it. Let's hear this new exotic instrument, its tone and singing."

As it was, Cal ordered the exotic instrument: Rattegart, to sing when he sat the alien giant on top of his finances.

That's one of the spiders' sensual performances.

The women acknowledge themselves as instruments and entrust them to the hands of the player men.

Ja Ra plays his or her beloved woman's throat, her vocal cords, as one instrument.

In doing so, the woman takes her heart seriously, and the man is tested for the instrumentality and weights that deal with her mind.

Cal's whisper sounds to the captive Rattegart as if Isma had been commanded by a man he loved.

So, shush.

It's a song of love that can be chested up.