Sanzen no Souru Supina

"Okay, then. Everyone complete their work.

The ritual will last seven nights.

Thoroughly alternate. Take the unforeseen for granted.

It is the feeling that there is something important.

It is not just the Knights who preside over the military.

Remember what the trust placed in us by the people has been built and maintained by (...)

Run the hospital as usual, solemnly.

Don't miss Mass. Don't forget the heart of mercy.

And all the stubborn obstacles and resentments crush this, sweep it away!!

Yes, Dashkamarier ordered it from above the pedestal of the lifting ceremony.

Five of the first-tier psychics belonging to the Knights of Catel Hospital, including Dashka, stand for the launch of Construx.

The Knights are already in a critical position since sunset earlier.

A total of 1,000 personnel are scheduled to be involved in a ceremony that lasts seven nights from the launch of Construx.

During that start-up, the Ashlets also decided to stand together.

It was when Dashka finished her speech that Iris appeared deep in the (Construx) reminiscent of the Colosseum.

He was wearing a pure white piercing coat that tied with his back.

A nun's cover over the head.

And the flesh which was shrouded, and sanctified by the Mass, was a thin piece of fabric.

I get off the trolley that has been transported my way up to then and head for that blue water column.

When he began walking on both sides supported by the nuns, a feverless light illuminating from the underside made the nudity of Illis emerge in a shadow painting.

Ashle heard a considerable number of priests kneel down at the sight, and certain things wander, calling the name of the Virgin Mary of Ixism: Madra.

There is majesty in the appearance of Englis, with his arms drawn to the nuns, but still walking to the blue water column of Construx with a resolute expression.

Even if I recall Dashka's saying that it is the Knights of the Catel Hospital - that is, the Will - that helps the Ashlets to remain anonymous.

Seeing them actually honoring the figure of Illis, for some reason the word "sorrow" was associated.

And as he proceeded, he had his eyes with Ashley only once, but it was only for a moment, and Iris did not turn around anymore.

"Be guided, my maiden - do not be afraid, but proceed."

Standing in front of the carcass of the "Construx" backbone as a device - that is, the "Lord" - Dashkamarier told him.

Shortly before that, Dashka Marier strips off her coat and looks confused as naked.

Covering everything from nail tips to neck muscles to external ears, it had an unlikely out-of-phase in the world.

There is a line running all over my body as if it were a law line.

It was made of a material that had no idea where the hell there were stitches.

The pure white garment, in conjunction with Dashkamarier's silver mask: "Seraphim filament", made the figure look like a messenger sent from heaven.

And as he answers that call, Iris undresses himself and becomes naked.

When the cover was removed, it was revealed that the hair, which had been long and stunning, was carefully shaved.

There is no more shame there.

Iris looks up at Dashka once and nods strongly.

Dashka returns the same.

And Iris leapt flesh into the water column.

Ooh, and a low twist spreads around.

It was only shortly after that a large amount of air was released from the throat of Illis, who looked up to heaven and was defied.

Naturally, humans cannot breathe in water.

But at the next moment, the look on the face of Ilis turned from the suffering of drowning to a restful one.

Its eyes, which were closed, slowly opened, and even a grin floated on its lips.

"You have nothing to fear. Those who have already been gracious. Thank you St. Ikes."

Dashka said to Ilis, who swims gracefully inside the water column like a mermaid free from the pain until then.

"To the holy throne, give me a maiden..."

To be guided by the word, did he conjure up the four angels, men and women dressed in strange armour appeared in the water column?

Strange, seamless garment that makes fun the same as Dashka's - that's angel time outfit.

Golden decoration based on pure white.

The face is covered in a mask that traces the statue of an angel.

And the four angels led Iris unto the place of the throne, which sitteth in the middle of the water column.

Ashle looked familiar to the snail.

It resembled that pedestal, the backbone of the Holy Relic: "Paragram", seen in the King's Tomb in Ignache territory, which inspired Ashle to lean himself on the island of Cathel.

Ashle, who has actually sat there, understands the similarity.

Rather than a seat, Dashka nodded when Illis arrived at the pedestal offering his sacrifice.

Blurring, Ashle felt chills and trembled.

the determination of Illis, and not that I don't believe in a person named Dashkamarier, and hence the Knights of Catel Hospital.

But if so, where does this anxiety, chills come from?

No, I knew why.

Ashley remembered the transcendents of the Old World who created this obscure "Portal" and its thoughts = "Nerd".

And there were those who felt Ashle's nausea.

Whoever else, it was Zion.

Ashle felt her hand gently held.

Sion's tenderness, which I think of Ashle and Iris, crosses Ashle's mind as if it were a hot soup offered on a frozen night.

No matter what fate precedes us, we fight together.

Ashle used that hand as a conductor to hear Zion's "will" clearly.

That was not Ashle's thoughts or the hallucinations guided by hopeful observations.

Theon said that every time we overlapped with each other, the ties were growing stronger.

Just as Zion and his messenger, Hilari, are.

Perhaps, sooner or later, even my heart will be set free by Ashle, Zion said with trembling.

"No. That's... then..."

When he finishes the meeting, and that ferocious impulse subsides, Ashley is struck by a terrible guilt.

Remember all the different tricks that made me so resistant to Zion.

And, like every time, they resent Theon.

"Damn it... it's sloppy, no way... keep it that way. Every night, for the rest of your life, you dream... I, I..."

Sion said in a grudging voice.

Naturally, Ashley thinks.

The Night Demons cannot weather their memories.

Wherever, how, and what they have sworn, Theon will experience it again and again in his eternal life, tens of thousands and hundreds of millions of times from now on, as if he had done so.

That's natural to be resented.

But Shion bumped into Ashley the whole time.

Beautiful looks are in front of Ashley.

"I'll take the blame!

My husband is responsible for his own slaves.

"Chi, more than I let you swear... I won't allow you to fail! Wow, you got it!

I was told to bite.

However, Ashley's belly was cut off a long time ago.

"Naturally."

I answered clearly.

"Ooh, yeah, well, if you know what I mean! I will love you until you become a mummy, so be prepared!! Be thoughtful of the love, devotion and service of the Princess of the Night Devil!

Do you understand, this - this - Sesame Sesame Mandarin, Ashley, whom Zion had added to you, was about to be summoned to the kingdom of heaven again, missed hearing.

and creeping, and warm from Zion - no, hot feelings flow.

I didn't even have to check my eyes.

It was thought.

I also think Ashley.

We must not be crushed by a future that is yet to come.

Iris approached the altar of Construx in front of him.

But it won't be visible any time soon.

Because the lid (lid) appeared supported by the arm of the machine as if it had broken the pedestal in half from the top.

The four angels laid their hands on the lid (lid), and led them to the upper part of Illis, a fixed position.

Light flooded out of the top and bottom of the pedestal as soon as possible, and it is only so that Iris becomes completely invisible.

The brighter light than the sun is knitted like a butterfly cocoon (mayu) to envelop the iris.

No, that's not a metaphor (hiyu) or anything.

Because literally, inside that cocoon of light, Illis is reborn.

Ashley finally saw Dashka throw herself in the lower jaw of the Lord, confirming her condition.

Dashka felt chills crawling all over her body by molluscs.

Or should I even say it feels like getting your whole body fucked with your tongue by stranger men?

It is not an illusion.

When you throw yourself into the remains of this Lord, it is a feeling that you must feel.

That's what my predecessors called "constructional tuning."

It was almost a decade ago that Dashka was baptized.

Knowledge that the Knights of the Catel Hospital are only oral to the Archbishophood from where it was still in the Holy Land: Hya Ilem - according to information known to Dashka, it is a function called calibration or tuning.

Dashka thinks it's like an instrument.

This is actually a characteristic that also leads to Focus.

While it has become an implicit understanding among many of the Spindle abilities, many of the Focus choose what they hold and inherit.

The legendary weapon, Focus, which is a sacred relic, says it is the discipline of the Spindle, its similarity, that is the criterion for selection.

Among them, errors are tolerated, but decisive differences are rejected.

I guess these properties are relevant for Focus, which has been handed down as a family heirloom, to become quickly familiar with its pedigree.

And once a human being allowed to deal with it gives his own flesh as a price, Focus remembers its flavor and becomes more familiar with the user.

Literally, weapons and tools integrated with the user - that was the essence of the Focus.

If that is the case with the Focus, which gives mankind extraordinary power, it may well be assumed that the Portal, which can be described as its principal, will come looking for a stronger relationship with its users.

But knowing that, Dashka couldn't get used to the “tune" of Construx.

Silver Mask: To learn more specifically about the prophecy sent by the "Seraphim filament" as a vigeon - to fly the spirit into the future, to grasp what can happen, and to be slightly involved - Dashka tries to connect to the "construct".

That's just one attempt every few years.

Confidentially, with proximity.

Only for a really very small amount of interference.

And each time I've had the pain of being mauled physically and mentally.

Dashka would not have felt so disgusted if it were a spontaneous and yet complete action to offer the price.

That was the decisive difference between "Construx" and hence only "Portal" - other tools = "Focus".

Even with flesh and life expectancy as a price, I don't venture to my heart.

"Focus" has moderation as such a tool.

But outside of this standard, a giant device: "Construx" is different.

It was different.

Needlessly, he stretches out his tentacles of spirit to Dashka's heart.

Decisively different from most Focuses - "Constructions" is going to be strong for literally a forceful intrusion into the spirit.

Thus, at some point, the “relationship” is replaced with “dependency”.

At the price of being offended by the spirit (by now) on the carcass of a god with an unknown appearance in his possession - the Archbishop of Ixism has the divine confirmation.

This is something you will not know, even if you are a human being, under the Holy Father, the present representative of God on the throne of the Pontifical Agency.

How much will understand this ability of the Archbishops of Catel Island in history to pay the price for their dignity and the fact that the lives of the Knights of Catel Hospital elites are the shield of their Western nations, of the Cardinals around them, who replace them every few years.

Still, Dashka has stubbornly refused to be “in tune” with only one line.

No matter how pressed by "constructs," they are irresistibly tamed as senses by the feeling of being stabbed through the spine, and they are still about to scream at the panic that comes from their inescapable physiological aversion.

Behind my heart, only the last fort has been guarded.

That was the Greater - the only group in the Extraordinary Orthodox community that recognized the wives belt of the clergy and wished for a healthy future for their children - the pride and stronghold of its leader, Dashka.

But Dashka thinks.

However, if we are to carry out such a huge business - to enable us to rewrite human beings - we will even have to dedicate it.

Far away places and the ability to peek into the future - then, for this [construct], it is just a function of Yoroku.

The original this - has the identity of a workshop for interfering with the fate of replacing mankind.

Dashkamarie had learned about it by the testimony of the Archbishops of Catel Island in the past and by a few “tones” of throwing himself.

But - if you want it so badly, I'll give it to you, Dashka laughs.

If you want, I'll give it to you.

What made Dashka so determined was the love that Norman gave me.

More than six months ago, Dashka conveyed her love to Norman, who was to go far away to Ignache by prophecy.

To the man who was my sister's husband.

If, when it was unacceptable, I would no longer throw away the "twist" as a woman, and the purity of mind and body was an act prepared to give me this bucket.

But Norman, who for more than a decade had been told his thoughts by a woman who had lived as a community of destiny, did not let those thoughts go unheeded.

When he was properly received, Dashka cried unconsciously.

Exactly, when I found out that Dashka was the first time, that iron skin seemed to be wolfed, too.

It feels good, and remembering how it was then, Dashka lowers her drink.

I admit my wife's belt, but I'm surprised that she didn't admit to fornication.

"I hold my wife's sister - what happens," his eyes said.

Norman asked after a confusing silence.

"A little more, wasn't there a suitable man"

"If I hadn't been my sister's husband, I would have been there."

Although he had been with his wife for ten years since she died, he didn't even put his hands on it.

Dashka sarcastically laughed.

I cut it off that I've only thought of you the whole time.

It was strange that the fingertips of a man made of sacred relics were confusing.

"I want to pay back my years of debt... what can I do?

Dashka sold it out of the blue because it was a special victory.

I demanded a thorough love for the years I waited.

And Norman swallowed the demand in full and fulfilled it as contracted.

Dashka lay herself on the altar.

The tongue-like, rough spiritual touch of your creature rewrote the pattern of "harmony” faster than it began to tarnish the mind.

Norman's.

to the beloved man's that his own flesh remembered.

Because if it is, it is acceptable.

The "Construx" fainted.

Instead of accepting the pattern changes made by Dashka, we're going to go deeper and more "in tune."

It feels like you're diving into a pore all over your body - you wouldn't have endured it if you were me once, Dashka thinks.

I gasp at the intense foreign feeling that is ripped through the boundary and forced into my body.

Greedy [Construx] demands the depths of Dashka.

But if it belongs to that one, it's bearable.

No, rather, I can hope and accept.

Norman - and Dashka instead of the Holy Word - calls instead of God.

And when the “tune” ended, Dashka's mask of silver: "Seraphim filament" roared breathlessly, and as Dashka's whole sensation and its protrusion and aggregation, it was completely connected to the giant destiny modifier: "Construx" itself.

The miracles of all times and what man calls are redeemed by someone's irretrievable price.

The whole facility trembled, and Ashley realized that Construx was up and running.

It's a windy night.

A moon evening that is filling.

The clouds flush with horrible momentum in a cold, brisk breeze.

Snow clouds like announcing the arrival of winter.

Is it the snow flakes that dance all the time?

You can see the big moon from the clouds.

It was a sight that made me remember the illusion that something was opening my eyes to look up and peeking in from it.

In strong winds, it is rare for the Farouche Sea, an inland sea, with high waves.

There was a cove small enough to finally protect itself from the wind.

There's one big fish shadow there.

The moon should have been the only one watching him slip in avoiding rough waves.

The fish shadow was nearly two meters long.

He was swimming through the quiet coves of the waves in the cold moonlight.

The funny thing is, though, that the fish shadow was going straight for the beach.

The sandy beach with two rocky skins stretched out like walls was created by the flow and waves of water gushing out of the slopes, and at the bottom of it was a coarse hut.

No, that's no longer close to Barack than a cabin.

The wood used seems to even utilize drifting material that flows to block the gap.

It was used by fishermen to avoid unexpected storms during the summer - at the time of the shelter.

Because of the origin of the wood used, it looks like a wreck.

No sign of humans.

Catel Island is stirred (oh) by northwesterly winds from late autumn to early spring.

Its wind, known as monstrol, has had a strong influence on vegetation on the island of Catel.

The eastern side of the island, blessed with good harbor, is a paradise in this world where trees flourish and flowers bloom.

The wind-sweetened caterpillar, and its appearance, has attracted many literary writers and poets, coupled with the still lingering group of ruins of the Agantilis Empire.

But its appearance changes gallantly on the western side of the island, the ridge of the mountain, to the border.

The western side, which continues to be riddled with strong winds for almost half of the year, is a desolate world with strangely obstinate (threaded) trees (kanbo), meadows and wastelands, and a glimpse of rock masses.

It is only during the summer that the shepherds come to graze in search of the flourishing grass, but the house is constant.

The harbour itself is scarcely there because it can't protect the ship from the wind.

Most importantly, because the coastline itself was a cliff, it was impossible to send an army in anyway if there were a very small number of foreign enemies from this side.

In that sense, this terrain and wind had given Catel Island its function as a very strong fortress.

So to speak, this strange fish shadow reached the sandy beach of the hidden cove, the back entrance to Catel Island.

The moon shades in the clouds.

I tried to ride the waves and hit the beach. It crawled along the sandy beach.

It was an odd fish.

He has translucent skin like a jellyfish.

Once again, what lurked inside of it seemed clear to the moonlight plunging from the whimsical clouds.

It looked like a woman's face.

It crawls along the dark coastline and escapes the waves.

On a bright white sandy beach, twice and three times, and then - well, that skin ripped.

Blink, shrug.

The translucent membrane peels off.

That wasn't a fish.

It was the outer skin that protected and wrapped the inner one like the amniotic membrane.

Shirururu, something from the inside, revealed who he was.

Human, like it looked.

He had long limbs.

luxurious body, but there was clear evidence of a woman.

It was wrapped around strange clothes that clearly emerged from the lines of the body.

Barely covered in cropped trousers from the waist to the bottom.

The right hand and both legs are fitted with caged hands, leg armor, which would probably have used a large organism for the material.

I saw a bright - somewhere to stimulate vigilance - horizontal stripe in its basement.

Your left hand is covered to your fingertips like that.

Clear white skin showed a lot of silver hair.

It's intricately braided. That's probably following a spell tattoo.

Every single one of the countless hair fasteners must have been a consumable curse.

And the hair doesn't hurt the luster of being a woman.

He had ruby-like eyes and an awful (stiff) grin on his red lips, which also increased.

Roughly impossible in humans. Long ears, tingling, and groaning.

That is the grin of a hunter who sensed signs of prey.

When the woman explores her own hair, she removes a nicely folded piece of paper from its interior.

It wasn't parchment or anything, it was based on terribly advanced papermaking techniques, both in the western world and compared to the vegetable paper produced.

When I shook it, what the hell was the structure, the buckwheat, and it was spreading back in thickness, and when I realized it was turning into a single coat.

Let the woman wrap it up.

The coat flipped in the strong wind, and for a moment the inner tension was revealed in the moonlight.

Inside the dark green coat that blends into darkness more than black, a beautiful female body was embroidered (shrugged).

That looked a lot like the woman who had her coat wrapped around her.

Just look at the color of the skin as it is grey-brown.

compelling (frightening), fierce (why not already), to that grin somewhere poisonous.