Chapter 270: 270 269 Proverbs.

The purple lightning eats through the heat of the fire, and the wraith lies on the bricks, torn apart. Only the dusky moonlight seen through the clouds illuminated his figure. The residue of the fire that had clung to the tip of the sword faded as if frozen in place.

I blinked my eyelids unconsciously.

There was a definite feeling in my hand that I had cut down something. The sensation of having killed a deceased person, just as I had expected and foreseen. The words "Hero Killer" engraved on the treasured sword appeared faintly. I let out a breath. It seems I managed to kill it once.

It's a good idea to have a good idea of what you're looking for. The sight in his eyes was unspeakable.

The wound from the left side to the right abdomen was so severe that it looked as if it had been bitten out rather than slashed. The torso was almost split in two, and as before, the heat of the flames had not caused it to move in a way that would allow it to bite each other.

I'm not sure if it's just me, or if it's the other way around.

But still, this is a walker. Even though that destructive entity once killed every last bit of it, it did not die. In fact, even though it has weakened, flames still live in every part of Roseau's body. Then he'll need a clear end. For me and for him.

I'll snap the sword.

"How do you feel?

"How do you feel?" you say in a casual tone. "How do you feel," he says in a casual tone, "I don't think he's going to listen to you telling him not to resist or not to move anymore. I knew that well.

Roseau lay down on the red brick and let out a howling sob. The heat of the fire curling up from every part of his body seemed to prove that his will was alive.

...... Surprisingly, I'm neither disappointed nor happy. I'm sure you feel the same way. I'm sure you'll feel like this when you die.

Roseau said, his thin lips twisting in a mocking manner. His writhing voice is that of a dead man. But his eyes glittered with greed. I can see that there is still a burning fire in his chest.

Perhaps that's the source material Roseau holds in his hands.

The sourcebook is the proof of existence of the demons, something that cannot be called sorcery, curse, or magic. Something far removed from the human world.

In the past, people feared and hated the existence of demons who suddenly appeared in the human world.

These demons easily laid waste to people and plucked their lives as if they were evil. Such a being could not possibly be a creature like us, said the Wise Man. They are the very demons that crawled out from the depths of the earth, who cannot receive God's favor.

And the power that they wield has been fixed since the time of mythology. It is the power to prove themselves, the power that is the root of themselves. Those who are not recognized by the gods will not be remembered in history. Those who are not loved by the gods cannot even have their names written in books.

That's why such monsters have no choice but to write down their existence and prove it to themselves. That's why we call that power the original.

Perhaps that's why Roseau had a fire that could burn through a man's heart. It feeds on hatred, it feeds on the voice of resentment. A hate-filled firestorm that burns itself out in the end. It's a wonderfully awful thing. There's no way it's going to end well with such a thing in your hands.

I'll swing the sword once more. In a position where the weight of the sword would crush Roseau's skull just by swinging it down. I could see that Roseau's eyes were looking straight at me. His fang-baring gaze said that he would bite off his throat if he saw an opening.

I put all my strength into my left arm and swung my sword down, caressing the sky. The sound of the wind ripping through the air rang in my ears.

In the middle of this moment. A voice echoed.

--It's over. Stand down!

Without thinking, the sword stops moving. I'm not sure what to say, but I'm sure you'll understand.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

In the event that you're not able to get up, you'll be able to use your hands on the red bricks and extend your voice.

His back teeth were gnashing soundly, and his skin was sweating convulsively. Clearly, every part of her body was telling her that she was at her limit.

I scratched my fingernails against the red brick and endured the discomfort that penetrated my entire body. You can see Roseau lying on the ground, half torn to pieces, and Lugis swinging his sword down. I'm not sure what to do, but I'd like to know what you think.

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What are you doing? I told you to back off,.......

Sweat licked his forehead. He is almost hunched over the roof, but his words are not devoid of the pride of a ruler. He was dressed almost as if he were perched on a roof, but his words were not devoid of the pride of a ruler, and his white eyes were lit with the color of conviction.

It was Vice who spoke up in response to her. His swarthy gaze pierced Roseau's.

You can't do this to him. He has the right to be at ease now. He's finally let go of his obligation to stay alive.

His voice sounded as if he was about to throw himself off, but his gaze never left Roseau's.

If something were to happen here, even for a moment, he would immediately slay the demon in front of him, Lugis said eloquently in his appearance. The fierceness that emanates from his body is incomparable to the figure that Philos-Treit saw in the tent of the heraldry. Even a wild wolf would be a little gentler.

Rising from his crouched position, Philos-Treit placed his feet on the red brick. An unpleasant sound echoed from his spine.

Normally, his legs would be able to support him without difficulty, but on this occasion, they were unreliable. But a ruler must be able to stand on her own feet in times like these. At least, that's what she believes. Her knees went numb.

Philos-Treit pursed his lips and said.

It's settled. What is the use of wielding the blade any longer?

She struggled to keep up with her words, her voice sounding like it was twisted from deep in her throat.

"Roseau is one of the citizens I'm supposed to protect. If he has committed a crime, only Philos has the right to bring it to justice. I will not allow you to simply kill him here.

The words were spat out one by one as if they were being chewed on. It was not a play on words or a fluke. They were unmistakably Philos-Treit's true intentions, and the very essence of her pride.

To her, Roseau is an unmistakable traitor, a bitter enemy who dragged her down from her position as ruler. Because of his existence, she has seen the end of hell.

She was spat upon by the citizens, violated, and her body was mutilated. No amount of wiping can wipe away the humiliation of having her pride as a ruler smeared on the ground.

No one will say anything if you hold a grudge, and no one will argue if you hate them and leave them to die. In fact, doing so would be the correct human response.

So maybe Philos-Treit, who Roseau called a righteous man, is not right in some way.

"Put down the blade, my ally Lugis. His sins are mine to bear as ruler. If you seek to kill him, kill me first.

Philos-Treit's voice echoed alone in the moonlight. In her eyes swirled her belief in righteousness. She would never let it go. Not until her own life falls from her fingers.

Yes, yes, Roseau has sinned. A traitor, you might say. But what does it matter?

He's a citizen, I'm a ruler. Citizens sin because their rulers have failed them. If I could have satisfied all of my citizens, none of this would have happened.

--I mean, I couldn't save him.

So, whatever Roseau did, it was ultimately his own fault, Philos-Treit says. How can I complain to him when I am like that? How can I blame him for everything?

After Philos-Treit's words, there was a moment of silence. Both Lugis and Roseau seemed to have stopped breathing. The next person to speak was Roseau. I'm not sure what to say.

"Ka-ha-ha!　--You hear that, Enemy? You're a good woman. The only woman I've ever loved. The one I couldn't burn.

Not a hint of something, just a straightforward laugh. The air in the place that had been filled with tension until just a moment ago was lost, as if a wave had receded.

If you're not sure what you want to do, you can always ask for help. A small smile rippled across his cheeks.

I almost fell in love with you. I almost fell in love with you. Please don't do this, I already have a girlfriend.

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