Chapter 189: 189 4.

From the top of just a cliff cut, look up at the red-dyed sky.

It was a creepy sunset. Bloody red skies are clearly swirling with malice and demons. Obviously the country's spiritual magnetic field is disturbed. Without divination or anything, we're going to see a murder star.

About two months ago, a large number of locusts were flying around this red sky. What a disastrous sight. It's the same now that the locusts are gone.

The country is cursed. "It's all about the Pacific Ocean, and Tokugawa's world is cursed," he said - there was even talk that one of the sick prayers was so left out in the moment.

Whoever heard his words did not think it was even paranoid. Even in the turmoil on Shimahara five years ago, one of the truncheons was releasing a curse at death. As if the curse had been achieved, there was abnormal weather and calamity that continued to stand throughout Japan.

A massive locust outbreak, a volcanic ash disaster caused by volcanic eruptions, and a heavy rainfall flood as soon as it was thought that there had been a major drought caused by the sun, causing deadly damage to crops, and the farmers giving them caused a national famine by their pursuit of escape. A rotten corpse starved to death is seen there, and the corpse causes another plague. Death gives birth to a new death, just a hell of a picture.

It is also the monster's journey that is bound to derive in the turmoil of the world. Over the past few years, demons used by evil sorcerers have been flooded with them and attacking people. At the same time, the slaughter was rampant, so it was not possible to determine whether the demon did it or the slaughter, and the magicians who made the monster exorcism their business often also did it to people.

I clearly see that the mood for doom covers the country. Shizuno Rei smiles quietly as she looks up at the red-stained sky in the sunset.

"Whose work..."

Called monsters, monsters, and monsters are not naturally occurring. It is deliberately created by sorcerers. So is the ceremonial god of Yin Yang Dao.

When the world is disturbed, it has been a classic event for over a thousand years for monsters created by evil sorcerers to escape or be deliberately released from the sorcerer's presence.

Probably not even limited to this country. Perhaps in the other countries, if the country were disturbed, the same thing would be happening.

I am tired of seeing that the dark mood that covers this country is no different than the artificial one. Is it the work of a powerful magician? Or is it due to organisational planning, not alone? It seems to me the latter if I think realistically. Tired thinks that perhaps, just like himself, the world does not care.

"It feels good…"

Zero distorted smile.

For the tiredness of continuing to resent the world, it's really comforting now that I'm full of ruinous thoughts.

But I don't even really think this is going to destroy the country. Seeing the world disturb and the likelihood of many human beings suffering and dying is only marginally distracting.

You can't be the only one who's discerning that it's an artificial task. Tired has judged that it will eventually be doomed by the Tabernacle and the magicians of the court. Different number. Different organizational skills. To this extent, the overthrow of the state cannot be achieved.

"Father, are you not going home?

Ayane speaks from behind, tired of not moving while looking up at the sky in the abyss of the cliff. After training in witchcraft with tiredness in the mountains, Ayane was picking mountain vegetables.

"A little more... this is what I'm doing"

Without looking back at Ayane, Tired tells her.

"It's a creepy sunset,"

Tired frowned heartily at the words of Ayane, who came next to Tired and said anxiously. Because of that creepy red sky, she said that she was in a comfortable mood, but the frustration with the fact that Ayane had the opposite feeling from herself.

But you can't speak it grandiously in front of Ayane, and it's unnecessarily irritating.

"Right... right..."

I agree with Ayane on the surface and hold her softly as if to ease my daughter's anxiety. Because tiredness is one head lower, I dress like a cuddle from tiredness. Ayane is taller for the daughters of this era.

Cuddled up tirelessly, Ayane's expression, which had been anxious until then, turns into something full of peace.

I feel the blissful thoughts of my daughter pour into me, and tiredness honestly rejoices. Taste the affection and affection of parents and children at the same time.

"You were... gifted..."

Tired tells Ayane.

Training for the basic part as a magician usually takes more than a decade. But Ayane was very well swallowed and blessed with talent, so much so that she digested this in a few years and now calls herself a one-serving sorcerer. It's time to finish your tiresome training. Later...

"As a teacher and as a father... I am very proud..."

The words to be told, I rephrased along the way. Speaking of it was a word that was painful to tire of and I didn't want to hear Ayane.

Tired turned his heels back as he saw the red sky gradually erode black. Ayane also snuggled up perfectly to it and went home with tiredness.

The old man lived in the mansion of the Lord of the Kawagoe clan, Old Nakamatsuhei Nobuna.

"The right-hand guard, Lord Yesaku, has received what he asked for."

A middle-aged woman in the service speaks to the old man with a grinning smile and offers him the wrap in her hand. The packaging is quite large and can be seen to contain a variety of objects.

"Every time, every time"

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The old man, called the Right Guard, smiles and receives it.

"Can you teach me how to draw a Nanban painting next time too? Well, maybe not for me, but hey."

Half the social dictionary, half the seriousness, the servant says.

"I'll be happy to tell you. Mr. Hune is clever and ready to draw."

Makes a grin stick to his shitty face, and the old man mouths a social dictionary.

After a while of public speaking afterwards, the old man opens the package when he returns to the room he was given. The contents are paintings for Nanban painting.

The interior was decorated with numerous Nanban paintings. There are also paintings that are about to be drawn. The paintings of the war, the uninspiring monsters, the paintings depicting the truncheons, and so on.

An evil grin, totally different from the smile I was making you stick up when you were talking to a servant, comes to the old man's face.

A right-guard piece that stands in front of a push-in with a plaque affixed to the corner of the room.

"Oops."

Remove the tag that was affixed to it and open it.

Everything that was inside was a painting. But it's different from the painting that was decorated indoors.

They were the paintings of Chechnya, who were slain by being slaughtered, and the paintings of Chechnya, who were attacked by the Shogun Army in the ravines of Shimahara and killed without remnants. There are also many mixed women and children among the mutilated checkpoints.

Everything was a picture of tragic and disastrous content. Moreover, almost invariably in those paintings were painted a mixture of dark monsters all over the body, with horns growing from the head and bat feathers growing from the back.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey

Talk fun toward one of the nearly painted pictures.

A slight spell-like grunt leaked out of the old man's mouth. No, it is the spell itself.

The indoor landscape changed. The rooms of the odd house disappear somewhere, and a red earth appears that leads to the red-stained sky and the horizon. They used witchcraft to create subspace indoors and alienate them.

Countless crucifixes stood on one side, and there was the appearance of the mutilators who continued to bleed from their eyes as they were humiliated. They all groan with a sad look. Around the cross there was a pompous and a black monster painted in a Nanban painting, and he looked up and laughed at the chewed truncheons.

"Well, let's get started."

The old man lowers his back and begins to paint. A set of paintings and a number of paintings decorated in the room have also been transferred to this space.

I kept painting for a while with all my heart, but eventually I finished it. The painting depicted was a substitute for the fact that his daughter, who would not yet be under the age of ten, was being stabbed and killed with a knife by the soldiers of the Shogun. And behind it is a full-body black monster with horns of goats growing from his head.

At the same time as the painting is complete, the body of the daughter of the truncheon, who was crucified standing right next to the old man, shudders as she retreats. The daughter was the daughter herself, painted in a painting she had just been able to do.

A change occurs in my daughter's body. My skin turns dark and discolored. My mouth rips, my fangs grow, my nails stretch sharply, my tips grow pointy tails, my body swells and I grow more than twice my original size, and from my head I grow horns of goats. Having undergone a transformation into a black monster, her daughter breaks the cross and descends to the red ground.

"Hey, hey, hey, good job."

The right guard nods satisfactorily, laughing at the black monster.

After that, the old man finished a few paintings, and when he turned the mutilated trumpets into monsters, he cast a spell and put the room back together.

I push in some of the paintings I've drawn. After everything, I take a single picture out of it without closing it, and I drop my eyes.

"It's Shiro. Are you in pain?"

Pictured was a beautiful boy in a luxurious Nanban costume who was turned into Christ and crowned with a tsu, and struck with a nail in the hands and feet.

From his eyes, he wept of blood, a painful form. From its back grew two glowing bird feathers and two disastrous bat feathers, and from its forehead a twisted horn toward the front. There is a glowing ring over your head.

"Shiro, do you hate me? I betrayed you all."

Spread a full, distorted grin, the old man speaks toward the painting. It depicts Shiro Tengrass, who died in the turmoil of Shimahara after being held with the Son of God by the trumpets and was sacrificed as an army general.

The old man knew Shiro Tengrass very well. Naturally. This old man's name is Right-Men Yamada. He is the only surviving figure among the 37,000 people who served as the executives of a single army in the turmoil of Shimahara and were killed by the crusaders of the Shogun.

The reason he survived is simple. The right guard was connected to the Shogun Army, and he conveyed all the inner feelings of the Shogun Army to the Shogun Army in arrow. He was originally a negotiator with the Shogun, but was therefore able to use his position.

Uchi was discovered by the Ichikatsu Army, and Right-Guard Masterpiece was imprisoned for killing his wife, but he showed the Tabernacle Army a sign of inside knowledge during the fall of the original castle, was sheltered by the Matsuhei Nobuna, who served as the general generals of the Tabernacle Army, and now lives in the Mansion of the Matsuhei Nobuna.

"Your lords dedicated themselves to this Shizuno Right-Men work. A noble sacrifice, in return for a master who has limited himself, to become a great sorcerer who will be told in every part of the world as a legend of the future perpetual heist. Ho, ho, ho. This will make me a much more honorable creature than Deus and Jesus, whom you maggots worship."

Mouth the surname given to him as a sorcerer, neither the name of a Nanban painter nor the baptismal name of a truncheon, and the right guardian's work tsurfed.

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