That moment has finally arrived. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info

Black moved without warning.

White saw the spatial geometry pierced by the Black King when he accelerated, and tons of creations such as the front of the car were easily grabbed by the air, pressed into the top of the sword blade beside him, and split into two halves.

She jumped over the smooth steel profile.

Her arms stretched forward, her short hair finally revealing the tips of her ears, her wrists twisted and aligned, and the dust on her fingertips and nails came and went, echoing the vacuum tear in front of her.

The muscles of the naked eye flicker to the limit, the heartbeat surges rhythmically dense drumbeats.

The highest speed metaphor.

Behind the Black King was a pillar of fire, except for the vacant vacuum corridor in the middle.

Straight forward horn.

It was as if she had escaped hell and was caught at the White Cross.

In a blink of an eye.

Fifty meters and one meter addition and subtraction.

In a blink of an eye.

The skeleton exposed to the air and transpiration flew out in the opposite direction, leaving the white man walking alone.

The needletip pupil records an image of the crooked neck.

"Pair position?"

The green tendons on the black arms burst out, violating the intuition and appearance of being a woman.

"Take it!"

The White Cross was terrified, his hands bent forward, stretched out, and the murderous ten fingers were bitten.

******

"Something exploded over there."

The mimic switch was put down, and the poetic brain looked slowly and hurriedly recalled.

Collision of pairs with pairs.

I'm thinking.

The wind pressure in front of him suddenly changed in his mouth, and he almost swallowed it.

Still thinking.

The ground contracted, and the stiff body of [Hundred Faces] shook suddenly.

In short, there is a kind of [force] that is "pushing".

The kite flipped over, and the cable roared, tangling itself.

When it slipped to the edge, it was still worried about the safety of the Black Cross.

It's unsteady.

With the strong wind, the poetry brain was caught in the wind, and sticky silk stretched densely on his body.

But sticky.

The intermingling rotation of the sky and the horizon.

The viscera tumble.

The pressure in the eye is not balanced, resulting in "double vision".

Rain falls into the montage.

The roof flipped its wings.

Everything is fast-forwarding.

The wind rubbed and the two things became viscous.

The craving mechanism for a sense of solidity gets out of hand.

Order of high-speed healing.

The Black Cross plunged into the ground with the broken wings of the roof, and one arm turned into a flower under the gnawing of gravity.

After that, I could only lie down for a while, admiring the rolling sea of clouds and the stones stuffed between the skeletons.

******

Seameye lifted the window on its head.

The group was all buried in the rubble of the tram.

Cut the windows, curved carriages.

Flee at dusk, leading step by step.

Wind pranks.

******

"Kill me, kill me." [A "Alice in Wonderland" classic medicine bottle slogan]

The sound waves are elongated and portrayed on paper.

"It's impossible to get it."

The image is distorted, her arms are slender, pulling her body to the front.

"The King's Crown,"

Keep your feet off the ground.

"The wound of the thing,"

The thumb actually buckled into the pair position, wanting to defy the writer's injury, how many tears filled the black king?

"Kill the ―――――――――――――― King!"

Black palms attached to black faces.

Red tears are painted on the black face.

A white symbol is carved on a black face.

A blue glow is carved into the black face.

"No ―――――――――――――― injury!"

How can there be no sound in the shouting? It's weird, it's supposed to be a scream, right?

Is the air drained?

Bad throat?

Something wrong with my ears?

The vocalizations of the letter A are said to be several of the sounds that are mastered in early infancy.

Crying, laughing.

can't do without it.

Later, the initials and finals derived from it, plus the up and down tones, will depict various Chinese characters and readings in the voice.

A is pure vocal cord vibration.

The easiest way to spread the sound.

Unbeknownst to White Cross, the Black King's loss of sight and taste would wipe out her own concept of sound.

The white cross just covered her mouth, and the index finger of the poet brain was deeply embedded in her senses, and then pulled it out of her mouth.

Slippery, shaky, red, pulpy, warm, beating, cortex, cell vacuoles, muscle proteins, cartilage, mucous membranes.

A small part that makes up the senses.

White Cross felt disgusted, not even knowing if it was his own idea.

Torture around the cerebral cortex, consciousness perishes.

Put it on your shoulders and drop your chest.

Black has an open mouth, a torn tongue, and blood writes a sentence on his chest.

[Crippled crippled.] 】

[Death of death. 】

His chin was pressed against his breast, and the Black King's consciousness was being reconstructed.

The white cross left his arms and sat down on the ground, touching the tears on his face,

"You won, O Creator. Poetry Brain once again congratulates you on your victory, you are worthy of being the king of creation. ”

What should I say.

Something isn't right.

Her fault?

No, no, it seems to have changed the concept.

I didn't win.

The time slot has long passed.

Say it.

"You won, O Creator. Poetry Brain once again congratulates you on your victory, you are worthy of being the king of creation. ”

Repetitive language should be something like a program to use.

Set?

It was before.

Say yes.

"You won, O Creator. Poetry Brain once again congratulates you on your victory, you are worthy of being the king of creation. ”

The Black King sensed the pain coming and gripped his throat, trying to make a sound.

Expression?

Express pain.

It is one of the rights of creation.

The Law of the Three does not provide for the above powers.

Say it.

"You won, O Creator. Poetry Brain once again congratulates you on your victory, you are worthy of being the king of creation. ”

The circuit stimulates the girl.

Oops, the sun.

The circuit recedes and consciousness is reborn.

She runs away, panicking, and the failure of a date with the self.

Go ahead.

"What are you crying about, you are the winner."

She didn't know what to say, and her arms flung straight. The wind began to harden and beat the ankles.

footsteps, constantly filling in the missing frequency.

The cross on her chest, she is conscious.

Not pure free will.

I hurt Consciousness.

The [consciousness] of dreams.

[Extreme color] collapsed.

In the midst of the shattered bones, a cat wakes up.

Dazzling white hair.

Blue eyes looked at the Black King.

Quietly kneeling, quietly feeling.

The gauze draws the curves on the face of the [Hundred Faces], the ripples of the wind.

Only the huge body supported by the spine remains, the hollow yearning of the flesh, the arms folded, and the black king is worshipped.

The cat's light shines on the bridge of the Black King's nose.

Gray, indescribable light.

White Cross's favorite light.

******

"Where are you going?"

The White Cross found a huge shadow overhead, as well as a huge character - the year 1948.

"The sun?"

The database squinted, his hands rested on the mast, and his body leaned forward with the white sail, a somewhat unusual movement perpendicular to the ground at ninety degrees. The shape-shaped bird pressed its foot on the side of the ship, waved it with one hand, and looked ahead.

"The Sun!"

He shouted.

The elevator stretched out, and the database reached out and pulled the index finger of the white cross.

Abnormal dryness of the index finger.

Girl to girl eye contact, warm greeting, finally arrived.

"No one can walk past the eighth turn. High-flyer downtime is already your limit. The dream world will always remember your great deeds, but not your great deeds. ”

"I'm not a white cross for a long time." She turned around and stared, under the four palms of the tall [Hundred Faces].

"I'm sorry, I'm ...... It's already war. ”

Be silent, waiting to speak.

The database smiled slightly, and the huge blood-red gear and cross behind him crawled down, carrying the end of the ladder.

"The war has just begun. We will all be your most loyal troops. ”

For the red-hot circuit, the poetic brain must be removed.

Coronation, the invisible crown.

[The next battlefield~]

The poet said quietly in his heart.

After the upload of the spiritual body is completed, can it not be a magical romance or a materialistic joke?

Tiannian lifted himself up on the horizon, the wind blowing from the rear of the fleet swept through everything, and the light was converging.

White finally stood in the bow of the ship.

Groups of red cloaks, the wrapped gods.

****

[Maybe no one will be able to tell the truth.] 】

Maybe no one can forgive themselves. 】

[I'm afraid this is the moment that people have been looking forward to. 】

But before that, how afraid are we of that moment? 】

Poetry Brain jumped on her white hair.

The sun rekindles its light, the beating sun, the pompous radiation ends in the eyes of the flames.

****

That moment has finally arrived.

[Who will sing the hymns?] 】

[Standing on the bushes, the thrush said, It's me,]

[I will sing hymns.] 】

[Who will ring the death knell?] 】

[The cow said, it's me,]

[for I can pull the plow." 】

[So goodbye, robin.] 】

【All the birds in the air,】

[All sigh and cry,]

[When they hear the death knell,]

[For the white cross, and ringing!] 】