Clenching her arms and curling her body tighter, she felt the cold. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

She's obviously not afraid of the cold.

Clear, vague, long, ephemeral, meaningful, meaningless...... In her short sleep, she saw countless scenes, both real and bizarre.

It's as if someone is trying to explain something to her, but she doesn't understand...... The head seemed to be overloaded after being overloaded, and there was an indescribable slight pain.

She touched her forehead with her cold hand, but the palm of her hand did not feel as warm as she expected.

Tapping lightly on the thick layers of ice in front of her shattered, Loria emerged from the small niche in the wall and continued to look for mirrors that would change position whenever they were out of sight.

In a corner of the world that she didn't know, there might be people crying or dying all the time, and she wouldn't feel guilty about it, and even if she did, she would probably just let out an 'oh', at most a few tears for the particularly sad stories.

But now that we see the tragic future of those who are close at hand, we cannot sit idly by.

Instead of blaming this mindset on goodness or hypocrisy, it is better to blame it on instinct.

Things hurt their kind, rabbits die and foxes are sad.

Occasionally, Loria would pour herself a few mouthfuls of chicken soup for the soul - she said to herself: there must be some reason for her to fall into this strange world, and that reason may be to help someone.

In an empty, monotonous and lonely environment, it might feel better to give yourself a little sense of purpose, but Loria couldn't believe what she wanted to believe anyway.

Logic can easily kill all chicken soup.

Unfortunately, she is a rational person.

It wasn't long before Loria found the mirror, which presented a disgusting image that remained as unchanged as in her dreams.

Her interventions all ended in failure, and fate, with its great power, silently laughed at her futility.

Loria's face darkened.

At an inexplicable time, in an inexplicable place, an inexplicable opponent arouses her competitive spirit.

……

The blacksmith had just fallen down the stairs a long time ago, and after a day of rest, he sprained his foot, and after a day of rest, he was again clamoring to go out and finish cleaning up the undead.

The dark-skinned man with a northern accent was kind enough to help him, but was pushed away by the blacksmith.

"I have legs! I can walk on my own! ”

The blacksmith was reluctant to show weakness, whether out of pride or any other calculation, and this time, he was extra careful as he descended the stairs, step by step, even holding the handrail with his hand.

This may be a person who is rough on the outside, but very meticulous on the inside.

He walked down two levels and glared back at the dark-skinned man, as if he were demonstrating.

However, just as he turned and continued to walk down, he lost his balance again and fell screaming.

Several of his temporary companions paused for a moment, and hurried forward to check, but the blacksmith was just repeating the words 'legs' and 'feet'.

A man took off the blacksmith's boots, and saw a finger's wide hole in the blood—something along with the boots had pierced the poor blacksmith's foot, and the big hapless man had no luck with the last time, and he fell again, breaking his leg.

His companions did some simple emergency treatment for him, and it wasn't until more than an hour later that the hapless blacksmith waited for the priestess, who had just finished cleaning up the undead.

The pale-faced, bloodshot female priestess struggled to concentrate and perform healing, and someone skilled in first aid brought the blacksmith's leg bones back to their original positions.

Screaming like a pig.

Warm light flickered one after another, and soon, the bleeding from the blacksmith's wound stopped, and his leg looked fine, and he tried to stand up despite the pain, but he couldn't.

"Pastor! I don't feel my feet anymore! ”

He yelled anxiously.

The priestess wiped the cold sweat dripping from her forehead and performed two more healing techniques...... The wound was long gone, but the blacksmith could not stand, and soon he could not even feel the pain in the broken bone, and the injured leg was completely unconscious.

This man is not done.

All made such judgments.

The blacksmith roared, cursing the damn everything around him, and he knew that he had become a drag—that the wild group would not take a drag on his adventure.

"Let's carry him to the magician, and the men of Dalaran will surely help him."

Someone proposed this, and everyone agreed.

The panting blacksmith was still swearing, but he didn't break free from the hands that had come to support him.

He was a meticulous man, calculating even in a panic - saving his leg was more important than missing an adventure...... He didn't even mention the useless woman who hadn't healed him even in the process of cursing everything.

It is unwise to offend a pastor.

Captain Gordon led the three men to carry the blacksmith away, while the rest carefully examined the stairs to find the culprit who had hurt the blacksmith - it might have been a wooden thorn or a large iron nail, but they had never been able to find anything like it.

The priestess, who was tired in every sense of the word, sat aside, distraught by her failures, and felt more and more that everything around her had become stranger—she hated the suspicious glances that men gave her from time to time, and she was afraid of being alone.

……

"What's wrong with him?"

Walking to the edge of the magic circle, Oturus looked with interest at the blacksmith who had been placed on the ground by several men and sat still.

"I hurt my leg and can't move, and the priest can't help it."

Gordon grimaced, obviously in a bad mood, losing a man before the exploration of the magic tower could begin, not to mention the fact that the blacksmith's departure would be a blow to morale.

"I've said that a long time ago." Oturus kicked the blacksmith in the leg, as if to confirm something, "You three-legged cats don't have the idea of fighting this tower at all." ”

"It was an accident!"

One of the adventurers who was traveling with Gordon exclaimed unconvinced...... He really wanted to beat up this annoying mage, but no matter what the strength of this mage was, an adventurer with no background would dare to offend Dalaran.

These magical maniacs are unexpectedly united, and they might be able to wipe out your head while you sleep.

"Accident?" Oturus laughed strangely, and he kicked the blacksmith in the leg again, "Don't you even know what's going on?" Let me guess, after he is injured, you must have left him in place, and your priest only knows how to rub his head to heal, so he will not be dispersed first...... You idiots, he's been plotted by magicians, tsk, ice magic is pretty good...... Stealthy and ruthless. ”

Despite his appearance as a lonely maniac guarding the door, Oturus holds the title of Grand Magician. (To be continued.) )