I Got a Cheat and Moved to Another World, so I Want to Live as I Like

The stage of the story moves once again to the Holy Capital and to the Temple of the God of Commerce.

Time had also come back, and the Cathedral had a game of devotion dedicated to God.

(Strong enemy)

From a man's forehead, sweat drips off.

That's right, the divine match of commerce. From all over the world, the mighty gather.

(But you have to win)

Already the rivals have lost the previous game. If you win here, you win the men's club.

If you win a prestigious tournament over this world, you can get your family back.

For myself, for my wife, and for my son, whom I have yet to see.

I have to win.

(Huh!)

Step in as fast and sharply as possible with the silent hanging.

(Whatever trap awaits, it just breaks through everything)

It's the most believable move I have right now, one that can no longer be said to be me. Besides, I bet everything I did, I jumped into the dead end.

Let's talk back in time.

In one place, there was one boy.

The boy goes to a dojo. To learn how men feel.

"If your body and mind can work out to some extent"

The boy's parents sent him out in such a light mood. But the boy is blessed with talent, and he appears dizzy and heady.

"I look forward to the future."

My parents rejoice. The boy, glad to see him, was increasingly immersed in training.

(vertical to vertical, horizontal to horizontal)

Plated, large, square spaces.

No one has come to the dojo yet.

In the meantime, the boy waves alone. Masturbation is fundamental to training.

(Draw a circle)

Turn your hips wide.

(And poking)

Stick forward sharply.

Now one set. Continue to extend it until the Master arrives.

The boy kept repeating the basic mould, foolishly.

Rainy days and snow days.

The boy was blessed not only with talent, but also with a temperament that spared no effort. Perhaps this can also be described as a kind of talent.

Keep your low center of gravity and keep shaking. Your hips build up the boy's lower body.

And for as long as I could, I let him acquire the instantaneous force of a steel spring.

"At this point, the pardons are close."

Older dojo owners are all the more pleased with the boy's growth.

Boy's, explosive flash force rolling out of his forged lower body.

And with that instantaneous force, a blow away from the outrage.

This is the true pinnacle of this dojo genre, because the boy, more than anyone else, embodied it.

"Ah!"

One day he spills his voice unexpectedly.

Was God watching the pile of authentic practice?

When the boy was a young man, during his training, he saw the door open in front of him.

It is, for a moment.

But the youth, in the meantime, glanced at one scale of truth.

From brain to spine, paralysis runs. It was as if thunder had struck me.

(Circular motion……. This, spiral!

Video of a double spiral flows through the mind of the youth. The youth did not know, but it was in the form of a gene.

"This is it!

Youth scream.

And at this moment, the youth moved away from the form of the genre and got their own moves, the "of" word movement.

The movement of the word "of" brings dramatic change to youth.

From that lumbar carriage, a thrust released. It made it easy to capture the opponent's steeple.

(Awesome...)

Youth admire.

Using the "of" shape, I was able to carry my hips to the position I thought they would be.

Stable posture and able to release punches continuously.

None of this was possible from previous vertical and horizontal movements.

genre specific, a blow away from a distant position.

Plus that, a continuous penetration from the letter "of".

"Thunderlight Lightning"

Since when, who started calling?

It was a small country town, but the youth get two names: "Lightning" from those around them.

And his intrinsic moves, continuous penetration, became known and learned as the "Lightning Sword".

"It's all right. My master will forgive me."

When the two names of Lightning were settled, in the shadow of a dojo builder, the youth stares at each other with the dojo owner's granddaughter.

Since when, I was in love with my childhood friend.

"Well, Grandpa would love that."

Although never beautiful, its brightness and core strength are preferred.

The young man had come to love her with all his heart.

"Let me come with her."

Then a few days later, after training in the dojo.

The young man entered in front of the dojo owner and asked for permission to marry him.

Blessings spread among the gatekeepers watching over it.

Everyone, including the youth, thought their marriage was justified.

"... officially want a trace. Is that what you think?

Happy first, the dojo owner who was thought to be, but his expression is harsh and his voice is cold.

"Yes."

A young man answering, bewildered by the unexpected state of the dojo owner.

The old man in front of him, after meditating often, increases his eyesight and stares at the youth.

The figure belonged to a samurai who had decided to be ready.

"There are two things you have to do to succeed. That's the ancient code of my school."

Youth listen silently, surprised by what they hear for the first time.

"And you can only try once in your lifetime"

If you fail, you lose your successor's status and your beloved girlfriend, at the same time, and forever.

Understanding the matter, the youth fought.

"... it doesn't have to be now. More, even after I've trained myself."

The old man's eyes are slightly tender.

"Can you tell me what the trial is about?"

But the young man's heart is unshakeable. Dojo owners nod, okay.

"The first is to defeat the strongest opponent in this dojo."

"And the other thing is to win a prestigious tournament within two years."

A prestigious tournament is a tournament commonly referred to as a Class A.

It's not an impossible goal for me right now. Seems so.

(Nevertheless, who is the strongest dojo?

The youth questioned the first trial.

When it comes to the strongest of these dojos, there is only the master, the dojo owner, or himself.

But from what the dojo owner looked like, I didn't think so very much.

"Do you take it? Answer me."

Youth don't get lost.

"I'll take it"

Hearing that, the dojo owner gets up.

"Then tomorrow morning, I'll call someone on this occasion"

That's it, he turns his back and walks out. But in a few steps he stops and opens his mouth without looking back.

"Tonight, spend some time with your grandchildren. But after tomorrow, we won't be able to see each other until the trial is reached."

It's a cold, hard voice that just communicates the decisions.

It conveys a strong will to never give in.

After the dojo owner leaves, the venue is brimming with hustle and bustle. In the meantime, the youth kept thinking about their opponents.

The next morning I arrive at the dojo.

On all sides of the room, the high brothers are already in formation.

Some are seated upright, and some are agoula.

Many are older. Half of them are faces I haven't seen lately.

(I wonder if any of them are opponents)

With that thought, I'm going to take a look.

(Still, they're not here)

They are women who will serve as opponents in these games.

From the dojo dedicated to the woman I'm dating, they often come to support me.

Of course, at their game, we get people out of here. It's a relationship we have with each other.

Okay, here we go.

The last dojo owner to come in, his voice, sounds in the venue.

In the dojo, calm down.

"Get in!"

In the voice of the dojo owner, the opponent shows up.

An old woman with a fat body on her big head.

To the big ass by the unusual, protruding belly. Her breasts are huge, but she's drooling badly.

Weirdly short hands and feet are enough to worry about whether you can wipe your own ass.

A rich god worshipped in antiquity, seeing him reminiscent of it, the venue is attacked by panic.

However, only the elderly brothers of Takashi will not be slight.

"Big Ma'am!

The wandering young gatekeepers scream.

What showed up was the dojo owner's wife, or granddaughter's grandmother.

Makeup is applied neatly and thin silk is put together.

"Quiet. Yes!

The dojo owner had a drink.

"Start the game immediately. Both sides, forward!

No objections, no questions, no questions allowed. The atmosphere tightens the place up again.

Opponents are confirmed by the Grand Mistress.

Objection would immediately be seen as defeat.

(With the Grand Ma'am, battle)

Whether or not you can stand before you fight is a difficult question.

The young man brought to mind the figure of the great lady's grandson, the thinker.

A slight similarity can be seen from the connection of blood. Concentrate all of your consciousness there and lift yourself up.

To that bravery, the younger gatekeeper leaked his admiration and the great lady dyed her cheeks slightly.

Dojo owners and high brothers don't show any change in their expressions.

"Begin"

And with the hanging voice, the first trial began.