Reincarnated as a Villager ~ Strongest Slow-life

Four, two customs.

I have two habits that I do every morning.

One is to give two beats and a thank you to the sun in the morning.

It’s not like I used to have faith. This was born in this world and started when I was six years old.

This world dies if it’s weak, and death is right next to it. It’s just a weak predator.

Without the police, medical care would be developed. Sounds like a world of swords and magic. Demons come naturally, and bandits aren’t uncommon. It’s an easy food crisis if the weather gets worse. Yet taxes are constant. Not since I was born, but I hear that sometimes until a little while ago, I would normally sell my daughter.

I can’t say I have three abilities, but I didn’t come alive sailing smoothly. I didn’t see it happen once or twice when I was dying, and I saw it six times when people died easily and irrationally.

This is a tough place to live. It’s a world like that, so I remember a long time ago, so I know. The happiness of being alive, the gratitude of being kept alive.

Every time I think so, I want to thank you. I want to shape it. To remember the old days, to not be like the old days, we want proof that we are alive now.

Pampers!

“Thank God you’re alive. And may you live today.”

Give a deep salute.

By the way, I’ve never lacked that it would be a storm to rain. I have a free and manipulative connection, so there is no problem.

And the second habit is to come to Otton’s grave.

Otton’s tomb is on the right, looking at the house from the front, beneath a large Leni tree.

It is a tomb that engraved Otton’s name on a pumpkin-shaped tablet and only stabbed his sword at the mercy of his strength.

Compared to the tombs of previous life, they are qualitative, but if they are made into villages that would not be possible without the likes of this world, it would be a fine tomb like a hero’s tomb. That’s right (pedestrians and adventurers talking).

Well, if I did, Otton would be a hero, so I don’t have any particular objections.

Otton was the only dedicated adventurer in this village, capable of using both swords and magic, and had enough arms to fight each other with Auga.

But even such otons could not beat the herd of orcs, and it was finally to get rid of them, and they died of the wounds then.

Someone younger than I used to be, who didn’t even think of me as my father, but still raised me to protect us and Ocan. Some are more thankful than alive, and some are loving. Neither rain nor storm shall be bitter to prove the proof.

Pampers!

“Otton. I’m so glad I was born Otton’s son.”

I won’t thank you. I just smiled.