The man, who is dressed in black, slams his sword against the little girl’s pink skirt and pins the skirt to the ground.

“Don’t move at all. If you move, I’ll split ya in two.”

Then he spits. It doesn’t go far. In fact, it lands in his own leg, but it’s the attitude that counts.

The toxic pong that stems from the odours of his stinky body, can send bats flailing their wings in stomach, bouncing between ribs and spine in a swelling frenzy of excitement.

Alternately, talking about fervor, there is by all accounts more straightforward energy showed in this current man’s demeanor as he lifts his thumb and finger and handles her jawline with them. 

He raises her face to welcome his as he steps nearer before her and attempts to compel eye to eye connection with her blue maritime eyes, which have all the earmarks of being polluted by melancholy and shame brought about by the harmful family as they come up short on the hint of life.

The eyes are big and blue, like the ocean, blue and tragic.

As of now, she hungers for to survive in spite of her desire for death. Her psyche has arrived at a flat point.

The young lady averts her gaze from the man as though a snake had moved her.

.

It’s a hot, sunny day. There is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole. Scorching hot. 

Marooned to a secluded place, rugged and elevated ground on both sides, fragile hills in front and back while hundreds of scarecrow-like skeletons perched on sharp hills in sharp thorns, as if someone had not heard their cries for a long time.

Once upon a time, maybe one of them also fell in love, and it was the loved ones, friends or family members with whom it would please them to meet at the end of the day. However, now they are just skeletons dangling from thorns. Perhaps, for some, they go beyond the skeletons, which are home to the ghosts of many memories, feelings and emotions. Some people may have waited until today, longing for their return.

It’s a place where no one has touched for a long time, as if the trees have sacrificed their souls while praying for a little water. There’s nothing far away, as if there is wailing and neglect across the horizon. It’s a place where the dead are so numerous that they seem to crowd every inch of the horizon as if the world has come to an end.

Nothing but flying dense black crows are apparent..

The wind is coming from every side, chilling the little girl to the bone, it’s as if the entire area and those close to it have been conspiring against her.

 Her slender legs are lying outstretched in front of her, while the man’s sword is squeezed against the piece of clothing between her legs, nailing her to the ground, and the palms of her hands are pushed down hard to the ground as she reclines on the ground with two hands.

She seems to have fallen into a state of shock, as if she had just survived a posterior collision with the ground. Behind the girl is a large overturned wagon, where the bodies of the deceased bodyguards lay sprawled like fragments of puzzle pieces on a jumbled board game.

Fear must be gently devouring her soul because the cold wave is mummifying her while the hair follicles on the back of her neck are bulging, her mouth is drying up, and the whole body is trembling.

Upon seeing this, a nasty smile plays on the filthy face of the rogue bandit. He grabs the little girl’s throat with his big hand and squeezes it.

“Don’t scream,” 

he grins.

The child is silent but struggles. 

.

The man’s face looks like a face that only a mother would love. It’s hideous like a goblin’s with a goatee, all craggy and ugly with a forehead that looks like it has been home to the Devil. The tip of the nose hangs down from a huge big face like a proboscis monkey.

It’s ugly. Very, very ugly.

The quantity of teeth in his mouth is lacking. It very well may be espied that a portion of the teeth are unmistakably absent. A unique bounty can be relegated to these lost teeth-“Anyone who finds a lost tooth will get a corresponding reward.”

Be that as it may, I think in the event that one can convey these looters to the law requirement organization, one will receive more noteworthy benefits.

The stature of the bandit is so dwarf that his size is much closer to that of the young girl, but the lack of length is remedied by the width, because this is evidenced by the fact that the man’s chest and belly are quite wide, his arms and legs are thick, and his palms are large.

The man breathes intermittently, which sounds like the hissing of a rattling chainsaw as he gasps for breath. Sweat trickles down his glowing forehead as his tongue slid along the clenched teeth.

His small, black eyes move up and down her legs, over her body, and rest on her face, and his mouth opens to speak, revealing his teeth, which are as crooked as a dog’s hind legs. “Well? What you got there, Sprog?”

The man frees her throat and hits her in the face with his fist. The thug laughs with absolute pleasure. Complemented by the image of missing teeth, his wide, toothless gummy laugh seems even uglier.

The rest of the bandits standing behind him have been staring at the girl for a long time now. They were thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, but they too burst out laughing from their leader’s laughter, as if that laughter is a contagious disease.

Walking up to the child, he subtly pokes her in the face with the sword. “Stop crying!” he roars.

The child cries out, but tries to stop herself.

The tears that flow from the little girl’s watery puppy eyes resemble an oil painting. The shape is inconspicuous but so fluid. She purses her lips with her teeth. The eyebrows are raised; the lips are bent downward, and the lips are sad like a pale crescent. She is not able to complain about anything, nor is she able to endure it.

Judging by her appearance, the girl should not be too old, because she looks very young. She must be around 9 or 10 years old because an innocent face attests to it.

 Her long, curly brown hair sways in the wind.

She writhes in horror as the man’s large hand peeks out from above her again. His arm is shaggy and covered with dirt.

The bastard, the wicked bandit, stretches out his dirty hand and tightly presses the soft lips of the innocent-looking girl.

The man licks his lips and asks with a greedy look on his face 

“Do you want to be crucified?”

And then he releases the pressure from her lips.

The girl 

screams

 “No!” as her eyes close tightly.

The eyes of the long-nosed snapping bandit rotate in both directions like those of a reptile as one stares at the girl with excitement, the other stares around.

“Otherwise, they’ll pierce you on pikes anyway, just like the skeletons on that mountain.”

Then, the bandit’s enormous tongue jumps out like a frog.

Flop!

Saliva is coming from the tongue.

He continues, “The only difference is that you will be pierced by us now. Even if you don’t get crucified by their spikes, you will ride on our spear.”

Saying this, the scoundrel put his hand on the zipper of his pants. 

“Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Khoch!

Suddenly, a sharp iron object impales the mischievous robber from behind. The foreign object penetrates the neck and pierces the throat, knocking out its thin, sharp tip.

It takes aback the bastard leader because he is unable to speak.

It bleeds from the throat like a cataract. He stares at it with terrified eyes, but it is actually a very large and sharp kunai, which is like a combination of a knife and an arrow. His eyes swell as if they were about to explode.

“Wha-what is th-this? A kunai?” 

as the astounded criminal pioneer battles and scarcely gathers the final expressions of his life, he falters, hacks and afterward tumbles, trailed by a drop to the ground.

Thud!

The young lady is astounded to observe the abrupt, horrible and grisly passing of the looter since this scene before her eyes probably been inconceivable to her now. She appears to be content, however more than that, she draws from a fixing nervousness that has escalated every one of her muscles. Her minuscule hands automatically press against her own lips like a phantom.

Delicate worry hidden like a sharp needle has blurred her mind. Is this an even bigger risk? The pupil of her eyes widens with curiosity and eliminates the dejected look. The eyes look more alive than they should. 

Not only an extraordinary feeling of distrust captivates the girl, but other bandits also fall into a web of various emotions, unable to move. Their eyes widen, like those of owls, and rise to the forehead, their eyebrows cut across, almost rise to the head, and the mouth opens slightly.

Sweat beads on their forehead, slowly descend on the cheeks and settle on the chin.

“Boss! What happened ?!”

Shortly, everybody’s eyes are fixed on the back - on one individual. In the retina of their eyes, a picture of an enormous figure burns.

The man who looks like a muscular mountain of raging muscles and is too tall, someone their late dwarven leader could never look down on. He looks like a man who picked up heavy objects and put them down, and then did it again several billion times.

However, he is not muscular, which does not fit or may seem disproportionate, like the face of one of the bandits. At first glance, one can understand that this body and this musculature result from many years of battles forged by combat experience.

Anyone who sees this will think that he is most likely a famous, respected war hero, brave, extremely skilled warrior, or perhaps a knight. But little is known by the ignorant thieves led by the dwarf commander.

His garments are embellished with different kinds of weapons and contraptions, something like a thick military grade body protective layer covered with different sorts of blades, kunai, shurikens and explosives, a heavily clad rucksack with different devices. Numerous little arms are equipped very exceptionally.

A small belt-like pouch at the waist, perhaps filled with candy; exploding candy.

The high-quality shin guards protect most of his legs like a grizzly bear with metal fur. 

The portion of each shoulder where the armor ends is shaped like a fearsome skeleton skull. The skulls are probably artificially made of high-grade metal. Something has been hanging next to the backpack for a long time. It is a long sword. It’s pretty big; more than the aspirations of these fools’ lives.

Remotely, the highlights of this sword structure are remarkable. It’s anything but a pleasant mix of red, blue and dim brown. The greater part of this sword is of earthy colored tone, which covers the entire body of the sword. The butt of the blade is very long, coming too far over his head. In any case, the baffling hero’s green cloak has obscured a lot of this.

Another medium type of sword in one hand of the fearsome-looking warrior which he is holding, called “Tulwar”. It is medium-sized thick. Although not curved like the curved moon, it is a much closer type of curvature.

The sword rests on a part of the armor on his shoulder, where the artificial skull is placed.

 He has a patch on his right eye; his face is very gloomy; his eyes are cold, like a steady and deep, stubborn ice cube. He looks at them at a single glance. The eyelids do not flicker.

It’s the figure of a legendary hero, or perhaps a cross between a human tank and a human action hero from the modern day. 

His purple hair is swaying in the wind like a lavender rose.

It’s Roy. It appears as though he at long last has found the wagon that he has been pursuing. Be that as it may, it seems like outlaws have attacked it.

His appearance is extremely puzzling and incredible. Maybe Satan himself is shielding him from hurt. Notwithstanding his self-important disposition, the burglars are getting more and more fearful.

Simultaneously, from wavering articulations like the scramble of a 7-year-old, it very well may be surmised that dread, doubt, question, outrage and outrageous resentment obviously function as a toxic substance in the minds of looters.

Howbeit, seeing such a strong warrior standing as a foe, fear struck them like lighting. It froze them to the core, thinking if they should flee or take revenge.

Time has paused.

However, they can never lose to just one person. At least, that’s what they are probably assessing right now.

They must avenge the death of their leader....no matter how pathetic he was.

The warrior seems relaxed, almost bored, as he just stands there.

Looking at the robbers, it can be seen that they are old and young, tall and small, weak and strong.

As the biggest of the desperados of the biggest size, the unshaven scoundrel is quick to surge like a bull at the baffling hero. His face resembled a furious savage as it is disfigured in a wild fury.

There was a loud scream stuck in the tip of his throat, which he releases with a roar -

“How big is your courage? I see your testicles are no less big! I will grind you and your testicles to powder now.”

With that, he runs in the warrior's direction like raging bull.

The bearded robber is holding a huge stick with big thorns on it. The other members followed him. They continue to spread from behind. Perhaps their plan is to “pincer” the mysterious warrior.

This is a strategy used to besiege the enemy. When the opposition forces move towards the center of the army, it responds by moving its foreign forces to the enemy factions for siege.