'Bitch, you swore on your family name!'

Champion hollered with angry shout as his face distorted in rage and fear.

'Good! Good! Aren't you a vicious one?'

'Seems like you've been around, girl!'

The warrior was not able to defend against this sudden blow and only somewhat cushioned it by twisting body in weird fashion.

A gashing wound was opened on his head and sword almost fell from his weakened hand.

Martha drew herself closer and pushed her armored knee on Champion's chest rendering him immovable.

Now that fourth strike has come, more were bound to follow.

This person's life was in her hands and Martha didn't feel any wish to grant mercy, only sorrow and image of collapsed Cavalier in her mind.

In a dull and unhurried pace, she raised her blade for a finishing blow, when from the corner of her eyes she caught a slight, almost unbelievable movement.

For it had come from Champion's disfigured, helplessly hanging, supposedly destroyed right hand.

As if in slow motion with widening eyes she saw how this hand jerked in a frisky snake-like action and numerous little dots appeared before her.

She threw her head to the side in an instinctive attempt to protect her eyes, and black dots which, as they moved close appeared to be slim black darts, clunked off her helm.

However, still, some of them have sunk deeply into the openings of helm visor leaving sharp pain in Martha's skin.

What was even worse was that she immediately felt some sort of numbing agent spreading to her neck, ears, throat.

With a stiffened breath she tried to nevertheless complete her swing and end things at least at mutual destruction.

However her blade was stopped this time with a bare hand.

'Enough'

'You got no strength left in you now'

Champion spat on the ground, grimly watching pieces of broken teeth and blood to seep down into the dust. His numerous wounds were bleeding and streaks of white could even be seen in some places where bones were exposed.

He then waved somewhere to the side. Surprisingly, his band has long surrounded Lady Celine and Chatty, smug smirks on their faces, while holding knives to girl's necks.

Martha smiled wryly as she crumbled.

Schemes upon schemes, all this time she was dancing on her enemy’s palm.

Actually, he didn't even need to resort to what he has initially planned - that is to lure her away from women and use them as hostages.

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He actually managed to defeat her alone.

As poison spread through her blood Martha didn't lose consciousness. She felt her helm removed with appraising whistles from the male crowd and then had her pulse checked.

As she lied there on her back she stared into low hanging sky filled with ominous dark clouds.

It didn't take long before the rain started.

As her armor was being undone Martha heard people talking. They were asking whether 'Boss' was alright. He cursed and spat. And then she felt her body being picked up and then carried further into the forest as 'Boss' was leaving the rest of the group behind.

They, however, were not paying it any mind. Like patches of black carrion birds they surrounded two scared women, tugging at their clothes - or what have remained of them - and hairs.

A strong will and some sort of decision were gleaming inside the black-haired girl's unyielding look.

As for the red-haired one her eyes were not able to stop for a second frantically jumping around as if in search of someone. Her lips, thin without blood, were trembling as she were mumbling something.

In a sudden surge of emotions she regained her clarity and stared far at the distance where naked tall womanly figure was carried on their enemy back.

'Marthaaaa' - she cried - 'Marthaaaa!'

There was a wordless request in this shout, a beg for a help perhaps.

And as their looks met and red-haired girl saw the blank and at the same time apologizing expression in the knight’s eyes she shouted again.

'Martha!!!'

A deep resentment was evident in her voice.

As Martha finally faded into the shadows of the thicket, the girl shouted again.

This time she didn't call for anyone and screamed just from pain.

Her another companion could only helplessly watch as she herself was dragged away to the side, desperately hiding in her body her only hope, the fine thin blade.

Technically speaking, things should have been easier for Chatty.

Unlike the proud daughter of aristocratic family this flirtatious young woman was not a stranger to affairs of adults.

However, among this amount of starving lusting animals this would prove of a little advantage.

Her voluptuous chest, thick thighs, however, - these things have assured that she instantly became the center of crowd’s attention unlike scrawny and slim black-haired girl.

As their unrest hands groped and touched her everywhere, Chatty felt overwhelmed with a storm of dreadful emotions.

Fear of unknown.

Sense of irreversibility.

Feeling that she would never be able to think about herself as 'self' anymore. Never to associate herself with this ruined existence. Never being able to reconcile with herself.

A monstrosity that she always felt as part of distant world where people were devouring each other and had nothing to do with the secure everyday life of a commoner - this enormous monstrosity was slowly and irresistibly crawling into her own life.

At first she bit where she could.

Then her teeth were smashed out.

Then she tried to scratch but her fingers were broken.

She gurgled and screamed as man after man were forcing themselves upon her.

In what was a mess of mushy noises and slurry speech, perhaps, one could make out her words.

'Someone'

'Anyone'

'Please'

'Save me'

'I beg you'

'God'

'Anyone'

'Please'

Then all sound has passed into the rain.

In a simple monotonous motion a ruined beauty drowned in earth, rain and dirt were raising her hand and delivering light, void of any strength slaps with a mangled palm to another, next-in-order man.

'Slap'

The bandit would shake his head annoyingly and brush her hand away.

Then she would slap again.

At some moment she slapped and the brushing motion didn't come.

Cocking her swelling head in surprise, girl slapped some more.

As any resistance has parted from her hand, she saw, astonished, that bandit's head had slid off in a silky-smooth motion from his neck.

His corpse then fell to the side revealing tall figure in the rain.

A man clad in black robes were standing there with black shoulder-long hair covering his expression.

Surrounding him were lying bodies, some of them stabbed, some of them cut, some of them gasping for the last breath.

Almost not being able to believe this, girl have extended her hand gurgling with her ruined throat:

'H-Hero!...'

And then, in an even more unbelievable fashion, as her eyes bulged from the shock, she felt a thick hand strongly pushing on her chest.

And then pressing her down back in the dirt.

And - in already painfully familiar sensation - a burden of a male body sinking into her, with unhurried motions.

Back and forth.