The Unlucky Bride Is Loved by the Fortunate Desert King - Chapter 4 - Shamshere

“Both bandits and wolves? How rare. What rotten luck. Well then — I wanted to cause a little trouble anyway.”

The man nocked another arrow with a tense motion and loosed his bow again and again. Arrows flew like bullets, a hailstorm pouring down. The ruffians who had surrounded me tried desperately to knock the arrows aside, but they were struck and fell with deathlike screams.

The man twisted the corner of his mouth like a dark lord. “This is nothing. If you want to put up a fight, you’ll have to try harder. I haven’t had enough of a fight yet! Come on — hit me back!”

“What…! Who is that!? Should we pull back!?” Frightened, the men began to fall back step by step.

I dared to hope I might be saved, but one of them shouted, “His arrows are almost gone! Look! When he’s done shooting, we all attack at once!”

Sure enough, squinting, I could see the quiver was nearly empty. If this went on, the man who had come to save me would be in danger too. “Please! Run! Before your arrows run out!” I cried. At that, the man fired his last arrow.

“Now, you bastards! Surround that man!” My legs gave out in the sand and I went pale, unable to help.
(What do I do? I was saved only to—)
If it ended with the corpse of someone who had nothing to do with this beside me, I would never forgive myself.

But under the moonlight, the man blessed by gods smiled defiantly. Like an adult who had been tricked by a child’s prank, his face held a mix of innocence and malice. “I see. You have some spunk. This could still be fun.”

He urged his camel down from a small rise and came on at full speed. (That camel — so fast!) Camels are usually slow, but this one raced like a horse.

The man drew a gleaming silver sword from his waist. It was a shamshir, a crescent-shaped blade curved like the moon. “Even without arrows, I can fight!!”