The Unlucky Bride Is Loved by the Fortunate Desert King - Chapter 5 - Crescent Moon

The sword in the man’s hand was like a crescent moon hanging in the night sky. The moon hidden among the clouds now shone as a blade in his grip.

“Anyone who values his life, fall back! Anyone who doesn’t want to be hurt, get out of the way!!”
The man’s handsome face twisted as he roared like a lion, his voice carrying far and strong.

“D-damn, that’s bad news…” The thugs flinched and stepped back. But a few who seemed to be leaders were furious, shouting with spit flying.

“Don’t falter!! He’s just one man, and we’ve got the numbers!!”
“There’s no way we’re backing down now!!”

True, the youth who had come to help was alone. Meanwhile, more than ten rough-looking men surrounded me.

“We’ll tear him apart!!” Among them was a giant, nearly two meters tall, licking his lips as he brandished a heavy single-edged blade. My face drained of all color.

Neither side should shed bl00d here. Thankfully, all that had happened to me so far was my clothes being torn. Considering everything, that was almost unbelievable luck.

And for some reason, I felt certain. At first I worried because he was a stranger, but up close, it was clear.
That man—was strong.

From the way he had shot an arrow that struck a man’s arm at such distance. From the way he held the shamshir, his whole frame radiating discipline. There wasn’t the slightest gap in his stance. It was the stance of someone trained from childhood in the art of war.

By contrast, the men who had captured me carried large weapons but left openings everywhere. Their grips looked clumsy, self-taught at best.

“Please! Don’t kill them!”
I pleaded to the young man whose eyes blazed like a fierce lion. His sharp gaze flickered with surprise.

“Oh? You give me orders when I’m the one saving you? Interesting.”
He raised his voice at me.
“Tell me something then—was it consensual?”

He was asking if this was s3x by agreement. I shook my head furiously.

“N-no, of course not!! They’re attacking me!!”
“Then good. I’ll be right there. Fix your clothes. For a moment I thought I’d barged in on some strange game.”

“Damn it, get him!!”
“Kill him!!”
The thugs rushed as one, crashing down on the youth like a wave.

But whether two at once or even three, the man on the camel brushed them aside with ease.

“Too weak!! This isn’t even a warm-up!!” He turned his blade and struck with the flat, felling man after man into the sand without killing them.

“Your shoulder’s wide open! Now your side—come on, attack harder!” He moved with the ease of an adult toying with children, striking every weakness precisely.

It was like they were being drawn into his blade. It felt as though the sword wasn’t moving at his will, but rather the thugs were throwing themselves into it. The sight was like a dance of blades.

“Amazing…”
I couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. Every motion he made—was beautiful.

The silver shamshir in his hand gleamed like the crescent moon in the sky. Only a god could wield the moon itself as a weapon. It was as if a war god from myth stood before me, sweeping aside the small and powerless. Like Apollo from Greek legend.

In only a few minutes, the ground was littered with fallen bodies. But none of them were dead. They couldn’t rise, but their lives weren’t in danger.

“Did I not tell you to fix your clothes?” I jolted in shame, realizing my chest was still completely exposed from when they had torn my robe.

“S-sorry!!” I scrambled to pull it together, but the torn cloth would never return to its proper shape.

“I almost thought you wanted me to attack you instead.”
“That’s not it!!”
I shouted, and the man narrowed his eyes.

“So, you’re not a prostitute. That would’ve made more sense. An Easterner, then.”

He pointed the blade of his shamshir directly at me.

“—Who are you?”