Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that instant, frozen solid. She could clearly see every greedy, cruel wrinkle on his face, hear the meaningless rasping roar from his throat, and feel the suffocating wind of death raised as the battle axe split the air.
So this is it... She closed her eyes. In her final moments of awareness, there was no fear—only boundless exhaustion, and the deepest longing and guilt toward her family far away.
The corner of her mouth even miraculously tugged into an exceedingly faint, almost imperceptible curve. It was a helpless mockery of fate, and also a bitter consolation for having fought to the very last moment.
Yet the agonizing pain of her body being torn apart never came.
Instead, there came an utterly muffled squelch, like leather being pierced through in an instant by tremendous force, followed by a brief scream so short it was nearly drowned out, from diagonally above her head.
Then came hoofbeats—dull as thunder, closing in within moments, making the earth itself tremble! Not one or two riders, but hundreds, thousands—the terrifying roar of a torrent of steel grinding across the ground!
Charlotte's eyes flew open.
The bandit who had raised his battle axe high had his expression frozen somewhere between savage ferocity and disbelief. A knight's lance, its tip gleaming coldly, had pierced straight through the center of his chest, sending his entire body flying backward like a rag doll, both feet even leaving the ground!
The owner of that lance was a knight entirely shrouded in black plate armor, even his visor sealed tight. Mounted on an exceptionally magnificent warhorse clad in black barding as well, he maintained his lance-charging posture as he thundered past less than a foot from Charlotte's side, like a demon god charging out of hell!