As he slowly lifted his head in shock, still clutching his small sister close to him and hiding her face against his chest, he looked up to find that the cultist had dropped his bloody dagger to the ground.
"...How…fascinating…" The cultist mumbled as crimson liquid oozed from his split neck.
It was a confusing sight at first, but as the maddened figure collapsed to the ground, dying instantly, another figure was seen standing behind the cultist's body.
["That day, I met a strange man. He was a living miracle to me–I owed my life to him."]
Puffing smoke from the cigar between his lips, a man with dark skin, layered in scars and having a scruffy beard looked over, swiping his curved daggers to expel the cultist's blood from them.
"You alright, kids?" The stranger asked, pulling the cigar out from between his lips as he exhaled smoke that smelled like the pine of trees.