บท 48: When a Man Attacks

In the soft glow of sunlight, with the wind blowing, she stood tall and strong. Her long silver hair flowed like a river of moonlight down her back. Atop her head rested a shiny metal crown, marking her as a true knight. Her armor, shaped perfectly to her tall, powerful frame, gleamed in the dim light, testament to her warrior's spirit.

Her face was striking with a pointed chin, large bright red eyes, and a petite nose. Soft, pink lips framed her mouth, but they bore no smile. While her appearance seemed youthful, her eyes conveyed tales of countless battles. By her side rested a large, razor-sharp two-handed sword, a symbol of her readiness for any challenge.

The instant our eyes met, an intense energy emanated from her deep-set gaze. Standing imperiously, every muscle in her body exuding authority, she inquired, "What are you doing here?" Her voice, every syllable, echoed the coldness of steel, devoid of warmth or recognition.