The man's jet-black hair flowed behind him through the chilling breeze, his sculpted muscles rippling beneath his tight shirt. His piercing gray eyes widened in shock as he observed the scene unfolding before him.

You were on the ground of the dirt street, you're tattered clothing which belonged to a peasant was caked in mud. The seven other commoners were standing above you, pinning your delicate body to the ground.

"Looks like we just found ourselves a fortune" One of the peasants chuckled darkly, grabbing a fistful of your matted hair.

Zaire had enough of just standing by and watching like a helpless bystander. He stormed over, heavy footsteps pounding on the ground until he towered over the filthy peasants.

"Enough" His husky voice echoed powerfully, his gray eyes casting a searing glower at the seven peasants.