Petronilla sprinted through the forest, her sharp eyes locked on her destination. Moving swiftly, she crossed between trees, her steps silent.
She pressed herself against a sturdy trunk, steadying her breath as she peered into the camp. It was abandoned—but it wasn't that long ago.
The Camp fire still glowed faintly, embers crackling the last bits of wood.
'Whoever had been here had left only moments ago.'
Her grip tightened around her silver sword, the cool metal firm in her grasp. Her other hand hovered over her holster, ready to draw at the first sign of trouble.
Petronilla moved in cautiously, her sharp eyes scanning for any signs of which direction the criminals had taken.
Along the dirt path, she spotted them—footprints. Crouching down, she ran her fingers lightly over the tracks, studying the ground.
It seemed to be a group—she couldn't tell exactly how many, but definitely more than five. Then, her eyes narrowed as she realized something—the tracks were leading back toward her home.
Without hesitation, Petronilla pushed forward, her legs propelling her like a bullet, sword gripped tightly in her hand.
The trees thinned, revealing a clearing—and there they were. Seven bandits, each armed; some wielded knives, others heavy shovels, and one had a crossbow.
Her sharp eyes locked onto the man restraining Lucien, his arm raised, ready to strike. She didn't waste a second.
She swiftly drew her gun, locking onto his hand as her Pyro Vision flared to life.
BANG!
The bullet blazed through the air, wreathed in flames, before piercing straight through the bandit hand. He let out a guttural scream as he released Lucien, stumbling back, his body trembling with pain and his eyes welling with tears.
"My hand!"
The bandits screamed in distress, clutching his burned and bleeding hand.
The others, ignoring his cries, locked their eyes onto Petronilla, their full attention now on her.
"Quick! Attack her!" one of them shouted, rallying the group. They charged forward, ignoring the pain of their wounded comrade, determined to take her down.
The crossbowman quickly readied his weapon, aiming it directly at Petronilla. But Petronilla moved faster, her eyes catching his movement.
Without hesitation, she fired. The bullet streaked through the air, trailing flames, and collided with the crossbow.
It erupted in a burst of sparks and splinters, the force sending the crossbowman stumbling back in shock.
"I am the protector of justice," she declared, her voice unwavering. "And you criminals will never harm anyone again."
As she finished speaking, Petronilla closed the distance swiftly, her sword meeting one of the bandit's blades head-on. The clash of metal rang out, the sharp sound echoing through the air as their weapons collided—knife against sword—sparks flying in all directions.
The man with the now-broken crossbow went pale, his eyes wide with fear. "Oh hell nah, I'm outta here!" he shouted, turning on his heel and sprinting for his life.
The man with the purple bandanna who was holding his own against Petronilla shouted, his voice filled with fury.
"You coward! The rest of you, help me, you useless fools!"
One of the bandits, eager to act, grabbed a bottle and threw it at Petronilla.
But she was quick—watching it soar through the air, her gun went off. The bullet struck the bottle mid-flight, causing it to explode in a burst of force, sending a deafening ring through the air. The blast rattled the ears of every man present, including her own.
The purple bandanna's ears were ringing, his focus shattered. In that split second Petronilla recovered quickly, seizing that opportunity to take him down.
She twisted her body with precision, her foot landing a forceful kick that sent him hurtling through the air, crashing into the dirt. As he stumbled back, disoriented, Petronilla wasted no time. Her arm shot forward, the flintlock pistol gripped firmly in her hand, eyes locking onto her target.
"Rapid fire!" she commanded, her voice cold and steady.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each shot rang out in quick succession, the air crackling with the fiery force of her bullets. Sparks flew as they struck their mark, the man's body jerking with each hit, leaving him no time to react.
He fell down unconscious.
'That was the third one down.' Now, for the rest. Petronilla ran forward, her eyes fixed on Lucien and Clorinde, who were crouched behind a log.
'Good. They were smart enough to stay out of the way.'
The the four of the stood there looking at each other not knowing what to do while the fellow member was still shouting in pain his hand as he try to stop his hand from bleeding
"We still outnumber her! Let's rush her together!" one of the bandits yelled.
All four of them charged forward, weapons raised. The largest among them, wearing a white bandanna and holding a shovel, swung it down with all his might, aiming to strike her.
Petronilla was quick. She dodged with ease, her movements fluid as she narrowly avoided the blow. In that moment she reloaded her gun with practiced precision and swiftly began circling around the group.
The bandit responsible for throwing the bomb tried again.
'It seemed his stupidity knew no bounds. That, however, was his fatal mistake.' Petronilla fired a shot before the bottle could even leave his hand.
KABOOM!
The shockwave sends the nearest bandits stumbling to the ground, their bodies collapsing in a heap. The force of the explosion had left them unconscious, sprawled on the dirt like ragdolls.
'Well, looks like another three were down, leaving just one standing. She glanced at the man with the shovel, his grip tight, eyes wide as he stared at his fallen comrades.
"Surrendering, or do you want a beating too?" Petronilla's voice was cold, her sword pointed straight at him, her eyes locking onto his every move.
"You bitch!" he screamed, charging at her, shovel raised, ready to strike.
But Petronilla was faster. She stepped forward, her sword cutting through the shovel with a burst of pyro flames. "You should have surrendered. Now, suffer my wrath," she growled, her voice laced with fury.
With one swift motion, she swung her sword, the power of the pyro energy behind it propelling the man through the air. He slammed into a tree with a sickening thud, collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
All the men groaned in pain, slowly pushing themselves up, their bodies battered and bruised.
Petronilla's voice was calm, but there was a deadly edge to it. "Now, listen up. I don't have all day. You run off now, or I'll finish you here."
They exchanged nervous glances before scrambling to their feet, with their tails between their legs, they stumbled away, fear evident in their every step.