pulled him tighter and pulled him back.

He put down the cloth he was making and grabbed the rope around his neck, but it was too late—he was dragged through the snow into the dim darkness of the night.

One last glance at the camp he saw that Agnn was lassoed and dragged away, and a group of pale, clothed men grabbed his child, screaming, kicking, and biting. He wanted to call them, but he couldn't. He couldn't breathe.

As a result of an unpalatable lunch, the speed at which he was dragged increased dramatically, and when he heard the sound of horses' hooves, he realized that they had tied him to a horse. A man with a smile watched him walk by, his face as odd and gray as the others, and turned to the camp. For a moment, Andlox clearly wondered who they were and what they were, but that thought stopped when his shoulder hit a rock and the pain began to be excruciating.

Andrew's face bulged and throbbed as his blood pressure rose. His chest burned and he longed for fresh air, and he used all his willpower to keep from succumbing to the frenzied panic and death. He grabbed the lasso with both hands and managed to stretch it long enough for a quick breath, but not enough for his needs.

As the horse turned, he slammed into the snowdrift. He was glad he didn't see the tree for a moment, and was glad it was snow and not gravel. He wanted to cut the rope with his sword, but he didn't dare to risk losing it.

The horse picked up speed and rushed down a straight. A

d

Okles struggled to spin his body, his feet slipping first, but the snow kept piling up between his legs, like a fulcrum, making him turn around. He tried to pull himself towards the horse, but every time they hit a bump, his wet hands couldn't grip the rope.

When his consciousness began to fade, he finally despaired. There was a dull ache in his chest due to the lack of air, and as he struggled to stay awake, a spot of light appeared in his vision. Suddenly, the horse slowed down and let go of the rope, just enough for him to take another shallow breath. Then it accelerated again, and he turned around and saw the rider drive it over a large, wide square boulder. The horseman probably wanted Androcleus's head to hit it and die, and maybe he was right.

Knowing that he only had one chance, he turned his foot forward again with all his strength and grabbed the rope as hard as he could. He skids forward until his foot hits the boulder, and once he touches, he kicks and pulls. The horse spun and flew into the air, and the moment seemed to freeze in time. The rider fell to the ground, and the frightened horse struggled to get back to his feet. Moments before the horse began to run again, Anchors slid the loose lasso off his neck and inhaled hard, the air on his tongue like a liquid.

Still gasping from suffocation, he drew his sword and pounced on the rider as he tried to get back on his horse. He threw the man to the ground and stabbed him with a knife until he stopped screaming in pain and fear. The horse ran away abruptly, and the rope slipped away before Androcles could catch it.

After such a hurried chaotic activity, the sudden silence seemed unbearable. He had a headache and the bearskin had fallen somewhere, but he was unharmed. He put his hands on his knees and gasped as he tried to rejuvenate his limbs.

After a while, he looked up and looked back along the trench he had dug in the snow. He followed a path that probably no one had walked and went into the darkness. When he realized that he had been dragged so far that he couldn't even see the light of the campfire, he lowered his head again in frustration.

It took him a long time to regain his breath, enough for him to walk without fainting, but once he regained his breath, he struggled to walk over to investigate the person who had attacked him. A

d

Okles kicks the man down, revealing that he is an ordinary person, and that the man's skin and hair are not actually gray. He just wiped ashes on his body, probably to mix with the snow.

Androcles grossly rummaged through the deceased's belongings, and there was little left except clothes: a pair of shackles hung from his belt, a stick hung from his buttocks, and nothing else. Shackles were used for only two purposes: to bring prisoners of war home for ransom, and to transport slaves. It's not war, it means these people are slave traders. Slave traders stole his family.

Andlox stood there, unable to see anything, dark emotions beginning to swirl in his guts. He soon realized how much the unpleasant trip had hurt him just now. The desperation of this moment did not make him feel, but now every part of his body was bruises or scrapes. At least nothing broke.

The gods are above, and Agunn won't be happy about it. Moreover, the slave traders were not kind to the captured children. Half the time, when they are inconvenient to carry, they let them die. In fact, Pepper can do a good job of proving this.

Gone are the moments. Gone are the moments. He may never see them again. He could spend the rest of his life wandering in the wilderness and snow, never to find out where his family had been sold. He found himself shivering, not from the cold or pain. He was scared, as if he hadn't been like this in years. Not even in the face of Mary – it turns out that trying to build a family is not the same as keeping one that you already have.

He jogged as fast as he could, completely ignoring the weight of his snow-soaked pants.

Why him? Why now? How could they attack him so quietly? Was it Deanna who brought them to him? If so, why did they take her away in the first place? Unless... She must have offended them. Didn't she say she found the demon somewhere? His master must be after her. What else could it be?

No, in fact, it's more likely that they found out she had one and wanted to eliminate it. Demons should not take measures half-heartedly. It must be so. Either way, it's Deanna's fault, and he'll make her pay.

It didn't take long for him to find the bearskin and throw it over his shoulder. The extra weight seemed to slow him down, but the gods only knew when he would get a chance to warm up again. It's best to bring it with you.

Oh my God, how far did they drag him? It seemed fast, but he was sure he had run at least a mile. The road was long, and his trek through the snow was slow, and his fear and anger had time to cool and subside. When he saw the flickering fires in the woods, his heart was nothing but worry.

He slowed down and stopped, and then he found Deanna sitting in the same place again, holding her bald head in her hands, trembling as if she were crying. The carriage and the oxen were gone, stolen, of course; But his spear was leaning against a tree, and no one noticed. When the flame of anger returned to his heart, he calmly and purposefully took it back. She heard him and looked up at him. Her face was wet with tears and her eyes were red.

"I'm sorry," she said. At that moment, her voice sounded young. He didn't see the confident woman who was sitting there just now.

"I'm going to kill you," he said.

It took her a moment to react. "You can't. But I deserve it," she concluded, wiping fresh tears from her face with her bare arms and staring at the fire.

Anger almost overwhelmed his discipline. Not only did she dare to destroy him, the giant killer, but also to laugh at him? With a self-confidence full of hatred, he put his hand inside himself and wanted to kill. He didn't have time when the attack happened, and his children were nearby at the time – they could be harmed. When he is being towed, it only makes the horse run faster. But what about now? Now is the time to vent his anger.

He called it out from the depths of his heart, squirting violently and fiery outward. It is his pure will, which his enemies give form. It was his unconquerable mind, too powerful to be controlled by his body. It bounced out of him like a wave, becoming more and more intense. Steam began to rise from the dry ground. The snow began to melt. The campfire burned.

In his 25-year military career, every time he killed an enemy and won a battle, his desire to kill became stronger. In the end, he was able to make the enemy tremble and tremble just by looking at them. Now, after killing the goddess Mary, it was more powerful than anything he had encountered since the day he saw the old Titan on Earth, Shuvir.

However, Deanna is not worried. Somehow, he could sense that she was rejecting him, perhaps with her own intentions. She turned her head to look at him, then went back to the fire and said, "Yes." Maybe you can. Maybe not, but maybe it will. ”

He opened his mouth to say something bold, but for some reason, he couldn't think of anything clever or scary. He wanted to boast about killing the goddess, or the fact that he killed six people before breakfast, but he didn't think about anything. He wanted the young woman to really know how much she had hurt him and what kind of person he was, but he couldn't find the right words.

As he looked at her, he slowly realized that her regrets seemed sincere. In spite of all this, is she really not at fault? He didn't know what to look at her, but seeing her like this, it was hard for him to think of her as a dangerous person. How far has his "decent and good guy" vow gone?

For a long time, no one spoke, no one moved, he gave up, abandoned his intentions. She confused him. "Why are you sitting here crying," he asked, "and not with your slave trader friends?"