A Bunch of Weakling (3)

She was fast—unnaturally fast. 

One moment she stood before them, and the next, she was behind one of the men, her dagger slicing through his throat. His eyes widened in silent horror as his hands clutched at the wound, trying to cover his wound.

Then, just as life drained from him, Medeia devoured his soul.

The second time was worse.

The remaining men lost all composure.

"RUN!"

It was no longer a fight. It was a desperate attempt for survival.

Some turned and fled, stumbling over themselves in blind terror. Others, too injured to run, crawled through the dirt, their nails clawing at the ground in a useless attempt to escape. The ones still clutching their guns fired wildly, but the bullets never touched her.

"You monster!" one of them spat, his voice shaking.

Medeia let out a low laugh. "Monster?" She clicked her tongue, almost disappointed. "Did you even look at yourselves? You kidnapped a woman and let her baby starve."