Not Your Average Noblewoman ( 333 )

A powerful punch sent one of the Amazarak women warriors crashing into a fruit stand.

Lithia didn't care. Her eyes burned with fury and jealousy.

"You—"

Another punch.

"Shouldn't—"

A knee strike to the gut.

"Touch—"

A spinning kick to the ribs.

"MY—"

A straight jab to the face.

"MAN!!"

The last warrior flew backward, rolling across the street.

The entire marketplace fell silent.

The Amazarak warriors? Collapsed.

Marcellus? Staring.

His mage unit? Terrified.

The townspeople? Absolutely entertained.

Marcellus cleared his throat.

"Uh… Lithia?"

Lithia flipped her hair, crossing her arms.

"Hmph!"

She refused to look at him. "They deserved it."

Marcellus chuckled, shaking his head.

Silence. The dust settled. The marketplace watched in awe.

And in the middle of it all—Lithia stood victorious.