[ WP ] Give me a super hero story set any where in the world but North America , and any time in human history before WWII

The army of Mongols approached; the deep thundering of a thousand hooves on dirt reverberated all around like heavy rain before a mudslide. 
 
 Nuri was not worried. He was buried deep under the foot of the mountain, slowly sucking in air from a small fissure with the calm serenity of a shaolin monk. 
 
 He knew they would come, following the refugees from Baghdad in their ever expansion west. Soon, they would reach the westward sea leaving a trail of diseased corpses in their wake. 
 
 Something had to be done, someone had to do something - and Nuri knew that this task had been cast upon himself. The Great Spirit does not grant great power to those who will never use it. 
 
 As the steady drumming grew louder, Nuri contracted the ground around him, weakening the valley and the encroaching hill until it was held together only by the thin skin of the surface. 
 
 He drew one last breath before closing the fissure, and then waited. 
 
 There. They had entered the valley as he knew they would, and the clamor of hooves turned into shrill whineys and cries as the men lost their mounts to the caving ground that swallowed up the front line like a hungry storm cloud. 
 
 That was when Nuri sprung - alternately contracting the soil below him and weakening it above so that he shot out of the ground in a trailing dust arc that launched him wide above the entire army. 
 
 Men pointed in shock and awe as he sailed above, but quickly turned to panic as he unslung his bow and fired a medley of arrows at them. His quiver was empty before the apex, but it was of no matter - for he dived towards the sunken wall of the crater and landed at an angle, melting the wall with his feet to dampen the fall, then hardening and softening with each step to spring him around the crater, stirring up a whirlwind. 
 
 With the sheer confidence and grace allowed at such speeds, he danced around the entire Mongol horde, taking them out one by one with his bow; ducking in periodically to restock his quiver with their ammunition, and slicing a few dozen throats along the way. 
 
 By the time the sun had begun to set, there was only one warrior left. He was on his knees desperately praying to a god he now wanted to believe in. Nuri stepped out of the grainy whirlwind and walked up to him slowly, eyes unflinching, and red dagger drawn out. The man screamed, backed away, and ran - scrambled back up the side of the now visible crater wall and disappeared over the hills. 
 
 Good. Let them have a witness to the horrors of the west. They can not fight angry spirits, not with any army.
