It was chaos. He who had been gone only a few minutes, was now witnessing a catastrophe, a massacre. Flames were dancing on the roofs of houses, people were running everywhere, running to escape the danger in all directions: warriors armed to the teeth, all wearing coal black armor. They were killing, burning coldly, without remorse. No, this spectacle was too much. Alan could not stand it. It was his village... Alas, he was paralyzed, frozen in place with fear, because yes, he himself was afraid of the threat.

He was obviously spotted because he was standing in the middle of the village. Some warriors will then approach him, violently grabbing his arms, without considering that it was a kid. A tall man will come forward, covered by a scarlet armor, his thorny tail dragging on the ground, making the iron protections squeak. Given his great size, he will bend down to face the tiger, which tried to move back, without success. The strange and tall man was looking like nothing that Alan as ever seen before... and even if he could know, the armor he was wearing was covering all of his body, so he couldn’t even guess a single physical traits, excpet his height.

- Well, a child... Where are your parents?

Following the silence he received due to Alan's fear, he raised his chin, inspecting him like a kind of exotic bird, except that he did not have colored feathers and he did not have an impressive look. On the contrary, his fur was stained by hard work and his body was frail despite his daily physical efforts. With an impulsive hiss, the reptile hiding under the fiery armor would slap him hard, hard enough to knock him to the ground.

- A simple abandoned orphan. Your fate is already enough as it is.

The man who seems to be in charge of the troop will turn to his colleagues for a few seconds before continuing his way.

- Do with it what you will.

The soldiers then gave Alan a beastly look. Obviously, if he had been left alive, it was not to kill him, although this did not prevent the warriors from rushing at him with blows, mostly kicks, in the ribs, in the stomach, in the face...

Once they were done, they left him on the ground, vulnerable to the fire, vulnerable to the next warriors, to everything. He didn't like this panic atmosphere, the pain all over his body either. He didn't have the strength to get up, to run away with the few survivors. Was it useless? Wasn't he going to be caught, like all the others? Wasn't he going to be treated the same way again, this time to death?

That's when he heard a scream. A familiar scream, racked with terror and pain.

Frida was in danger.

No, he couldn't leave his friend to her fate. He had to protect her, but how? He was weak, wounded, and he didn't even know how to hold a weapon in his dexterous little paws, but as weak as the rest of his simple peasant body. Yes, that was all he was. A simple peasant...

That shouldn't stop him. Frida's life was at stake! He had to go, it was a matter of honor and loyalty to her.

The rising adrenaline made him forget the pain and fear. Rage had taken its place, a rage due to the injustice of losing everything a second time. A rage that made him get up slowly, his determined look landing on an object to his left, dragging on the ground as if it had been dropped. It was a sharp blade, with one end acting as a handle.

A sword...

He's going to run towards his only option: to confront the invaders directly, all by himself. Grabbing the sword with both hands, he moved without wasting time towards the cottage. Once there, he heard the complaints growing in volume, which pushed him to speed up. Then he saw them, the scum were holding the girl prisoner, her dress was stained with blood. She was trying to escape, she was trying to make them let go, but she was not strong enough. For Alan, this was what broke the already full vase. Without thinking, he charged towards the one who was about to strike his blow to finish off the snail. Awkwardly, the tiger raised his sword in the air before striking the ground. The attack was indeed blocked with ease given the wretched talent of the inexperienced peasant. His opponent will give him a powerful elbow, making him fall backwards into a small pond.

- Alan!

Feeling the blood flowing from his snout mixing with the dark water of the pond, he struggled to get up, stunned, but ready for revenge. He felt himself being grabbed by the sleeves of his suit and pushed deeper into the pond. Having dropped his weapon, he could only try to push back the hands that were trying to deprive him of air, but this seemed to be a useless gesture. However, he did not give up. He struggled with strength, although he was kept under water without difficulty.

On the verge of unconsciousness, his strength was slowly leaving him. He then felt, when one of his arms touched the bottom, that his sword was right there, within reach. At that very moment, it was as if he had regained his energy.

He clenched the sword in his left hand and, with a quick and ill-considered move, he managed to hit his assailant. This one, once badly hit in the throat, will collapse in his turn in the pond. The water quickly turned red, except that it was not this detail that everyone was observing.

Probably due to the water that had removed the dust, the tiger's fur was snow white and the blue spots on his body were shining. Stunned, even frightened, the soldiers began to shout words that did not mean anything to the ears of the first target.

- It's a Felvinarr! We need reinforcements!

Seeing the fighters flee, the young man did not ask himself any questions, since this was not the time, although the story of Felvinarr was imprinted in his memory. He turned around, making sure that the young lady was okay. She seemed to be at the end of her strength, a little hurt, but nothing serious to report. He asked obviously to be sure.

- Are you alright...?

- Yes... but this is not the time to worry about that... We have to leave...

- And your father-

- He is dead... Those dogs killed him...

Her father being an old and sick man, she already knew that he could not have run away, nor fight. And then, she also saw everything, in her house now eaten up by fire. Her tear-streaked face saddened Alan, who reached out and took her on his back. The snail's reaction was obviously immediate.

- What are you doing?

- I'm taking you to a safe place...

Leaving the sword he had used on the ground, he didn't look back at the soldier's corpse. The blood made his heart ache, and he felt his own heart go into overdrive. And then, they had to leave before they were followed. He will then start to run, run without stopping with Frida on his back in the direction of the forest opposite his hut. Contrary to his habit, he didn't take the time to admire the nature. He was running, running without a break. He was running at a fast pace, even if slowly, he felt the pain coming back... and he felt that spending energy like that was tiring him a lot. Except that wasn't the most alarming thing.

- Alan...

She let out a groan of pain, suddenly grabbing the boy's shoulder. Surprised by this alarming reaction, he didn't see the rock in front of him and stumbled, using his body to shield Frida from the impact. In spite of the painful shiver in his back, he threw above all a glance to the young woman, he seemed to hold at the level of the ribs while trembling.

- Are you okay...?

He is going to put himself to knees, using his right arm as support for the head of Frida. She seemed to be in a very bad shape compared to before, and that surprised him a lot.

- One of them hurt me earlier... I thought... I thought it wasn't serious... But now it hurts like hell...

Looking worried, he looked down at the dress in silence. Intrigued and surprised, she watched as he tore off the end of it, then used the piece of cloth as a bandage where the wound was. Before putting the piece of dress down, Alan went to observe the wound, which was not normal at all. The contours of the wound were like cracks, and the wound itself was black. Even the blood that flowed from it seemed to be more like ink. However, earlier, he had seen her dress stained red, and he still noticed that it was wet with blood.

- This is not normal... We need to find a healer.

- Let's not dwell on that... the important thing is to get away from this place.

- You... you're right...

The feline bandaged the wound silently, then picked up the snail again, this time carrying it like a princess. He went into the forest that used to be the forest of dangers, at least, the most dangerous forest around. It was not only the only forest around, but also a rather small forest, although it was dark because of the number of conifers that always masked the sun. Even though this darkness was growing as the sun was slowly setting, Alan continued to advance, exhaustion nagging at him, making the walk more difficult.

They soon found a small river running through the woods, a sign that they were halfway there. Quite happy not to have crossed any soldier until there, the tiger will lower the eyes towards Frida, sketching a small smile, for once. It was not in his habits to smile, and alas, this smile vanished when he saw the pale complexion of his friend. At the same time, he realized that he could only hear his own breathing.

Frida was dead.

- Miss Frida? We... Here we are... You can wake up...

Indeed, he refused to believe it. No, he couldn't even imagine that he had done this for nothing. To be the only one still alive.

He gently laid the girl's body on the ground, her head on a small rock filled with moss. He moved closer to inspect the wound, and what he thought had happened was true.

The whole area near the cut was dark, blackened as if it were already decaying. With a blank stare and a lifeless expression, he stared at the corpse for several minutes without taking his eyes off it.

He had failed to protect his friend. He could not save anyone, not even her. Rage boiled inside him, but he contained it, he didn't let it out, like a dragon in a strong cage, even though no one had managed to capture a dragon yet. So he will keep his composure, not demonstrate anything.

He will build, despite his enormous fatigue, a small raft. For him, letting the bodies be carried away by the current meant that they were taken to a secret world, a world where they would live happily. This is what he had been taught, more precisely what his parents taught him, at least, before he performed this same ceremony for them both.

So he's going to lay the girl who now seemed so fragile on the raft, which he's going to let float on the water, to be carried away by the current. He will then join his hands together, closing his eyes to better concentrate on his words. The bracelet she owned a few minutes ago was between them, its jeweled glow having faded from the little sunlight streaming through the leaf curtains.

- You have always had a good heart with whom you have crossed. I hope the Gods give you the same in your new life...

When he opened his eyes, the raft was already gone.

She was already far away, her mind too.

Seemingly in a great hurry, a soldier ran through the already dying fire, racing towards the man in red armor scanning the horizon.

- Sir Soren!

The simple warrior will stop in front of the great reptile, out of breath. Not daring to raise his eyes to face the prince's murderous gaze, he kept his head down and cried out:

- There is still one survivor... The young tiger...

The angry expression on the face of the royal-blooded interlocutor frightened the other fighters, who looked away or hid in shame with their helmets.

- You let a kid go!?

- N-no wait Sir! It was... It was a Felvinarr!

- Felvinarr or not, I want his head. If you don't find him, I'll stab you at the entrance of this disgusting village.

Ashamed and afraid, the soldiers nodded and began to gather the troops. Meanwhile, the man called Soren will walk his gaze over the burning buildings, wearing his surprisingly thin hands on his horned steel helmet. He found it hard to believe that an extinct race such as this could resurface, especially after hundreds of years. And then, the youngster might have seemed to have a particular fur, but that didn't mean anything. And then, it was with the glance that one could really recognize them.

This one was only a weak and fragile coward, he said to himself, just before isolating himself for a moment to remove his head protection. It was solid, but also quite narrow. He didn't like it, even though it was one of his family's rules.

He let his orange scales cool down a bit thanks to the wind, a soft and fresh wind that followed the storm, the disaster. His sharp yellow eyes focused on his helmet, scrutinizing every detail of it.

He longed to know the true strength of a true Felvinarr. Like the strength of the legends. Could he possess even a portion of the legendary great knight's power?