Attempted assassination

Let's rewind a few moments to the conversation between Princess Diasirée and her champion.

The Hero—who had stolen the lance from that massive ogre with its pointed, violet teeth and silky hair [Shrek, could that be a lie?]—was racing at full speed, leaping from one carriage to the next until he reached the last carriage before that of his target, the chameleon-like lizard-man. He then propelled himself into the air before any champion or guard could seize or stop him, soaring high into the sky to face the sun, whose shadow was cast upon the carriage of the fairy-princess with brown hair. Nonetheless, this did not disturb the assassin's camouflage provided by the parasol covering the section where the princess stood.

The lizard-man had positioned his head toward the Fairy; he opened his mouth wide, coiled his tongue into a spike, and prepared to kill her by impaling her.

Everything unfolded within a fraction of a millisecond.

The Hero could not afford any mistake.

If such abilities had been granted to him, he could at least strive for good; he felt duty-bound—in honor of the one who had given him her life—to not remain passive in the face of evil.

But why did he feel an overwhelming compulsion to save that girl? As if it were second nature, as if his very being were guided by an inexorable force and a will far greater than his own.

No time to think! A life was at stake!

He could barely perceive the killer's presence, yet that was enough for him to prevent harm from coming to anyone.

Drawing on all his strength with his right hand, he charged the spike, aimed at the lizard-man using his index and left thumb, and hurled the weapon with all his might—crashing his back against the carriage on which he had braced himself.

The lance sped through the air and, before the lizard-man's tongue could reach the target's forehead, it severed it, the tip of the tongue landing on the beautiful gown of the Fairy. The lizard-man let out an atrocious cry of pain. In his panic, he inadvertently lost concentration, and his camouflage was compromised, revealing his presence to everyone.

Seeing the creature wildly thrashing as it sought to kill her, the princess let out an even more piercing cry than that of her attacker. A third cry came from Yeneltig, who was stricken with fear upon noticing the intruder on the carriage while he was flirting from afar with young ladies in the crowd.

"You're such a coward and a womanizer… nothing to make you sympathetic…"

The Hero leaped from the carriage in which he had crashed and landed on one of the bars of the parasol belonging to his would-be victim. He landed just in time and managed to cling to it, his arms whirling like little windmills.

Always forced to look ridiculous after a heroic act, he…

He advanced toward the lizard-man, seizing in passing the champion's sword—while the latter lay collapsed on the ground in terror—and pointed it at the assassin. The chameleon fixed him with a gaze full of hatred, then withdrew his hand from his mouth, which was dripping with blood.

"Sh'aurai dû te tuer quand Shen avait... l'occasion..." he whistled despite the incandescent pain from the amputation of his tongue.

"Was he speaking Snake-speak?"

"No, he's not Snake-speak; he's the fork-tongued one."

"Nothing forces you to ruin my interventions like that, seriously! And it's no wonder I might be mistaken if I base myself on your memories that invade everyone's mind. Now, let me get back to work."

The Hero took a defensive stance, well aware that the lizard-man most certainly did not intend to abandon his target so easily—and he was right! The chameleon transformed his suction cups into claws and spat out the excess blood from his mouth to speak more clearly, his tongue regenerating and easing his speech.

"Tell me your name, you pesky intruder, so that I may remember the one who dared defy one of the most talented assassins on this continent."

The Hero shrugged while maintaining his stance.

"So you won't even deign to speak and tell me your name, even though you're the future loser!" fumed the hitman.

"Do you really think you can survive against me? Well, then, let your name be forgotten by everyone—even by me, the one who intends to take your life—but I'll at least give you the pleasure of knowing mine for your journey into the hereafter! My name is Jordan."

(He's serious, isn't he? I—well, based on the other's recollections—had already given him a name: Reptile!)

"Well, now... oh, why are you laughing?"

"So, my name makes you laugh? You haven't lost a minute waiting!"

The lizard-man, enraged, lunged at the Hero with all his claws unsheathed. No matter the situation, the Hero never allowed himself to be distracted—even when placed in an embarrassing predicament (or so the legends say). He held his sword horizontally, facing his foe, and clashed his assailant's claws against the blade, producing sparks that lit up the wooden platform of the champion.

The Hero pushed the lizard-man back from where he had come and advanced cautiously toward him. Unfortunately, he couldn't unleash his full fury because too many civilians were nearby, and he wasn't truly his adversary's primary target but merely an obstacle to overcome—an obstacle that, had the champion not fled, would have been his main opponent.

The chameleon could only admit that the Hero was a fighter of remarkable valor, far more formidable than himself—even if his own swordsmanship left much to be desired—at least he had the merit of not letting his emotions get the better of him when things went awry, despite his youth. It was evident he had already endured many battles.

Jordan renewed his assault, and the Hero countered once again, repelling him even more forcefully to create an opening in order to deliver a thrust meant to cleanly and precisely sever his foe's throat. He executed his move, bypassed his adversary's arms, and let his sword whistle as it reached the target of his attack… but was it abruptly halted?

Indeed, the Hero had struck Jordan's throat, yet the blade of his sword couldn't even penetrate the scales of the humanoid chameleon; it slid oddly along his neck, nearly falling to the ground. He had encountered this race in numerous misadventures and knew the average strength and vulnerable spots required to surely hit and kill a lizard-man. How could his blow have had no effect?

"Disappointed?" taunted the assassin. "It's simple, my friend! Since you seem lost, I'll help you understand!" he said nonchalantly. "Unlike other lizard-men, when I shed my skin I keep it inside me—letting it liquefy within my body before secreting it outside my scales—which renders any attack null… and ineffective…"

Perhaps his name was of little consequence, maybe he wasn't a great fighter, and Fate had thrown obstacles in his path, but one couldn't deny that this ill-fated man possessed great ingenuity.

Would that be enough to defeat the kid?

Let's see…

In any case, the Hero relished finding a challenge in combat—even though he could have called on Ymir, he had little interest in turning into a raging beast given the circumstances.

The young warrior rose and wiped the viscous liquid from his hand. He had a clear idea of how to dispose of that "liquid," but he would need a trigger to follow his intuition.

Jordan might be ingenious, but not clever enough to avoid revealing his weakness.

The Hero then set his plan in motion.

He slammed his heel into the rose quartz floor, creating rubble that he hurled toward the Fairy behind him, explaining in plain terms what she was to do with it.

"What is it with this human that he makes such imprecise gestures? Can't he speak?" wondered the fairy-princess.

Then he made incomprehensible gestures that would baffle any rational person. The Fairy's eyes widened in astonishment at the stranger's behavior, and she wondered why he didn't speak verbally.

In both hands she held the quartz stones that this peculiar fellow had entrusted to her. What did he want her to do with them?

Did that man truly mean her well?

Why isn't Yeneltig here to protect me anymore?

"I don't know this kid, but he doesn't seem very reliable, does he?"

Clearly, she had no choice but to trust him if she wished to survive and avoid being killed by that lizard-man with bulging eyes.

Yet that malevolent aura emanating from the human, that sinister magic surrounding him, and the deadly presence radiating from him could only instill a measure of fear toward the Hero. Still, she had to ignore it, knowing deep down that he meant her no harm.

She concentrated with all her might to try to understand, with every fiber of her being, what her new, silent protector from the heavens was trying to tell her… but her understanding was very limited.

Fortunately for both of them, the fire emanating from the platform—its intensity steadily increasing—kept the chameleon at bay, thereby confirming the Hero's theory.

By a distinct signal, the Hero conveyed to the Fairy that he was executing his "brilliant" plan. Taken by surprise, she attempted something—she was certainly meant to serve as a distraction, for he had no intention of making her fight… or did he?

"Oh, well, darn it!"

The wingless fairy hurled stones, arms crossed, in the direction of the lizard-man without even looking where she was launching her projectiles. As expected, the stones diverted the saurian's attention, and he couldn't help but follow them with his eyes; however, the princess's throw was so clumsy that he didn't even bother to try to dodge them.

"That could have been a good plan, but with you useless, wingless princess, it was an utter failure," sneered the hitman, "what a miserable lock of hair!"

"Exactly what I thought!" rejoiced the Hero.

This plan—an utter failure? Not at all. The Hero, having seized the opportunity during the distraction, grabbed a burning piece of wood and set fire to the viscous liquid produced by the lizard-man's shedding.

His intuition had been correct.

He was convinced it was flammable.

The lizard-man writhed in all directions, howling in pain. The Hero took advantage of the moment and pinned his adversary to the ground. Flames spread over the lizard-man's body, consuming his skin, yet the Hero ignored the pain, carried by the adrenaline surging through his limbs. He raised his sword as if it were a dagger, ready to plunge the blade into his foe's belly, but the opponent—despite the agony inflicted by the flames—managed to dodge the young human's strike, albeit so clumsily that he ended up with his tail severed.

The humanoid reptile let out an immense howl of pain, but it wasn't enough to stop the assassin in his furious charge; the agony from his burning molt was so great that a mere amputation caused him no real harm. And the Hero knew this all too well.

Then both of them lunged at each other, their bodies ablaze, in one final assault. The boy grabbed the lizard-man's tail, planted his feet on the gleaming quartz-strewn deck of the carriage, spun around, and struck his opponent's head—sending him flying out of the carriage and smashing his back against the ground.

In one swift stroke, the Hero cut through the parasol's poles and seized its canvas. He wrapped the Fairy from behind, placed her on his back, and leapt from the structure, which collapsed in on itself, leaving behind the lizard-man's slimy tail. Midair, he spotted the lizard-man agonizing on the ground, seized the opportunity, and landed on him, driving his sword into the lower abdomen and cleaving through his spine.

The lizard-man assassin, Jordan, was rendered incapable of further harm.

The Hero released the princess he had just saved, and she fled at full speed, taking refuge behind the debris of the destroyed carriage while continuing to watch him from behind one of the wreckage piles. She was utterly terrified of the young boy; he couldn't fathom why, as he had restrained himself from unleashing his customary, staggering violence so as not to frighten her further—even though she was undoubtedly unaccustomed to witnessing mortal combat. After all, he had just saved her from an assassination and from the flames (although, admittedly, he himself was burning)!

"Ah… after all, nothing ever changes: whether he plays the hero or is seen as a bloodthirsty beast, little Astarté never fails to remind me!"

Nothing new under the Sun…

Suddenly, he received a blow to the back of his neck. Turning around, he spotted someone who had presumed they could attack him with impunity—a guard holding his lance upside down, apparently having tried to knock him out.

Seeing the Hero's furious gaze, the guard couldn't help but wet his pants. He staggered backward clumsily and fell on his rear without paying attention. The flame-engulfed boy advanced toward him, ready to unleash the burning flames that scorched his skin as punishment for daring to assault him. The guard retreated as best he could, his backside dragging harshly along the ground, all before the eyes of the terrified onlookers.

The Hero glared at him.

"Is that what those beings who dare abuse us in the city's underbelly look like?" fumed the young man. After all, whether human or fairy…

Then, before he could notice, he was surrounded by a dozen royal guards—the elite of the kingdom.

This situation was clearly infuriating him. He retrieved the sword that the fleeing fairy had abandoned and took a defensive stance. "This will be sorted out very easily," he thought—even as he began to feel the searing pain of the flames that ignited his body. He was sure he would soon quench the fire with the parasol's canvas by rolling on the ground, then blend into the crowd effortlessly, though he would still feel the burn.

At that very moment, he sensed the air charge with electricity, even though he observed no gray clouds in the sky.

"By the six majestic heavens, You who reign above us, come to me and lend me Your strength, so that by Your power I may bring down upon my foes, my thunderous wrath!"

A rumble echoed in the sky, and the guards stepped back two paces, thrusting their lances into the ground. The Hero was utterly perplexed.

"What on earth are they up to?"

The sensation of electricity in the air grew ever stronger until he found himself electrified. He looked up once more and saw a sphere of blue light hurtling in his direction. He tried to flee, but it was too late—a bolt of lightning crashed down upon him.

"Release of the Seventh Seal of Lightning: Eclina's Flash!"

No one can say at what voltage this magical attack surged, but one thing was clear: no human could survive such an electrical discharge.

The Hero howled in pain, feeling his skin sear as electricity coursed through him from end to end. He had never experienced such excruciating torment; his suffering seemed endless.

Even if his words had been freed, he would have been incapable of uttering a single one. At that very moment, he could barely form them in his mind.

When the dazzling attack subsided, the flames that had enveloped the Hero had dissipated, and everyone witnessed his defeat by that unexpected strike. He was left with eyes rolled back and his mouth agape, drool spattered across the ground. Driven by the energy of despair, he attempted to move forward, resembling a zombie, devoid of all awareness.

But despite all his efforts, he eventually collapsed to the ground.

Queen Audisélia slowly let her arm—charged with electricity—descend along her body and replaced her silk glove.

"The only dark cloud here is you!" declared Her Majesty, furious.