Introductory Chapter :

A vicious blizzard descended from the mountains and blew on the valley. Even after his arrival, the snow fell with large flakes, covering the country with a white coat.

Bathed in the light of day and resounding with shouts and booming laughter, the outskirts of the village nestled at the foot of the mountains was very different from the dark place where Xanthe had been locked in deciphering dark scrolls.

The merchants had settled in an abandoned meadow on the edge of the Clan. Carts, tents, campfires were scattered over the vacant lot, with colorful spots on the whiteness of the snow.

The tents of the troubadours are immediately noticeable: they were decorated with extravagance.

Crowds of barges were lined up around the colorful capitals and in front of the merchants' stalls that had invaded the main street. The horses neigh, frightened by the noise. The snow had been trampled, packed; in places, it had even melted in the heat of campfires. The rich aroma of roasted hazelnuts adds a pleasant note to the symphony of scents that greeted the curious.

Sliding along the stalls, Xanthe watched the merchants curiously.

They seemed less prosperous than last year: their clothes were patched up, their children looked frightened and suspicious. Men ostentatiously sported swords and daggers. The women themselves were armed with cutlasses, which they wore on their belts.

"Something must have happened, besides the storm, that explains their attitude ..." thought the young man.

He had kept memories of them full of laughter and good humor. This year, we would have looked in vain at the merchants for traces of joviality ...

He went from one stall to another, evaluating the goods with a buyer's eye ... although his meager savings did not allow him much madness! When he spoke to the merchants, they explained that the roads were not as safe as the year before. New dangers had appeared; tranquility was only a memory; It was no longer safe anywhere.

Seeing a troubadour he knew well, the Young Scholar approached to learn about the troubles that seemed to affect the merchants. Sliding on the compact snow that invaded the alleys, he approached this familiar figure!

As soon as Melchor saw him he gave him a big smile

 "The bookworm deigns to descend into our lowly world?" threw the mountebank.

Xanthe was indeed not used to going out often and preferred to invest his lair than to go out in the light of the day.

"I must visit your poor carcass, no? I'm lacking in tales these days! By the way, can I find out why you guys are late this year? "He asked. I was afraid not to see you! Bad weather, maybe?

The troubadour's face darkens with this question

"Bad luck, in fact. Chaos reigns outside your golden palaces" sighed the Troubadour ...       

"We have not been able to avoid either illnesses, aggression or the most cursory curse. The attacks of the Beasts multiplied, which forced the Kingship and the great Clans to send their practitioners to seal their territory near the coast. ! The interior areas that had already been infiltrated have been neglected I think. These brutes pass near populated areas: they left the trails and undergrowth to use the roads; they approached the cities."

 "Cities too are concerned? The elders told us that only isolated villages were for the moment victim!"

"Nonsense! The first attacks took place a few weeks ago. Entire villages have emptied, not so far away from here: their inhabitants have been forced to emigrate. The famine threatened after their harvests were destroyed ..."

The noise of the bells interrupted the conversation of the two friends. It was a heavy and vibrant sound that spread through the icy air carrying a message that was no less so. Conversations died on the lips of barges. And the fear began to impress on many faces ...

The bells? The Beasts would already be here?

The Young Man was not the only one to have concluded so. The merchants first, still experienced by the crossing of the kingdom, were the first to give way to panic. They had feared at each stop to serve as snacks for wandering hordes. Today and at this moment this threat had become real.

From the first vibration of the people who had passed in a few moments of the status of a mere barge to potential prey wallowed on the ground by wrapping their arms around their heads.

Some swore, but all wanted only one thing. To be able to leave before the horde was present.

This world, which had always lived under the mighty protection of its immortal sects, its disciples and its members, if it had immortals only the name, was without the existence that came closest to it under heaven.

Yet despite their existence at the pinnacle of culture, no one could prevent human nature from sabotaging herself as she knows how to do it well.

The hegemony of the men on the single continent and the inexorable retreat of the demon beasts have rendered a humanity imbued with itself lazy. Self-satisfaction is the order of the day, the danger lay beneath the bed of laurels which men cast to their own nature. Mankind forgetting that revenge is a dish that is eaten cold, disdained the threat of demons-beast.

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Among men, these existences of elites disappeared little by little.

And it is today that this decadent world discovers again the horror of not being able to fight against them.

During the recent revival of beasts, empires finally realizing that their power was nothing without strength.

Yet it will be difficult for the ruins of their golden palaces to convey such a message to their descendants. It is now time for humanity after a long decline, to start a crisis from which it would not recover.

Xanthe looked at his friend who was shaking with sporadic tremors and seemed paralyzed by fear.

He contemplated for a moment to take him with him in his flight, but the tragic consequences of such an act paralyzed him. To protect him would be useless, so much so that his chances of survival would be reduced drastically. He couldn't afford a burden this heavy

Xanthe shook himself, Melchor was a friend, but he would not help him at the cost of his life

To live he had to flee.

He thought feverishly about the depths of the clan's library.

There was his exit door, carefully constructed.

He shook himself and went away, death in his soul, as fast as he could towards the bells. They sounded not of the village, but of the stronghold of the clan which was in the foothills of the mountain. Ordinarily, this distance was very little to go.

But under threat, a mere league presented itself as an unacceptable obstacle between him and his survival. After a last look at the troubadour paralyzed by the alert, the young man turned and without a look back went to the top.

What does it look like when the world is coming to an end? The sounds and the fury! It is with this bitter acknowledgment in mind, as a fatal mantra. That Xanthe was scouring the inner corridors of the Clan in search of his own salvation.

Indeed, what is the purpose of fighting valiantly against events when they have inevitably decided that it was time for the Fall?

He would not fight like so many against the implacable wheel of fate. Well, if, but in other ways than his unfortunate comrades.

Navigating between the menacing debris falling from the decaying walls and ceilings, he looked with a bitter smile, at the innumerable followers of the clan.

Who courage in the shoulder, would fight against the inevitable.

"If the power is a condemnation to replace the survival instinct with self-confidence, it is good that I have been deprived of it," the young scholar bitterly thought, staring at his innumerable faces full of bravery running straight for a death more than certain. However, the path that this cynical spirit chose was no less deadly.

The stream of disciple rushing outward in a desperate attempt to save the bastion of their order could not stop the reverse impulse of Xanthe who was rushing as far as he could to the inner quarters. Not that he thought that the solidity of the walls would keep him safe from the horde coming down on his hearth. The destination he was aiming for was the study room in which he officiated.

His distrust of this sect that rejected his lack of talent could only push him to the theoretical study of Qi and the use of engraving patterns to reinforce his lean strength.

Even though the declining culture saw very few people pass above the four primary stages which are: Qi condensation, Foundation establishment, Core formation, and Nascent Soul.

A Young Man unable to break beyond the Foundation rank could only attract contempt. It is in this sense that he lost himself in his forbidding theories to compensate for the strength he did not possess. His successes, however, he did not share with the cloud of hypocrites mocking his weakness but were avid for the help of his vast knowledge.

This resentment brought the present situation, he was aware of the presence of an exit door. But he will do nothing to benefit his fellow student. There are parts of a man that the knife of perfidy can only end.

Shaking his head as if to chase his parasitic thoughts, Xanthe stepped forward under the porch marking the entrance to the now deserted library.

The study section of the Great Library contrasted with its silence with the effervescence and the agitation that reigns in the interior buildings.

The room was large and luminous, and the comforting warmth of this familiar place momentarily soothed the rush of the solitary disciple's heart. Falling four steps down the steps of the great marble staircase leading him to the curious scroll he had discovered during one of his sleepless night.

"Faster, faster! he said, even if the idiots can give me the time I doubt that my margin is huge "

He sank thus gradually into the deepest sections of the place. Finally, he stopped in a familiar area, a small arch under which he had set up an office and on which sat a scroll, and a curious sphere made of jade. The content was a bit cryptic, but nothing that the free time of a young adventurous like him fails to break.

The content was quite practical The first roll dated at least from a distant dynasty, and contained a rather formidable formation that allowed instant movement over great distances! His way out was here!

I have not completely completed the training so my destination will not be very precise ... If only I had more time complained the young engraver. In any case, to be several thousand leagues from here, no matter where will always be a consolation.

His attention then turned to the Jade sphere, which seemed to slowly shift from white to black. No stone was as naturally polished as this one. On the white alabaster surface, flawless, small black grooves outlined like a spider's web. The stone was cold and smooth under the boy's fingers, like stiff silk. Of oval shape, it had to measure about thirty centimeters and seemed oddly light for a specimen of this dimension.

One does not make a leak without making sure you have enough to survive once outside the

clan. He had a space-ring on his finger contained food, but it was not enough to ensure his survival. The Jade is a rather unique material that allows the conservation of information, a stone of this size could contain a large enough quantity. That's how he would make himself useful outside. As the Keeper of Knowledge of his clan. This legacy of techniques and knowledge he will take with him in his flight

It would have been an unfortunate mess to let the demon-beasts sack this place, so he had to leave the Jade in the library to slowly fill up the knowledge listed in the various scrolls with him. This immense absorption obviously could not be complete, but it would be enough for its value to become invaluable. He weighed the stone one last time in his hands, interrupted the flow of knowledge, and slipped it into the sides of his cloak.

It's time, thought the young scholar.

He took the traveling roller and sat in the center of a circular formation he had installed here, out of sight. A training that had required a lot of effort, he smiled as he remembered the many failures he had had to face in anchoring the formation in the floor of the room.

He smiles again while circulating the natural energy within this now familiar training. White's circle grew brighter and louder, and the engraving patterns he had placed seemed to throb as full of life. A white flash hit the boy and everything disappeared.

It was instantaneous, Xanthe felt a fierce grip on his waist and pushed him further forward. His feet had long since left the reassuring support of the ground and he could only see from the outside a whirlwind of colored light that totally prevented him from seeing the outside world. When he thought that his control over the formation was escaping him, his speed seemed to be reduced. There was a sound bang and his whole body seemed to have hit a mountain. Suddenly, the earth opened under his feet. A taste of blood filled his mouth, his conscience fled, then everything went black ...