His village burned, lighting the night with a hellish orange glow. Men, women, and children screamed and begged to get out of their homes. He imagined his burning scream-filled village would fit well in hell. Their windows were boarded, and their doors were chained shut to keep the monsters out. So it was the reasoning Lex believed until a torch set his own home ablaze. He escaped, killed the knight who set fire to his house, and took the knight's sword.

Smoke billowed, blotting out the moon and stars, leaving only floating embers to see. From the fire, a hot updraft nearly deafened him. Nevertheless, he could hear them; thousands screamed as the knights traversed the town, setting fire to homes, churches, and businesses. Over the roar of the flames and he could make a few out. They were people he knew and some he only acquainted. If he concentrated hard enough, Lex could even hear Anna's voice.

Artus rode up the hill on his warhorse. It was a great beast with a thick red mane and a solid black coat. The teen himself wore a heavy plate and a look of determination.

His friend’s face shifted into a smile, expressing the charisma of a prince. Artus was taller than Lex by an inch and better muscled. The strange breathing technique Artus cultivated was louder than the screams of the dying. It sounded like the breaths of a creature much larger than a human.

"I knew I'd find you here. Why did you escape Lex? You could have died a martyr." When Lex didn't react, Artus drew his sword and stepped down from his horse. "You murdered a knight of Britannia. Not even taking your own life will pay for your sins now." Artus said.

A tear fell down Artus’s face; Lex was unsure if it was an act. Artus had been a friend to Lex, taught swordplay to him, and tried to save the village with him. He didn't know what Artus believed, but he couldn't let his village die in vain.

"What does that matter?" Lex waved his hand over the village. "You ordered them all dead," Lex said.

He hadn't slept right in days. Artus helped him step on the path of cultivation. By placing a tiny amount of qi within Lex's dantian, Lex learned how to pull raja in. He brutally smashed various raja together until they fused to cultivate qi.

He pushed that power he collected into his body and sword. Lex threw himself against Artus.

Their swords locked. Lex's sword continuously powered up, but he knew the battle was hopeless. He wasn’t strong enough, and Artus pushed him back.

It wasn't the sword that was the problem. With every swing, the blade grew sharper and stronger. Natural Enchantments on the blade raised Lex's strength and sped through the battle. A strong sword wasn't enough. Artus was stronger, faster, and had been trained since birth; worse Lex couldn't imagine himself winning.

Already, Artus used his superior strength to push Lex back on his heels; techniques that came naturally to Artus were unknown to Lex. Simple leverage and qi techniques were as natural to Artus as breathing. Lex didn't have the experience to win this fight. He knew this, but he didn't care. He fought, knowing he would lose.

This fight wasn't about winning. It is about doing something for the people who screamed, showing that they were worth something, and it was about muddying Artus's face. That's why knowing he would lose, he slashed, he struggled, and he fought.

As the screams died away and the orange light licked towards the hillside, he continued to swing his sword. But the blade wasn't made for him, he’d only trained for the sword a week, and the sword wasn't made for his qi. It shattered, shooting red hot shards of steel across the hill.

He felt the cold hard steel of Artus's blade as it tore through his chest, ripped open his dantian, and nearly shattered his cultivation.

"I killed them because it had to be done. You all had to die for the good of the world." Artus tore his blade from Lex's chest; he kicked Lex down the hill, which was the last time Lex saw Artus.

Lex opened his eyes to a familiar coffin; he had been asleep. By the shaking of the carriage, they were almost home. He'd grown accustomed to the terrible roads and could differentiate the bumps. Morgan's apartment had become his home.

His blood was up, and he wanted to tear something apart. Someday another Artus would come. Would he be strong enough then?

Artus had toyed with him in their last fight. Was he strong enough to fight him now?

No, he didn't think so. The gap between their strength is too significant. It could take years to grow strong enough to win against Artus. For now, he'd sharpen skills, bide his time, and learn everything he could. What he felt for Artus was more vital than hate, it ran deeper than emotion, and it couldn't be rushed.

Since the loss of his village, he hadn't felt much of anything but pain. That was changing. For once, he was afraid.

Jean knew of his secret. She knew he was alive, and she wanted to make use of that. Like all witches, she was trapped here below the Hidden Dragon Institute. He didn't know how one living man could change that. That's what they would discuss.

If he could free a few witches, he could say he's grown. He didn't know the strength of the Inquisition, the purpose of the hidden Dragon Institute, or what it did for the Duchy. Jean could help him with that. Undoubtedly there was a price for her help.

They took their meeting in Morgan's room and left Louis in the carriage. Morgan poured a glass of wine and offered one to Jean. Jean waved her off, choosing to stay sober. The blinds were drawn, the door was locked, and they prepare to discuss something forbidden.

"Do you know the purpose of the hidden Dragon Institute?" Jean said.

"Is it to waste a witch's talent with necromancy? No, I don't believe it. There has to be another reason. Real necromancers are much better at the practice. Why would they want subpar undead to fill their levies? It doesn't make sense, and when things don't make sense, there is a hidden motive." Morgan said.

"I thought it was for a religious reason, the law of epsilon. Necromancy is a sacred practice; with it, the sins born from witches can be forgiven. I guess that’s nonsense. So, what do they want?" Lex said.

Jean laid back against a wall. "The Duchy has all the undead they could ever need preserved in catacombs all over the counties. If we all vanished, there would be no loss; they don't train us in necromancy for our subpar undead. No, I'd say they are very well prepared for us to vanish. It's almost like they're waiting for it." Jean said.

"What about the families of the witches here? Some are the daughters of nobles, if they vanished, wouldn't it mean war?" Lex said.

The witches laughed at Lex's declaration. "They sent us here to get rid of us. If we all disappear, they wouldn't have to worry about us anymore. We are on our own against the Inquisition and the state itself. What do you think the star on the ceiling means?" Morgan said.

He didn't know what to feel about this. When she screamed, he had been angry; this was different. Morgan wasn't in direct danger. This threat felt far away. It was abstract and hard to judge. What could he do against an institution, against their religion, against the God adopted by his countrymen? Despite his potential with the Tang standard, he was still just one man. The potency of the Tang standard had been at its most fantastic 700 years ago. Now, there were weapons, familiars, and techniques that could rival the Tang standard. When put together, those tactics greatly surpassed the Tang standard alone. He was a cultivator armed only with the Tang standard and a few techniques. If he challenged the world, he'd lose.

"It's not as hopeless as you think. Your advantage is not your potential in the Tang standard. It's in your cultivation, and you are a practically endless source of qi. Play to your strengths isn't that what I've been trying to teach you. What you need now is a familiar." Morgan said.

Jean pursed her lips in a pouty way that begged for a kiss. Lex shook his head; his hormones were getting the better of him. His head felt like it had filled with cotton. He wanted them both in ways he couldn't express with words. Just the pouting of her lips set him off.

"Well, at least I know now he isn't undead. But how is he going to get a familiar? There are no underground reserves, and I don't know the rituals to summon one. Even if we pool our resources, it's doubtful that he can even take on a single inquisitor, much less an entire Legion. He might not survive the third fight." Jean said.

"We can send him outside; all he has to do is fake his death again to come back. There has to be a way to bypass the guards." Morgan said and looked pointedly at Jean.

Jean sighed. "Yeah, I know the way out. It wouldn't help any of us, not with the inquisitors patrolling the city and surrounding county, but for him, it would be perfect. Can we trust him?" Jean said.

"He won't betray me," Morgan said.

Jean gave Lex a dark look. "You have a lot of confidence, but I don't. Men have betrayed me before, and I won't suffer betrayal a second time. I'll show him the way out if he allows me to place a curse on him." Jean said.

"Only if you promise to remove it on his return." Morgan crossed her arms and glared down at Jean imperiously. "Are you any good curses? I thought your strength was soul binding?" Morgan said.

“No,” Lex said. He didn’t feel that being cursed ensures good behavior by some crazy witch. Lex didn’t know why he needed a familiar when he had too much to study already. Cultivating qi condensation to its next stage was his highest priority; he had necromancy to learn and spiral exercises to practice. Adding familiar bonding to his study list didn't seem like a good idea. Even if it would increase his power to near an inquisitor, they still had better weapons and much more experience.

"How would a familiar help me? Wouldn't a weapon help me out more, and what about techniques?" Lex asked.

Morgan went into lecture mode. "Familiars are spirits, mythical beasts, or demons with minds of their own; they could expand your potential as much as the Tang standard. Have you heard of the yellow dragon? Is it the familiar of the yellow Emperors? At birth, its power was equal to the peak of the core realm. When bonded with a descendent of the Yellow Emperor, at the core realm, their power can reach the ascendant soul realm." Morgan said.

"Then why haven’t they taken over the world?" Lex said.

Morgan shrugged. "There is always someone stronger. You probably won't find a Dragon, but any familiar will help." She looked down at her feet. "What do you want to do? This is your choice."

Jean turned away and walked towards the window facing the giant star formation. "I don't want to die here. If we stay here, at most, we'll become teachers with the same rank as students here. If we escape, we will have to flee from the grip of epsilon himself.” Jean said.

Lex’s mind whirled with possibilities. The Scandinavian Confederacy may take them in, but missionaries of epsilon have made deep inroads into that territory. Traversing the entire Holy Elysium Empire was unthinkable. Morgan had come from the heart of Britannia, the quicksilver sect. That wasn’t an option either, which left them with only one choice West.

He clapped his hands together and stood up from the bed. "We have enemies to the east and a sea to the west; I think our best option is to cross it," Lex said.

It was mad, and he knew it. There was nothing to the West. The world is flat, and if they traveled too far in one direction, they would fall off.