Chapter 1 :

Altair was his name, he wasn't sure, but that's what he was called here, in this place, or should I say this strange world, in which he had arrived only a few days ago.

Even he didn't know by what miracle he had arrived in this body, he who was only an unemployed man locked in his room on his favorite game : Dream.

He still remembers with a shiver the white lightning that struck him while he was taking out the garbage at home and the terrible pain that assailed him. That lightning bolt had "one shot" him and when he opened his eyes again, he was in the body of that young boy.

The original owner of the body was sitting cross-legged on his bed. Shirtless and wearing just a pair of silk pants, he must have died of overexertion from the thinness of his body, the panda rings under his eyes and his sweaty body odor.

"But what could have overworked his body so much?" he thought to himself that day.

Finally after he got dressed, he opened the wooden door of what seemed to be his room and went down the wooden stairs.

As he descended the stairs, a young man with dark hair and eyes who looked older than him looked at him.

"Here is my young brother, what are you doing out of your room? Stinking up the air with your mediocrity?" he sneered.

Altaïr still stunned wondered now what the former owner of this body could have done to deserve such wickedness.

A lady with the same hair and eyes as the young boy entered the room alerted by the noise.

She looked at him with disgust before saying:

"Your father wants to talk to you, go and join him in the room and don't try anything strange I warn you.

Altair went down the stairs and passed in front of the lady without a word before heading for the only door behind her. With a bit of luck, even if he knew nothing about this house, it would be the right room and she would not suspect anything strange about him.

He pushed the door open and entered the dimly lit room.

In the center, a gray-haired man with an ashen-pale complexion and sweat dripping from his forehead lay in a bed with white sheets.

At the sound of the door opening he sat up with difficulty.

"Come closer, Altair, I have some things to tell you," he said weakly.

Altair gently closed the door behind him and approached the sick old man, he took the stool and sat on it while being close to him.

I know it's been hard for you since your mother died and I remarried your stepmother. Your talent in magic is also very poor so you are doomed to remain a useless person all your life. However, you are still my only son with my loving wife Corine, so I have asked an old friend, the master of the magic tower Rémond, to take you on as a houseboy. It's not a luxury position, but at least you'll be safe without the threat of the Yasgard. Good luck my son, take this letter of recommendation and leave tomorrow, now go" he said with a last breath before falling asleep from exhaustion.

He gave him an envelope with a red seal in the shape of a griffin applied on it

The Yasgard? Magic? Magic tower? But what was the father of the original body talking about?

As he was leaving the room, a sudden and immense pain assailed his skull. He collapsed as streams of memories poured into his mind.

"The memories of Altair..." he murmured as he tried to resist the pain.

Altaïr arrived in a world called "Devegal", a land where magic reigned and where the place of humans was not at the top of the food chain.

Dragons, demons, elves, orcs and other demonic creatures and beasts reside there. Humans are weak compared to them and constant wars break out. Each time the territory of the humans is getting smaller and smaller.

Thus, universities for wizards and knights have been created to train future superpowers that will enable humans to survive. The best talents are fed, protected and provided with resources to help them.

Moreover, in this society the strong have the power and the weak serve the strong. This has even become the law.

The old Altaïr was at the first level of apprentice sorcerer, that is to say at the lowest possible level among humans.

According to Old Altair's knowledge, humans were divided into three levels: beginner, intermediate and advanced.

Then the apprentice became a true one-star sorcerer. There were nine levels, so nine stars to acquire before being able to progress to the next level: Archmage.

This level was also divided into nine stars, but since the thirteen saints, no human had gone beyond this level.

"The thirteen saints?" asked Altair.

One thing is for sure, I've fallen into a very exciting world," he said to himself as he felt a wave of excitement run through him.

He gathered his things and took one last look at the room of the former owner of the body before leaving for the magic tower in the center of this city, the red letter in his hand.