"People of Nebulon! My na is Vincentine Van Starlight, and on this montous day, I bring you a revelation that will shake the foundations of all you know!
"Many centuries ago, humanity flourished under the protection of mighty creatures we called beasts. To most, they are now re legends— whispers of a bygone era. These beings, born of nature’s mystery and ancient magic, once walked among us. Yet before we understood their true worth, they were torn from our world in the event we know as the Great Extinction.
"But I declare to you now! This extinction was no natural tragedy. It was the work of an enemy from beyond our dinsion! He killed the beasts that road our world all those years ago to leave us defenseless for the day he would strike.
"That day approaches. But when he arrives, he will not find a world ripe for slaughter. He will face a people ard, ready, and unbroken!
"Through the remnants of the old world, through blood, mory, and technology, I have resurrected the beasts. Forged anew as chbeasts— synthetic yet alive, armored yet soulful, their magic preserved beneath new skin.
"Do you hear , Nebulians?! The myths of your childhood are myths no longer. They live again!
"And against the orders of the governnts, I refused to give them to armies. Rather, I have given them to you.
"All around the world, in every Sector, every District, and every Zone, beast eggs are scattered, lying in wait. Within them slumber the creatures you once thought were re fantasy.
"Find them.
Hatch them.
Raise them.
And defend Nebulon!"
A roaring tide of cheers erupted everywhere. Fists were raised in the air, humans in peculiar neon colored garbs ran helter skelter, screaming in defiant hope as they began egg hunting.
Then, the sight faded away.
Groggily, David tore his eyes open. ’Heck,’ he thought. ’What a strange dream.’
He turned his head, wondering where his pillow had disappeared to. When his eyes finally opened, instead of the old hostel ceiling or the static blur of a dead television, he found only white steel beams stretching like ribs across a cathedral of tal and light.
Disoriented, he scanned his surroundings, finding heads of a multitude of people before and around him, murmuring to each other with excitent. The air he slled was filled with a strong scent of cold sterilization, circuits, and human sweat.
David frowned. ’The dream isn’t over?’
That was when he realized he was standing on his feet, not lying on a bed. He shot his head up and saw synthetic sky panels displaying shifting clouds and a weak sun simulation that illuminated the room.
He swept his gaze around and realized that the multitude of people were actually fairly young, around the ages of fourteen to late twenties, barely more.
They were all gathered in neat blocks and facing a massive raised platform at the far front.
What was peculiar about them was the way they were dressed. They wore clothes that looked like sothing ripped straight from a science fiction cyberpunk movie: flex-fiber coats reinforced at the joints, armored gloves, kinetic-thread boots, visors folded casually on belts.
The stuff of glossy advertisents, VR gas, and concept art.
Not real life.
David let his gaze sweep the gathering. ’Did I play way too much Cyberpunk last night?’
Just as he was reconciling himself with the oddity of their dressing, he noticed sothing even more interesting.
Every single person cradled a massive, tallic egg in their arms.
As curious as the sight was, the bigger question was why the eggs all shimred with variations of similar colors. So were bright like heaven silver, others bore the deep sheen of earthy bronze, and quite a few glead with a rich gold.
Rarer than gold were the ones that held reflective white ones, but only one person that David could see held a black colored one.
It was a boy. Tall and lean, with wild black hair that had never been styled, and a face carved into sharp, ruthless angles.
He wore a fitted black gear with faint gray veins running through the fabric. His eyes were a piercing crimson, holding a cold, detached glare— not aid at anyone in particular, yet enough to unsettle everyone around him.
’He would certainly be the main character if this really was a ga.’ David thought. Maybe it was because he was the only one holding a black colored egg.
They seed to be making a big deal out of what the eggs were colored, he noticed.
Those holding Platinum Eggs were standing proudly while Gold and Silver holders drifted around them, laughing and chatting lightly, showering the Platinum bearers with attention and deference.
For those holding Bronze eggs however, they tried to stay as unnoticeable as possible, stealing glances at the others like half-starved wolves.
David frowned. Did the color of the egg have sothing to do with the quality? And also, if everyone was holding an egg...
He glanced down at his own hands— and froze.
Just like everyone else, David did have an egg in his hands, but unlike everyone else, his color was not Silver, or Gold, or Bronze, and it sure as hell wasn’t Black.
It was Gray.
A dull, listless gray— the color of worn-out machines and forgotten junkyards. He tightened his fingers slightly, feeling the roughness of the egg’s imperfect shell. It didn’t shimr, or let out a radiant hum like others did.
It was just a dead, heavy thing.
Wondering to himself why this was the case, a random rough-looking boy appeared beside him, taking a peek at the egg in his clutches.
Once he saw the color of the egg, he took a good look at David’s face and sneered with disappointnt.
"Who the hell even bothers to show up to a Hatching Ceremony with a Gray Egg?" he muttered loudly enough for half a dozen people to hear.
Snickers followed.
David— not understanding what was even happening —stood there with a grimace on his face.
’Hatching Ceremony? What is that?’
As though that question was the trigger, his mind broke open and a rush of information flooded inside his head.
He— the body he was in now —was Jethro rrick, the son of a low-tier chbeast chanic who spent his days fixing discarded parts for Beastcorp’s lowest grade quarters.
He was born and raised in a lower Sector, Sector Twelve, and sold ch scraps his father brought ho in order to earn credits.
It was these credits that he had managed to gather, and was just enough to purchase the lowest tier of Beast eggs— Gray.
To Jethro though, it didn’t matter the rank of the egg, as long as it granted him an entry into the Hatching Ceremony, a license to be a Beast tar, and the chance to beco a Riftwalker.
And now, standing in a sea of elites, of heirs and prodigies, he looked like a joke.
David sucked in a slow breath.
It wasn’t just him he’d learnt about. The mories and information told him a great deal about this world too.
The outer-dinsional enemy that Vincentine Van Starlight had spoken of, had already attacked, many many years ago.
But thanks to Vincentine, humanity had repelled the invasion with the chbeasts they found and trained.
However, the enemy only retreated to his world, and to this day, continued to send his army of beasts to test the waters in Nebulon through dinsion tears known as Rifts.
Beast tars who entered these Rifts to kill the enemy’s armies were called Riftwalkers.
David didn’t know how to begin processing all of this, but at least he was certain that this world was real, and that image of the diplomatic old man speaking wasn’t a dream. Rather, an introduction to this world and the stakes.
Almost like an opening cutscene.
His eyes widened with complete realization. ’Did I really just transmigrate into another world?’
He looked around. ’One that feels like a ga.’
Standing there, clutching the gray egg, he started to think. Since this gray egg wasn’t worth anything, wasn’t it a better idea to just leave this place and think of a way to transmigrate back?
Before he could explore that thought further, a thunderous magnetic hiss sounded.
David spun around.
The hall’s massive doors had been sealed shut, locking the Aspirants inside.
He pursed his lips. So much for that idea.
Another noise caused him to snap his end to the far front of the room where the platform was being raised, an ominous sound like a heart pounding behind armor followed and the hall fell silent in anticipation.
From the shadows, a man strode forward. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and draped in a dark navy coat decorated with kinetic-thread filants.
A neural-link plate was embedded at the base of his skull, thin silver veins tracing out across his shaved scalp like a living map.
His boots clicked sharply on the steel floor, hands crossed at his back as the ends of his coat swept the ground. He stopped at the center, surveying the crowd with cold black eyes and glowing silver rings as pupils.
"Welco, Aspirants!" he declared, his voice amplified by the microphone connected to his ear.
"Today you stand at the threshold between irrelevance and destiny. There is no sugarcoating it. Whatever beast hatches from those eggs in your hands today— if they even hatch at all —will make or break your future as a Beast tar and perhaps... as a Riftwalker."
He began to pace back and forth, slowly and cinematically. "So of you carry Bronze, so Silver, I even see one of you with Black."
Eyes darted to the crimson-eyed, raven haired boy. He didn’t react.
"But you must know, in fact you should know that the rank of the Beast does not make the tar. In my lifeti, I’ve seen Blacks fall to Platinums, Platinums fall to Gold, Silver and Bronze alike. The tar makes the Beast. These creatures are not re bodyguards or trophies, they are a responsibility!"
"Your journey, and theirs, begin today. Once your na is called, you will step forward, place your Egg on the Ascension Pad, and synchronization will begin."
"If the Beast within accepts you, the Soul Contract will be established and it will hatch. If it rejects you..."
He let the silence stretch until it beca uncomfortable.
"...then you have failed the ceremony."
Many Aspirants swallowed, staring at the Eggs in their hands and praying silently.
"It’s nothing to worry about. There are Egg Traders right outside that will happily do an exchange with you. However, you will have to wait till the next Hatching Ceremony to try again."
So murmurs spread through the crowd. David looked around, understanding while they were anxious.
For so people here, this was their second, third, and fourth trial to synchronize with an Egg and beco a licensed tar.
They were all wary of the deadline which was five. After five trials, one would be permanently banned from attempting to be a Beast tar.
Others just didn’t want to wait for months until the next Hatching Ceremony.
This was a problem that David— Jethro —didn’t have. Not that it gave any sought of relief to him.
"With that being said..." the man’s gaze swept the room, "let the Hatching Ceremony officially comnce!"
Reviews
All reviews (0)