Minutes later, Jethro was led down the corridors of the facility once again by two troopers. He cradled his Red Lizard gently against his chest, the creature’s tiny claws gripping the fabric of his clinic shirt.
Jethro couldn’t stop thinking about what the chvet had said. The bloodline hidden inside his chbeast’s core signature, but could only be awakened if his Gutterling had been one or two ranks higher. The Valaksyrian Bloodline.
But even more than that, Jethro couldn’t stop thinking about what the screen had shown him monts after that.
It highlighted that his Red Lizard could actually evolve. Jethro’s mind raced with the desire to explore that, but the chvet had called his attention once again. He gave him a small container of nutrient paste and sternly reminded him to keep the bandage dry for at least a day.
After leaving the chveterinary, he was suddenly unable to summon the particular information screen from earlier. The reason beca instantly clear as he walked. Jethro’s focus was splintered.
As they walked out of the facility, he had started to notice that it wasn’t just workers and lights that filled this place, there were chbeasts too. Worker-types hauling cargo, pet-types trotting beside handlers, and compact assistance-types performing intricate tasks.
Each ti his eyes caught one, his mind would stir with information instantly, and the screen would mirror his thoughts and present the knowledge to him.
Like the sleek, six-legged chro hound that padded past, pulling a trolley of tools behind its wagging tail. As Jethro watched it walk past them, the screen instantly appeared, offering detailed information of the chbeast in crimson colors that only he could see.
[chbeast: Utility Hound]
[Rank: Bronze]
[Grade: E]
Beneath the basic identifiers, a quick explanation of the chbeast’s origins followed, detailing what it looked like when it was just a normal beast with real flesh, along with ntions of related species. Then, far more captivating, were the branching pathways that unfolded beneath it like a tree.
[Possible Evolution]
[Evolution success probability highest with DNA similarity to target species]
[Closest DNA Match of sa beast type: Sentinel Warhound (Gold Rank)]
[40% DNA Similarity. 20% Core Signature Similarity]
[Evolution steps:]
[1: Gather five—]
The information vanished abruptly the mont his eyes caught a hulking, moss-green beetle with grinding mandibles trundling by, hauling scrap.
[chbeast: Scrapgrinder Beetle]
[Rank: Bronze]
[Grade: C]
[...]
[Possible evolution: Tectonic Borer (Gold Rank)]
[Evolution steps:]
Everywhere he looked, information flooded him. When he saw a humming-bird chbeast polishing a light fixture;
[Polisher Sprites (Grey Rank)]!!!
[Possible evolution: Razorwing Swarrs (Silver Rank)]
When he saw a black, silent ch-cat observing from a security alcove;
[Security Lynx (Bronze)]
[Possible evolution: Phantom Panther (Platinum Rank)]
Jethro stared at all of this in disbelief. It was overwhelming; the constant stream of nas, ranks, and possible futures flickering before his eyes.
But it was also amazing. There was an evolution path for everything! Even that unassuming silent cat stationed beside the tired looking security officer. It could be a Phantom Panther— a Platinum Rank Beast —in the future. And no one here knew!
No one except him.
And that Polisher Sprite! It was Grey Rank but had an evolution path to a Silver Rank chbeast! The implications of that ant the very structure of Nebulon’s beast taming system was broken.
So what was it? Was Beastcorp lying when they said that Grey Ranks couldn’t ever evolve. Or were they simply... monuntally wrong?
Jethro didn’t have much ti to ponder on the enormity of this revelation because he was soon led out of the facility to the outside where a windowless hovercar humd at a landing pod, waiting.
Jethro paused, a frown creasing his brow as he looked around for the expected transport. "I thought there were jets coming to take to the Academy?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice. "Or is that no longer happening?"
The troopers looked at each other briefly, then at him. "What are you talking about, kid?" the one on the left rumbled. "You *are* in the Academy."
Jethro’s jaw dropped. "Wha?"
It was then that it hit him. Beastcorp Academy wasn’t just a school building; it was a tropolis of its own.
Beyond him were tall spires of neon glowing buildings, interconnected by glowing sky-bridges. Hovercars sped high in the night sky, above the holographic advertisents of popular Riftwalkers or discounts on tar accessories sold in the nurous chbeast comrcial shops scattered around ground level.
Jethro was awed.
"Get in." The troopers ushered him into the hovercar. Once inside, the vehicle rose high into the sky and sped forward.
As they rode the sky, Jethro gazed at the Academy building to his left in the distance— a castle-like structure made of cybernetic properties and neon lights. They sped past it, a quiet drive before the car descended towards a massive residential area.
The Dorm Block.
It was a complex of identical, utilitarian towers with a small do in the center.
Inside, it was marginally quieter. The corridors were wide and clean, lined with numbered doors. Behind so, Jethro could hear the muffled bursts of laughter, or the low hum of whispered conversations— the sounds of other young tars settling in.
"This is Gamma Wing," one of the troopers said to Jethro. "And this..."
They stopped at Room 407. "...is your assigned room." He placed his palm on a panel, and the door slid open with a hiss. "Settle in. Orientation package is on your bunk." Saying nothing else, they turned and left.
Jethro was still for a mont, standing there with his lizard on his palm and gazing into the room while four other faces gazed back at him.
The room itself was spacious but cluttered. It had soft lights that glowed from the edges of the floor and the edges of the ceiling. The walls were silver, shining and undecorated.
The space was divided into three sleeping areas. On the far wall and closest to the door stood two sets of stacked pod-like bunk beds. Three boys were occupying three of these four beds, while in the center was a single pod with no connected one on top, occupied by a fourth boy who seed to be holding court.
They all blinked at the sight of him, saying nothing to him at first as the silence grew awkward. One of the boys on a lower bunk nudged the occupant of the central pod and whispered, "Is it him?"
Jethro narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at each of them.
"Hey?" the boy in the center pod called him. "Are you the scrap feeder?"
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