"People of Nebulon! My name is Vincentine Van Starlight, and on this momentous 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 mere 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 dimension! He killed the beasts that roamed 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 armed, ready, and unbroken!
"Through the remnants of the old world, through blood, memory, and technology, I have resurrected the Beasts. Forged anew as mechbeasts— synthetic yet alive, armored yet soulful, their magic preserved beneath new skin. Do you hear me, Nebulians! The myths of your childhood are myths no longer. They live again!
"And against the orders of the governments, 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 mere 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.
David groggily tore his eyes open. 'Heck,' he thought. 'What a strange dream.'
He turned his head, wondering where his pillow had disappeared to, and 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 metal and light.
Disoriented, he scanned his surroundings, finding heads of a multitude of people before and around him, murmuring to each other with excitement. There was a strong scent of cold sterilization, circuits, and human sweat.
He 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 looked to his sides and realized that the multitude of people were actually fairly young, around the ages of eighteen to late twenties, barely more.
They were all gathered in neat blocks and facing a massive raised platform at the far end.
What was peculiar about them was the way they were dressed. They wore clothes that looked like something 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 advertisements, VR games, 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 something even more interesting.
Every single person cradled a massive, metallic egg in their arms.
As curious as this was, the bigger question was why the eggs all seemed to have different similar colors gleamed. Some were bright like molten silver, others a deep, earthy bronze, and there were even a good number with gold colored ones.
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, the fabric stitched with faint silver veins that pulsed like slow heartbeat trails. He had crimson eyes and a cold glare that he didn't direct at anyone, yet everyone seemed particularly intimidated by him.
'He would certainly be the main character if this really was a game.' David thought. Maybe it was because he was the only one holding a black colored egg.
They seemed 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, giving the Platinum holders a lot of attention and respect.
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 something to do with the quality? And also, if everyone's 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 shimmer, 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 disappointment.
"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 Merrick, the son of a low-tier Mechbeast mechanic 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 mech scraps his father brought home 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 tamer, and the chance to become 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 memories— information —told him a great deal about this world too.
The outer-dimensional enemy that Vincentine Van Starlight had talked about, had already attacked, many many years ago.
But thanks to Vincentine, humanity had repelled the invasion with the Mechbeasts 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 dimension tears known as Rifts.
Beast tamers who entered these Rifts to kill the enemy's armies were known as 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 game.'
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 end 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 filaments.
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.
"Welcome, 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 tamer and perhaps… as a Riftwalker."
He began to pace back and forth, slowly and cinematically. "Some of you carry Bronze, some 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 tamer. In my lifetime, I've seen Blacks fall to Platinums, Platinums fall to Gold, Silver and Bronze alike. The tamer makes the Beast. These creatures are not mere bodyguards or trophies, they are a responsibility!"
"Your journey, and theirs, begin today. Once your name 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 became 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."
Some murmurs spread through the crowd. David looked around, understanding while they were anxious.
For some people here, this was their second, third, and fourth trial to synchronize with an Egg and become a licensed tamer.
They were all wary of the deadline which was five. After five trials, one would be permanently banned from attempting to be a Beast tamer.
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 commence!"