CHAPTER 1

I stepped out of the taxi, handing the driver his fare before turning to face the imposing facade of the striker registration office. The sign above the entrance loomed large, a tangible reminder of the new reality I was about to confront. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I mustered my courage and pushed through the front door, the cool air of the lobby washing over me as I crossed the threshold.

As I entered, a striking blonde receptionist greeted me with a warm smile, her welcoming presence a momentary reprieve from the anxiety coursing through my veins. I approached her desk, giving a hesitant nod in acknowledgment, my voice caught in my throat as I struggled to find the right words.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone gentle and encouraging.

"Yes, I think so," I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper. With a shaking hand, I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt, revealing the intricate tattoo that now adorned my forearm. The receptionist's eyes widened in recognition, and she immediately understood the gravity of my situation.

"Oh my, please have a seat," she said, gesturing towards the plush chairs in the waiting area. "Someone will see you shortly."

I watched as she picked up the phone, dialing a short extension with practiced efficiency. "We have a new striker. Can you come out to see him? Good." She hung up the receiver and turned back to me, her smile reassuring. "Someone will be with you shortly."

I nodded, mustering a small smile in return. "Thanks," I said, my voice still tinged with uncertainty.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine," she assured me. "Donna will be right out to help you."

As I settled into one of the chairs, I couldn't help but fidget, my mind racing with countless questions and scenarios. The minutes seemed to stretch on forever, each second an eternity as I awaited the arrival of this mysterious Donna.

Just as I thought I couldn't bear the anticipation any longer, a striking brunette woman emerged from the back office. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse and a form-fitting pencil skirt, her high heels clicking against the polished floor as she sauntered towards me with purposeful strides.

"You are?" she asked, her gaze intense and appraising.

"Umm, my name is Jason. Jason Miller," I stammered, rising to my feet and extending a hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you, Jason. I'm Donna," she replied, shaking my hand firmly. "Follow me to my office, and I'll be glad to help you."

I trailed behind her, my heart pounding in my chest as we navigated the winding hallways of the registration office. As we entered her office, Donna gestured for me to take a seat, her demeanor both professional and reassuring. I settled into the chair opposite her desk, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, ready to finally unravel the mysteries of my new existence as a striker.

Donna leaned forward, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity as she studied my face. "You look exhausted," she remarked, her voice gentle yet probing.

I nodded, running a hand through my disheveled hair. "I am exhausted," I admitted, my shoulders sagging under the weight of the past few hours. "I didn't sleep well."

She offered a sympathetic smile, her gaze understanding. "That's understandable. When did you begin the change?"

I took a deep breath, the memories of the previous night still vivid in my mind. "It happened around midnight," I began, recounting the events that had led me to this moment. I described the searing pain in my chest, the glowing tattoo that had appeared on my forearm, and the strange, pulsating light that emanated from within my torso.

As I spoke, Donna's eyes widened, her interest piqued by the mention of the glow in my chest. She leaned in closer, her voice low and urgent. "May I see your arm?" she asked, her gaze flickering to my covered forearm. "And would it be alright if I took a look at your chest as well?"

"Of course," I replied without hesitation, standing up and removing my shirt in one swift motion. The dull glow within my chest was still present, its ethereal light casting a soft illumination across the room.

Donna's eyes widened further as she took in the sight, her expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. She stepped closer, examining the tattoo on my arm and the mysterious light emanating from my chest with rapt attention.

"What does this mean?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly, desperate for answers.

Donna took a step back, her brow furrowed in thought. "I'll need to confirm with some tests," she said slowly, her tone measured and cautious. "But based on what I'm seeing, it appears that you may be a cultivator."

The word hung in the air between us, its implications sending a shiver down my spine. "A cultivator?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. I had heard of cultivators before, whispers of their incredible abilities and the rarity of their existence. "But aren't they extremely rare?"

Donna nodded, her expression grave. "They are indeed very rare," she confirmed, her eyes meeting mine with a newfound intensity. "In fact, there are only two other known cultivators in the entirety of River City."

I felt my heart race at the revelation, the weight of my newfound status pressing down upon me. The realization that I was now part of an elite and scarce group of individuals with extraordinary abilities was both exhilarating and terrifying.

*******

After the initial conversation with Donna, she led me down a hallway to a small, sterile examination room. Inside, a nurse with short, dark hair and a kind smile greeted us. "Jason, this is Nurse Emily," Donna introduced. "She'll be conducting some tests to help us better understand your condition."

I nodded, my nerves still on edge as I took a seat on the examination table, the paper covering crinkling beneath me. Nurse Emily approached, a tray of medical instruments in hand. "It's nice to meet you, Jason," she said warmly, her voice soothing. "I know this must be a lot to take in, but we're here to help you every step of the way."

She began by checking my vitals, her fingers deftly wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. As the cuff tightened, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, my mind still reeling from the events of the past 24 hours. Nurse Emily must have sensed my apprehension, because she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Just try to relax," she said softly. "Take deep breaths, and we'll get through this together."

Next, she prepared a needle and vials for a blood draw. "I'm going to take a few samples of your blood," she explained, her movements precise and efficient. "We'll run some tests to determine if there are any abnormalities or markers that can help us understand your cultivator abilities."

I winced slightly as the needle pierced my skin, watching as the crimson liquid filled the vials. Nurse Emily worked quickly, labeling each sample with meticulous care. "You're doing great, Jason," she reassured me, offering a smile as she placed a small bandage over the puncture site.

Throughout the examination, Nurse Emily and Donna asked me a series of questions about my health history, my family background, and the specific details of my transformation. I answered as best I could, describing the burning sensation in my chest, the glowing tattoo on my arm, and the strange, pulsating energy that seemed to flow through my veins.

As they listened intently, jotting down notes and exchanging glances, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on the precipice of something monumental. The tests, the questions, the concerned looks – they all pointed towards a reality I was still struggling to grasp.

After what felt like hours, Nurse Emily finally stepped back, a reassuring smile on her face. "That's all for now, Jason," she said, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "We'll process these samples and have the results back as soon as possible.”