A familiar yet desolate world of eternally pristine waters, an unblemished mirror to the heavenly skies above.

A sudden rupture disturbed the peace, and the firmament was rendered asunder.

From opposing horizons appeared two blazing meteors, trailing flames of crimson and alabaster white.

The world trembled and the meteors plunged into the mirrored sea, vanishing into fathomless depths.

Merely momentary, for unnatural shimmers rippled across the water, and the glow of unlight manifested upon the sea from depths below.

To the west congealed a swirling morass of faded crimson, chaotic and unbound. To the east, wisps of ivory white, in waters serene and peaceful.

Where the two seas met, reality wavered, bound by a writhing, convulsing line, the scar of an eternal contest preceding the beginning of existence.

With it, the crimson of the west and the ivory of the east, met even.

Segregated and separated, the seas settled, only to dissipate, as if diluted by the grandness of the ocean.

Without the two seas, the line in between flickered, struggling to realize itself, and like a dream awoken, finally vanished.

With that, the world returned to peace, and all was as it was…

***

 

Miles awoke to the unfamiliar, incessant sound of an electronic beep.

Even as he came to, he felt it. The bedding beneath him, foreign and uncomfortable, lacking the perfectly curated plushness of his own. The unique blend of neural-memory foam replaced by some common cotton.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he was not home.

Almost on reflex, he found his hands reaching for the old talisman hung around his neck. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the details came into focus, the aging wood, the chipped paint and the faded symbol of yin yang.

Regarding this familiar talisman, he felt a sense of urgency, an inexplicable feeling different from mere sentimental attachment to the relic.

But as he rationalized the feeling, the explanation became obvious.

‘It must have been some strange dream. This talisman is worthless. I should know, I’ve studied it so many times, had it double and triple checked by the best appraisers my money could afford. It is exactly what it appears to be.

And what could be important about a piece of painted wood? Absolutely nothing.’

Satisfied with the conclusion, Miles carefully tucked the talisman underneath his shirt. He could no longer stop himself from focusing on the rhythmic electronic beep, the only sound in an otherwise perfect silence.

‘What is that? A… vital sign or heart monitor?’

Slowly pushing himself up to a seated position, Miles took a moment to survey his surroundings. His eyes were immediately drawn to the monitor displaying, as he had expected, his vitals in neon green.

His heartbeat was quite a bit below average, body temperature a few degrees below the norm, but overall his physical condition seemed to be rather good, impeccable actually, if the readings on the monitor were to be believed.

Miles shifted his gaze away from the monitor, just now noticing that the room itself was rather dark.

There were no visible sources of light, no wisp lamps or moon beams. However what he did find were several holes carved discreetly into the concrete roof above, circular glass panels embedded within.

‘Bulbs? Nat-tech lighting? Ah this must be one of my places then, but wait…’

None of the bulbs were actually lit. There was very little illumination, so much so that the room was almost pitch black. And yet Miles could see with perfect clarity. More than enough to note the discreetly placed lights above.

It was as if his vision had undergone metamorphosis, granting him the ability to see in darkness as if it was the light of day.

‘What in the hells? Did someone give me ocular implants while I was unconscious?!’

Miles blinked sharply, testing his eyes and examining his eyes.

‘No, my eyes are still organic! So what is this? Lykaon R&D may have been working on non-cybernetic night vision biotech, but they were still a few generations behind what was needed to actually finish the product! This couldn’t be the result of a Fae serum either, not while I was unconscious! So then, what the heck is this?!’

Miles looked around in surprise, surveying the rest of the room, testing his new eye sight, unable to comprehend how he had spontaneously gained night vision.

With renewed attention, Miles found the room to be… nothing special.

It was small and spartan, barren, save for the medical equipment and a table off to the side.

His gaze was drawn to the door, crafted of some fae-forged alloy, unseelie iron if he had to guess.

That was fine, the problem was that the supposedly indiscernible edges where the magical metal melded against common steel was unnaturally clear. The minute differences between the arcane and mundane metals stood out in stark contrast.

Miles muttered to himself, kneading his forehead, “Where am I? How is it that I can see in the dark? I suppose it would be easier to just find out…”

With a swift tug, he pulled off the cables stuck to his chest, eliciting a loud flatlining screech from the monitor and proceeded to hop off the bed.

It should have been a simple jump, especially since he was supposed to be in ‘impeccable’ condition.

Instead he found his limbs propelling him with an excessive amount of force. What should have been a small jump became a giant leap, sending him in a crash course towards the unfortunately low ceiling.

THWACK!

His head collided against the trow-touched concrete and Miles crashed onto the ground in a jumble of limbs. As he lay on the ground dazed and disoriented, the nat-tech lights embedded in the concrete blazed to life.

Miles’s eyes quickly adjusted to the change in illumination, but he couldn’t help but feel a vague sense of unease from the light.

The door burst open as a gust of familiar wind rushed in, “Master Miles! Are you well?!”

Surprisingly enough, he was.

Miles found himself to be in perfect health, even the collision with the trow-touched concrete did not hurt… much. All he felt was a dull, already dissipating ache.

 

Thus, with a shake of his head to clear the daze, Miles pushed himself off the ground, considerably more careful in controlling his strength this time.

Confusion etched on his face Miles answered his guardian, “Yes, yes, I’m perfectly well old Zhan. I– I suppose I used a little too much strength?”

Ignoring his words, the elderly butler hurried forwards and began to pat his clothes with great fuss, as if the smallest dust particle could spontaneously kill him.

As Miles let out an annoyed sigh, Zhen Shen retorted sharply, “Too much strength? Too much strength my ass! Who in the abyss has too much strength after a Fae attack? It is perfectly fine to show and accept weakness sometim–”

“Attacked by Fae?! That really happened?” Miles interrupted in excitement, forcing the butler to stop midword.

Zhan Shen stared, a frown growing on his face, and placed a hand upon Miles’s forehead as if checking for a fever, “Master Miles do you not remember? I’m confident you did not suffer from a concussion or any serious injury but–”

Miles shrugged off the hand, “I’m fine! I’m fine! More importantly, are you sure? I really was attacked by Fae? A Werewolf and a Vampire?”

At that the old butler seemed to become genuinely concerned, even going so far as to examine Miles’s eyes and pulse with undue diligence, “Werewolf? Vampire? What on earth are you going on about Master Miles? Could it really be a concussion? No, no, some form of mind tampering? False Memories? Illusions?”

Miles paused, immediately reigning back his excitement. He focused on his breath for a few seconds quickly calming himself.

The potential ramifications of what he remembered had made him lose composure for a moment. However it seemed that Zhan Shen was unaware of the peculiarities of the incident.

Donning his usual mask of practiced composure, Miles asked, “Old Zhan tell me, what did you discover when you returned to the mansion? How and where was I?”

Zhan Shen, as always, replied promptly, “You were in the grand hall Master Miles, passed out on the kelpie rug. There were no signs of forced entry, leading me to the conclusion that you had been knocked out by some manner of psychic assault, possibly an orc shaman.

However I must admit, were it not for the two crashed Aethercrafts in the garden I would have thought you had simply fainted.

And on that note, while you may have been a bit heavy-handed, well done on bringing down two Aether Crafts.”

Miles’ eyes narrowed, “Any surviving Fae?”

The elderly butler shook his head, a slight frown on his face, “None whatsoever. I returned well before the Capital Military was alerted and decided to poke their grubby fingers into our pie, so I am confident.

But, it is a bit unusual. While it’s possible the Orcs inside were incinerated to ashes by the explosion, for there to not be a single trace left…”

Miles contemplated the information.

The fact that there were no signs of Orcs gave some credibility to what he remembered, but it was not substantial.

Instead there was something that troubled him. The grand hall had been destroyed completely, but why had Zhan Shen not mentioned it?

He asked, but phrased it in a manner that would escape the notice of his worrywart of a butler, “Old Zhan, did the crash damage the mansion in any way? Is the garden intact?”

As expected, Zhan Shen simply smiled as he shook his head, “Master Miles, the Lykaon Mansion may be your home, your ancestral home, but it is still just a house. As long as you survive, the Lykaons shall live on.

But no you have nothing to worry about. The Lykaon Mansion is unharmed.

As for the garden, the area near the crash site caught on fire. Thankfully the flames from the exploding aether did not spread far. As you must remember, the mutated fae bramble happens to be impervious to most fire and coincidentally stifled the aether flames.

I must admit, the Fae bramble you’ve been trying to get rid of for so long, saving the rest of the garden, possibly the Lykaon Mansion as well, is quite a surprising turn of events.”

‘The Fae Bramble stopped the fire?!’

That was unexpected, but mostly Miles was just relieved to know that the Lykaon Mansion was fine and not destroyed by his own command.

Unfortunately, this also gave rise to a glaring conundrum. A flaw in his memory.

‘If the Lykaon Mansion was unharmed and the grand hall is perfectly fine, what about everything I remember? That crazed Vampire and the lady Werewolf? The ghostly woman who saved my life? All that couldn't possibly be some illusion or hallucination!’

The only physical evidence for everything he remembered was the destroyed grand hall. If it was undamaged then it was an impossible contradiction.

It made no sense. Not one bit.

Perhaps because he was struggling with this illogical problem, or maybe because he had just woken up, Miles realized he was feeling rather thirsty.

Turning to Zhan Shen, he spoke with a forced smile, “Old Zhan I’m feeling a bit parched. Some water would do wonders.”

The butler nodded, promptly moving to the side, towards the small table upon which were a few bottles and boxes. He whizzed about with practiced ease and soon enough had a glass of sparkling water, with perfectly shredded ice, a sprinkle of pixie dust and a slice of lime on the side, just how Miles liked it.

Meanwhile Miles had taken a mental step back, reassessing his situation, ‘I do have to admit that my memories are rather far-fetched. Even I would not believe it should someone attempt to tell me the same.

Maybe old Zhan has a point? Could it truly be remnants of mind tampering? Could everything from the moment where I entered the grand hall have been a hallucination? Could I really have been knocked out by a psychic or mental attack?’

He was almost prepared to accept this explanation. To push aside his memories of the Vampire, the Werewolf and the ghostly woman, to forget what he remembered, to value rationality over memory and just move on…

When Zhan Shen walked over and presented the glass.

Miles immediately grabbed it and gulped it down, a bit uncouth perhaps, but he felt the situation warranted a minor slight in decorum.

The refreshing chill of the water, the energy of the pixie dust and the familiar hints of lime, all faded away as Miles was struck by a sudden realization.

‘Wait! If, If it was a hallucination then why did the Aethercrafts crash? I ordered Cadmus to bring them down with minimal force! To keep them intact! If it wasn’t for that last command, when I removed all limits and allowed the use of dread-class weaponry, the two crafts should not have crashed or exploded!

I couldn’t have possibly done so while mind-controlled! Cadmus would have detected traces of external influence and known to ignore any commands given under psychic duress!’

The realization breathed fresh life into him, enough to get him to start taking more refined sips of the water.

Miles continued to think, recollecting the adrenaline-fuelled events and going over everything he could remember, in search of something, something he may have missed, something that could become evidence.

The first, he barely managed to think of was the Werewolf and her near instantaneous weaving into the grand hall weaponry.

But a quick query to Cadmus through the Lykaon ring found nothing, not a trace of a successful breach into the grand hall weaponry, no logs or records that the Werewolf had weaved herself into the weapons.

Unless that Werewolf happened to surpass the Morrigan, the legendary net weaver, and somehow succeeded in weaving the nigh-impenetrable Cadmus into deleting the logs, it was as if the incident had never happened at all. As if his memories were truly nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

‘Then again, considering that strange white glow the Werewolf manifested over the weaponry, it is possible what she did was not net weaving, but instead some manner of direct control over weaponry. I’m not familiar with such an ability but considering how little I know of ‘Werewolves’ it is not impossible.’

That discovery turned out to be a bust, but Miles’s belief remained strong.

His memories could not possibly have been imagined. Things just did not add up.

Not to mention the inexplicable night-vision that he now possessed, seemingly having come from nowhere, confirming that things could not be explained away so easily as ‘mind tampering’.

And most importantly he could feel he was getting close.

Miles delved deeper in the impossible events he would surely never forget, the Vampire and its undetermined ability that had caused his body to freeze, even sent propelling through the air by a mere flick of his head, how the two monsters had consumed him and that pai—

The ghostly woman who had saved him, the place he had believed was the basement but now he knew definitely could not be, how she had made the Vampire and Werewolf disappear from existence, how…

His heart skipped a beat.

And that was when he remembered it.

The last thing he did remember.

The final memory from within that explosion of blinding light, before he had lost consciousness. That cacophony of messages.

They had played over each other, words overlapping and mostly incomprehensible, but he could still make use of it.

With a sense of triumph, Miles drained the rest of his water taking a mouthful, in too much of a hurry to actually drink as he tried to remember what he had heard.

‘There was… something about the world, and chaos? Yes that’s right, they were messages about being blessed by them… stating the manifestation of something? What was that word? Uhh… System?’

The moment he mused upon the word, a strange sound reminiscent of a notification ‘ding’ echoed.

And right before his very eyes manifested a transparent screen of black text.

[User: Miles Lykaon]

[Current Form: Base Human(Enhanced). The user is advised to unlock an available form by satisfying the requirements.]

[Form Class: Newborn(?)- Lvl (?) (Unable to level up in current form. Unlock any one of the available forms to gain access.)]

[HP: 10/10]

[Strength: 12 +5]

[Endurance: 14 +5]

[Agility: 13 +5]

[Intelligence: 59]

[Wisdom: 37]

[Influence: (1000)]

[Titles: Discredited Heir of Lykaon Industries (+1000 to Influence)

Newborn (+5 to all physical stats and Enhanced Senses (Minor))

Cursed [First: Minor Thirst, Second: The Beast Within]

Vessel of The Beast Within (Sealed)

Last True Son of Lykaon (Inactive)]

Miles choked on the water, spraying it out in a fountain of water into the air.