It was about the size of a wall gecko, small but bulkier. Flaking metallic scales covered its feeble looking body, half-melted and patchy with a dull, rustic red coloring along the sides and a strip of black running down the middle.
It had a slightly oversized head, a blunt snout and two bulbous yellow eyes that blinked as they stared at David. Short legs supported it, and atop its big skull, a pair of tiny horn nubs poked out, barely formed, while its thin tail twitched constantly, like a wire with a short-circuit.
David's first thought was that it was such an ugly beast. But it had the kind of ugliness that reminded him of abandoned strays— pitiful, awkward, yet somehow… quietly endearing.
It nodded its head at him.
David frowned. "Just my luck."
"Haha!" someone cackled amongst the failed Aspirants. "He hatched a Gutterling! That's a mere pest control beast! It's not even used for combat!"
"He drew the weakest possible in the Gray Rank!"
"The weakest in all Ranks!"
Some of them— the ones who lacked self awareness —laughed as David glared at the Lizard, which continued to do nothing but nod.
He was frustrated that he had somehow gotten the Mechbeast he least wanted. But the frustration could wait. Now, he was experiencing the contract bond between beast and tamer; the pact that allowed tamers to use powers gotten from their beasts and also share the aether in their core.
David felt a strange warmth ripple through his chest, as if a lit candle had been set against his heart. Then a pulsing began, deep inside him like resonant drums.
And then he felt something else, something tugging inside him. A thread weaving itself into place, as though a second heartbeat had awakened inside his Soul Core.
He looked at the Red Lizard, and it blinked at him, once, then twice. The faintest glow— barely worthy of the name —appeared in its chest, and at the same time at David's.
Not long after, the crimson glow died down, and the Soul Contract was completed.
David stared at his Mechbeast, wondering what abilities it had given him, if any at all. Red Lizards were only good for killing pests, but they also had high durability for heat.
This meant that the only power David had gotten was body temperature regulation and a 10% increase in durability.
That was it.
What was a Riftwalker going to do with that? Others had gained extraordinary abilities and attribute buffs from their beasts, stuff suited for battle.
It was the way it worked. Humans tamed Mechbeasts, nurturing and helping them ascend through levels and, at rare times, ranks. In exchange, according to the law of the Soul Contract, Mechbeasts bestowed abilities upon their tamers.
Both humans and beasts had Soul Cores, but only the Soul Cores of beasts were equipped to extract aether. Through Soul Contracts, a pact is formed after the moment of hatching, linking the Soul Core of a tamer to that of the beast's.
Once established, the tamer is then allowed to use the aether stored within the beast's core.
Raw, ambient aether was toxic to humans, but the aether found in the core of Mechbeasts had gone through a particular refinement.
Like photosynthesis, just as plants absorb carbon dioxide and sunlight to produce oxygen— something humans couldn't make on their own —Mechbeasts absorbed wild aether from the atmosphere and filtered it into a usable form for themselves and for tamers.
Then, through the Contract bond, that processed aether would flow into the tamer's core like water through a channel, enabling them to harness the supernatural abilities given to them by the beasts.
It was, in essence, a symbiotic relationship— a dance of biology, soulcraft, and magic.
David stared at his dance partner with dissatisfaction. All of that, and all he got from this little guy was an immunity to chills. How wonderful.
"What are you still waiting for?" the announcer asked, drawing his attention. "Move along to the New tamer's Wing before they start without you."
David tentatively placed his palm on the pad and the lizard scuttled towards it, moving its body for the first time as it settled in the center.
In this position, with his hand before him and the tiny, ugly lizard on his palm, he stepped towards the shimmering arc.
"Look at him go!" a failed Aspirant laughed. "Cradling a worthless lizard!"
"Shut up, moron! At least he's getting his license and we're not!"
"Pfft! You shut up. I'd rather wait two more Hatching Ceremonies than hatch a scrap!"
David shot the Red Lizard a reproachful look. "You see what you've caused?" he muttered as he crossed the threshold, leaving the ceremony hall behind.
At the other end of the shimmering arc, he stepped into a new hall. It was slimmer, like a corridor, with dark alloy polishing the ground. Overhead, light panels casted soft bluish-white light over the gathered tamers.
There were two rows of them, standing in wait, their beasts either floating beside them, perched on their shoulders, or cradled in their arms. The middle aisle was left open, like a ceremonial path, and the moment David emerged, all eyes drifted toward him.
"…Is that a Gutterling?" someone said, half in disbelief, half in amusement.
"A Red Lizard, seriously?"
Low murmurs followed, spreading like ripples on water.
"Is that even allowed?"
"What kind of joke is that?"
"What the hell is he going to do with that?" the boy from earlier jeered. "Set traps in kitchens?"
Laughter rippled through the rows, sharp and mocking.
"Does he want to be pest control," someone added with a sneer, "or an actual Riftwalker?"
More laughter followed as David swept his gaze through them with a lifted brow. 'I get that my beast is basically worthless and all, but isn't this ridicule a little over exaggerated?' he thought.
Then, he heard a loud clang.
A door opened at the far end of the hall with a heavy mechanical groan.
Silence fell instantly.
The tamers all snapped to attention, their Mechbeasts reacting instinctively, adjusting posture or settling into formation.
David realized he was still standing in the aisle. With a short breath through his nose, he stepped forward and fell into the left row, sliding into the nearest gap between two other tamers. One gave him a side glance, then looked away, uninterested.
From the door, a woman stepped into the corridor. She entered like a ripple of moonlight cutting through iron.
She wore a high-collared, form-fitting porcelain dress, yet moved elegantly, like a soldier in unfamiliar clothing. A weightless, ceremonial cloak hung from her shoulders, split open down the front like the wings of some divine bird mid-fold.
However, the softness of her appearance was deceptive.
Strapped to one thigh was an aether gun, locked inside a metallic sheath, and behind her loomed a large platinum halo. They were like wings, except round and broken at the top. Her hair was short and glossy black, and a single horn jutted out of her regal headgear.
She scanned the new tamers with her lavender eyes, tilting her head left to right, while her gaze remained crystal cold.
"So you are the successful tamers from this year's Hatching Ceremony?" she said, her voice was aristocratic, like velvet wrapped around steel.
"First, I would like to congratulate you on your successful hatching and welcome you to Beastcorp's tamers Programme. As you know, your journey here in the Programme will place you in hierarchies depending on the Rank your beast falls into. The higher the rank, the more resources will be provided to facilitate its growth."
She looked around at their expressions. "This is not to marginalize lower-ranked Beasts or tamers but to ensure our limited resources are allocated wisely."
"Limited resources, my ass. They have ultimate control over the aether crystals in all Sectors." David heard someone mutter– loud enough for few to hear, silent enough for the woman not to.
"For those unaware, my name is Velara Ardent, president of the Beastcorp Academy. If you're curious, I am a Class S tamer, Black Rank, and my beast is a Bullhorn Basilisk."
Some whispers spread, murmuring about Velara's achievements, which might have included a tournament clean sweep in the Mechbeast Games.
"That's enough about me. For the rest of you, at this stage, you are all Class E tamers, distinguished only by the rank of your newly hatched mechbeasts. For few of you; Black, others; Platinum, Gold, all the way to…" She paused in front of David, eyeing him and his Red Lizard. "...Gray."
David held her gaze, half-expecting her to say something, but Velara merely turned and resumed pacing the aisle.
"In this case, you'll identify as Class E, followed by your beast's rank. Your Class will naturally increase as your beast grows and ascends in levels. The change in Class will be automatically reflected on the licenses you'll soon receive."
"Once you are given your license, you will be permitted to return to your homes for one week, to bid farewell to your families. After the week is over, you're to report to the designated Rift for your first Rift-clearing mission. They are all Class E Rifts, suitable for training, so there's nothing to worry about."
"Upon clearing the Rift, Academy jets will transport you to Sector One, where the Beastcorp Academy awaits."
She stopped pacing and turned to them. "Your days as mere civilians are over. Whether you choose to be a Riftwalker or not, owning a Mechbeast places a large responsibility on you. You are now assets of the government, of Beastcorp, and defenders of Nebulon for what we know is to come."
She let the silence simmer. It became tense and grave, her words resonating with everyone in the room.
"Failure to report to your assigned Rifts after the one week period will trigger a red alert on your license and lead to imprisonment," she added before turning around and marching out of the New tamer's Wing.
"Welcome to Beastcorp."