Aten opened his eyes and froze. His body looked the same—but not quite. His hands, fingers, mouth—human. Yet his skin gleamed with a hard, polished exoskeleton, perfectly matched to every curve of his body. Two long, curved horns jutted from his head, the lower set of a horned beetle, shimmering faintly in the dim light.
"What… what is this?" he whispered, running a hand along his chest. "An exoskeleton… and horns? Am I… underground?"
He raised his eyes to the shadowed chamber. Bioluminescent fungi cast a soft glow across a stone altar, carved with the same humanoid-insect statue he had seen in the ruins. A chill ran through him.
As he stumbled forward, still trying to process the impossible, a figure emerged from the shadows. A humanoid beetle, smaller than him but strikingly poised, stepped forward with careful movements.
"Who… who are you?" Aethon asked, voice trembling, heart pounding.
"I am Koopa," the beetle replied, his tone calm but firm. "And you… I've never seen you in our tribe before."
Aethon shook his head, trying to understand. "Tribe? What… what do you mean? Where… is this? Is this some kind of prank? Am I… dreaming?"
Koopa's compound eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are not dreaming. Perhaps fate has guided you here. Come with me."
Hesitant but desperate for answers, Aethon followed Koopa through twisting tunnels. The walls glowed softly, illuminating intricate chambers where other horned beetles hammered metal, shaped gears, and constructed devices with near-perfect precision. Sparks flew from forges, mingling with the subtle hum of a hidden underground colony alive with industry.
At the center of the chamber, an imposing figure stood—a massive, regal beetle with polished horns curving elegantly from his head. This was the elder of the Horned Beetle Tribe.
Koopa stepped forward. "He… may be the one," he said softly.
The elder's eyes locked on Aethon. "Come with me," he instructed. Without another word, he turned and led them deeper into the sanctum, a quieter chamber adorned with relics, codices, and faint carvings that glowed with an otherworldly light.
On a pedestal rested a glowing, crystalline sphere, pulsing faintly as if alive. Its light shimmered in hues of blue and green, capturing Aethon's attention immediately.
"This is a codex—from the Dragonfly Tribe," the elder said. His tone carried gravity, authority, and an unspoken warning. "Eat it."
Aethon stared, frozen. "Eat… it? No. I… I can't."
The elder's eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. "I am forcing you to eat it."
Before Aethon could protest further, the elder raised his hand, and a subtle pulse of energy forced the crystal toward him. Against his will, his body moved, and the codex was swallowed.
A surge of energy tore through him. His chest tightened, his vision blurred, and a sensation unlike anything he had ever known consumed him. His back shivered, and suddenly four shimmering wings erupted from his shoulders, delicate yet strong, catching the faint light as they unfolded gracefully.
"What… what have you done to me?" Aethon gasped, staggering back, eyes wide. "I… I have wings? How… how can I see like this?"
The elder's voice was calm but resolute. "I forced you to eat the codex to see if you are the one—the successor of our god. Only the true successor can absorb the essence of another tribe and survive. Only the successor can gain the powers contained within."
Aethon's mind whirled. "Successor? God? What… what are you talking about?"
The elder gestured toward the walls, where faint carvings glowed, depicting scenes of the Arthropod God guiding the Tribes. "All Arthropods in this world—and even beyond—were created by the Arthropod God. He guided and watched over the Tribes, nurturing their growth, teaching them their codices, their strengths, and their ways… until he mysteriously died. No one knows how or why. But the Tribes have waited… and the Moth Tribe foresaw this day. A successor would come from the Horned Beetle Tribe."
Aethon looked down at his wings, flexing them experimentally, marveling at the new, enhanced vision that allowed him to see in nearly 360 degrees, every detail of the chamber, every movement of the beetles around him. "So… the codex… this… gave me… their powers?"
"Yes," the elder said, nodding. "You have absorbed the Dragonfly Tribe's essence. You now carry their abilities as well as the strength of our own. You are the successor—the one who will carry the mantle of the Arthropod God."
Aethon staggered back, feeling both awe and fear. "I… I don't understand. I didn't choose this… I didn't… I…"
Koopa stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It does not matter. You were chosen, and the Tribes will see it. You will learn. You will grow. And one day… you will lead."
The elder gestured for Aethon to follow him down a long, ornate hallway. Along its walls were countless artifacts and relics from the god's original Tribes, symbols of power, culture, and history etched into stone and metal. The carvings glimmered faintly, as though alive, resonating with the unseen energy of the Arthropod God.
At the far end of the hallway, the elder raised his voice. "Attention, everyone!" The sound echoed through the colony, carrying authority and certainty. "The successor of our god has finally come!"
The forges quieted, and all eyes turned toward Aethon. Whispers swept through the hall. "The successor?" "Our god… a successor?" "It can't be…"
Aethon's heart pounded. He felt the weight of hundreds of eyes upon him, a mixture of awe, fear, and anticipation. Koopa moved to his side. "This is your beginning. You are no longer just a visitor. You are now… our god's successor."
The elder then led him to a private chamber, a resting place of the highest comfort in the colony. It was spacious, adorned with polished stone, glowing crystals, and intricate machinery that hummed with latent energy. Here, Aethon would live, train, and grow, fully supported by the tribe.
Koopa stayed by his side, a loyal attendant, guiding him, answering questions, and ensuring his comfort. "I will be here," Koopa said. "To serve you, and to help you understand your new life."
Aethon sank onto the resting platform, flexing his wings, testing his vision, trying to make sense of it all. His exoskeleton felt like an extension of his body, the wings responding to his every thought. The power within him buzzed faintly, alive and pulsing with potential.
The elder approached once more. "Rest now, successor. Tomorrow, I will begin to explain everything: who you are, who our god was, the Tribes, and your role among them. You have been reborn for a purpose far greater than yourself. And the path ahead… will not be easy."
Aethon nodded slowly, exhaustion and wonder settling in. "I… I understand. I think… I am ready… to learn."
And for the first time since he had arrived in this strange, glowing world, he allowed himself to rest, wings folded gently behind him, body humming with the first power of a god reborn.