Ray sat in the middle of the classroom, his small hands gripped tight on the edge of the wooden desk until his knuckles turned white. He wished he was back at the hospital, even if it meant smelling the bleach and hearing the hiss of his father's respirator. At least there, he didn't have to face the cold, sharp laughter of his classmates. The laughter felt like shards of glass against his skin, cold and sharp. He was the anomaly here, the boy from the government hostels who smelled of sterile corridors and budget detergent. The whispers were the worst—\"Hostel brat,\" \"Paralyzed pilot's kid,\" \"Anomaly.\" Each word was a tiny needle pricking his soul.
Today was the Day of Ascension, the most pivotal moment in any child's life in Aethelgard. It was the day they would link their souls to the cosmos, awakening a spark that would define their future. For some, it was a ticket to the upper echelons of society. For Ray, it was a desperate gamble for survival.
The hostel had run out of energy bars this morning, leaving him with an empty stomach and a lightheadedness that made the world tilt at dangerous angles. His stomach growled, a traitorous sound in the quiet classroom. He tried to focus on the blackboard, but the equations seemed to dance and blur.
His mother hadn't come to the ceremony. She couldn't. She was at the hospital again, working triple shifts in the laundry department to pay for his father's mounting medical bills. His father, once a legendary pilot who had charted the uncharted asteroid belts of the Orion Sector, was now a ghost of his former self. He lay paralyzed in a specialized recovery unit, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, trapped in a body that no longer obeyed him. The government had officially ruled the crash as \"human error,\" a cold phrase that stripped them of their pensions and shoved them into the hostels. But Ray knew the truth. His father was the best pilot in the fleet; he didn't make errors. Something had happened out there in the dark of space, a betrayal that had cost them everything.
\"How am I supposed to survive the trials in this state?\" Ray whispered to himself, his voice lost in the din of the classroom. \"How can I hunt beasts when I can barely stand?\"
The sound of hurried, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway, silencing the chatter. The heavy, blast-proof door swung open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing a man who seemed to command the very air he breathed. He was broad-shouldered, clad in deep crimson robes that seemed to shimmer with internal heat. His hair was a wild mane of fiery red, and his eyes burned like embers in a dying forge. This was Master Ignis, a Ruler-rank warrior and one of the instructors assigned to oversee this year's transition.
\"Good morning, future guardians,\" Ignis said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the floorboards and in Ray's sneakers. \"Today, you enter the Realm of Inheritance. This is not a game. Seek a strong spark, keep your wits about you, and for the sake of your ancestors, come back alive. You are the future pillars of Aethelgard. Do not let us fall into the shadow of the Void.\"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the room until it landed on Ray. He noticed the boy's trembling hands and the pale, gaunt look on his face. A flicker of something—pity? recognition?—passed through Ignis's eyes.
\"Remember the hierarchy of sparks,\" Ignis continued, his voice softer now. \"Bearer, Ruler, King, Monarch, and Saint. Each represents a higher resonance with the cosmos. Aim high, but do not let your ambition blind you to your limits. A dead King is worth less than a living Bearer. Choose a spark that fits your soul, not your vanity.\"
The teacher at the front of the room clapped her hands. \"Follow me to the pods. Ray, stay back for a moment.\"
Ray's heart skipped a beat. Had they found out about his lack of credits for the processing fee? When the other students had filed out, their faces filled with a mix of terror and excitement, Ignis walked over and handed Ray a small, crinkled package wrapped in recycled brown paper.
\"These are four premium energy bars,\" Ignis said quietly. \"Your mother sent them through the city courier this morning. She couldn't be here, but she wanted you to have these. She said to tell you... your father is watching from the stars. He's proud of you, Ray.\"
Ray felt a lump in his throat so large it hurt to swallow. He looked at the bars—concentrated nutrient blocks that cost more than a week's worth of hostel meals. \"Thanks, teacher.\"
\"Don't thank me. I'm just the messenger,\" Ignis said, turning to leave. \"Just survive. If you die in there, those bars are a waste of credits. And Aethelgard can't afford to lose any more sons of the stars.\"
The hall of pods was a cathedral of forbidden technology—hundreds of metallic cocoons lined the walls, humming with a low-frequency vibration that Ray felt in his very marrow. The air was cool and smelled of ozone and antiseptic. He found his pod, his name—RAY—etched into the polished chrome in stark, blue letters.
A blonde nurse assisted him into the capsule. The interior was lined with soft, gel-like padding that molded to his small frame. She scanned his vitals with a handheld device and verified the nanotech neuron in his spine was active. \"This will record your spark's attributes and monitor your physical state during the distortion,\" she explained, her voice professional but tinged with a hint of pity. \"If your heart rate exceeds the safety threshold, the system will force a disconnect. Good luck, little one.\"
The seal hissed shut, plunging him into total darkness. The hum intensified into a roar that filled his head. He felt a sudden, sickening drop, as if the floor had disappeared beneath him. Then, a blinding flash of starlight that felt like a physical impact on his chest.
Ray awoke on an island of obsidian sands under a sky that pulsed like a living nebula. The stars weren't points of light; they were swirling vortices of color—pinks, purples, and deep, abyssal blues. The air tasted of ozone and ancient secrets, heavy and thick with cosmic energy.
\"Show your worth by killing the stronger opponent,\" a disembodied voice echoed through the realm, sounding like the grinding of tectonic plates. \"The higher the rank of the beast you slay, the deeper your resonance with the Galaxy. Your journey begins now.\"
The ground beneath the obsidian sands began to tremble. From the inky, bottomless depths of the surrounding sea, a creature emerged—a Tarkhul. It was a grotesque fusion of man and turtle, standing six feet tall. Its shell was a mosaic of shimmering constellations, and its claws were long, curved blades that rent the air with a metallic screech.
Ray drew his standard-issue iron sword, the blade feeling heavy and awkward in his small hands. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. \"No, stay calm. Survival is the only goal. Just like Dad said... analyze the pattern.\"
The beast lunged with surprising speed. Ray sidestepped, the air whistling past his ear as the creature's claw narrowly missed him. He feinted left, drawing the Tarkhul's attention, then dove under the creature's sweeping arm. He saw a glowing fissure near its underarm where the shell met the soft tissue. With a grunt of effort, he plunged his blade into the gap.
The Tarkhul shrieked, a sound that made Ray's ears bleed. The beast's shell fractured like glass, releasing a surge of brilliant white cosmic energy that Ray's neurons hungrily absorbed. He felt a rush of warmth through his veins, a strength he had never known before.
\"You have killed the Tarkhul Galaxy beast. You are now qualified for a Bearer-rank spark. For a higher rank, continue the hunt.\"
He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He felt a strange, primal hunger for the starlight. Battle after battle followed. He faced the Virex Nebula Serpent, a ribbon of starlight and venom that moved with the fluidity of water. It lashed out with its tail, shattering the obsidian ground. Ray waited, timed the strike, and drove his blade through its skull mid-air as it lunged for his throat.
Then came the Star Ape, a creature of pure kinetic force that could leap hundreds of feet. It tried to crush Ray with its massive fists. Ray used the creature's own momentum against it, leading it to the edge of an obsidian cliff and stepping aside at the last second. As the beast tumbled, he struck its exposed spine.
Twenty consecutive victories. Twenty surges of cosmic energy. By the twentieth battle, Ray was a wreck. His standard-issue uniform was in tatters, his body covered in singe marks and shallow, bleeding cuts. His iron sword was notched and dull, the tip broken off. His breathing was ragged, his vision tunneling.
\"You can rest now,\" the voice whispered in his mind, tempting him with the promise of safety. \"You have earned a Ruler-rank spark. Go back. Be a hero.\"
But the rest never came. A chilling, absolute silence descended over the island. The sea stopped churning, becoming as still as a mirror. The nebula sky grew dark, the colors draining away until only a deep, ominous void remained. Then, a song echoed from the heavens—a sound so ancient, vast, and mournful it seemed to vibrate through his very soul, bypassing his ears entirely.
A colossal, winged whale hovered above the island. Its body was woven from starlight and shadow, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the universe. Its wings spanned the entire horizon, casting a shadow that felt like the embrace of an old friend.
Ray's legs gave out. The sheer, divine presence of the creature was too much for his human senses to process. He felt his mind fracturing, his ego dissolving into the vastness of the whale's aura. He fainted before he could even scream.
When he awoke, the whale was no longer in the sky. It was hovering mere inches above him, its head larger than the island itself. Its golden eyes, vast and filled with the sorrow of a thousand dying stars, stared directly into his soul.
\"Boy, what is your name?\" the creature asked. Its voice didn't come from its mouth; it resonated from the very atoms of the air.
\"Ray,\" he managed to whisper, the word barely escaping his parched lips.
\"You carry the fate of divinity, the same as my master,\" the whale said. \"I am Shinlong, the only winged galaxy whale created by the Master's own hand. I have waited through aeons for a resonance such as yours. I will sacrifice my essence to you, for you are the only one fated to reach this divine land in a thousand aeons.\"
\"Why me?\" Ray asked, his voice trembling. \"I'm just a kid from the hostel.\"
\"No more questions. The Void is coming, and Aethelgard is but a candle in the storm. Protect the one who resonates with you. My Master's spark is now your inheritance. Rise, Galaxy Master. Rise and claim the heavens.\"
The whale began to dissolve. Its massive form turned into shimmering dust, flowing into Ray's body like a river of liquid stars. The sensation was agonizing. It felt like his bones were being ground into powder and re-forged in a supernova. The realm twisted into a violent vortex of light and sound.
A black-and-white seed, representing the balance of creation and destruction, floated before him. Beside it, a blue flame with a golden core pulsed with a light that seemed to contain the birth of a galaxy.
Ray reached out and touched the flame. The world didn't just explode; it shattered into a million fragments of his own memory. The last thing he heard before the darkness took him was a melodic, mechanical chime—a sound that felt like it was rewriting his very DNA.
Initialisation complete.
Welcome, Galaxy Master.