Year: 1800b
Location: Planet Virellis, Republic of Lorain, Sunny Bee Club, City of Thaloros, Saynor System
Name: Oswald Leed | Age: 18
Status: Second son of House Leed | No powers or augmentation | Quietly dismissed as a disappointment
---
The music thrummed low and deep—smooth and hypnotic—cutting through the perfumed haze of incense and sweat that lingered in the pleasure air of Sunny Bee, a notorious club-temple nestled beneath the twilight canopy of Thaloros's inner promenade.
They danced, the Priestesses of Pan, nude in devotion. Their tanned or glistening skin shimmered with ritual oils, hips rolling, torsos flexing with an almost divine sensual rhythm that drew gasps and coins and desperate prayers from wandering eyes. They were not prostitutes—they were sacred dancers, worshippers of Pan, god of pleasure and untamed emotion. Their twerking, their escape, was a rite. And here, in this strange broken galaxy of empires fallen and gods awakened, they were revered.
You were sitting alone.
No drink.
No companion.
No neural mods humming in your ear or psionic aura pulsing from your spine.
Just you—Oswald Leed. Wealthy. Well-bred. A ghost in your own skin.
Your father, Deputy to the Finance Minister, ruled policy in the Central Treasury Chambers of Lorain. Your eldest brother, Governor-General of Luther Nox, ran half a planet with an augmented arm and the cold charisma of a military statesman.
And you? Nothing.
Just an empty name whispered behind gilded doors. A noble without gift. No psychic flare. No tech bond. No awakened blood.
That is… until tonight.
---
The moment hits you in a wave of dizziness—modern thoughts, language, instincts. A memory of a time with glass phones, cars, and skyscrapers. Of Earth. Of logic.
You—the modern man—are now Oswald Leed.
You blink, your breathing strange in this new body, in this layered world of techno-ritualism and gods resurrected by belief. You feel the hum of machines in your spine. You see data-scrolls slither across glowing orbs, and smell spice-wine on the breath of the beastman beside you.
"He hasn't even bonded to a spirit shard yet," someone whispers behind you.
"Born to wealth and no awakening? What a waste…"
And yet… deep inside, you feel it.
Something foreign. Ancient. Mechanical and divine.
The merging is not yet done, but already, the whispers have begun.
You stand.
A Priestess—hips wide, full breasts bouncing to the beat—locks eyes with you.
She pauses her dance mid-twerk. She smiles.
Something within her sees it.
"You're not the same boy from yesterday," she murmurs in your mind.
__
The air is thick with the scent of incense, the low vibrations of the music pulling at your chest. You need time. Time to understand this strange, overlapping world of gods, powers, and flesh.
The Priestess who locked eyes with you slowly resumes her dance, her hips swaying with an almost hypnotic grace. You watch her, but your mind is elsewhere. This place, this Sunny Bee, is only a small corner of a vast system of fragmented empires, frontier states, and ancient religions struggling to reclaim their place after the collapse of the Galactic Federation.
The Republic of Lorain—the kingdom your family is part of—was once a powerful outpost of the Galactic Federation. Now, it's a patchwork of smaller states, each trying to forge its own identity. The power vacuum left after the collapse created alliances and tensions, with species and beastmen, elves, and machine sentients carving out their own territories.
---
You focus inward, the haze of the club's intoxicating atmosphere not quite dulling your sharper senses. The Saynor System—the star system you now call home—shimmers with potential. There are dozens of nations, each with their own culture, belief systems, and military might. From the floating cities of Valithar to the iron-clad strongholds of the Saural Tribes on the outer planets, the galaxy is fractured but still rich in resources. And your family, the Leeds, hold their power in the Republic of Lorain, where your father's position offers influence, though not the power you secretly crave.
---
Suddenly, you catch the slightest glitch in the air—a distortion in the psy-scape, a ripple in the psyche-link that connects certain beings to the gods of the old world.
Your father's family is deeply entrenched in the political and financial sectors, with connections to both high-tech corporations and old-world religious orders. There are whispers, too, of your mother's side—the side that was always more mystical, connected to ancient powerful psychic families that predate the Federation's collapse.
Could there be a key in that?
Your hand instinctively brushes against the cool surface of the club's metallic table, feeling a pulse. It's faint, but you know it's there. It's tied to something ancient, possibly even linked to your mother's legacy.
You lean forward, tapping into the connection.
A faint holographic map appears, flickering in front of you. It's an ancient map of the galaxy, with a sensitive beacon pulsing near the planet Luther Nox, where your brother governs. The beacon is faint, hidden beneath layers of encryption—but it feels familiar.
The Saynor System is not only the hub of politics and trade; it's also steeped in secrets from the time of the Federation's fall. And those secrets might hold the key to your awakening.