The glowing wheel hovered before him—massive, ancient, and humming. Its rings spun slowly, each segment shifting between colors and symbols he couldn't interpret.
"Touch the Wheel of Talents to initiate your selection."
His hand trembled as he reached out.
"Here goes nothing…"
His fingers brushed the wheel.
A soundless pulse rippled through the air.
[TALENT DRAW INITIATED.]
[CONFIRMING SPECIES CAMP…]
Aston held his breath. His heart pounded—part fear, part hope.
Then the voice returned:
[LOCATION DETECTED: NILE FOREST — DEMONIC TERRITORY.]
[ASSIGNMENT: DEMONIC CAMP.]
Aston froze.
"…What?"
He looked around at the eerie, vine-choked ruins, the dark red mist drifting between broken stones. The forest around him felt wrong—too quiet, too still, almost watching him.
He swallowed hard.
"Demonic… camp? You've gotta be kidding me."
More messages flashed rapidly—cold, merciless.
[SPECIES VERIFICATION IN PROGRESS…]
A thin, sharp ringing pierced his skull.
[ALERT: HUMAN VESSEL DETECTED.]
[ERROR: NO INHERENT DEMONIC BLOODLINE.]
The air tightened around him.
Aston's chest clenched. His pulse thundered.
Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
The cosmic voice cut him off, emotionless:
[Your soul will be transferred to a compatible Vessel.]
[Searching for a compatible vessel…]
"Wait—wait—NO—!"
The world blurred.
Aston felt his feet leave the ground, his body weightless, his soul tugged upward like invisible hooks were digging into his spine.
The world snapped.
Aston's scream died as everything—sound, light, breath—was sucked away, replaced by a suffocating, syrupy darkness.
No ground.
No body.
No air.
Just confinement.
He tried to inhale—instinct, panic—but instead of air, something thick and sweet flooded into his mouth.
He choked violently.
Ghk—!
The liquid clung to his tongue, slid down his throat, warm and sticky like honey but far heavier. He coughed—nothing. His lungs burned.
Where am I—?!
He tried to move his arms, but something pressed tightly against him on all sides—smooth, curved, and unyielding. Like he'd been shoved into a tiny spherical coffin.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud and frantic.
He pushed again—barely an inch of space. His knees were curled to his chest, elbows jammed awkwardly against his sides. His fingers floated in the viscous fluid, numb and sluggish.
Then—
Crack.
A faint line of light appeared above him.
A hairline fracture in the curved wall.
Aston's breath caught.
I'm… inside something.
The truth hit him like a jolt:
This is a shell.
Almost like—
An egg.
His pulse spiked. His mind reeled.
"This can't—"
He tried to speak, swallowed more liquid, coughed and gagged. The stuff clung to his throat, almost nourishing but suffocating at the same time.
He pushed harder this time—fingers scraping against the inner surface.
Something answered.
A dull, hollow creak.
The wall shifted. Barely. But it shifted.
He gritted his teeth, adrenaline flooding him. His arms trembled violently as he pressed upward. Pressure built. Muscles burned. The shell resisted, then—
Crack.
A second fracture.
Then a third.
Light—dim, reddish, pulsing—bled through the breaks. The fluid swirled around him as the chamber shuddered.
He kicked.
A sharp, instinctive movement he didn't realize he had the strength for.
CRACK!
The shell split wider.
The warm fluid drained out through the opening, pulling at his limbs. Cold air rushed in, biting his skin. Aston gasped, sucking in his first breath, coughing out remnants of the liquid.
His hand—small, clawed, faintly glowing with a reddish tint—pierced through the shell.
He stared in shock.
That wasn't a human hand.
Not even close.
Thin, sharp nails.
Reptilian texture beneath the faint layer of fluid.
Skin darker than his own had been—greyish, almost dark.
Another instinctive kick—stronger this time.
CRUNCH!
The egg shattered.
Aston tumbled out onto rough, warm ground, choking, gasping, drenched in embryonic fluid. His vision blurred, then sharpened slowly.
He lay there trembling, chest heaving, heart pounding.
The last fragments of the system message echoed faintly in his mind:
[Soul Transfer Complete.]
[New Vessel: Lowborn Demon — Juvenile Stage.]
Aston lifted his trembling head, still panting.
"…I'm… a demon?"
The warm air hit him like a wave—thick, volcanic, stinging his newborn skin.
Aston blinked, vision still hazy, trying to take in his surroundings.
And then he realized—
There were eggs. Not dozens. Not hundreds. Millions of them!
Stretching across an enormous cavern of basalt and magma-veins, like a living, breathing hatchery.
Eggs stacked in clusters, piled in ridges, packed so densely they resembled a field of glowing black stones pulsing faintly with crimson life.
Each one… another demon.
His breath hitched.
"What… what is this place…?"
But his thoughts shattered when something else slammed into him—
Hunger.
Not the normal kind.
This was primal.
Savage.
Overwhelming.
It tore into his mind like claws.
EAT.! DEVOUR!
The instinct wasn't a whisper—
It was a bellowing roar inside his skull.
His small jaws trembled. Drool dripped down his chin. His stomach twisted painfully, screaming for sustenance, for fuel, for something alive or fresh—
But then his gaze fell on the broken pieces of his own eggshell.
And the hunger howled.
EAT.
EAT THE SHELL.!
Aston tried to resist.
He tried—he truly tried—to hold onto what remained of his human consciousness.
"No—this is—this is disgusting—I'm not—!"
But his body betrayed him.
His arm moved on its own—small, clawed fingers grabbing a jagged piece of the shell.
His jaw loosened. His throat flexed.
And before he could stop himself—
CRUNCH.
He took a bite.
A warm pulse shot through him, flooding his mouth with a metallic sweetness.
CRUNCH—CRUNCH—GULP.
He devoured it greedily, hands shaking.
The moment the last piece slid down his throat—
BOOM.
His mind erupted.
A tsunami of information crashed into his skull—instincts, memories, genetic knowledge, demonic physiology, survival protocols, hunger cycles, hatchery hierarchies, bloodline resonance, feeding rituals, territorial maps—
He screamed silently as the knowledge carved itself into his mind like molten steel.
And then—
The air around him twisted.
A distortion—like reality folding inward.
A pitch-black hole bloomed beneath him, growing, spinning, devouring light, heat, sound—everything.
Aston didn't even have time to breathe before it consumed him.
FWUMP.
The hatchery vanished.
The heat, the eggs, the cavern—gone.
Aston gasped as he stumbled forward—
And his knees hit solid earth.
He blinked.
He was back.
Back in the Nile Forest.
Back at the exact ruined clearing where he originally arrived.
His human body… had vanished.
What stood in its place was something new—something in-between. His limbs were longer, leaner, slightly scaled around the forearms and shoulders. His nails were sharper, curved just enough to hint at something predatory. His eyes—he could feel it—saw farther, clearer, sharper than any human should.
Before panic could take root, the Cosmic Voice descended again, echoing through the forest like a decree from the heavens.
[Demonic Hatch Cycle: Completed.]
[Vessel Evolution: SUCCESSFUL.]
Aston staggered, heart pounding, staring at his trembling hands.
"What… am I now?"
The forest answered only with silence.
The ruins around him seemed to lean in, listening.
Then—
A low hum trembled in the air, vibrating through his bones.
The Wheel of Talents manifested again.
He didn't even move.
Yet the Wheel began to spin on its own.
The colors blurred into a vortex.
Aston swallowed hard.
"C'mon… please… be something good…"
The Wheel slowed suddenly—jerking, clicking, releasing pulses of light like a heartbeat syncing with his own.
It stopped.
A symbol flared bright.
[Congratulations! Talent Acquired: EPIC Rank — "Lucky One."]
Note: The talent system progresses from lowest to highest as Common(E-rank), Uncommon(D), Rare(C), Epic(B), Legendary(A), Mythic(S), and finally Primordial(U).
Light burst from the Wheel and speared directly into Aston's chest.
He gasped—heat rushing through him, tingling, electric. It felt like liquid fortune was pouring into his veins, rewriting a small but vital part of his destiny.
The description unfolded before him:
[Lucky One — (Epic Rank)]
Innate Trait: The world bends slightly in your favor.
All gains are doubles naturally.
Minor misfortunes are avoided subconsciously.
Aston's jaw fell open.
"…double my gains…?"
"Finally… something that's not trying to kill me."
Then Immediately
A soft chime rang in his skull.
[SYSTEM FUNCTIONS UNLOCKED.]
A row of new notifications unfurled before his eyes in crisp, glowing script:
[Status] , [Regional Chat]
Aston blinked.
"…Wait, there's chat?"