"Peepi-Peepi-Chu! Peepiii!"
A sharp, piercing noise jolted Joseph awake, his head slamming into something hard—a metallic wall—within a confined space. The impact, combined with the memory of his car plunging into water under a hail of bullets, sent a rush of adrenaline through his body. His senses sharpened as his eyes flew open.
Disoriented, he quickly scanned his surroundings. Instead of water or the interior of his car, he found himself trapped inside a compact, box-like structure. The air was cold and carried a faint metallic tang, mingling with the damp chill of the night.
The rhythmic rattling of wheels echoed around him, accompanied by the guttural growls of a beast caged outside the compartment. Through a small window at the back, he caught a glimpse of the creature. Its cries were more pained and desperate than threatening, a mix of hunger and exhaustion.
'Huh?' Joseph froze, his eyes darting around as he absorbed the scene. It felt eerily familiar, as if his mind was instinctively connecting this situation to something he had experienced before.
'Doodle, where am I?' Without wasting a moment, Joseph pressed his palm against the cold metal wall, grounding himself in the reality of his surroundings. The distinct smell of rust and the chill of the night air confirmed this wasn't a dream. He moved to the window, gripping the edges as he peered outside.
[Should I rely on my secondary memory?]
'...No, go for my primary memory,' Joseph commanded. As he looked out, a silhouette came into view—one he recognized immediately.
In front of him was a cage suspended in midair, containing a small, rat-like beast about the size of his head. Its cries were weak, a pitiful "Peeepppiii—Chuuuuu!" that echoed through the night.
The scene was too familiar. Joseph's eyes darted around, taking in the eight individuals following the carriage, each riding unique creatures. Some of the beasts had scales and sharp teeth, resembling a bizarre mix of rhino and turtle, while others were hybrids of wolves and tigers. The contrast to the cars and armed men chasing him moments ago was staggering.
The surreal scenario confirmed it: he was in the endgame—and at the very beginning, no less.
According to his memories, this was the exact moment he had first entered the game.
But he needed to confirm whether this was his mind being transferred back to game after death or if he had truly returned to the past.
He didn't doubt it was real. The cold metal under his hands, the faint smell of oil and damp earth, the ache in his muscles—it was all too vivid to be an illusion. Given that he had fallen into water rather than a gaming capsule, the idea of his neural engine protecting him and transferring his consciousness into the game seemed far-fetched. The technology hadn't shown such capabilities, even in overdrive.
He decided to confirm it through his primary memory, which he had specifically designated for real-world data, keeping it separate from his secondary memory reserved for gaming information. This way, he could store game maps or locations in the secondary memory without cluttering the primary one.
And it was the sole reason he ordered the chip to use primary memory to reveal the exact outside date.
[It's December 1st, 3067]
'!'
The revelation hit him like a shockwave. This was indeed the date he had first entered the gaming capsule.
Considering the time acceleration within the game, it had taken him 34 hours to complete it while he had lived 24 years in this world.
The realization left him reeling.
Understanding the significance, Joseph felt an urgency pulse through him. Since he couldn't pinpoint the reason for his return, his first priority was to assess the situation. 'Doodle, are you in overdrive?' he asked, his voice steady but edged with tension.
[Pardon? I don't understand what Host implies.]
'....' The response confirmed it: he was truly back in the past. Joseph stepped back, taking a seat on the carriage as he processed the implications.
Instead of panicking or denying the situation, his mind immediately shifted to the present. Today was the day he would lose his power of beast taming—a major setback in his life.
Centuries ago, the world had been dominated by the Mecas, a highly advanced human civilization that thrived on technological innovation. They had developed powerful mechanical suits, known as Mechas, which allowed them to fight off wild beasts and monstrous creatures that roamed the land. With their technology, they built vast kingdoms and empires, reaching heights of progress that included flight and even space exploration.
The Mecas were the pinnacle of human achievement, their civilization seemingly unstoppable.
But their ascent was brutally halted by the arrival of the Excovians, a race of unparalleled evolution and adaptability. The war that followed was cataclysmic. The Mecas, who had placed their faith in technology, were decimated, their once-thriving civilization reduced to ashes.
Yet, the Excovians, though victorious, were not unscathed. For the first time, they witnessed the raw power of Mecha technology—a force so potent that it forced them to rethink their own strategies. Slowly, they began to adopt and refine this human innovation, weaving it into their arsenal, much like Joseph had foreseen at the end of the game.
The Excovians were not just conquerors; they were opportunists. Recognizing the potential of the Mecha technology, they claimed it as their own, erasing every trace of its human origins. But they were not blind to the unpredictability of the future. To ensure their dominance, they reshaped the world they had conquered, steering humanity toward a new era—one built on the foundation of beast taming.
The wild beasts that once roamed freely, hunted and subdued by the Mecas, now became humanity's new weapons. These creatures, once feared and untamed, were now harnessed as tools of war, replacing the very creators who had once controlled them.
The remnants of the lost civilization's technology lay scattered in ruins, occasionally unearthed and repurposed, but in the face of the Excovians' beast-taming prowess, these relics seemed almost archaic.
For Joseph, this shift was both a challenge and an opportunity.
In his previous life, he had chosen the path of the Mecha, driven by his inability to master beast taming—something he lost this very same day. He had spent years studying runes and crafting exoskeletons, seeking to enhance his combat flexibility and become strong enough.
But at the end of the endgame, as he watched the Excovians merge their own technology with the exoskeletons he had developed into Mechas, he realized the flaw in his approach. They hadn't abandoned their own methods; they had adapted his.
'If I am alive, then there is a chance to save Raven too.' He was certain his brother's accident was tied to the Excovians. The evidence was clear: he could only log out once, and he intended to deal with the Excovians on their own terms within the next 20 years before exiting this world to confront his uncle.
If the Excovians couldn't abandon their technology and learn, he would learn from them. Now, as they had used exoskeletons over Mechas, he would use the same exoskeleton over his beasts. While developing Mecha technology for himself, he was ushering in a new era where beast masters would wear Mecha suits and their beasts' exoskeletons.
"Ren, come back," he called. Without hesitation, he stretched his hand toward the open window, where the small rat-like beast cried and screamed inside its cage, weakened and hungry.
As Joseph called out, the beast transformed into a streak of light, soaring out of the cage and through the carriage window before merging directly into his body.
But the moment it happened, the carriage lurched to a halt, causing Joseph to stumble slightly. He gripped the nearby metal railings, steadying himself.
He noticed his hands were small, his body that of a child. But it didn't faze him. Soon enough, the carriage door swung open, revealing a man holding a sharp blade. His eyes were cold and piercing as he glared at Joseph.
"Don't tell me you've awakened pity for that useless meta beast," the man said, his voice low and threatening, a frown forming on his chin as he taunted, "Y.o.u.n.g M.a.s.t.e.r."