The Rebirth

 It awoke in a vast field of soft, swaying grass, the air crisp and scented with pine from the forest that surrounded it as it watched through eyes not of its own. Golden sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow. It took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as it adjusted its posture deep within another's mind, standing up from being reclined against the unseen ground. "Before The Rebirth," it began, its voice low but clear, carrying through the still air it was alone in, "Humanity's mission to colonize habitable planets was entrusted to several expeditions." The scenery dissolved as if painted watercolors spilled into darkness. It moved through this darkness, its claws clicking softly against the unseen surface as it trudged through an abyss devoid of shape or form. It was not unfamiliar with this void, it had walked this path before. "The first planet to be colonized," it continued, "was named Gaia. A land of mythical beasts, rich minerals, and resources unknown to humankind." From the distance, a piercing light emerged, breaking through the oppressive void. It raised its clawed hand to shield its face, its voice calm and measured as it pressed forward. "A man named Robert Throndsen led the first peace treaties between the colonists and Gaia's indigenous tribes. Among them, the Zoroans. Large, beastly-built people; they were the most powerful and willingly signed the treaty." The light gave way to a room bathed in pure white, its walls adorned with countless screens. Memories flickered across their surfaces, replaying fragments of its past. It stopped before a screen displaying a half-forgotten scene and observed, its claw tracing faint patterns in the air. "The colonists hoped to unify the land they called 'America.' Other tribes included the Kitsune, Werecats, and Werewolves, mythical creatures thought to exist only in stories that you may know."

 The void shifted again, this time revealing another room. Endless scrolls of paper hung from the walls, their words cascading downward like rivers of ink. It approached and carefully plucked one scroll, reading it and finding it to be something it had said a long time ago. "The Throndsen family built their civilization upon a company; Enchanted White Rose. EWR specialized in magic, military strategy, and government collaboration. Their experiments on human biology… well," it chuckled darkly, "those eventually led to my incarnate." It let the scroll fall, moving deeper into the room as screens displayed new and old memories. "Spartans accompanied the colonizers. Humans modified for warfare and peacekeeping. Decades later, Robert Throndsen's great-grandson revived classified development programs, creating Super Spartans to combat the growing threat of dungeon breaks." Another transition swept the space, leading it into a grand hallway. Along the walls hung paintings, weapons, and trophies, each a testament to battles won and legacies forged. It lingered before a particular image, studying it with a faint smirk. "The children of Winter Throndsen, just infants, were placed into test tubes. Reconstructed piece by piece with artificial matter, they became something beyond human." It shook its head and moved on, its claws tapping softly against the polished floor. "These Jaegers, imbued with ancient mana cores stolen from undead monsters, and DNA from an ancient Zoroan deity, could wield magic and shape-shift, a first of its kind. When the Zoroans met the First Generation of Jaegers, they fell to their knees in worship, believing them to be gods." The hallway ended at an ornate door. It pushed the door open, revealing a throne room of towering grandeur. At the far end sat a glowing figure, its form radiant and overwhelming. Angels circled above, their songs filling the air with an ethereal harmony. It hesitated, each step forward accompanied by a growing sense of dread. "The Throndsen family did not welcome their final child; us. Mrs. Throndsen named us Winter Jr. Throndsen, but we were the runt of the litter despite being named by Mr. Throndsen."

 As it approached the throne, the glowing figure stood, its light intensifying. It knelt instinctively, but the figure called its name, a voice familiar and commanding. It looked up, confusion flickering across its face. "From the beginning," it continued, "Cyrus, the eldest, enjoyed tormenting us. By age five, we were a scrawny boy, pale and freckled, with messy black hair." The figure stepped down from the throne, and it felt a deep, painful familiarity with this being. The figure began to speak, recounting memories it had long buried. "Forced into the Jaeger training program, we barely survived, scraping through each test. By the age of ten, we earned the Nether Star, though it nearly cost us our life."

 The glowing figure paused, its voice softening. "I have a task for you," it said. The words lingered in the air as the being explained: protect its next incarnation, nurture the warrior who would carry the legacy forward. It resisted, scoffing. "Why me? I am the last choice for a teacher," it retorted. The figure only smiled knowingly, its light growing blinding once more. When the light faded, finding itself back in another's mind. "Each time Cyrus bullied us, each scar he left, it fueled the cursed energy within us," it murmured bitterly. "And yet, I could only watch, as he took the beatings." Its own voice echoed from within its thoughts, laced with frustration and anger. "You just let him beat you? Let me take control!" The little boy could only barely speak aloud, but it understood what he was getting across. "I don't want to make it worse." It sighed, recalling its response. Before it could dwell further, a rustling in the nearby forest caught its attention. It turned to see a young woman emerge from the trees, her long green hair tinged with purple highlights cascading over her shoulders. Horns curved upward from her forehead, framing her glowing pink eyes. She smiled smugly. "There you are," she said, her voice dripping with malice. Winter shot to his feet, tension radiating through his frame. Ultima, ever watchful, cursed softly in their shared thoughts. "Aw crap."