Marcus stepped out into the bright morning, the aroma of breakfast coming from the kitchen. The new Greyson household was awake, but the atmosphere was slightly more reserved. His mother moved briskly, preparing plates and drinks, while Tomás was already in the living room, eyes glued to the television at a volume that made the room thrum.
—Tomás, turn down the volume—their mother called, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
Alice sat silently at the table, pouring juice with precise, controlled movements. From the very first day, Marcus had been struck by her coldness and seriousness, a sharp contrast to the rest of the family.
—Morning, Marcus —his mother said, smiling gently, trying to lighten the mood—. Sleep well?
Marcus nodded, taking a seat. He exchanged a few words with Tomás and his mother, but when he glanced at Alice, she only gave a small, measured nod, clearly keeping her distance emotionally.
After breakfast, Marcus cleared his plate and headed outside. There, waiting for him, was the sleek black motorcycle—a gift from the government. Its polished frame reflected the morning light, ready for him to take off. He swung onto it, feeling the hum of power beneath him.
—Time to go —he murmured to himself, gripping the handlebars.
From the porch, his mother gave a gentle wave, while Tomás barely looked up from the screen. Alice remained in place, her expression unreadable, simply watching. The engine roared to life, and Marcus sped off, the neighborhood fading behind him.
Before him rose the Academy: a single, futuristic, and majestic building in white and gray. It wasn't particularly tall, but it stretched wide and commanding, its presence as imposing as a stadium. Smooth, reflective surfaces gleamed in the sunlight, radiating a sense of power and modernity that left Marcus momentarily breathless.
At the entrance, a security system scanned his ID. A green light flashed, and the doors slid open with elegant precision, inviting him into the place that would mark the beginning of his new life.
Minutes later, Marcus stood in front of the door, the bold letters on the sign reading 1-D. The Academy operated on a structured system spanning three years, with each year consisting of between seven and twelve classes. Marcus, dressed in a gray tracksuit, fit perfectly within the Academy's voluntary dress code. Took a deep, steady breath, bracing himself as he prepared to step into the classroom
Marcus stepped into the classroom, taking in the surroundings. The room was fairly large, with high ceilings and pale walls that reflected the morning light streaming through tall windows. Despite the spaciousness, there were only six desks arranged in two neat rows, five other students already seated.
At the front, a handsome man stood confidently, 1,80 meters tall and lean, dressed in a sharp black suit. His black hair was neatly combed back, and his pale skin contrasted with piercing dark eyes behind polished glasses. A subtle, charismatic smile played on his lips, giving the impression of both authority and approachability.
As soon as the professor noticed Marcus, his face lit up with genuine excitement.
—You're Marcus, right? How are you? Come here and introduce yourself!
Marcus walked over to him, and the professor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Straightening under the touch, Marcus took a deep breath and spoke clearly:
—My name is Marcus Greyson. I'm nineteen years old, and I'm very eager to learn.
It was a sober, restrained introduction, simple and formal in tone.
The man nodded, his expression calm but authoritative.
—Good. Take a seat, Marcus —he instructed, pointing toward a spot in the corner of the room. Marcus nodded and moved through the rows of students, feeling the curious gazes of his classmates follow him as he settled into his designated place.
—Ok Marcus, I'm Victor Kael, and I'll be guiding you throughout this course. Each new student has the right to ask one question during class —he added with a warm tone and a graceful hand gesture—, so don't hold back: if something intrigues you, confuses you, or simply sparks your curiosity, take advantage of it.
Marcus hesitated for a moment, then asked, his voice steady but curious:
—I've always wondered… why does every Transformer look so different? What determines the way each of us takes shape?
The professor leaned against his desk, steepling his fingers as he spoke, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
—It's not fully understood, mind you, but the most widely accepted theory is that a Transformer's monstrous form isn't random —it's influenced by their will, their deepest personality traits, and how they see themselves. Think of it like this: if someone is fiercely protective, their form might emphasize strength and defense, perhaps with a heavy armor or big shield. Someone more agile or cunning might manifest lithe, flexible features. Your form, in a sense, is a reflection of who you are at your core, your instincts and desires shaping it almost like clay in your own hands.
The professor leaned back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes, and gestured toward the classroom.
—Alright, Marcus, have you got that? —he asked, his tone warm and lively.
—Yes —Marcus replied, nodding.
—Excellent! —the professor exclaimed, spreading his hands as if presenting a grand stage—. Well then, class, today we're going to dive into the fascinating ways we classify a Transformer. Buckle up, it's going to be an interesting ride!
—Today we're going to talk about the levels of Transformers. There are five levels, and each represents a stage of control, experience, and evolution of your monstrous form. Within each level, there are also three sub-stages, which indicate how close you are to evolving to the next stage.
—Level 1: Sentinel —he began—. You reach this level after your first transformation, usually triggered by a near-death experience or a situation that brings you close to death. Once you've been neutralized after this first transformation, you enter this stage. Here, you can acquire one, or at most, two traits. This is also the level where you currently are.
—Level 2: Warden —he continued—. This stage is reached after passing an Ascension Module, a trial imposed by your own transformation gene to test and push your evolution to the second rank. You'll know when this moment comes, as your body and ether will signal it clearly. At this level, you can acquire a third or fourth trait. Also, from this point onward, it becomes possible to ally with artifacts, provided your transformation doesn't already include one. Each transformation will slightly evolve your monstruos form, and you can maintain it longer than in Level
—Level 3: Spawn —he explained—. At this stage, your mastery over your traits increases, allowing you to acquire a fourth or fifth trait. The transformation itself becomes more refined and consistent, and you can maintain it for longer periods. There is also a second Ascension Module at this level.
—Level 4: Titan —he continued—. Very little is known about this stage, as very few have reached it. At this level, you likely gain one additional trait, but the real distinction lies in the transformation itself. Your monstrous form becomes specialized, your powers more solid and integrated. Essentially, it elevates your abilities and your transformation to a new, more complete level, merging control, strength, and the refinement of your monstrous traits into a cohesive whole.
—Level 5: Unknown —he said, lowering his voice slightly—. This stage remains a complete mystery. It has no official name, and it is believed that only a handful of clan leaders or the most exceptional Transformers have reached it. What happens at this level, how transformations evolve, and what powers are unlocked are matters of speculation even among the most experienced instructors.