The Nexus System Unveiled

The transport shuttle was cramped, a relic from a bygone era retrofitted with just enough technology to keep it functional. Luck sat with his back against the cold metal, knees drawn up to his chest, surrounded by a cohort of draftees whose bloodlines spanned the spectrum of the Nexus System's hierarchy. The tension was palpable, a miasma of fear and bravado tangling in the stale air. Some draftees boasted loudly of the glory they'd achieve, while others sat in silence, already mourning their fates.

Luck's mind raced as the shuttle hurtled through the neon-lit skyways of Neo-Eden, but his expression remained impassive, his attention inward. He caught fragments of whispered conversations—the reverence for a draftee bearing the Dragon's Crest, the sneers directed at the cursed son of Misfortune Wraiths. It was an echo of the life he'd always known, magnified by the gravity of the impending battle.

When the shuttle docked at the holding facility, a fortress of steel and glass emerging like a monolith from the city's edge, Luck felt a cold knot in his stomach. As they disembarked, uniformed officials herded them into a vast hall where the reality of the situation was laid bare.

"The Nexus System will now be integrated with each of you," announced an officer with a voice that cut through the din. "Your stats, abilities, and progress throughout the CBR will be meticulously tracked. Compliance is not optional."

Luck watched as draftees ahead of him stepped up to the integration booths. One by one, they emerged, expressions ranging from awe to horror as they gazed upon the holographic displays hovering above their wrists.

When his turn came, Luck stepped into the booth, the air humming with invisible energy. A technician with disinterested eyes placed a cold device against his temple, and a sharp pain lanced through Luck's skull. He gritted his teeth, a faint glow emanating from the contact point, and then it was over.

"Integration complete," the technician droned. "Next!"

Luck stumbled out, his vision swimming. A semi-transparent screen flickered into view before his eyes, its corners glitching.

Strength: 4

Agility: 6

Vitality: 5

Luck: ...

The 'Luck' metric blinked erratically, refusing to settle on a number. The technician frowned, tapping at a datapad with impatience.

"System's glitching. Run a diagnostic," they muttered before waving Luck away, already focused on the next draftee.

Lost in a sea of data and humanity, Luck navigated to a terminal that detailed the Nexus System. His bloodline was indeed listed—at the very bottom, the rank so low it was nearly off the chart. 'Misfortune Wraiths: A lineage of chaos, bringing more harm than good,' the description read.

The Nexus System sorted them into groups. Luck found himself with the outliers, those whose bloodlines offered little in terms of combat prowess. As they gathered, wary glances were exchanged, but there was a thread of camaraderie too—they were the underdogs, the unexpected players in this deadly game.

Amongst them was a woman with a shock of white hair, her eyes bright with a determination that bordered on mania. She introduced herself as Calla, bearer of the Fading Echo bloodline, known for their fleeting yet potent bursts of precognition. It was a bloodline that flickered on the edge of extinction, its power considered unreliable.

"Looks like we're the misfits," Calla said with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Luck's response was a noncommittal grunt. Friendliness seemed like a luxury they couldn't afford, yet the ice in his veins thawed ever so slightly.

As the day waned, Luck familiarized himself with the Nexus System's interface, which proved to be a challenge. The system seemed to hesitate at his commands, the data streams stuttering whenever his bloodline came into play. It was as if the technological marvel couldn't make sense of the chaos that Luck was born into.

That night, as the facility's artificial lights dimmed to simulate evening, Luck lay on a narrow cot, staring at the ceiling far above. His bloodline's symbol pulsed on the screen—error messages filling the periphery of his vision.

"Error: Luck - Undefined," the system intoned, the voice sterile and inhuman.

Undefined. It was perhaps the most apt description of him. A man out of sync with a world that worshiped order and despised the irregularities that he represented. As the sounds of distant combat drills hummed through the facility's walls, Luck closed his eyes, the uncertainty of tomorrow a heavy weight on his chest.

He knew he was more than his bloodline, more than the lowly stats the Nexus System assigned to him. But in the arena of the CBR, would it be enough?