No one knows where the dragons come from. Some theorize: outter space, the mantle layer, another dimension, or humanity’s collective sins. But no one knows for sure. They just arrived without warning one day, like a summer storm, and plunged the world into chaos. By the time humanity managed to muster any resistance, damage had already been done. The loss of lives had been unacceptable, and so much of what we had built crumbled into ashes. For the first few months, it seemed as if all was lost. The dragons were monstrous and brutal, their powers beyond comprehension. Everything they touch succumbed to corruption, becoming twisted abominations of their former selves. These things made up the bulk of the dragons’ armies, made dangerous by their hive mind and unholy strength.

Desperation bred invention, though. When conventional weapons failed, researchers began to think of fighting fire with fire. They harnessed the power of dragon’s blood, creating their own super soldiers to fight the war. This breed of fighters, dubbed Hybrids, was strong enough to stand against the dragons’ forces and even the dragons themselves. With that, the tides turned.

Ultimately, humanity emerged victorious. The dragons were either slain or fled back to wherever they came from. Our determination and ingenuity saved the day once more. But the losses were too much, the sacrifices too great. The dragons’ monsters were still left behind, ravaging the world now that the will that unified them was gone. Cities in ruins. Countries wiped off the map. Continents with missing chunks.

Some still believed we never won in the first place.

This is where you live. The College mainly secures Seattle from outside forces, as well as handling third-party contracts and acquisition of new Hybrids. Basically, it does everything: from security details for the rich and the powerful to bounty collection of dangerous criminals. You are the tools by which it plies its trade. You are its student, its contractors and its prisoners. As Hybrids, you are required by laws to be here.

But it also does function as an actual College. You are allowed to sign up for classes here, learning whatever skills you wish, though to what ends I wonder. Maybe you just want to. On top of whatever bounties or bonuses you manage to collect in a mission, the College gives you a small stipend, based on your performance and enthusiasm when it comes to getting the job done. It also let you live, rent free, in the dormitory, which you usually share with one other Hybrid.

There doesn’t seem to be any official code of conduct in the College. You can fight, you can rob, you can do everything in between and the College wouldn’t lift a finger to stop you. Just don’t start killing each other, it’s bad for the bottom.

Oh yeah, and don’t try to run away. They put a little chip in the back of your head when you arrived. There’s no escape.

There are a lot of names for you. Many are not very flattering. Most are slurs. But here, at the college and on the uniforms you wear, you are called Hybrid. When dragon’s blood mingled with living flesh, it incurs mutation and bestows extraordinary powers. However, there are risks: you can either go mad, die, become a monster serving the dragon’s will or some unholy combination of the three. Good for you, though, because years of research have perfected the process of selecting suitable candidates for Hybrids. Purification and distillation of dragon blood samples have also allowed Hybrids to be relatively free from the dragon’s manipulation.

That said, people have lost their minds from overusing their powers before. If you were wise, you wouldn’t push pass that limit. Even the strongest, break. Good thing your limits are pretty high. Hybrids are also naturally stronger and tougher than the average humans, bred for warfare as they were.

Back in the days, during the war, Hybrids were made in labs, either with volunteers or the not-so-voluntary. Now, that isn’t legal anymore, strictly speaking. You are probably a Hybrid because someone in your family tree was, or you signed up to one of those government programs and was found compatible. Or something else entirely. But at the end of the day, it probably wasn’t an easy choice. Who would choose this, unless they have to?

You have it good down here, in the Washington heartlands. Sure, registration is mandatory, Compability test is administered liberally, and mortality rate is high. You don’t always have to become a Hybrid even when you are compatible, but Big Brother can be very persuasive indeed. The cities here need you, and its people are wary but not hostile. They let you live on specialised military colleges (so-called colleges because of their social justice roots, originally built for post-war Hybrids who had nowhere to go). You are given work, training and purpose. All in all, it isn’t so bad.

Up in the North, they muzzle their Hybrids, like dogs. In the East, they flay them, sometimes.

Like a human, most of the time. Some do have peculiar features (i.e. snakes eyes, tails or even wings), but not all. And not all extra parts are reptilian.

They were called Dragons because it was a convenience. After all, what do you call a massive, winged, scaly thing? Our long war with them had taught us much, and we have found that they do come in all shapes and sizes. But by the point, the name had already stuck.

Other than that, nothing else about them is really common knowledge. Aside from their burning hatred for anything that live, that is.

The colleges favor the combat-inclined. This is reflected in their rankings: the strongest in terms of raw strength often have S rank. Lower ranks do not always mean weakness though, as utility and healing powers are still important.

But that’s the official stuffs. You have a different name to use among yourselves.

Beasts are physical fighters. The dragon blood enhances their body, allowing them to perform inhuman feats. Some are faster, some are stronger, some are impossible to wound, and most are dangerous. This class of Hybrid dominates the S rank. Physical mutations are also most common among them.

Techs are weapon masters. Their power usually manifests in the form of a weapon, which only them can wield. The colleges often provide them with their own personal armament, and this can take many forms depending on the person. While Techs can still summon their weapons without the armaments, the armaments give their weapons a solid, physical form that enhances its power.

Witches are spell casters. They wield magic, and there is a great number of things they can do with it, from bending reality to controlling the elements. They are the most versatile class out of the three, and often underappreciated, really.

One of the last bastion of safety and commerce in the form United States, and headquarters to several megacorporations. Life here is good and easy, if you were rich, that was. In the heart of the city, high-tech apartment blocks dominate the skyline and bright lights twinkle like midday stars. Bars and restaurants sell genuine and organic food, not the vat-grown stuff or the soy substitute. Pretty young things roam the streets, driving their fast cars and living even faster lives.

But on the outer edges of the city, life is another shade. Without much space, people built upward. Rows upon rows of shabby grey, dreary apartment blocks perch atop each other, something akin to a man-made beehive, though with far less symmetry. Lives are cheap on this side of the city, unlike the rent. Crimes rate is sky high, but everyone still wants to live here. It’s either in here, or on the other side of the walls, where beasts of the First War hunt.

The region has frozen over in recent years, human activities are far and few in between, restricted to some far-off settlements and several military camps. There has always been rumors of cults and cruelty here. Pockets of dragon thralls were found now and again, but they too seem to give this place a wide berth. Some years ago, during the war, a dragon was killed here after all. Its body crash-landed in a little valley up in the mountains, and it was said that the carcass burned bright for nights after nights, like a small sun.