Creation Of All Things

The Bottom of the World – The Red Pit

The air was thick.

Not heavy. Thick. Like it had been marinating in dread and unwashed feet for the last thousand years.

Adam stood at the edge of the pit, arms crossed, his white cloak slightly scorched at the edges, probably from that unfortunate encounter with the sentient cactus a few hills back. He didn't say anything.

He just stared.

The pit in question wasn't just red. It glowed. Like angry fruit punch mixed with the lingering regret of seventeen failed marriages. It didn't flicker or pulse. It hummed. A low, nasty hum, like a mosquito whispering "you can't kill me" in your ear at night.

Dozens of cultivators stood nearby, all keeping a very respectful, totally not cowardly distance from the edge.

"Someone push him in," a voice whispered from the back.

Adam blinked.

The crowd stiffened.

He turned slowly.

The cultivator who spoke—a skinny guy with a patchy beard and robes about three sizes too big—pretended to inspect the nearby grass. "Nice grass. Yep. Top-tier blade density. Good feng shui."

Adam sighed and returned his gaze to the pit.

One old cultivator, who looked like he hadn't blinked since the first dynasty fell, finally broke the silence. "This pit… wasn't here last week."

"No one asked," someone muttered.

"It just appeared!" the old man snapped. "Overnight! Like the heavens farted and forgot to bury the evidence!"

A few people nodded grimly. That actually sounded about right.

Adam crouched at the edge now, his eyes narrowing.

The aura from the pit was worse up close. Like breathing in cooked iron and disappointment.

"Anyone toss a rock in?" he asked.

One of the younger cultivators nodded. "Yeah. It screamed."

Everyone stared at him.

"What?"

"You sure it wasn't you screaming?" someone asked.

The guy folded his arms. "Hey, just because I fell in once doesn't mean I'm unreliable."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "You fell in?"

"Temporarily."

Adam ignored the reply and picked up a small stone, flipping it in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, then casually tossed it into the pit.

The silence afterward was absolute.

The stone vanished in a puff of red mist.

A gurgle came from the pit.

Then a voice. Low. Hollow. Slurred like it had just woken up after a nap that lasted three centuries.

"…got any snacks?"

A few cultivators ran.

Adam… blinked.

"Did… did that pit just talk?" asked one wide-eyed elder.

Another cultivator dropped to her knees. "The gods are pranking us! This is punishment for stealing the sect's beef jerky!"

Adam stood. "Huh. Interesting."

"You call that interesting?!" someone yelled.

The ground beneath them trembled slightly.

Then again.

Then again—like a beat.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Something… was rising.

From the pit.

Adam didn't move. He just rubbed his chin. "Hope it's not another tentacle. I'm tired of tentacles."

From the edge of the red mist, a hand rose.

No, not a hand.

A noodle.

A wriggling, steaming noodle—except it was made of energy and smelled like raw spirit beasts left out in the sun.

Everyone stared.

Then another noodle. Then another.

Soon, a full-on head emerged. Vaguely humanoid, but shaped like it had been drawn by a blind child using a chicken bone.

Two eyes blinked open.

They were uneven.

"Yo," the creature said.

No one replied.

"Anyone got broth?" it asked.

Adam tilted his head. "Are you… sentient ramen?"

The being blinked. "Do I look like ramen?"

"Kind of," Adam said.

The noodle-entity frowned. "Rude."

A cultivator behind Adam whispered, "Sir, should we flee?"

Adam held up a hand. "Let's give it five minutes. Could be friendly."

The entity fully emerged now, floating lazily above the pit. Its body wobbled as it moved, like jelly on a trampoline.

"I'm called… He-Who-Slumbers-In-The-Flavor."

"Oh my god," someone muttered.

Adam stepped forward. "And what exactly is your deal?"

The being shrugged. "Dunno. I was sleeping. Someone dropped spicy rocks on me."

"Sorry," Adam said.

The being sniffed. "You smell like Void Flame. And soup. You got soup?"

"No."

It sighed. "Figures."

More cultivators started backing away slowly. One even tried to summon a bird to fly off, but it turned into a fish halfway and flopped uselessly. The cultivation world was weird like that.

Adam looked the creature up and down. "You're not the threat I came to find."

"I better not be," the being said. "I'm allergic to plot."

Adam chuckled.

Some of the tension faded.

Then the pit pulsed again.

Not from the being.

From below it.

The noodle-creature paused mid-float. "Oh no."

Adam's eyes narrowed. "What?"

The creature turned slowly. "I wasn't the one humming."

A deep roar thundered up from the pit.

Something massive stirred.

Adam stepped forward as red light spiraled upward like a reversed waterfall.

The cultivators behind him screamed and scattered like chickens fleeing tax collectors.

The ground cracked.

And something huge—noodles forgotten—rose into view.

It had no face.

No limbs.

Just a writhing mass of flesh and runes, covered in countless broken cultivation seals.

Adam narrowed his eyes. "Now that's what I'm looking for."

The thing howled—but it wasn't a sound. It was a pull. A devourer of concepts.

Names vanished from memory. One cultivator forgot his own sect. Another forgot pants were a thing.

Adam stepped forward.

Then turned.

And picked up a single stick from the ground.

Everyone froze.

"Is he seriously—" someone started.

Adam leapt.

And smacked the creature once on the top with the stick.

The world stopped.

The creature paused.

Then sneezed.

Loudly.

The blast flung half the remaining cultivators across the canyon.

Adam landed casually.

"Bless you," he said.

The creature twitched.

Then slowly… shrank.

Shrank.

Shrank.

Until it was a slimeball.

A red slimeball with little nubs for eyes.

It wobbled once.

"…why?"

"Because I didn't have soup," Adam said.

The noodle-being floated nearby, watching. "Okay. That was new."

Adam turned back to the group.

"Well," he said, "we've learned two things today."

He held up a finger. "One: Always bring soup."

Another. "Two: This pit is a seal. Not a source. It holds echoes of what came before. Whatever created that monster? Long gone. Or maybe moved."

A hand rose in the crowd. "So it's safe?"

"No," Adam said. "It's bait."

He turned and looked down the pit again.

At the layers beneath.

At the runes now glowing faintly along the walls.

"They wanted someone strong to come here."

Another pause.

Then Adam grinned. "I'll bite."

He leapt into the pit.

Gone.

Silence.

The cultivators just stared at each other.

One finally asked, "Do we tell the sect elders?"

Another answered, "They'll just send us next."

"…Wanna fake our deaths?"

"Already did."

They ran.

Behind them, the pit pulsed once more.

But this time…

It welcomed the descent.