The First Cultivator

Ulvandia was no longer merry. The journey had taken a lot longer than she thought it would. Months had passed since she left Deepmere. The ruins of Fortunia were now long behind her. She should be nearing the source, but her pace had been reduced to a slow crawl. She was constantly looking for intelligent abominations, which was hard as the mists were even thicker here. Even in the state she was in during the last year, she had heard of the talking creatures in the mists. They had achieved at least a rudimentary level of intelligence. Would they notice her? She had even mutated her left arm into a tentacle and covered parts of her body in a chitinous plate to blend in. It probably would work for a casual glance, but that's all. After all, something was directing this mindless horde here. It was either them or whatever was creating the mists. They would notice her if they attempted to command her.

Ulvandia took a close look at her surroundings as she stealthily stalked forward. The ground was a fleshy mass that sprawled out in all directions. There was no foliage, except stalks of meat that swayed in an unfelt breeze. There was a notable difference this deep into the mist lands. A pulsing eldritch glow emanated from deeper within every half hour to an hour. It was like an extremely slow, erratic heartbeat, random in the interval between each beat. That pulse drew in the abominations as they rushed toward the source. She had wisely gotten out of the way before she was crushed. She was hesitant to get any closer without understanding what was happening, but she also had no choice. So here she was, steadily creeping forward. Her steps were soundless except for the occasional pimple that exploded underfoot if she wasn't watching her steps.

A breeze briefly disrupted the mist, and with it came a foul taint that made her eyes water. Ulvandia was no stranger to foul odors. Her playthings often made a wide variety of smells that she usually enjoyed. Blood mixed with semen was her personal favorite. This was something else. It had an acidic hint to it that irritated her nose, along with a whiff of wrongness that she associated with the abominations. Most of all was the decay. It was the conflicting smell of something long dead and yet actively decaying.

Hesitantly, she moved further forward when the mists abruptly parted. It was as if a curtain had been drawn back, exposing the sun after a long time in darkness. There was no sunshine here. A field of flesh extended as far as she could see, with sporadic pools filled with an illuminated green liquid. The sky was obscured entirely with an eldritch barrier that bathed the entire area in a soft green glow. Dominating the scene was a massive hole in the center of the expanse. From her vantage, Ulvandia could tell it was unbelievably huge. The diameter was nearly the size of a small town. It was this burrow that the mindless abominations sought to reach. They didn't climb down but threw themselves into the pit in an endless wave. Other eldritch horrors appeared more rational and had constructed a crude temple to which more reserved abominations were tethered like tame mounts.

Ulvandia just watched for several minutes, unable to fully process what was happening. That was when the next pulse came. A brilliant flash of eldritch power came from the pit. It was so potent that she would have permanent eye damage if it weren't for the eldritch power inside her healing the damage. The dome above flared with energy, as did the thick tendrils emerging from the massive hole. The flash traveled down the tendrils to numerous pools that exploded with light, blinding her again. Once her vision cleared, Ulvandia saw illuminated green pools to which several awaiting creatures stepped into.

Ulvandia's eyes widened as what she was seeing made sense. That was liquid corruption. Not some flimsy dilution carried by the mists, but the pure thing. If Ulvandia fell into that, she might explode as her body mutated out of control.

They must be using that to grow stronger, Ulvandia mused. But where did it come from? The obvious answer was the pit, but what was in there? It was time to find out. The abominations were busy absorbing the power. If she hurried, she could sneak down there and look into the pit and be back into the mists before anyone noticed. The rushing eldritch spawn would provide adequate cover.

Ulvandia dashed toward the pit while flailing her tentacle arm about as if she were another of the mindless creatures as she let out an exaggerated moan. It was an act that wouldn't have fooled anyone besides the perverted elf. If anyone had been on guard duty, she would have immediately drawn their attention. Luckily for her, no one was guarding the area. Why would they? Here in the center of the mist lands, they were absolutely secure. As she neared the rim, she slowed and dropped to the ground, doing an exaggerated roll. Ulvandia congratulated herself on her masterful approach that was worthy of any rat-kin. Any pride in her accomplishment vanished as she peeked over the edge, her eyes going wide. It couldn't be…

An hour later, she was safely in the mist again, which was fortunate, for she was completely distracted by what she saw. It was the corpse of an ancient one… or, as the lesser races like to call them, gods.

The wars of the ancients occurred before elves and humans dominated the land. It was an old tale, misunderstood by human scholars. The elves, however, remembered. The war was between the three ancients of the land and the three of the sky. That was how the other races adopted that nonsense of gods above and below. Fools. It didn't matter what they were called. What was important was that the land was devastated in the aftermath, allowing less intelligent species to emerge from the dirt hovels. Elves, naturally, were already constructing their great societies. It is believed that all the ancients perished in that battle. Now, someone had exhumed one, and they were harvesting its blood.

Ulvandia laughed at the situation she found herself in. The mist was nothing but a carrier for some ancient's blood. This was no invasion. This was a wildfire. The dead ancient's hunger was infecting everything. The abominations were livestock for it. Ulvandia paused at the thought. This was a wildfire, but it had been intentionally started. Someone had exhumed the ancient. Someone had set up the eldritch pools filled with the ancient's blood. And most importantly, someone had made the first intelligent abomination to help spread the fire.

Again, Ulvandia paused, thinking. The ancient's blood contained traces of the hunger it had in life. Even though she was not directly connected to the ancient, she could feel it. That hunger was infecting everything in the mists, calling them here to be fed on. The sight in the pit once again spiked in her mind at the thought.

The ancient was huge, taking up the entire pit. The rot emitting from it had been intense. The skin was black and looked squishy, and most features had melted away… except for the mouth and the heart. In the center of its torso, a giant maw filled with serrated teeth, stained crimson from old blood, was sawing back and forth methodically. The teeth were as large as horses at the edges, then they spiraled downward, lining the entire maw. The teeth gradually became smaller as the entrance narrowed, until they appeared to merge into a dark void. The abominations eagerly dove inside, where they were steadily shredded until a slurry-like paste that slid into that dark void.

The exposed heart was a gnarled lump that looked like a collection of writhing tentacles tightly packed together. From this tentacle mass, an eldritch glow was being emitted, which built in intensity as more abominations were devoured. Even more tentacles were attached to this 'heart', running outside the body and up the walls to the pits and the rest of the fleshy world around them.

The abominations were being consumed to stimulate the heart to produce more of the ancient blood. This led to more questions. How were the intelligent abominations sane? Were they like her, unable to hear the call? That didn't make sense. They were working to spread the mists. Shit… were they cultists? She fucking hated cultists. They were no fun at all. They were too obsessed with whatever nonsense they believed in to be entertaining.

The biggest question, however, was the eldritch power contained in the blood. The flesh contaminating the land could be explained by the vast amount of biomass the ancient was consuming. But the power? That was something else. Ulvandia gazed out at the mists surrounding her and the dancing green motes housed within. Ancient blood aerosolized and suspended in the mists. The ancient was dead… how was it producing any power at all? Ulvandia turned her gaze to where the intelligent abominations were as she morphed her fingertips on her free hand into sharp razors. It was time for her favorite hobby, vivisection.

***

The former mage Roland stretched after this latest bath in the eldritch pools. He could feel his master's power coursing through him. Perhaps one day he could ascend to the rank of lord and earn a new name. He wouldn't be satisfied with his current position for long. There was always room for advancement. Those who didn't advance were nourishment for their master. Already, he was the last of his original squad to receive the gift. That monstrous kin killed one, and the other was deemed unworthy and tossed into their master's maw so that even in death they could be useful.

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Roland stretched his body. It was unrecognizable from when he was human. He was covered in thick chitin and had numerous tentacles emerging from his chin, resembling a living beard. His hands were claws, and his legs were those of a jumping insect. He was perfect.

Yet it wasn't enough. He would return to the front lines now that the influx of enlightened beasts had significantly slowed. There, he would help with the great work. To spread his master's domain. It was a tricky art form. They needed to spread the mists to inject more creatures with their master's gift. Most animals would slowly be infected. They would gradually spend more and more time in the mists until a critical mass was achieved, then the change would occur, and they would be called here to donate their flesh for the cause. Such waves occurred after the mists spread to new areas. They needed to advance again. The latest batch of mutated beasts was what was left of the mana forest by Deepmere. Such a rich influx of life would greatly aid the spread of the mists. Yet it wouldn't be enough. The incoming tide of fresh flesh was almost exhausted. What they needed were more of the intelligent races. They were the most valuable to the cause by far.

Roland had entered the mists and had started down the path of flesh, which was vacant now that the last of the wave was devoured, when he felt something… off. That wasn't a feeling he had since his enlightenment. He turned around searching for the source of his unease. Nothing. Just the comforting presence of the mists. He started down the path once more, trying to dismiss his unease. He was alone, but as soon as he had the thought, he knew it wasn't true. There was something out here with him. Roland stretched out with his senses, feeling for any of the mutated beasts that might be lingering nearby. One might have had some defect that was interfering with its ability to reach the feasting grounds.

A twig cracked to his left. He spun only to see a figure move out of sight. That wasn't right. No beast that had changed should act like this. This wasn't natural. It… it was stalking him? The thought seemed ludicrous that he, one of the chosen new race, could be hunted in their sacred grounds. It was so prosperous that it faded from his mind a moment later. Perhaps this was some sort of test? He would have to… a sharp stinging pain at the base of his neck interrupted his thoughts as a foreign object was inserted into his flesh. It happened so quickly that whatever it was withdrew before he could spin around. After he spun around, the world continued to spin as his thoughts became scattered.

"It took a lot of experimenting to develop that little gift I gave you," a seductive female voice said as Roland collapsed to his knees, his vision unfocused, the world blurry around him. Was he poisoned? That shouldn't be possible. His body would purge anything that entered his body.

As if reading his thoughts, the figure stalking around him spoke again.

"You aren't poisoned if that is what you are thinking. I tried that many times. The beasts around here seemed immune. It didn't matter how potent I made it. So, I came up with another idea. I created a little organ using the corruption. A simple gland that would bind to your spine. It would secrete a toxin that would drive you unconscious. Since it was part of you, the corruption didn't resist its effects. Clever, right?"

The voice paused as if expecting an answer. Roland didn't respond. He was fighting to stay conscious and was losing badly. His eyes cleared just enough to see a figure looming over him. It was a woman. An elf, judging by the pointy ears. She appeared to be one of them. She had chitinous plates, a tentacle arm, ridiculously oversized breasts, and most prominently, a scorpion-like stinger that seemed to originate above her ass and was poised over her left shoulder.

"Like what you see?" The elf asked, squeezing her breasts together. "Or are you looking at this?" She released her breasts to fondle her scorpion tail. "I needed a delivery mechanism for my little present, and I created this."

Roland wondered why the woman was rambling on, but even that simple thought was driven from his mind. Foam was leaking from his mouth, and he'd collapsed onto his side, shuddering.

"Too bad I can't leave you conscious for the next part. Vivisection is always more fun when the patient is aware." Roland's vision faded completely as the woman's voice became distant.

"Now… let's see what makes you tick…"

***

Ulvandia wiped a bead of sweat from her head with her forearm as she dug deeper into the eldritch creature. It had been a human. The organs inside indicated such, even if many had undergone significant changes. Although there were radical changes on the inside, nothing she found explained why this specimen didn't throw itself into the pit. Perhaps all intelligent beings were immune to such impulses? But that couldn't be it. During the long march, she'd seen other elf-shaped creatures. Not many, but a few. They were mindless. There had to be something else. A tug from below, and Ulvandia cursed as the creature's body began healing itself again. What ridiculous regeneration! It was making this extremely difficult.

"Perhaps I'm looking in the wrong place," Ulvandia muttered and looked at the creature's skull. It might kill him. Ulvandia thought for a moment longer, then shrugged. She could capture another if this one expired. Unfortunately, breaking skulls without excessively damaging the tissue was tricky. The few times she succeeded were quite amusing, watching her play things lose part of themselves as she delicately snipped away at the tissue. Naturally, she did reserve that for those who enraged her, like that one asshole who had bitten her nipple off. The indignity of having to pay a healer to regrow it was something she'd never forget. She briefly wondered if that one was still alive somewhere, drool and shitting himself daily as he continued to live on as a vegetable.

Ulvandia put away the pleasant memories and lifted a heavy rock above the creature's head. Perhaps that regeneration might come in useful after all, she thought before bringing the rock down. A muted crack, and Ulvandia grunted as she heaved the rock up again.

Over and over, she struck until the top was spongy… She might have gotten carried away. The creature was twitching and breathing, so she didn't do too much damage. Fuck it. The regeneration will patch it up. Ulvandia tossed her makeshift skull smasher aside and picked at the delicate bone shards as she peeled away the skin and muscle. After another ten minutes of effort, the brain was exposed.

The structure was essentially unchanged except for a series of thick green veins that pulsed with each heartbeat. Feeling defeated, Ulvandia began digging inside, trying to do as little damage as possible. A poke here. A slice there. Whoops, she sneezed on it… It's probably fine.

Just as she determined this to be a waste of time, her knife clinked against something. She paused. The blade wasn't deep enough for that to be the skull. Ulvandia pushed her excitement down as she gently probed the area. Whatever it was, it didn't appear to be part of any structure. What she wouldn't do for some forceps… Ulvandia grinned at a sudden thought. Why bring forceps when she make her own? With a controlled surge of eldritch energy into her thumb and index finger, Ulvandia forced them to lengthen until they were grotesquely long. She regarded the changed digits. They were exactly like a pair of long forceps with rough grips on the ends. Perfect.

Ulvandia plunged her altered fingers into the brain, fishing for what she had discovered earlier. There! Nope, that was brain matter. She tossed the bit back into the mess she was making of the creature's brain before diving back inside. This time, she was sure she'd found it. She used less care than she should have while removing the object in her excitement. A lot of brain matter came with it. The creature shuddered violently before going still. A quick check told her that it was still alive.

After cleaning off the blood and the chunk of brain on the object, Ulvandia held her prize with a puzzled expression on her face. It was artificial, that was obvious. This wasn't something that was created with eldritch power. It was a dodecahedron made of a clear light blue crystallized mana. On each of the twelve surfaces, a rune was artfully carved, linking to other runes deeper inside. Ulvandia turned it over and over, trying to puzzle out its purpose. She halted as a familiar series of link runes caught her attention. One part of the linkage was prominent and was what she expected to find. They were mind runes that appeared to be weakening the connection to the dead ancient. It was the other part of the rune series that had her attention. Soul. Connected to it was a series of shielding runes woven into a three-dimensional matrix. It was a masterpiece. Such a rune was only ever a hypothetical creation until now. No one has ever bothered with it before. Mana couldn't affect souls so why bother making such a rune work? Then again, this wasn't mana she was dealing with. Just like that, everything became clear. She knew who had done this. She knew why. Those were interesting, but unimportant. What was important was that she now knew what the ancient was feeding on to empower its blood. Souls. It was consuming souls to fuel its body. No wonder the eldritch abominations were attacking cities. The intelligent races had souls that were significantly larger and more powerful than those of mere beasts. Even that revelation didn't truly capture her interest. What did was that if the ancient could consume souls for power… could she do it as well? It would be a power that could rival that of the Magebane.

Ulvandia grinned in triumph, then frowned. She would have to go into the pit and find whatever part of the ancient allowed it to consume souls. Then she would have to try to replicate it inside her own body. Ulvandia looked down at the creature before her, its breathing shallow and labored. Still alive then. Good. She had one final use for it. It was time to feed a god.