Rearing Demons

Walking away from the Imp Mother tree, Yur kept searching the area for any sign of a proper "drinking source." He cast a quick glance at the new map display in the corner of his vision and grimaced at how little territory was uncovered. "Zul, can you detect water or something?" he asked.

[Map fills in what Host can see clearly!]

He sighed. The system could only show what he himself could visually confirm. Useless right now, he thought, trudging back to the tree. The oppressive heat of Zulmasharr pressed in on him, and the ground felt harder by the minute under his bare feet.

What should I do? he wondered, slumping against the trunk. Above him, small red blobs continued raining down at irregular intervals. Some exploded on impact, leaving a puddle of gore, while others survived and began crawling about with feeble limbs. 

Curiosity tugged at his mind, so he watched the newborn imps closely. Before long, he spotted a pattern: the moment an imp found its footing, it started sniffing the air, then shuffled off in a specific direction.

"Hm?" Intrigued, he rose to his feet and trailed one of these creatures. Partway through his pursuit, another imp dropped straight onto his head. Grimacing, he grabbed it by one of its malformed arms, glaring into its beady eyes.

He took a bite out of its ear—enjoying the chewy texture—and tossed the whimpering creature behind him without a second thought. The imp slammed into the ground with a sickening thud, its skull cracking open. So annoying, Yur thought. He hurried to catch up to the imp he was actually following.

"Hurry up!" he snapped, giving it a none-too-gentle nudge with his foot. Though terrified of him, the small demon was compelled by whatever it smelled. Eventually, the imp stopped at a tiny hole in the ground. Nose twitching, it scrambled inside, vanishing almost immediately.

Yur knelt down, eyeing the narrow gap. It was barely wide enough for his hand.

[Drinking Source Discovered!]

[Bahirath Cluster!]

[Quest Complete!]

[Reward: 5 Demon Points!]

His eyes lit up at the system's notifications. Despite the difficulty, he had at least found the second requirement for a shelter. "So, that's where it is," he muttered. But how do I actually use it? He tried prying the edges of the hole with rocks and brute strength, but the ground refused to yield.

"Forget it," he huffed. Let's see what I can buy with these new points. He opened his status screen: a floating menu shimmered before him, and he navigated to the Zulmasharr section of the shop.

"Zul, show me what I can purchase with my current points."

[Calculating…]

[Filter Applied!]

Only a few dozen items populated the list, most costing between one and three Demon Points, with a handful of five-point options. After skimming the options—simple daggers, basic materials, and a few pieces of clothing—he finally chose a cheap set of garments for three points.

The moment he selected them, the clothes appeared on his body of their own accord. He stared down at himself. The plain black fabric clung to him in two pieces, more like a loose-fitting robe than a formal outfit. "Not bad," he murmured, prodding the cloth. It felt airy enough not to overheat him in this sweltering climate.

"Now then," he said, nodding in satisfaction. "Zul, give me another quest. I have no idea what to do."

[Zulmasharr Quest: Begin Cultivation!]

[Cultivation Goal: Vashra!]

[Reward: 100 Demon Points!]

[Afloria Quest: Begin Cultivation!]

[Cultivation Goal: Nascent Orb!]

[Reward: 100 Human Points!]

Reading the details carefully, he discovered that Zulmasharr was a realm of demons—while Afloria was the human world he had left behind. The system had explained that demon cultivation and human cultivation diverged greatly because of biological differences.

"Vashra for demons, Nascent Orb for humans," he mumbled. He understood the names but not the method. "Zul, how do I do this?"

[Zulmasharr Cultivation: Vashra!]

[Bloodline Awakening!]

[Ritual! Sacrifice of a Hundred Demons!]

[Afloria Cultivation: Nascent Orb!]

[Orb Awakening!]

[Ritual! Sacrifice of a Hundred Demons!]

"Huh?" he asked, squinting at the identical requirement for both. "Is this correct?"

[Demon Rearing Rituals!]

[Methods of cultivation that work best for the Host!]

[Rituals allow Host to progress in both cultivations!]

He tried to process the dense text scrolling through his field of vision. It seemed he needed to perform a ritual calling for two hundred demons: one hundred for Vashra, one hundred for the Nascent Orb. The sheer number made him groan.

"That tree spawns hundreds each day, but most die right away," he muttered. Capturing two hundred live demons is another issue entirely.

"Zul, any more help?"

[All necessary information has been provided!]

[Prepare the Ritual!]

"Great," Yur said dryly, raking a hand through his wild hair. Guess I have to figure this out on my own. Wandering back toward the Imp Mother, he stared up at the continuous drip of fleshy orbs that became imps. How am I supposed to keep them alive in one place?

[Host should create a storage for collected demons!]

[A large hole will be ideal!]

"A hole," he repeated, glancing at the rock-solid ground. "Zul, can you keep track of how many imps I gather?"

[Imps Collected: 0/200]

[Count will adjust based on how many are alive!]

Relieved, he stroked the trunk of the tree and tried to brainstorm. But the earth here was too hard to dig with bare hands or rudimentary tools. His mind flicked to the dried Bahirath basin, many kilometers away. "Hauling them there would be a pain," he muttered. They'd probably get eaten by each other on the way.

He let out a frustrated groan and slumped at the tree's base again, watching the constant rainfall of new imps. Suddenly, one of the pods was noticeably larger than the others. It plummeted from a higher branch and landed with a dull crack, squashing its own legs beneath its weight.

Kr Kr Krrrrr. The fat imp cried pitifully, but the surrounding imps quickly caught the scent of fresh blood. Those who'd survived the drop began shuffling toward the larger imp, baring undersized, half-formed fangs. They descended on it en masse, ravenous for the warm flesh. Within moments, the bigger imp was being devoured alive by its smaller kin.

"Wait, I want to try something," Yur said, abruptly rising. He waded into the throng, grabbed one of the bigger imps, and tore off its leg. Krrrr Krrrr, it screeched, black liquid pouring from the wound. Ignoring its cries, Yur took a savage bite, letting the blood trickle down his chin.

The other imps, already in a frenzy, seemed to go even crazier for the leaking gore. Several abandoned the half-eaten carcass to follow the trail of fresh blood.

[Imps Collected: 8/200]

[Count will adjust based on how many are alive!]

Blinking in confusion, Yur asked, "Zul, why did it count these eight as collected?"

[Imps shall always move toward a food source!]

[Host is holding a food source!]

"So, as long as I'm holding bleeding flesh, they'll follow me?" He eyed the leg in his grip.

[Correct!]

"What if they smell the Bahirath or something else more strongly?" he wondered.

[Imps will follow the strongest scent!]

A devious plan began forming in his mind. He pressed his palm against the imp's bleeding head, crushing it to coat his hand in sticky crimson. The uninjured imps lunged and latched onto his arms, but their teeth couldn't penetrate his tougher, Bahirath-infused skin. "Perfect," he muttered. Slowly, he backed away from the tree, the cluster of imps crawling after him.

When he reached a relatively open patch of ground, he stopped. "Now, how do I make them stay here?" He glanced at the imps following him. 

A cruel idea surfaced. Sorry, little guys. Picking up one the imps, he snapped one of its legs, letting it shriek and bleed out on the spot. The others instantly shifted focus onto the crying imp, enthralled by the potent smell of its wounds.

[Imps Collected: 7/200]

[Count will adjust based on how many are alive!]

"Good," he said quietly, setting them down. "This might actually work."

A swirl of crimson haze drifted by, carrying the coppery stench of fresh blood. Yur couldn't help a grin creeping across his face. The process was gruesome, but at last, he saw a path to gather the demons he needed—and begin the terrifying rituals that would unlock his full potential in both Zulmasharr and Afloria.