Twelve years ago.

On the Cerulean Shore, two thousand miles west of the Heartland Desert.

Leviathan opened his eyes at the sound of approaching mortals.

Guardsmen, the annoying voice in the back of his head warned.

As irritating as it was, like a particularly tenacious barnacle clinging to his underside, the voice also provided him with valuable information about the humans and their civilization. Primordial arrogance assured Leviathan of his superiority over the races of this world, but in aggregate, mankind had managed to spread its influence far and wide. Individually, they were crustaceans; in aggregate, a vicious swarm.

Three men approached Leviathan’s position, their heavy boots sinking deep into the damp sand and crushing seashells underfoot. The gentle dawn light gleamed along their steel armor. Light rain pattered against their figures--the aftermath of the tempest that had swept through the region last night. The guards displayed their pathetic cores with pride, though the shallow concepts and quicksand foundations of their souls were an affront to Leviathan. In a proper world, none of them would have dared approach him. Each of them cultivated aspects of the ocean, yet they lacked the ambition to dive beneath the surface, to embrace the cold, dark depths.

“Good God,” said one of the guards. The voice in the back of Leviathan’s head explained that this was likely their leader, given his salt-and-pepper hair and slightly more condensed core. “He hasn't moved an inch since I saw him from the wall. Any of you know who this is?”

“Do you?” responded another.

“No,” the leader said, frowning. “Looks like a noble’s son, maybe. Still, you see those tattoos all over his body? Weird. I’m guessing neither of you can read runes?”

They shook their heads.

The leader sucked his teeth. “I can’t detect his level of cultivation at all. No mundane looks like that, though he can’t be any older than, what, seventeen? No way he’s multiple realms above us.”

Indeed, the humans had finally provided a suitable Vessel for Leviathan’s needs. Millennia of breeding and experimentation had culminated into a mortal with foundations as perfect as their kind would ever achieve. Beauty, instinct, talent, five innate Dominions compatible with Leviathan’s designs. The Vessel was only in the Fifth Sphere despite an investment that would have funded an entire nation by itself, but under Leviathan’s direct influence, such a concern wouldn’t last long. Another few centuries to achieve his goals meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“Why’s he just kneeling there, propping himself up with that sword?” said the third guard. “Shattered his mind with too much faedust before wandering out here in the storm? I mean, why the hell’s he naked?”

“Careful,” warned the leader. “A lot of nobles would want your head if they heard you talk about them like that.”

Don’t kill them, gracious Lord, said the voice in the back of Leviathan’s mind. We have planned for the Great City of Seahold to serve as your throne. It may be best to conquer them through a peaceful approach.

There was one other problem with the Vessel besides their incomplete Dominions, of course. The cultists had not truly surrendered their souls to the cause. They had their own designs, their own plans they hoped for Leviathan to fulfill. As if one of the Titans could be domesticated and bent to the whims of mortals. The original consciousness of the Vessel had survived the grueling crucible of their childhood, but after being pampered and revered for the last decade by the rest of the cult, he had deluded himself that he was in a position to make demands.

Leviathan crushed the Vessel’s mind with a flex of his will. The mortal’s wailing thoughtstuff leaked out of their shared soul. Millions of metaphysical eyes focused on the shrinking rivers of memories and impressions, recording relevant knowledge before it was all lost to entropy.

That was better. No more irritating voice in the back of his head.

Leviathan cracked his neck.

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“He moved!” The third guard took a step back. “Wait, have his eyes been open---”

After a moment of eye contact, the mortal burst open in an explosion of gore. Blood and viscera rained down upon his companions. The leader turned, stumbled, tried running in the direction of the city walls. Before he made it three steps, his entire body bloated to grotesque proportions; one boot fell, squelching into the sand, then the leader ruptured open into a fountain of foul liquids.

The surviving guard averted his eyes and flung himself to the ground. He buried his face into the sand, hands clasped above his head in supplication as he mumbled frantic prayers. The acrid smell of ammonia wafted up as urine dribbled down the guard’s leg.

Smiling, Leviathan stood up, luxuriating in the sensation of his human muscles stretching. It was like uncoiling his true form after a long slumber along the ocean floor.

In his right hand he held a bizarre sword, brimming with power. Its ivory-white blade had been carved from one of the most durable materials imaginable---one of Leviathan’s own fangs. Formed from ancient blue-and-purple coral, the handle fit his grip perfectly. Though Leviathan’s personal Dominions had reverted to the First Sphere after fusing with the Vessel, such a weapon was capable of killing a lesser god. It would serve him well during the early stages of his ascension.

Leviathan stepped past the kneeling guard. Proof that not all humans were unreasonable, as long as they were made aware of the consequences of their hubris. Perhaps a peaceful approach was possible, after all.

He held out his hand, and swirls of blood peeled away from the ground, coalescing above his palm into a small orb the size of a marble. Through sheer focus, he turned the world itself into an alchemical furnace. His titanic will seeped into the blood, compressing it, molding its shape until it resembled a diamond. Mystical steam billowed out as it expelled its impurities.

Once the process was complete, Leviathan plucked the completed pill out of the air and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed beside the surviving guard’s head. Not even the presence of such a transcendent treasure was enough for the man to emerge from the protective shell of his worship.

Excellent.

“Swallow that pill,” said Leviathan in a smooth, confident voice. His Vessel had been capable of sending listeners into a frenzy with his beautiful singing. like a male siren. “If you survive, you may come find me within the city.”

Slowly, he began walking up the Cerulean Shore. A path led straight up to the Great City of Seahold’s Ocean Gate. According to the Vessel’s memories, the beach was usually full of people, serving as a site of reflection and casual leisure. The tsunami that had carried Leviathan to this distant land had left the area deserted, but the city walls were alive with activity.

Guardsmen and random cultivators had noticed Leviathan’s display of power and were scurrying to mount a defense against the approaching calamity. As if a city of less than a million people, the vast majority of them Mundane, could stand against him.

Leviathan tilted his head toward the heavens. Raindrops splashed against his face. As he walked, he flayed himself with the blade of the coral sword, peeling away spiraling strips of his own skin. A small blue eye blinked atop the exposed muscle of his forearm, freed from its superficial cover. The rest of the flaying proceeded along smoothly, though he had to use his razor-sharp willpower to reach most of his back. More eyes, of all shapes and colors, appeared atop his exposed flesh, blinking and moving independently of one another. He shed the strips of tattooed skin in his wake, like a serpent leaving behind evidence of its molting.

A horrifying effigy of raw flesh and blinking eyes continued walking calmly toward the gate. At the sight of Leviathan pulling off his own face and scalp like a mask, some of the people on the walls lost their composure and began flinging offensive techniques in his direction.

The ground vanished beneath his feet, transformed into a pit full of boiling acid. Leviathan walked across the empty air as if nothing had happened. The air rippled, attempted to rip him apart in savage gales. He stepped through the assault without a speck of blood being torn from his flayed body. Bursts of kinetic energy and manifested qi washed over him without effect.

New skin began to grow along his body, covering him within seconds. It appeared identical to his prior form, except for the missing runes. The tattoos had been one of the cult's desperate attempt to maintain some degree of influence over the Vessel. Now, he was as unmarked and unblemished as a newborn, all sign of his internal eyes hidden. Black hair sprouted from his fresh scalp and fell around his shoulders in glistening curls.

Throughout the heavens above, dark clouds twisted and surged, taking on the shape of eyes, staring down at the material world in judgment. For a few seconds, the light shower of rain stopped falling completely; then lightning streaked between the clouds, and a terrible hail of ice began. Each drop of frozen rain struck the battlements like a small meteor. The poorer sections of the city, lacking any wards at all, were flattened in the initial salvo. Cultivators erected barriers from various elements and protective concepts, and each of them shattered like glass beneath the hailstorm.

Some of the more powerful cultivators attempted to flee, but the storm hunted them down with deadly precision, striking them from the sky or collapsing their underground fortifications.

By the time Leviathan stood before the gate of the ocean entrance, the walls had been reduced to a collection of rubble. Waiting for him was a large gathering of people, their foreheads planted against the ground, their hands clasped in a desperate bid for mercy. Many wore the robes of his cultists, but he saw others among them who hoped to avoid their fate. Some of them even looked promising.

Leviathan lifted his arms out at his sides, as if embracing his new followers; from all directions, rivers of death energy flowed toward his ravenous soul.

And so, the Titan of Water conquered his first city.