Flesh and Blood at the End of All Things

Who says cultivators have to absorb spiritual energy? I'd rather flay myself alive and carve out my own bones! There are thirty-six paths to godhood in this world, and every one is a dining plate laid out by the Old Ones. They wait for us, their "vessels," to grow strong and reach the summit, then swallow us whole. I saw through the whole truth, but I won't run, and I won't accept my fate. I grind my flesh, bones, and soul to dust, inch by inch, and scatter them into every crack in the fog of the end. Now the fog is my body, and the whispers are my will. The old gods sleep, and I have opened eyes that cover the whole world. I am the end itself, and the one and only guardian.