The Good Teacher

The Emperor's room was concentrated with the smell of various herbs and potions. A translucent veil was drawn that blocked off the view of the Emperor, who lay on his bed while frequently releasing pained groans. Following the aftermath of the fight with Yor, the Emperor was transported to his chambers by his personal staff while the whole debacle was silenced... as best as possible. It wasn't optimal for the word to spread that the Ruler of the Solar Empire was suffering from a serious injury - any outward display of weakness would agitate the sharks circling the water. Any rumours that continued to float within the Palace were promptly eliminated, by any means necessary.

Apart from the ailing Emperor, the only other entity within the room at this moment was the Royal Healer, who was struggling to come up with the right combination of words to explain his diagnosis to his patient.

"Unfortunately..." The Royal Healer held his tongue while trying his hardest to avert his gaze from the gruesome amalgamation of flesh.

"Unfortunately what?" The Emperor growled, before yelping at the sudden outburst of pain originating from his crotch. There were no words that could describe the anguish he was suffering through. Not in his entire life had he ever felt so drained and tortured. The cherry on top was the utter humiliation. Why did the wretched fiend target his nether regions of all places? All his subjects had seen him roll and grovel on the ground like a common beggar! The rage burst out for a short flash before the pain reared its head again.

"Well, the nature of the attack was a bit of a mystery for us. The green flames - though they behaved similarly to regular fire the nature of the way they burned deviated a bit. The nature of the reaction was not combustion in the traditional sense. You see-"

"Just get to the DAMN POINT!" The Emperor bellowed.

"Manticore venom!" The Royal Healer blurted out.

"What?"

"The Royal Librarian investigated the scene and managed to recollect an entry in the records about Manticores and their signature venom attacks," the Royal Healer elaborated. "After cross-referencing and running a myriad of tests with the few residues from the attacks we were able to determine that the assailant's spells closely matched those of a Manticore."

"What use is this information?" The Emperor groaned.

"Your Majesty must be acquainted with Manticore venom," the Royal Healer hinted. "A Manticore has tiers to their venomous attack. The regular neurotoxin they use to hunt is a fast-acting paralytic which is fairly simple to counteract. This is at the lower end of their attack spectrum. What the assailant used on you as their core destabilised is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Truthfully, there have been little to no written records of such an attack since it is believed that a sacrifice of vitality is necessary to sustain it. The venom used in this spell was most potent. Imagine taking the strongest venom a Manticore can produce, distilling it to increase its concentration and then multiplying it by ten by running it through an Alchemical Potentiator. Essentially, this venom has altered your physique itself, Your Majesty. Even if healing potions are ingested, the parts lost cannot be regenerated since the venom has rendered them non-existent. It has literally deleted the parts out of your physique."

"You don't mean..."

The Royal Healer bit his lips, nearly drawing blood, before releasing a long sigh. "We can salvage the urinary tract and the anus, but unfortunately, the testicles and the penis are irredeemable."

The Emperor's eyes glazed over, as life was drained off them. His entire world shattered as the truth settled in.

At that moment, the newly promoted Head Eunuch entered the room in a low-bowed posture and inquired, "Your Majesty. Consort Nuri is waiting outside. She appears distraught and is urging us to disclose His Majesty's state."

The person in question, Consort Nuri, was the Emperor's currently favoured in the Inner Court.

"Tell her I'm fine," the Emperor waved away.

"This lowly one has conveyed that message already, yet Consort Nuri appears adamant..." the Head Eunuch responded while suppressing the sweat attempting to soak through his garb.

"Fuck! Just tell her to get lost. Do I look like I'm in any position to entertain those scheming shrews?!" The Emperor shouted, trying his utmost to cloak an escaping groan from diminishing his gravitas.

The Head Eunuch bowed even lower and retreated through the door while facing forward.

"Who else knows?" The Emperor asked the Royal Healer with a morose whisper.

"Knows...?"

"About. My. Condition!" The Emperor gnarled.

"Umm... I have taken the initiative to enforce strict confidentiality. As it stands, only I am aware of your... condition, Your Majesty."

"Good... good," The Emperor mumbled. "What of my recovery, then?"

"Not to worry, Your Majesty, I have conveyed the treatment process to my subordinates in the Health Department," the Royal Healer assuaged.

"Good, then this makes things easier..."

"What-" The Royal Healer croaked as a sudden increase in pressure around his neck inhibited him from communicating and breathing.

"Y-Your-?"

With a muffled crack, the Royal Healer was dead and with him died a shocking revelation: that the Emperor was now a eunuch.

____

Assimilate. Grow. Propagate.

Those were the first words the being recognised. Those words kept ringing inside it the moment it understood what it was. Those words defined its purpose - it was all it knew.

Assimilate.

It found itself amongst its kind. An evergrowing den of familiar furry forms skittering in all directions with haste. Though there was little thought to this matter. All that its kind ever focused on was to search for sustenance and to survive against its environment. Tedious. Inefficient. Foolish. It did not wish to assimilate itself with its sort, but one of its prime directives - its instincts - urged it to do so. No matter, the being could take things into its own hands. Assuming a position of leadership amongst its less evolved kin was a trivial task, one that required it to subjugate all opposition and suppress disobedience. It found motivation through fear to be an excellent strategy.

Grow.

The being felt urged to grow. Was it to grow stronger? Was it to grow larger? Was it both? Probably. Maybe. The problem, though, was that the being was hard-pressed on how to go about achieving it. Through some rudimentary reasoning and some grotesque trial and error, it realised that its directive to grow did in fact overlap its two earlier assumptions. Controlling its kind grew tougher as the den grew larger, there were far too many brains to organise. The solution? Consume the excess brains and bring them into the fold. The being grew larger as more of its kind were absorbed into its aberrant fleshy form. As it did so, a pleasant heat started to course through its body. It felt good. It wanted more! It absorbed, and absorbed, and absorbed. Its kind was nigh endless - more fuel for its growth. And grow it did. It grew larger. It grew stronger.

Propagate.

This was a tough nut to crack. As it gained further sentience, the being was sceptical over its existence. Why was it so different from its kind? Why did it seem like the others of its kind weren't seeking the same goals as itself? Did they not want to grow stronger? Why were they so satisfied with their station? When the slithering worms breached the den and ate a bunch of its brethren, all its kind did was flee in fear. Why did they not fight back? Why did they not feel the drive to subjugate and eradicate those trifling wretches?

This would not do! The being yearned for revenge. The heat coursing through its body agreed. The being lured in the worms by placing a juicy bait of its own engorged form in their path. When those hapless scum slithered closer and prepared to strike and inject it with their venom, the being released the pent-up heat all at once. A murky black wave oozed out of its undulating flesh, overpowering the venom entering its body and making its way into the attacker's body. In turn, boils filled with pus started to grow out of the worm's slimy skin, growing larger, and blacker, until it popped and released a cloud of black vapour. The venomous worm's death was slow and painful. The being was satisfied.

The heat that the being felt growing inside its core sought release once again. Thankfully, there were more of those venomous worms roaming around its domain.

Many moons later, the venomous worms, which it learned were called snakes, were no more. The being had thoroughly eradicated them within many footsteps from its den. Though the being should have felt satisfied since this was the largest domain ever controlled by its kind, the subconscious urge to assimilate, grow and propagate continued to beat within its mind with increased vigour. With each circulation of the heat in its core, the beating grew stronger. The being could not stop.

As its domain grew wider, the being happened upon a new group of interlopers. They were two-legged and communicated in a convoluted tongue. They killed a group of its kind as they were foraging for food. Unacceptable! Those curs had to die. The being would ensure it.

Those curs, which it learned were called humans, died a slow and painful death. The being found their death throes to be especially more gruesome. Was its power more potent against their kind? Interestingly, the being grew stronger upon killing humans. Why was that? Was this its true purpose?

Trivial thoughts! All that mattered was strength, and the being had found a faster way to achieve it. It would continue assimilating, growing and propagating, and maybe killing a few more humans along the way?

If this was its purpose, then this is what the Rat King would do!