Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 21: Path to Power

Book 3: Chapter 21: Path to Power

I licked my lips, my consciousness warring with itself to understand the message I’d just received.

Seeking a distraction, I wandered over to the rods.

“Triton’s slick conch,” Brad swore.

“Agreed,” Greg replied, his gaze distant.

Maria leaned back on her bench, her eyes darting around the room yet focusing on nothing in particular. “That... wow. You saw it too, Fischer?”

“I did. I’m not sure if it was because of the significance, or the fact my will was aimed at the rods, but the System saw fit to give me a peek.”

One by one, the other cultivators’ eyes returned to the present, their jaws slack and faces paling.

“Does that mean what I think it does...?” Deklan asked, appearing the least bothered of everyone in the room. “Pretty neat.”

Before anyone could reply, the surrounding chi shuddered once more.

It rushed forward from every direction, slamming into the cores of everyone, myself included. Over a dozen pulses of chi exploded from our abdomens a moment later. They bounced off one another, filling the room with blinding light that I had to squint against. The feeling of ecstasy that came with advancement was more palpable than ever before, the dozens of sources creating an overwhelming barrage of sensation.

Essence swelled behind each of the newer cultivators, culminating in a leather bag. The sacks hit the stones and the tingle of gold coins rang out through the room, the cacophony nothing compared to the bliss coursing through my veins.

When the waves of light finally dissipated, I let out a shuddering sigh and called for the words the System had shown me, letting them appear once more.

You have successfully taken part in a crafting ritual!

New Quest: Group Project.

Objective: [Error. Insufficient Power.]

Reward: [Error. Insufficient Power.]

The System had created a quest.

It was broken—as per usual. But that didn’t subtract from how monumental an occasion it was. I’d been at the hands of game-like shenanigans since my arrival in my new world, but something about a literal quest made my body tingle. If the System continued to regain functionality, would I one day be able to see the objective and reward? If it regained power entirely, would the System generate more quests? What were the requirements for one of them to be created...?

I looked up to Maria, intent on bouncing these ideas off of someone, but her attention was elsewhere.

She kneeled down before the pile of rods, holding one up to her face and inspecting it. With the shock of receiving a quest, I’d almost entirely forgotten about my purpose in coming here. I strode over and knelt down beside her, as did everyone else. I picked one up and examined its form. Just like the other rods we’d previously crafted, the System had made them into something we had no hope of creating on our own.

I picked up a rod, letting it draw my eyes in.

Communal Rod of the Fisher

Rare

This fishing rod provides boosts to both fishing and luck. The stats provided will increase based on how many of its sibling rods are being used within a one-kilometer radius.

+0.2 fishing per rod

+0.1 luck per rod

I’d expected the stats to be insane, but not that insane. If there were one-hundred people using them, each would provide +20 fishing and +10 luck.

When I shook my head and cleared the description, Brad was facing one of the apprentices.

“What level did you get in woodworking?”

The man swallowed. “Thirty one.”

Greg whistled. “What were you before?”

“I was only level two. Is that normal?”

Brad laughed, shaking his head. “Not even a little normal. We have Fischer to thank for that.”

I smiled at him. “Happy to help, mate, but I think I’m the one that needs to thank all of you.” I gestured before us at our creations. “I couldn’t tell you how we did it, but there are at least a hundred rods here.”

“Er,” Deklan said. “It’s because you pictured all of us fishing, right?”

My head darted his way. “Wait, you saw exactly what I was picturing...?”

“We did,” Maria replied, somehow pursing her lips and smiling at me. “It’s nice to know you think so highly of me, but maybe give me more clothes next time.”

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In my head, she’d been wearing her bathing suit because we were swimming in the ocean. One of the apprentices to my right choked, blushing a furious red and staring up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t look so good then. You ever think about that?”

She snorted and lay her head on my shoulder. “I’m just teasing, you big goof. Though,” she added, pulling her head back and raising an eyebrow above a mischievous smirk, “I felt your love for your animal pals, too. I was surprised you felt so much affection for Rocky, despite how much of a prick he can be. If you want to see other people, or crabs, just let me know—”

“Stop,” I replied, my face heating as I held up both hands. “Not even a little funny, and everyone else might not know you’re joking.”

She cackled, the sound so loud it would have been abrasive coming from anyone else.

Hiding my embarrassment with a sigh, I stood and stretched, but froze when I noticed someone still at their workstation. The woman from earlier that had messed up the first step was staring down at her hands. With my attention on her, I recognized her chi signature.

She was the one that had shied away from my will when I led the crafting ritual, or whatever the System called it. Maria and I winced at each other; the woman was probably feeling guilty about backing out. I went to meet her, intending on offering some words of consolation, but then I saw the bench before her.

She wasn’t looking at her hands—she was looking at what they held.

Her fingers ran over a massive construct of metal and rope. It was a giant treble hook, so large that it looked better suited for grappling onto rooftops than fishing.

“Did you just make that?” I asked, my eyes narrowing on the three deadly sharp tips.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, shying away from me. “Sorry. I know it isn’t what you pictured…”

Maria, Brad, and Greg came to look at what we were talking about, all their eyebrows flying skyward when they caught sight of it.

“No need to apologize,” I replied. “It’s kind of neat. I just don’t understand... well, how you made it. I felt you pull away from my vision, which is totally valid, but how did you end up with this?”

“You’re... not upset?”

“Not at all. Were you trying to think of a way to escape or something?”

“Escape?” She dropped the hook to the table and held up both hands. “No! Not that!” Realizing she’d spoken above a whisper, she flushed. “I, uh, I saw what you were picturing, and it didn’t seem right.”

I was getting more and more confused by the second. “Why did what I pictured seem wrong?”

“Because they were all so small. How could tiny little sticks and hooks be used to catch monstrous creatures from the deep?” She gestured down at the hook she’d made. “This is way better, no?”

“... monstrous creatures from the deep?” Maria repeated, giving her an odd look.

As realization struck me, I did my best to hold my laughter in. But I failed completely. The more I thought about her throwing the grappling hook at a leviathan sea creature and holding on for dear life, the more my chest heaved. Tears came to my eyes, and I wiped them away with both hands, unable to bottle up my mirth for an uncouth amount of time.

“I’m so sorry,” I eventually got out. “I’m not laughing at you. Okay, wait, maybe I’m laughing at you a little bit, but only because I’m imagining you using that thing to ride a giant crab into battle.”

“Wait...” Maria said. “How big do you think the creatures that we fish for are?”

“My mom always said you had to stay away from the water because the sea creatures are bigger than a house. That’s why I was so confused that you were picturing such little sticks...”

Maria cackled for the second time tonight. “Okay, that definitely explains it.”

“What’s your name?” I asked the once-more blushing woman.

“I’m Bonnie,” she replied, so quiet that I wouldn’t have heard her if not for my cultivation.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bonnie. Sorry to break the news to you, but the creatures we fish for are way smaller than what you imagined.”

“... they are?”

“Yeah. Most are smaller than my forearm, but we’ve caught some as big as I am. Those are pretty rare, though.”

Her light pink cheeks turned crimson, and she hunched her shoulders, making herself as small as possible. “I’m so sorry.”

“Like I said, no need to apologize.” I clapped her on the shoulder. “You have a wonderful imagination, and I’m sure we can find a way to make use of it.”

“But I wasted so many materials on something useless...”

I shook my head. “Not a waste at all. I’m sure we’ll find a use for it, and besides, look how many rods we made! We have more than enough for everyone.”

When she finally turned away from the bench, her head shot back in surprise. “Youmade all of those? Just now?”

“We all did,” I replied, gesturing at the rest of the cultivators. “And now that they’re made, there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Thanks for asking.” I gave everyone a wide grin, soaking up their anticipation. “We have to test them out, of course!”

***

Deep within a forest, a man fled for his life. Since spotting the cultivator-made tree, he hadn’t stopped moving.

Though his bones were old and his body was weary, an unnatural stamina pushed Solomon on. He’d suspected as much before his flight from Tropica, but now he knew. He was becoming the cultivator his cult had prophesized for untold years. He was the Alchemist.

The further he got from the coast and that terrifying tree Tom Onsan Jr. had grown, the more sure of himself he became. So what if the young lord was more powerful than Soloman had expected? He was on the path of ascension himself, and it was only a matter of time until he was recognized by the heavens.

He was high in the mountains now, and as he came across a clearing in the forest, his travels came to an abrupt end.

There was something about this place that screamed ‘power’ to him, calling him forward. A lone tree stood in the center of the clearing, its limbs bare of leaves. Despite being absent of life, the black bark urged him on—demanded that he pay it attention. He scraped a nail against the trunk, some of the dark substance coming free. Beneath a layer of black, the tree was blue. It wasn’t a regular tree. As Solomon ran the colored dust between his fingers, he recalled the tales of such trees.

They were the source of many a children’s story, sometimes a source of evil, other times a powerful boon.

Many followers of the Cult of the Alchemist had tried using the material, so Solomon had never paid it much mind. All the records told that the trees were impossible to work with, their fibers too strong to properly distill anything, even when boiled. But this specimen was different. It seemed to have died, its body degrading to the point that he could scrape it away with a single finger nail.

A low chuckle began in his chest, slowly climbing as it made its way to his throat. Solomon roared with laughter, broadcasting his glee out into the world. This was where he would build his base.

He fell to his knees, his cheeks aching as tears welling in his eyes.

This tree was his path to power.

His path to godhood.