Heretical Fishing

Chapter 1: Arrival

Chapter 1: Arrival

I opened my eyes with a start.

I sat up, squinting against the bright light of the surrounding world. With perfect precision, the moment before the truck struck me replayed in my mind. Amazed to find myself alive, I waited for my vision to adjust to what was clearly the artificial lighting of a hospital.

I made to sit up, but instead of a hospital bed’s sheets, I felt cool grass between my fingers. A soft breeze blew, raising goose-bumps and causing the grass to tickle my exposed sections of skin.

Rolling over and getting to my knees, I stared down with astonishment at the grass beneath my open hands. The sound of trees blowing in the wind drew my attention, and I looked up—my eyes finally adjusted to the luminous surroundings.

I was in a clearing.

Only patches of sunlight filtered down through the canopy of tall trees above. Another gust blew, and the branches far above swayed hypnotically.

I looked down, seeing I was wearing three-quarter pants made of a simple beige fabric. A similar shirt covered my torso, with loose sleeves going just past the elbows.

I wiggled my toes, and feeling resistance there, checked and confirmed that I wore shoes made of the same material, with a thin, artificially made sole sewn into them.

“Where… where am I?” My voice sounded hoarse and deep.

The smell of the earthy forest hit me, a stark contrast to the salt-spray I’d been inhaling what felt like only a moment ago. I breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation of cool, damp air as it passed through my nostrils.

Is this the afterlife?

I had delved into the theories of Buddhism, Taoism, and a number of other religious and philosophical beliefs in my search for myself, but I’d never truly believed in rebirth—or an afterlife at all, for that matter.

An odd sensation pulsed in my mind, and I became aware of something attempting to make itself known.

With no small amount of hesitation, I leaned into the feeling, my brain subconsciously knowing how to acknowledge it.

[Error: Insufficient power. Superfluous systems offline.]

Please select a name.

I stared at the prompt in my vision, becoming stuck at the situation I found myself in. I dismissed the messages in the same way I’d acknowledged them, and the words cleared from my field of view.

I blinked at the surrounding forest, almost expecting it to melt before my eyes any moment when this fever-dream ended.

I’ve heard the brain releases a massive dose of DMT when we die—is that what this is? The final dream of my soul departing?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The same sensation as before pulsed, and too curious to not acknowledge it, I did so.

Please select a name.

A text cursor blinked in and out of existence after the simple sentence, seeming to demand a response. I thought to myself for only a moment, and following a whim, entered a name.

Error: Name “Fisher” is invalid. Cannot select the name of a profession.

A profession?

What seemed to be System text already made this seem gamelike—the mention of a fishing profession only further cemented the idea into my psyche.

Have I been reborn into a game world?

I’d been rather fond of isekai and portal fantasy books in my previous life, so this entire sequence being the result of DMT flooding my grey-matter was a distinct possibility.

Still, something about this situation felt entirely too… real.

I cleared the message again, and once more basked in the physical sensations of my body.

The cool, wet grass beneath my hands and legs; the frigid air and the smells it brought along with it; the breeze that kicked up and tickled my skin; and the kiss of warm sunlight, filtered down through the trees above—all served to ground me in the moment.

The cursed nemesis returned with a familiar pulse, shattering my mindfulness.

Please select a name.

The text cursor blinked at me with incessant continuity, entirely uncaring of the existential predicament I found myself in.

God, I need a coffee before I can adequately handle this.

That thought brought on another creative whim—thinking of the Nobel Prize recipient that discovered caffeine, a substance with which I was very much dependent, I entered a name.

Name “Fischer” has been accepted. Welcome to the Kallis Realm.

A sensation akin to euphoria radiated from somewhere within, but was gone as soon as it had come. I felt different somehow—as if indulging the blinking cursor and providing a name had fundamentally changed an aspect of myself.

Assuming this wasn’t a dream, and I had in fact been isekai’d—something I noted, with no small amount of amusement, was entirely possible given my fateful encounter with truck-kun—I waited for another message to populate.

A quest, a hint—anything.

Nothing came.

I stood, my body stiff and sluggish as if waking from a long sleep.

I stretched my hands towards the sky, the extension of my muscles bringing an unbidden smile to my face. Even given the situation I found myself in, some aspects of the human experience were simply too pleasant to ignore. Bending over, I curled down towards my toes—there was something on the ground beside my feet.

I picked up the small leather pouch, noting its heavy weight and the metallic jingle of its contents.

I undid the drawstring and peered inside.

It was filled with gold coins—a total of twenty-five—that had an unfamiliar face printed on one side, and a scythe on the other. I bit a coin; it was made of genuine gold.

I cast my eyes around the clearing, looking for any other starting equipment if this was truly a game world.

I found nothing.

Alright. So I have starter clothes, the same body, and a bag of gold. No weapon, no abilities, and no means of defending myself. Well, except for a handful of Muay Thai lessons, and two Brazilian Jiu Jitsu classes run at a corporate event.

“Quake in fear, monsters of this world—the fist of death has arrived!”

Shaking my head and laughing at myself, I picked a random direction and started walking.