Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 25: Revenge

Now that Roger and Sharon had joined our heretical endeavors, the rest of the week sped by in a blur.

Each morning, I’d wake to a knock on the door, then receive a barrage of love from Maria while Roger scowled and Sharon smiled. After having breakfast on my porch, we’d all head down to the rockwall and start fishing.

With the tastes of coffee and croissant lingering on my tongue, I stepped onto the stone walkway and smiled out at the world. It was the seventh day since we’d started targeting the seasonal fish, and the weather was as wonderful as the rest of the week, the first rays of sunlight casting a warm glow over the ocean. The wind was stronger than usual, incessantly blowing from the west. A strong gust kicked up, making goosebumps rise on my skin.

Feeling the same sensation, Maria wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me into a hug, hiding behind my back until the squall subsided.

“Why is it so windy?” she asked. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”

“Smells like rain,” Roger said, staring at the horizon.

“Maria,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“What the frack is he talking about?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re a farmer too. Do you smell rain?”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin. “Nope. Perhaps it’s an old farmer thing?”

“He is pretty old, isn’t he? Practically ancien—ow!” I rubbed my lower back where a rod had struck. We’d been taunting Roger, so I’d kept him in my peripheral vision. What I hadn’t anticipated was Sharon taking a swing.

She glared at me. “Before you finish that sentence, Fischer, you should remember that I’m around the same age as my husband.”

“You are? I could have sworn you were Maria’s older sister. You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Oooo,” Maria cooed, adopting an announcer’s voice. “Flattery. Will it be enough to win her back?”

Sharon lowered her eyebrows and pursed her lips, considering me. “A good start,” she eventually said, smirking past me as she looked at the distant horizon.

“Wonderful. I’ll endeavor not to further antagon—oof!” I cut off as something slammed into my back, sending me flying. I soared over the rocks and into the ocean, crashing down into the cold waters. Adrenaline ran through me, banishing any remnant of sleep that remained.

When I returned to the surface, Maria and Sharon were laughing so hard that they’d hunched over, bracing themselves on the stone path. Seeing the hint of a smile on Roger’s face as he pretended to inspect his fingernails, I understood the truth. Sharon hadn’t been smirking at the horizon; she’d been watching Roger line me up. Now that he’d had his breakthrough, he could manipulate his chi enough to fool me—I hadn’t felt his approach at all.

Treading water, I couldn’t help but laugh. “All right, fair play.”

When I got back to the rocks, Maria helped me up, pulling me from the freezing ocean.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get some dry clothes before I turn into a popsicle.”

“A what...?” Sharon asked.

“Don’t,” Maria said. “It’s a trap.”

I shot a wink back her way. “Maybe I can make some for you if we can work out refrigeration. They’d be a blessing come summer.”

Without another word, I returned home and got out of my now-drenched clothing. I briefly considered having a shower to get warm, but decided against it, wanting to fish as soon as possible. By the time I returned to the rockwall, their lines were already in the water. I rushed to catch up, and with a bit of eel on the end of my hook, I cast it out into the bay.

The morning passed by in an excitement-fueled blur, all of us reeling in fish after fish. By the time the sun was high overhead, most of New Tropica had joined us on the rockwall, all catching and releasing armfuls of the seasonal creatures. By now, everyone had started returning everything but the mature variants back to the ocean, and though we kept dozens of them each day, their number hadn’t reduced. I’d become so used to people reaching level twenty-five in fishing that I barely noticed the clink of coins when System-generated bags periodically hit the stone pathway beneath our feet.

As I released my fourth fish of the day, I smiled and watched it retreat beneath the waves. Another squall blew across my skin, this time bringing with it small drops of rain. I gazed up just in time to see a giant mass block out the sun, the entire eastern sky smothered in gray clouds.

“Huh, how about that?” I said. “It really did smell like rain.”

“Uh-huh,” Roger agreed, staring at the incoming rain.

I considered asking if they wanted to leave, to retreat back to my deck now that there seemed to be a storm brewing, but as I looked at them, I realized there was no point. Roger and Sharon were completely unperturbed, swiftly returning their attention to their rods after peering at the gray sky. Maria noticed them too, and she shot me a beautiful smile before closing her eyes and waiting for a fish to strike. Rather than cast my line out again right away, I took a moment to bask in her beauty.

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The wind blew strong from the east, causing strands of her sun-bleached hair to dance, my enhanced vision able to witness each languid movement as they flowed in the unseen breeze. Her freckled skin was still a golden color even beneath the blanket of darkness above, her glow refusing to be extinguished. Most of all, I was drawn into her expression, the joy and peace held there enough to make my heart thunder. She was a vision or radiance, and try as I might, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

But then, from the corner of my field of view, I witnessed Roger’s rod almost snap in half.

“Woah!” he yelled, scrambling to keep his footing on the slick rocks as he let some line out. “Fish on!”

***

Though he would never admit it to Fischer, Roger was thoroughly enjoying his time fishing.

He had always seen it as a fanciful waste of time, something that ran too close to heresy for any sane person to take part in. Even after becoming a cultivator himself, he still viewed it as a step too far. Over the past few days, that belief had slowly been eroded away like soil in a summer flood.

The act of fishing seemed to tickle a primal part of his mind. It was somehow exciting and calming at the same time, the sensation impossible to put into words. This, at least, he would admit to himself: Fischer was right. Roger had tried it, expecting nothing out of it besides some extra levels. Instead, he’d been hooked, much the same as the fish they targeted.

A storm was coming in. A normal person—anyone other than a heretical fool—would seek shelter. Short of a crop that desperately needed harvesting before the rains hit, Roger would never have stayed in the field with a tempest on the way. And yet, here he was, standing before a coming storm with nothing on his mind but his wife, his daughter, and the next fish he could do battle with.

Lulled into a state of bliss by the sounds of waves lapping at the rockwall, he almost lost his rod when the fish struck.

“Woah!” he yelled, leaning back and letting the reel spin. “Fish on!”

He’d caught enough blue fish over the past half week to know that this was a different species. It took off in a straight line, heading for the distant horizon like a bolt fired from a crossbow. When it changed directions and darted toward the shore, his lips curled up into a smile.

“Back for more, are you?” he roared, throwing his face skyward and unleashing a laugh. “Bring it on!”

It was the fish that had bested him the other day. Roger had been inexperienced then, leading to the creature’s escape. This time, though, he wouldn’t lose. Roger ran across the rocks in the direction of the shore, handfuls of cultivators getting themselves and their rods out of his way. The fish changed direction again, heading back out to sea, but Roger was ready. He dashed with it, never allowing his line to go slack. The fish continued its passage out to sea, his reel’s bearing whining with how much length he was letting out.

“You’ll need to fight it!” Fischer yelled. “It’s risky, but the fish will spool you otherwise!”

A few days ago, Roger would have told Fischer to kick rocks. He’d have said something about contradicting information, not comprehending what Fischer meant. After his time fishing, though, Roger knew that the human equivalent of a thorn in his side was correct. He pulled his rod up, cringing internally as its fibers creaked and complained. He wound the reel, gaining back ground. When he’d retrieved half of the line, he let the fish go for another run.

“Perfect!” Maria called. “Let it tire itself out, Dad!”

The grin never left Roger’s face, and he nodded, watching as the fish cut through the bay. He danced across the rocks more times than he could count, even running along the rivermouth side of the wall on occasion. After what had to be most of an hour, it started to slow, its seemingly endless reserves finally diminished.

“Almost there, mate!” Fischer yelled, making Roger set his jaw and firm his resolve.

He slowly brought it closer to the rocks, and when he finally caught sight of its body, Roger’s jaw dropped open.

“Holy frack!” Maria yelled, bouncing on her heels. “It’s huge!”

Roger barely registered how cold it was as he stepped onto a rock below the water’s surface. He leaned down and picked the fish up by the body. It kicked its tail feebly, having already used every bit of strength it had. The thing was taller than he was and wider than his chest, with vicious teeth and a body like an arrow.

With his eyes wide, Roger’s vision was drawn into it.

Mature Bluefathom Mackerel

Rare

Found in the deep waters of the Kallis Realm, this fish is prized for both sport and the quality of its flesh. Rarely seen, some say that consuming this creature provides a temporary boost to luck.

Roger swallowed, his eyes clearing as he looked back up toward the rockwall. He hadn’t realized that everyone was watching him, not a single line remaining in the water. He took the dozens of cultivators in, still not able to completely grasp the creature he held.

“Damn, Roger,” Fischer said, shaking his head to clear his vision. “Imbued with luck? That’s something...”

Roger swallowed again, his mouth feeling dry. “Is... is it okay if I let it go?”

Fischer’s head rocked backwards. “What?”

Roger clenched his jaw, ready to tear into the man if he demanded he kill such a noble creature, but then Fischer continued.

“Of course it is, you silly goose. You caught it, you decide what to do with it. Here, let me help you.” Fischer jumped down beside Roger. “Put it back underwater. We need to get oxygen running through its gills. Here. Like this...”

With one of them on either side of it, they pushed and pulled it through the small waves, apparently allowing it to breathe. Life slowly returned to it over the following minutes, and not a single word was uttered, everyone lost in its majesty. Without warning, it started kicking, some of its strength returning.

Fischer jumped out of the water. “Looks good, mate! Let it go!”

Roger bent down, running his hand along its muscular body. “You fought well, friend.” He pushed it off, and the moment it was free of his grasp, it sailed away, disappearing from sight after only a few kicks of its mighty tail. All he could do was watch, feeling an immense amount of respect for his adversary.

Muttered conversations sprung up from the attending cultivators, all beginning to discuss what they’d just witnessed.

“So, Roger,” Fischer said. “Do they have any sayings about revenge where you’re from...?”

“Revenge...?” Roger shook his head, still unable to tear his eyes from the ocean. “I’ve never heard of any, no.”

“Really? Weird. Back on Earth, they say it’s a dish best served cold.”

“What foolishness are you even saying?” Roger asked, his gaze melding with the churning waves.

“Fischer,” Maria warned. “Don’t you dare—”

Hearing urgency in his daughter’s voice, Roger spun.

Well, he’d intended to spin.

Before he could, a foot lashed out and kicked his backside, sending him sprawling into the freezing-cold waves.

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