Heretical Fishing

Chapter 73: The Storm

Robert dashed toward the crab, his fists prickling with sparks of deadly energy.

He drew deeper from his core, knowing he wouldn't need so much power to kill lowly creatures, but wanting to see the carnage he could weave.

He'd never killed an ascendant creature before, and he couldn't wait to see how it felt, to feel this crab's carapace crack and shatter between his fingers.

He swung his arm up and around, moving faster than the creature could register.

With a single kick off the sand, he changed his trajectory, delighting in his body's superior speed. He leaned his torso over the crab's back, then, with wide eyes and a vicious grin, he let the punch fly.

His fist slammed into the ground. A gout of sand shot in every direction, creating an obfuscating cloud of grit and particles.

As he felt the sensations of his fist striking the earth, and the stark lack of anything crunching underneath, he experienced a wave of disappointment. He'd used too much power, and the crab had disintegrated beneath his falling fist.

Oh well, he thought. At least it might have made a cool splatter on the sand.

He blinked as the sand cleared, and when his vision returned, his eyebrows furrowed.

The sand he'd struck was just that—sand. There was no coloring to mark the crab's annihilation, neither flecks of carapace, nor limbs flung askew.

Where did it go…?

Something hard tapped him on the shoulder, so he turned, and his entire field of view was swallowed by a terrifying sight—the crab's mouth blowing a steady stream of bubbles, its face more smug than a crustacean had any right being.

It was at that moment, on his knees in the sand, face-to-face with an ascended creature, that he felt fear for the first time in over a decade.

Faster than his eyes could see, the crab thrust him in the air with the slap of a claw, knocking the air from his lungs.

***

As soon as the cultivator dashed, attempting to 'surprise' Sergeant Snips, Corporal Claws paused, watching with curiosity. The cultivator's closed fists intrigued her; they seemed to radiate the energy of the heavens above, emitting small crackles of lightning.

The energy resonated with her—called to her.

With a small chirp, she shrugged. She could revisit that later. The cultivator would reach Snips soon, and there were things to be done. She spared another fraction of a second to assess the cultivator's speed.

Pathetic, she decided.

She zoomed behind the other two men, appearing in the blink of one of their eyes. The one that Barry knew stood unmoving, his body trembling. The other, the one in a purple outfit—that would probably need to be eliminated—stared at the charging man. She watched them, seeing if either made a move.

The long-haired cultivator reached Snips' position, striking down with a pitifully sluggish strike.

Claws watched him get flung high in the air, and a smile spread across her furred face. He looked like a bird, flapping his arms around in an attempt to fly—to no avail, of course.

The uncollared man turned to the other, snarling.

"W-what are you doing? Do you want your collar to explode? Attack, moron!"

The collared man, the one Barry had called Leroy, didn't respond, simply looking between Barry and the airborne fool.

The collar beeped, and a spark of power began swelling within it.

Stumbling back, the purple-fabric-wearing man's eyes went wide.

The look on his face, the comment on the collar exploding, and the swelling of power told Claws everything she needed to know.

The world slowed to a crawl as she bent her legs, gathering strength. From all around, she drew in force, the essence of the very storm heeding her call.

A prickling sensation climbed her legs, but it wasn't unpleasant. Like scratching an itch, each pinprick was more satisfying than the last. Her muscles bulged, and her lips spread into a grin, revealing her sharp teeth.

With one last contraction of her legs, she hunched and grasped for more power.

Then, all at once, she released it.

***

Barry had worried about how the confrontation would play out, but after Snips so easily flung the over-confident man like a pebble, his worries were assuaged.

Until, that is, the noble spoke.

"W-what are you doing? Do you want your collar to explode? Attack, moron!"

His heart sunk, and he stared at Leroy, horror dawning.

Leroy locked eyes with Barry, and even through the falling rain, Barry saw his brother-in-law's tears fall.

Then, the collar detonated, shooting a bolt of lightning that tore through Leroy.

With his cultivator eyes, he saw it happen in slow motion. Saw the lightning seem to start from the sand and tear right toward Leroy's neck, connecting his body with the ground below.

Before he could register the grief that should follow such a sight, he realized something was… wrong.

He squinted his eyes, only able to follow the movement because of his awakening.

The strike didn’t condemn Leroy; it removed the collar from his neck, throwing it to the side.

As the collar flew to the side, moving faster than a mortal could see, it detonated in truth. A small explosion that sounded like another blast of thunder was unleashed, just far enough from Leroy to do any damage.

Then, the bolt of lightning released a chittering, high-pitched cooing as it flew past Barry, smiling madly at him and maintaining strong eye contact in her passing.

Corporal Claws, having harnessed the power of lightning, continued on, shooting toward Sergeant Snips.

***

As Robert shot high into the air, unable to breathe and not comprehending what was happening, he reached the apex of his impromptu flight. With his descent back to earth, he matched the speed of the falling rain, and even in his state of confusion, the sight of suspended raindrops drew him in with its oddity.

An explosion rang out, signifying that the cowardly cultivator's shackles had detonated. If Robert had been in his normal state of mind, he would have celebrated this occurrence—reveled in the deserving death of a man brought down by familial attachments.

As it was, though, he felt no such joy; all he knew was terror.

He looked back down at the ground rushing up to meet him, absorbing the scene in slow motion.

The crab waited, one claw pulled back, its lone eye fixed on him.

In its gaze, he saw death.

***

Corporal Claws felt alive.

She’d reached for the storm, and the storm answered, caressing and guiding her passage.

On a bolt of lightning—no, as a bolt of lightning—she shot for Sergeant Snips.

She didn't necessarily need to make a stop by the powerful crab, but having harnessed a power that Snips hadn't, she felt it only prudent to show off a little.

As she flew directly for Snips, she chirped, drawing the Sergeant’s attention.

In a fraction of a mortal’s heartbeat, Snips' eye shot toward her, went wide, then narrowed in suspicion.

Claws chirped a laugh; she could see Snips' annoyance etched on her carapaced face.

It made Claw's laugh increase, pouring out with her sheer joy at the situation.

Snips reluctantly held out a claw, understanding Corporal Claws intent.

The corporal hit the claw, gathering power before kicking off with lightning-enhanced legs. Snips hefted up simultaneously, sending her skyward at the speed of sound.

She bared her teeth in a smile as she shot at the airborne cultivator.

***

Robert watched as a bolt of lightning struck the crab, and he felt a moment of hope.

Did that coward not explode? Has he somehow harnessed the power of lightning better than I? Will—huh?

The bolt of lightning sat for a moment, collecting on the crab's extended claw, then shot up to him.

It flew past him, making an odd chirping sound as it went.

He spun, subconsciously wanting to see where it went. As he faced the sky, he came face to face with the storm.

An otter's head, surrounded by lightning, its face split in a vicious grin, stared down at him.

It spun in a figure eight, gaining speed and making the same chittering sound. The noise increased as it gained speed, and all Robert could do was watch.

It flew wide, spun up and away from him, then, faster than he could register, slammed down into his chest.

The power of the lightning the creature held allowed only a single thought before it reached his brain and blackness took him.

So much... power…

***

Snips glared up at Claws, disapproving of the way she played with their quarry.

Though, she supposed, I could have ended him immediately instead of throwing him up into the sky...

She shrugged.

Oh well. What’s done is done.

The cultivator's body flew down at incredible speed, and she held her claw back, waiting for the perfect moment.

As it arrived, she swung out, using all the force she could muster. Her claw struck the man with a hideous crack, his improved physique the only reason his body wasn't torn apart.

Water turned to mist from the impact, and his limp form flew out to sea.

Despite the modicum of strength held in his body, the man was no more; his soul had departed his body before it struck the open water of the ocean.

***

The rock crab sat beneath the waves.

He was supposed to be keeping an eye out for any intrusions, yet was constantly being distracted by what his spiky-shelled leader was doing.

From what he could tell, complex thoughts were a recent occurrence for him. Rather than be worried or disoriented by them, however, he marveled at their novelty, finding it wonderful that he could think about the other crab when she was not present.

Something hit the water above, crashing down at terrifying speed. The crab held up his clackers, prepared to fight off whatever interloper dared invade his designated patch of sand.

The thing slowly sunk to the ocean floor, giving off a smell like the cooked food his spiky-shelled benefactor occasionally brought tastes of.

The thing hit the ocean floor, and seeing that it was very much not moving, the crab scuttled over.

... food.

He nodded to himself, copying the gesture from his beloved leader.

Good.

***

Trent, first in line to the throne of Gormona, bane of serving girls everywhere, and, by his estimate, a bit of a ladies' man, fell to his knees in the sand.

The body of the long-haired cultivator had been beaten and thrown around like one of his sister's dolls. Worse, the creatures had ascended beyond any reasonable level.

One of them had even harnessed the power of lightning—its strength beyond anything he’d ever seen.

He'd witnessed the power of many a cultivator, ordered to show their powers off at dinner parties to impress one noble family or another. Trent remembered them fondly. Gouts of flame shooting from fists, sparks of lightning enhancing body parts, blades of water shooting from palms, even one cultivator that could grow trees and plants. All of those abilities were small things, though. Impressive to the average person, and indeed, a terrifying prospect to even him, a crown prince.

Compared to the power of that otter, though...

He shuddered, remembering the way it had wrapped itself—become the lightning.

To think there were ascendant creatures, let alone ones this advanced...

Forget the kingdom—the world was lost if they weren't brought to heel.

There were only a few people Trent knew of that could hope to contend with that power, but unleashing them was a death sentence in itself.

What am I going to do...?

A soft click came in answer, and a weight settled around Trent's neck.

His hands scrambled, finding the object he'd known he would find, yet still hoped he wouldn't.

A collar.

Someone stepped in front of him, and he looked up, glaring daggers.

"Cultivator scum. You think you can enslave me—a crown prince? You think you'll get away—"

The man in the farmer's garb slapped him, almost haphazardly, but the strike was enough to make Trent's head spin and ears ring. He fell to the sand, and as he tried to get to his feet, the farmer grabbed his chin, forcing his head up so their eyes met.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, prince." He spat the last word with venom. "My name is Barry, but you can call me Master."

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