Heretical Fishing: A Cozy Guide to Annoying the Cults, Outsmarting the Fish, and Alienating Oneself

“Thanks for your hospitality,” I said, not missing the ugly look the two nobles shared as we strode into their home.

“Of course,” the woman replied, her voice sickly sweet. “I am Joanne, and this is my husband, Tom. What are your names?”

“I’m Fischer, this is Maria, and that’s Borks.”

Joanna nodded as she removed a notepad from her pocket and wrote them down.

That’s not ominous at all... I thought, glancing at Maria.

“So,” Tom said, resting his hands before him. “What can we do for you at this early hour?”

“Oh, nothing too major, mate. Just wanted to have a peek at your jewelry.”

“Our jewelry?” Joanne asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! Your rings, specifically. I’ve been considering making them as a sort of hobby, so I’ve been going around having a little peep at the nobles’ iridescent stones.”

“We just came from George’s place,” Maria said. “His wedding ring was marvelous.”

“And insightful,” I added.

A vein literally pulsed on Tom’s forehead as he forced a smile. “That should be fine. Why don’t we let them see all of them, Joanne?”

They shared another glance, wordlessly communicating something as they removed a ring each.

The moment they did, my suspicions were confirmed.

***

As lord Tom Osnan Jr. removed the first of his rings, a fraction of his power stirred and reveled at being unshackled.

With each metal band that came free, the chains surrounding his core loosened. It had been almost a year since he’d last let his essence out, and his body thrummed in delight, urging him to continue. Joanne matched his pace, and when they removed their second-last rings, they shared an ecstatic grin.

The moment the final one came free, he released a shuddering breath.

It would be a challenge for Tom to restrain himself. These foolish sleep interruptors were destined for indentured servitude back in the capital, so it wouldn’t do to accidentally smite them from the face of Kallis. With his core unshackled, his senses extended into the surrounding space, making Tom feel free for the first time in a long while.

But what he found in his surroundings made Tom’s thoughts die and eyes fly wide.

The woman and the dog both had cores. Well-established cores. Not only that—the woman, Maria, seemed to have three of them, one in her abdomen and two in her back. He froze for a fraction of a second, his mind whirling to make sense of what was going on. Neither of their existences were possible. A spirit beast hadn’t been seen for centuries, and even the ancient texts said nothing of a cultivator with three nexuses of power.

Joanne was the first to move.

“Disgusting creature!” she bellowed, flying forward and aiming a full-strength kick at the golden-furred spirit beast.

Her action broke Tom’s moment of confusion. He darted forward, aiming one of his hands at Maria’s throat and the other at Fischer’s. He’d aim to execute them at the same time, so even if the woman managed to dodge, Fischer would perish, his death driving a spear of anguish into her. As his hands approached, Tom’s worry dissipated.

They didn’t react. Though she had three cores, she was a newborn cultivator and couldn’t hope to match his speed. Satisfaction washed over his entire body, his chi gratified at being unleashed with violent intent. The closer he got to them, the more his core vibrated in pleasure, demanding he end these heretics.

Their fate was sealed. They were as good as dead. They—

The cores in Maria’s back shifted.

One of them exploded into motion, shooting from her and for Joanne. Tom followed its passage, unable to stop his enhanced vision from tracking the anomaly. Said anomaly grinned back at him with needle-sharp teeth, giving him a little wave with one lightning-covered paw. Not even looking at her, the otter slammed into his wife. Joanne’s body buckled, her limbs tense and pinwheeling as electricity jolted along her skin.

Seeing another spirit beast appear and attack his wife, Tom refocused on his own task. Joanne was still alive, and it would take him only a moment to dispatch these interlopers. He leaned forward, shooting vines from his hands toward both Maria and Fischer’s necks. Before they could reach Maria’s, the other core in her back shifted. It darted up and over her shoulder, and an orange claw reached forward, snipping through his vines, then grabbing hold of his wrist.

It was another spirit beast, a one-eyed crab covered in spikes and wearing an eyepatch. Blinking, he focused on Fischer. He needed to end the man and destabilize the rest. His vines shot forward, writhing over one another and wrapping around Fischer’s neck. Tom snarled and clenched his teeth as he squeezed the vines, severing the foolish man’s head from his body.

But... nothing happened.

Fischer cocked his head to the side and covered a yawn, that small movement snapping some of Tom’s bindings.

“Is it my turn?” he asked, his eyes drilling into Tom’s.

“Wh... what...?”

Power swelled before him, originating in Fischer’s stomach. It started as a seed, and with each passing moment, it ebbed outward. In the space of a breath, the presence of a god flooded from the peasant. Tom fell to his knees, his vines withering beneath a blinding light that shone from Fischer, burning away every drop of chi Tom wielded.

He stared up at a visage of annihilation, shrinking back with each step forward Fischer took. When the peasant reached down a hand toward Tom, he flinched back, his entire body trembling.

“Thanks for letting me have a look at them, mate,” Fischer said, plucking the rings from Tom’s pocket.

His hand, still gleaming with light, reached up toward Tom’s face. Tom froze, not daring to take a breath lest this hidden monster take his head from his shoulders. Fischer opened his palm and Tom closed his eyes, not wanting to see the blow that would end him. Instead, Fischer dismissed his power and tapped Tom’s cheek.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Tom Osnan Jr. Just like your father.”

At the mention of his dad, Tom’s eyes shot open, staring up in confusion.

Just in time to see Fischer’s backhand descending. Before the blow could land, a loud trill sounded from Tom’s left and nature chi bloomed.

The last thing he felt was a lightning-wreathed otter slamming into his jaw.

***

Back on the shore of Fischer’s property, Barry surveyed the mass of cultivators.

Thankfully, they hadn’t been foolish enough to try anything stupid.

“I’m surprised none of them have attacked...” his wife, Helen, whispered, soft enough that only he could hear.

“Me too...”

Many of the cultivators were casting distrustful glances around, but they were all too aware of the power wielded by the Church of Fischer. It didn’t help that there was a spirit beast literally frothing with rage and looking for an excuse to unleash blasts from his twitching claws right beside them. Barry shook his head at Rocky. The troublesome crab had returned from his impromptu flight, and knowing he didn’t stand a chance against the lobster that had sent him flying, he was looking for someone else to take his anger out on.

When a slight breeze kicked up, it washed a delightful scent over Barry’s awareness.

Peter had built a massive campfire and was in the process of cooking oysters with savory ingredients. Barry didn’t know what they were, but he did know they would be delicious. The smell reached the pack of cultivators, and Barry smiled as their faces transformed, their instinctual hunger overriding even the most distrusting of them.

The church members had the same reaction. Well, all except for Ellis. The former archivist was pacing on the sand. “They should have left the artifacts behind,” he grumbled.

“Borks will be back soon,” Barry said.

“Every second we do not know what the Domain does, we—”

“Ellis,” Barry warned.

Ellis threw his hands up, acknowledging he’d revealed too much. “Yes, yes. I apologize. I just—”

Suddenly, an immutable pulse of power came from Tropica, cutting Ellis’s sentence short. It started small but expanded quickly, the source of it obvious.

Just like when the scent of Peter’s cooking hit them, this wave of chi also arrested the cultivators’ attention. Every head swiveled to the north, drawn toward the only man that could so casually unleash energy rivaling the sun.

“That... was him, wasn’t it?” someone asked.

Barry turned toward the speaker, finding Anna, the first cultivator that had awakened. She faced the north, staring at the point of power as it vanished, sealed once more within Fischer’s core.

“Of course it was!” Roger answered, spitting to the side. “What other fool would traipse around, announcing himself for every other cultivator to find?”

“Roger—” Sharon tried.

“Don’t you Roger me, Sharon! He has our daughter with him!”

Barry shot a warning glare his way, but Sharon had already swooped in. She dragged Roger off to the side, no doubt intent on telling him not to display weakness before the dozens of possibly violent strangers huddled on the sand and listening to his outburst.

No more pulses of power came, and though some heads remained facing Tropica, others drifted back toward the oysters Peter was cooking. When the chef brought over the first tray of them, none of Gormona’s cultivators dared taste one, despite the alluring flavors wafting through the air.

The fishing club held no such compunctions. They rushed forward, even Ellis skulking over to grab a couple before resuming his pacing.

“They’re really good,” Theo said to the cultivators, then threw one into his mouth. “Mmmmm.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Danny agreed, closing his eyes as he chewed.

Keith walked over and grabbed a couple, taking one back to Trent. As he watched them eat, Barry raised an eyebrow at the Prince’s transformation. He looked so different that none of the capital’s cultivators had recognized him yet.

The first of said cultivators, a stocky man with thick forearms, stomped forward and took an oyster. He peered down at it for a long moment, then hesitantly scooped it into his mouth. His face immediately shifted, his eyes flying wide and his jaw moving of its own accord.

He swallowed, threw the shell aside, and grabbed another.

“Help yourselves,” Barry said. “We didn’t save you from the capital just to try and poison you in some roundabout way. Seafood is the basis of our power.” He raised an eyebrow at the stocky man as he ate his second oyster and reached for a third. “How was the chi content?”

“Huh?” he replied, blinking for a second before he registered the question. “It’s unbelievable! They’re so small, but they fill you with power!”

Following his endorsement, more of the cultivators came forward to try them. Each and every reaction was the same, and as they feasted and spoke to each other in hushed tones, a small smile crossed Barry’s face. Helen squeezed his arm, feeling the exact same way. They peered on, content to let the former slaves enjoy their first moment of freedom.

The vibe was immediately ruined when an otter, wreathed in lightning and unleashing a mighty chirp, slammed down nearby. She dashed for the oysters, all the cultivators taking defensive stances.

“Corporal Claws!” Barry chastised, but all he got in return was a mischievous grin as she started downing molluscs.

Borks arrived a moment later, and when his portal tore open, Maria, Fischer, and Snips came through, carrying two limp bodies.

Barry raised both brows as he felt the noble couple’s cores. “So, they were cultivators, huh?”

“Yuuuuuuup,” Fischer replied, bending down to steal an oyster. “Mmmm. Really good, Peter.”

Peter grinned back, but before he could reply, Anna stepped forward.

“Is that Tom Osnan Jr.?” Her eyebrows narrowed. “And his wife...?”

“You know them? And yeah,” Fischer replied. “Pretty fracked up, right? You guys were slaves, but these noble pricks have been running around hiding their power with these.”

Fischer threw a pouch to Ellis. Its content clinked when he caught it, and as he pulled open the drawstring, his eyes went distant.

“Ceto’s monstrous offspring!” he yelled, his eyes clearing. “These are their rings?”

“Yup. They had ten each.” Taking one more oyster, Fischer strode toward Barry. “So, mate. Looks like we might need a prison.” He pointed to Barry’s belt and the pouch that hung there. “What do you say we get up to some more fantasy-land shenanigans?”

Barry shook his head, letting out a soft laugh at Fischer’s casual return.

“I’d love to. Let’s go fix New Tropica.”

Fischer paused mid-turn. “New Tropica, huh?”

“You don’t like it?”

He tilted his head, then grinned. “Nah, mate. I love it.”

Barry returned the smile as they took off together, heading for New Tropica.