Heretical Fishing
Author: Haylock
Book 5: Chapter 13: Potential
With Maria’s arm looped through mine, a fishing rod in one hand and an inordinately intelligent lobster in the other, I marched across the dunes, smiling at the world. The sun’s descent seemed to speed up, the luminous orb growing larger as it approached the horizon, its light taking on a reddish hue that did nothing to combat the chill breeze blowing in from the coast. As we climbed the last sandy peak between us and the bay’s waters, I finally caught sight of the shore.
Pistachio blew thoughtful bubbles, speculating out loud for the smaller lobster’s sake.
“He’s right,” I agreed. “The sun is setting, the wind isn’t too strong, and it looks like tide is about to change—the conditions are
for fishing.”
The crustacean in my palm nodded. She knew as much from the memories running through her. She gestured low with her claw, cocking her head questioningly.
“Yep! It’s low tide. Did you get that from your memories?”
She gave a so-so gesture.
her hiss seemed to say, and she pointed at the boulders surrounding the jetty, their exposed surfaces peppered with snails, limpets, and patches of seaweed.
Maria gave Pistachio a suspiciously emotionless glance. “Considering she just awakened, your lady friend is
.”
The lobster almost missed a step. Or, more accurately, multiple—Maria’s words made half his limbs falter.
“Yes,” he hissed, pointedly fixing his gaze on the ocean.
The momentary flashes of chaos gave me an idea. I flexed my will, isolating my senses. Vision faded, scent and taste were forgotten, and even the feeling of my body fell away. Only sound remained. The wall of noise loomed, towering ever higher the more I focused on it.
I could hear the quiet components of each wave—the contact of unbroken water sliding along slick stone.
The loud parts poured overtop like a hundred drummers: the sharp
when a flat rock face was hit head-on; the spray of thousands of droplets as they descended from their momentary flight; the churn of countless bubbles, each indistinguishable pop combining to create a sound so potent it hijacked my sense of touch. Those pockets of oxygen seemed to caress me, roll over my skin, lift me toward the heavens, a force I couldn’t hope to descri—
“
!” Maria called, her voice urgent.
A sudden pang of loss jolted my core as I dropped back into my body, letting out a shuddering breath. “What’s wrong?”
She made a similar sound, swaying to the side before righting herself. “You were sharing the… whatever that was. The sound. The
.”
“Oh. Damn, sorry. Are you okay?”
“Okay? It was wonderful.” She pointed down. “It was a little much for some, though…”
Confused, I glanced down—and abruptly recalled that I had a lobster in one hand, whom I’d accidentally gifted an existential crisis. Her antennae were raised and rigid above eyes that stared into the middle distance.
I apologized with a soft pulse of chi, not wanting to add any more sound to the mix, but I found her core remarkably calm. It had been entirely too much, but more than anything, she was excited by my unintended over-sharing.
she seemed to hiss. Whether it was about mine, her own, or just in general, I couldn’t say.
After a long moment, I cleared my throat. “You sure you’re good?”
Slowly, effortfully, she nodded, her mind still pouring over the experience. Beside me, Pistachio’s core swam about riotously. Only my bond and advanced cultivation let me see it, but the homie was working overtime to challenge what he believed to be an illogical belief coming from within.
.
Just like when I’d first felt the beginnings of a crush coming from him, it had nothing to do with her physical attributes. Pistachio was enamored with her
. She’d ascended not a half hour ago and hadn’t yet charted the universe’s knowledge. Despite this, she was already thinking rationally, exhibiting reason beyond what was expected.
Maria and I shared another look, again choosing to take pity on our leviathan pal.
“Come on, gang,” I said, gently passing the yet-unnamed lobster pal to Maria, then bending to gently pat Pistachio’s closest claw. “We’re wasting daylight.”
Given it was her first time witnessing fishing firsthand, I gave her the full experience. “Normally I’d just put a hunk of eel on this hook and send it out, but I thought it best to show you how we catch bait.” I tied one of my
to the end of my line, drew back the tip of my rod, and flicked it out into the northern side of the jetty, where the current was weaker.
A bait fish hooked itself before the sinker reached the bottom, but I didn’t rush to retrieve it. “When you feel the first bite, wait a second before reeling. More sometimes follow the fir—” I cut off, lifting the rod high as something large hooked itself. Swift and gentle, I raised them from the water.
“I was going to say that more can follow.” I nodded toward the eel now writhing on the stones. “But if you’re lucky, something even better might come along.”
I dispatched it in an instant and held it out, letting her inspect the fully grown creature.
With my other hand, I slid the bait fish off the barbless hook, raising it beside the lifeless bait.
As soon as her eyes focused on it, I tossed it back with care, ensuring it landed at an angle that let it dart back into the depths with ease. The lady lobster nodded and blew bubbles of approval, my actions deemed both kind and logical.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The next half hour was spent in sheer bliss, interspersed with acute moments of excitement. The seasonal fish no longer graced our shores, making way for the year-round species that was our usual fare—mature shore fish. Though they were each only ‘Uncommon’ in rarity, every one Maria and I caught made our pulses and hopes rise.
, Pistachio’s lady friend hissed again as Maria set her hook and started winding.
I raised a brow, grinning down at the half-submerged rock she resided on. “Exactly. Is it probably another mature shore fish? Ya-huh. But there’s always the possibility that it isn’t. It could even be an entirely new species. Until you actually see the fish, you can’t say for sure.”
, she seemed to hiss.
My grin widened. “Exactly.”
Silver flashed just below the surface, and Maria lifted another shore fish my way.
I caught it. “Plus, even if it’s not some rare new fish, it’s dinner—sustenance for those I love.” I unhooked the recent catch, glanced back to confirm this one was smaller than the six we’d already caught, then returned it to the water. Having not enjoyed its oxygen-based adventure, it kicked its powerful tail and glided from sight.
I stared down at the swell it disappeared beneath. The water swirled in a distinct pattern, seeming to get sucked back out to sea. I knew exactly what that change meant, but I lingered there a few breaths, each deep and ponderous. “Looks like the run-in tide has arrived,” I said, standing and stretching. “I reckon we cast out into the river mouth. Good chance of finding some monsters feeding there.” I laughed at the twinkle in lady lobster’s eyes. “To be clear, I don’t mean
monsters. I was referring to larger fish.”
She turned around to face me and scuttled to the edge of her slick rock, the twinkle remaining.
“
! You knew what I meant?”
Her head dipped in agreement.
“You’re excited about the possibility of catching something bigger?”
Again, her head dipped.
“Do… Do you wanna try?”
She paused for only a moment before nodding repeatedly, each more insistent than the last, then blew thoughtful bubbles, their meaning obscured by my human mind.
Pistachio, who was sitting in the splash-zone beside her, translated for me. “Worry. She noticed you created your fishing rod and doesn’t want to damage it.”
“Ohhh! Forget that. I can just fix it. You know what to do, right? How to fish?”
She bustled up onto the jetty’s stone path. A slew of affirmative bubbles streamed in her wake. Passing such a long object to a relatively small creature felt a little odd, but she easily held it, her body more than up to the task.
“I have two rules,” I said. She was focus incarnate as she stared up at me. “First—and this is just to make sure—we dispatch any fish caught, swiftly and humane… er, kindly, I mean.” Affirmative and sincere bubbles came in answer. “Good. Second, and just as importantly, have fun.”
More earnest bubbles.
Maria, having re-baited her own hook, dashed to the river-mouth side of the jetty and cast her line out. “Biggest fish wins!”
With the spirit of competition joining the lady lobster’s already motivated core, she pinched a sliver of eel and attached it to my
. Her right claw drew the pole back, her left claw flicked the reel forward, and she cast the line out, using both antennae to keep tension as the tackle gathered speed. The sinker led the charge high over the bay. She blew apologetic bubbles as it arced back down and landed atop Maria’s line, but my wife just laughed and ducked under it, shifting positions to remove the potential tangle.
Not skipping a beat, the lady lobster reeled some line in, only stopping when it grew taut. She remained completely still, all senses focused on the fishing pole before her. I willed the universe to reward her bravery; if she caught something now, she’d be hooked.
But it was Maria’s bait that got hit first. “Fish on!” she yelled, lifting her arms to set the line.
Her rod was arguably better than mine, and as I watched it bend under the fish’s efforts, its description filled my field of view.
I snorted at the useless reminder. When it had popped up without my prompting, I’d assumed I was going to be shown its hidden stats—no such luck.
I rolled my eyes, preparing to voice a suitably sassy diatribe against the System and its shenanigans, but a high-pitched squeal beat me to the punch. The lady lobster was hauled across the stone walkway, a creature catching her by surprise, her legs only finding purchase when she enhanced them with essence.
My eyes darted around as soon as I knew she wasn’t about to be dragged out to sea. The rod was bent almost in half. The hooked fish seemed massive, but I could see neither headshakes nor kicks reflected in the rod, its length remaining relatively stationary.
I almost immediately understood what was on the end of her line, as did Maria. Pistachio had his suspicions, and they were confirmed when the creature sucked itself onto the sand, doing everything it could to stop the diminutive yet excessively powerful lady lobster from pulling it to shore.
It was rare that I knew exactly what someone else had hooked; I didn’t waste the opportunity. Rather than witnessing the details of the fight, trying to guess at the species, I watched my newfound pal: the slightly awkward but still effective manner in which she retrieved line; the improvements that happened by the second, her body rapidly growing accustomed to the motions; and, best of all, the pulses of pure joy that came from her core.
I turned for a fraction of a second to grin at Maria. Despite being engaged in her own battle, she was already grinning back. If my wonderful wife had fought her fish months ago, she’d likely have lost the battle. All things equal, hers was the hardest of the two.
But things weren’t equal. Maria’s dedication to fishing, along with a skill-level approaching 100, all but ensured her victory. She systematically brought it to the rocks, letting line out when it ran, only to regain that ground and then some when it tired. All the while, she watched the lobster beside her, also enthralled by the first-timer’s jubilation.
Silver flashed just below the surface a meter away. Maria hopped down onto the rocks, retrieved a little more line, then bent to grab it by the gills, only stopping when she saw the creature. She changed tack, instead flicking open the reel and setting the rod down. This time, she grabbed it with both hands—one on its gills, the other holding its body for support.
My eyes were drawn in.
I shook my head, returning to the present.
Maria had forgotten all about our new lobster pal’s exuberance; she was too busy with her own.
“Fischer!” she yelled, core thrumming. “It’s
!”
“It is!” I yelled back. It really was.
Preoccupied as we were, we still didn’t miss the
of a leviathan-sized lobster leaping into the river mouth. We turned toward the splash, only to find something even more surprising. His lady friend had also brought her foe to the rocks, and rather than the deep-brown we’d expected her hooked creature to be, it was the color of sand, interspersed with electric-blue dots, the size of a small grape, or an even-smaller crab.
Despite Pistachio’s aerial entrance, the hooked creature was too exhausted to flee. He lifted it onto the rocks a half-second later.
“You actually did it!” I yelled, eyes between the lady lobster and the ray. “You caught a new species!”
Her bubbles were wondrous as she stared down at it—swiftly turning shocked when she spotted the fish in Maria’s arms. She shot from side to side, her entire body rotating to switch between looking at her own catch and the gigantic creature held against my wife’s chest.
Maria smiled down at her and moved to the water, intending to release the giant trevally, but a deadly spike of killing intent lanced out, freezing us all in place, stabbing its jagged edge deep into my core. I instinctively slammed solid walls of chi into place, surrounding us.
By the time I realized where the intent was coming from, it was too late.
The bluespotted ray had lashed out with its tail, aiming the venom-filled barb right at Pistachio. He was fine, of course; I’d shielded him, and even if I hadn’t, such a weak attack couldn’t hope to breach his mighty carapace. The ray, however, wasn’t so protected.
The lady lobster lashed out. Despite the ray broadcasting its violent intent, she well knew how feeble it was compared to her own capabilities, let alone mine. Her counterstrike was measured. She used all of her focus to ensure the ray’s wellbeing—which, unfortunately, meant she didn’t pay any mind to the object between her and the creature.
Her claw sliced through my fishing rod like a hot blade through half-melted butter, then continued on, severing the very tip of the ray’s envenomed barb.
My heart sank.
Pistachio blew thoughtful bubbles, speculating out loud for the smaller lobster’s sake.
“He’s right,” I agreed. “The sun is setting, the wind isn’t too strong, and it looks like tide is about to change—the conditions are
for fishing.”
The crustacean in my palm nodded. She knew as much from the memories running through her. She gestured low with her claw, cocking her head questioningly.
“Yep! It’s low tide. Did you get that from your memories?”
She gave a so-so gesture.
her hiss seemed to say, and she pointed at the boulders surrounding the jetty, their exposed surfaces peppered with snails, limpets, and patches of seaweed.
Maria gave Pistachio a suspiciously emotionless glance. “Considering she just awakened, your lady friend is
.”
The lobster almost missed a step. Or, more accurately, multiple—Maria’s words made half his limbs falter.
“Yes,” he hissed, pointedly fixing his gaze on the ocean.
The momentary flashes of chaos gave me an idea. I flexed my will, isolating my senses. Vision faded, scent and taste were forgotten, and even the feeling of my body fell away. Only sound remained. The wall of noise loomed, towering ever higher the more I focused on it.
I could hear the quiet components of each wave—the contact of unbroken water sliding along slick stone.
The loud parts poured overtop like a hundred drummers: the sharp
when a flat rock face was hit head-on; the spray of thousands of droplets as they descended from their momentary flight; the churn of countless bubbles, each indistinguishable pop combining to create a sound so potent it hijacked my sense of touch. Those pockets of oxygen seemed to caress me, roll over my skin, lift me toward the heavens, a force I couldn’t hope to descri—
“
!” Maria called, her voice urgent.
A sudden pang of loss jolted my core as I dropped back into my body, letting out a shuddering breath. “What’s wrong?”
She made a similar sound, swaying to the side before righting herself. “You were sharing the… whatever that was. The sound. The
.”
“Oh. Damn, sorry. Are you okay?”
“Okay? It was wonderful.” She pointed down. “It was a little much for some, though…”
Confused, I glanced down—and abruptly recalled that I had a lobster in one hand, whom I’d accidentally gifted an existential crisis. Her antennae were raised and rigid above eyes that stared into the middle distance.
I apologized with a soft pulse of chi, not wanting to add any more sound to the mix, but I found her core remarkably calm. It had been entirely too much, but more than anything, she was excited by my unintended over-sharing.
she seemed to hiss. Whether it was about mine, her own, or just in general, I couldn’t say.
After a long moment, I cleared my throat. “You sure you’re good?”
Slowly, effortfully, she nodded, her mind still pouring over the experience. Beside me, Pistachio’s core swam about riotously. Only my bond and advanced cultivation let me see it, but the homie was working overtime to challenge what he believed to be an illogical belief coming from within.
.
Just like when I’d first felt the beginnings of a crush coming from him, it had nothing to do with her physical attributes. Pistachio was enamored with her
. She’d ascended not a half hour ago and hadn’t yet charted the universe’s knowledge. Despite this, she was already thinking rationally, exhibiting reason beyond what was expected.
Maria and I shared another look, again choosing to take pity on our leviathan pal.
“Come on, gang,” I said, gently passing the yet-unnamed lobster pal to Maria, then bending to gently pat Pistachio’s closest claw. “We’re wasting daylight.”
Given it was her first time witnessing fishing firsthand, I gave her the full experience. “Normally I’d just put a hunk of eel on this hook and send it out, but I thought it best to show you how we catch bait.” I tied one of my
to the end of my line, drew back the tip of my rod, and flicked it out into the northern side of the jetty, where the current was weaker.
A bait fish hooked itself before the sinker reached the bottom, but I didn’t rush to retrieve it. “When you feel the first bite, wait a second before reeling. More sometimes follow the fir—” I cut off, lifting the rod high as something large hooked itself. Swift and gentle, I raised them from the water.
“I was going to say that more can follow.” I nodded toward the eel now writhing on the stones. “But if you’re lucky, something even better might come along.”
I dispatched it in an instant and held it out, letting her inspect the fully grown creature.
With my other hand, I slid the bait fish off the barbless hook, raising it beside the lifeless bait.
As soon as her eyes focused on it, I tossed it back with care, ensuring it landed at an angle that let it dart back into the depths with ease. The lady lobster nodded and blew bubbles of approval, my actions deemed both kind and logical.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The next half hour was spent in sheer bliss, interspersed with acute moments of excitement. The seasonal fish no longer graced our shores, making way for the year-round species that was our usual fare—mature shore fish. Though they were each only ‘Uncommon’ in rarity, every one Maria and I caught made our pulses and hopes rise.
, Pistachio’s lady friend hissed again as Maria set her hook and started winding.
I raised a brow, grinning down at the half-submerged rock she resided on. “Exactly. Is it probably another mature shore fish? Ya-huh. But there’s always the possibility that it isn’t. It could even be an entirely new species. Until you actually see the fish, you can’t say for sure.”
, she seemed to hiss.
My grin widened. “Exactly.”
Silver flashed just below the surface, and Maria lifted another shore fish my way.
I caught it. “Plus, even if it’s not some rare new fish, it’s dinner—sustenance for those I love.” I unhooked the recent catch, glanced back to confirm this one was smaller than the six we’d already caught, then returned it to the water. Having not enjoyed its oxygen-based adventure, it kicked its powerful tail and glided from sight.
I stared down at the swell it disappeared beneath. The water swirled in a distinct pattern, seeming to get sucked back out to sea. I knew exactly what that change meant, but I lingered there a few breaths, each deep and ponderous. “Looks like the run-in tide has arrived,” I said, standing and stretching. “I reckon we cast out into the river mouth. Good chance of finding some monsters feeding there.” I laughed at the twinkle in lady lobster’s eyes. “To be clear, I don’t mean
monsters. I was referring to larger fish.”
She turned around to face me and scuttled to the edge of her slick rock, the twinkle remaining.
“
! You knew what I meant?”
Her head dipped in agreement.
“You’re excited about the possibility of catching something bigger?”
Again, her head dipped.
“Do… Do you wanna try?”
She paused for only a moment before nodding repeatedly, each more insistent than the last, then blew thoughtful bubbles, their meaning obscured by my human mind.
Pistachio, who was sitting in the splash-zone beside her, translated for me. “Worry. She noticed you created your fishing rod and doesn’t want to damage it.”
“Ohhh! Forget that. I can just fix it. You know what to do, right? How to fish?”
She bustled up onto the jetty’s stone path. A slew of affirmative bubbles streamed in her wake. Passing such a long object to a relatively small creature felt a little odd, but she easily held it, her body more than up to the task.
“I have two rules,” I said. She was focus incarnate as she stared up at me. “First—and this is just to make sure—we dispatch any fish caught, swiftly and humane… er, kindly, I mean.” Affirmative and sincere bubbles came in answer. “Good. Second, and just as importantly, have fun.”
More earnest bubbles.
Maria, having re-baited her own hook, dashed to the river-mouth side of the jetty and cast her line out. “Biggest fish wins!”
With the spirit of competition joining the lady lobster’s already motivated core, she pinched a sliver of eel and attached it to my
. Her right claw drew the pole back, her left claw flicked the reel forward, and she cast the line out, using both antennae to keep tension as the tackle gathered speed. The sinker led the charge high over the bay. She blew apologetic bubbles as it arced back down and landed atop Maria’s line, but my wife just laughed and ducked under it, shifting positions to remove the potential tangle.
Not skipping a beat, the lady lobster reeled some line in, only stopping when it grew taut. She remained completely still, all senses focused on the fishing pole before her. I willed the universe to reward her bravery; if she caught something now, she’d be hooked.
But it was Maria’s bait that got hit first. “Fish on!” she yelled, lifting her arms to set the line.
Her rod was arguably better than mine, and as I watched it bend under the fish’s efforts, its description filled my field of view.
I snorted at the useless reminder. When it had popped up without my prompting, I’d assumed I was going to be shown its hidden stats—no such luck.
I rolled my eyes, preparing to voice a suitably sassy diatribe against the System and its shenanigans, but a high-pitched squeal beat me to the punch. The lady lobster was hauled across the stone walkway, a creature catching her by surprise, her legs only finding purchase when she enhanced them with essence.
My eyes darted around as soon as I knew she wasn’t about to be dragged out to sea. The rod was bent almost in half. The hooked fish seemed massive, but I could see neither headshakes nor kicks reflected in the rod, its length remaining relatively stationary.
I almost immediately understood what was on the end of her line, as did Maria. Pistachio had his suspicions, and they were confirmed when the creature sucked itself onto the sand, doing everything it could to stop the diminutive yet excessively powerful lady lobster from pulling it to shore.
It was rare that I knew exactly what someone else had hooked; I didn’t waste the opportunity. Rather than witnessing the details of the fight, trying to guess at the species, I watched my newfound pal: the slightly awkward but still effective manner in which she retrieved line; the improvements that happened by the second, her body rapidly growing accustomed to the motions; and, best of all, the pulses of pure joy that came from her core.
I turned for a fraction of a second to grin at Maria. Despite being engaged in her own battle, she was already grinning back. If my wonderful wife had fought her fish months ago, she’d likely have lost the battle. All things equal, hers was the hardest of the two.
But things weren’t equal. Maria’s dedication to fishing, along with a skill-level approaching 100, all but ensured her victory. She systematically brought it to the rocks, letting line out when it ran, only to regain that ground and then some when it tired. All the while, she watched the lobster beside her, also enthralled by the first-timer’s jubilation.
Silver flashed just below the surface a meter away. Maria hopped down onto the rocks, retrieved a little more line, then bent to grab it by the gills, only stopping when she saw the creature. She changed tack, instead flicking open the reel and setting the rod down. This time, she grabbed it with both hands—one on its gills, the other holding its body for support.
My eyes were drawn in.
I shook my head, returning to the present.
Maria had forgotten all about our new lobster pal’s exuberance; she was too busy with her own.
“Fischer!” she yelled, core thrumming. “It’s
!”
“It is!” I yelled back. It really was.
Preoccupied as we were, we still didn’t miss the
of a leviathan-sized lobster leaping into the river mouth. We turned toward the splash, only to find something even more surprising. His lady friend had also brought her foe to the rocks, and rather than the deep-brown we’d expected her hooked creature to be, it was the color of sand, interspersed with electric-blue dots, the size of a small grape, or an even-smaller crab.
Despite Pistachio’s aerial entrance, the hooked creature was too exhausted to flee. He lifted it onto the rocks a half-second later.
“You actually did it!” I yelled, eyes between the lady lobster and the ray. “You caught a new species!”
Her bubbles were wondrous as she stared down at it—swiftly turning shocked when she spotted the fish in Maria’s arms. She shot from side to side, her entire body rotating to switch between looking at her own catch and the gigantic creature held against my wife’s chest.
Maria smiled down at her and moved to the water, intending to release the giant trevally, but a deadly spike of killing intent lanced out, freezing us all in place, stabbing its jagged edge deep into my core. I instinctively slammed solid walls of chi into place, surrounding us.
By the time I realized where the intent was coming from, it was too late.
The bluespotted ray had lashed out with its tail, aiming the venom-filled barb right at Pistachio. He was fine, of course; I’d shielded him, and even if I hadn’t, such a weak attack couldn’t hope to breach his mighty carapace. The ray, however, wasn’t so protected.
The lady lobster lashed out. Despite the ray broadcasting its violent intent, she well knew how feeble it was compared to her own capabilities, let alone mine. Her counterstrike was measured. She used all of her focus to ensure the ray’s wellbeing—which, unfortunately, meant she didn’t pay any mind to the object between her and the creature.
Her claw sliced through my fishing rod like a hot blade through half-melted butter, then continued on, severing the very tip of the ray’s envenomed barb.
My heart sank.