Heretical Fishing

Chapter 95: Such Power

Following the gods’ departure, the hellhound had spent what felt like millennia in a sort of stasis.

Over the course of weeks, his awareness had slowly returned as power once more trickled through the world he inhabited.

The hound had hoped the returning power heralded the gods’ coming home—what else could return the world’s equilibrium, if not the gods’ return, after all?

Alas, his god hadn’t returned—none of them had. Worse, the trickle of power wasn’t enough to wake his father, leaving the hellhound alone in the realm of shadow.

Given his solitude, it was a welcome occurrence when he was summoned forth to the land of the living.

The relic used was as old as it was restrictive; he was limited in the actions he could take. As much as he would have liked to continue toying with the ascendant children atop the sand, the hound’s stay in this realm was limited. Thus, he had left them behind and headed for the one person they contracted him to devour.

He didn’t enjoy killing for killing’s sake; any contract completed was done in his god’s service, and doing so was his goal—his very purpose.

Despite not enjoying death for the sake of it, the hellhound had come to expect a certain level of fear from his targets. Thus, when the mortal didn’t show fear, and instead crouched low and beckoned him closer, he became filled with rage.

If the mortal wouldn’t show terror, he’d give the man something to fear.

He opened his jaw, ready to take a bite from the foolish mortal before him.

***

“Pss. Pss. Pss. Heeere, kitty kitty,” I said, one hand holding my inebriated-body steady, the other extended forward, beckoning the black cat toward me.

I was filled with notions of having a cute house-cat companion, and I’d already begun planning what fish to feed it.

Oooooh, perhaps a feast? I thought. Cats love fish, right? Maybe I should let it try all the fish!

Black cats were said to be bad luck, but I wouldn’t let a silly superstition stop me from acquiring kitty cuddles.

I hunched my body lower, doing everything I could to entice the cat toward me.

With a hand out, hunched over like I was doing one of Joel’s crab meditations, and with my drunken-booty swaying all over, the tone of the fortuitous encounter shifted.

The cat leapt forward, and even in my alcohol-riddled state, I caught the flash of vicious teeth.

“W-woah! Bad kitty!”

***

Sergeant Snips, first disciple of Fischer, was sending herself into an apoplectic rage.

Her entire body was restricted, and all she could do was seethe and wait. If it were only a few limbs stuck, she’d have happily severed them to ensure her master’s safety, but the shadowy chains held her entire body.

Her eye roamed around, looking at everyone else on the sands. Claws, Barry, and Rocky were only just starting to stir after being hit by the backlash, while Pistachio and Leroy shared Snips’ rage, both males fighting against the chains that bound them.

Snips, left absent choice, tried something drastic.

Billowing water poured out of her, and she pushed every drop of her essence out, her core trembling under the effort.

She pictured the shifting clouds becoming blades, turning razer-sharp like the arcs she shot from her claws.

The blue liquid along the back of her claws responded best, and she focused every ounce of hope on them, watching as the ability flattened, transformed, and started cutting into the chains.

Just… a bit… more…

***

“W-woah! Bad kitty!”

I fell back, instinctively kicking out with one foot to keep the cat at bay.

My foot connected and my vision flashed white as my head struck the rocks.

I lay on the rocky shore for a long moment before sitting up as I looked around for the creature, but it was gone.

Wincing, I rubbed my head, not looking forward to the headache I’d probably wake up to.

“Bloody cat,” I said aloud. “Hope it comes back...”

I staggered home, thinking of how nice and warm my bed was going to feel when I crawled back into it.

***

With the chain almost completely severed by Snips’ ability, a white light exploded from the headland, and she instinctively closed her eye.

The massive rock formation blocked the source, but a second later, a crack louder than lightning rang out and the earth shook. Then, something flew from the explosion.

An enormous mass, streaming a trail of black shadow and white light that clung to it, shot like a meteor toward Tropica, traveling faster than a mortal eye could see.

Snips, enhanced as she was, saw what it was: the hound. Its twisted limbs and the lifeless expression on its face were clear as day before it disappeared between Tropica’s buildings.

Another crack rang out through the night, cutting the silence.

The chains smothering her vanished, and she shifted her body around, testing her movement.

The group arrayed over the sands shared a wide-eyed look.

***

Sebastian, leader of the Cult of the Leviathan Tropica branch, slayer of Fischer, giggled atop the cult headquarters.

His gaze was unwavering, cast out over the vast sands and towards Fischer’s domain.

His lowly disciple sat on the floor—weeping; he was too feeble to handle Sebastian’s might.

Inept as Gary might be, Sebastian didn’t want to dispose of him, but if he didn’t overcome his weakness soon, Sebastian may not have a choice.

Sebastian returned his attention to the sand.

The flashing of elements had ceased, and he hoped that meant the hellhound had left to take Fischer’s head.

The first flash of blue had been a surprise, but as a moving ball of lightning had shot around, Sebastian understood: the beast was gathering power, preparing for the battle to come.

“Come witness, disciple,” he said, but Gary didn’t respond.

Sebastian snarled and grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet and slapping him across the face.

“Pay attention, Gary! You need to see the justice we have dispensed!”

Gary, his body moving of its own accord, gripped the side of the roof’s low wall and leaned against it for support.

His disciple’s head drifted down, so Sebastian gripped his chin and lifted it.

Sebastian stared out into the darkness just in time for a brilliant light to explode from the headland. He reeled back, his vision consumed by the blast’s afterimage as a distant crackcut through the silence.

Despite his temporary blindness, Sebastian roared a laugh.

“He’s done, Gary! He’s really done! We—”

The building shook and Sebastian fell to his knees as a second, louder crack tore into existence. This one was accompanied by the sound of stone-on-stone, falling rubble, shattering glass, and finally, the splash of water.

Sebastian’s eyes went wide as he recognized what the sounds meant.

“M-my crickets!”

He threw the door open and sprinted downstairs, terrified of what he’d find.

***

Gary slowly walked down the stairs, not at all looking forward to who he suspected would be down there.

I suppose it’s my punishment to see Fischer’s body after what I did...

Gary felt numb. His tears had robbed his thoughts of their vicious edges, and he walked through the world like a ghost, unfeeling.

Sebastian was at the bottom of the stairs, his body frozen.

“What is it, boss?” Gary asked, his voice sounding flat.

He walked to Sebastian, turned, and then he understood.

The southern wall of the first floor had been blown in, completely demolished by what flew through it. The wayward body and the wall’s rubble had flown through the room and created a scene of destruction. All but one tank of baby lobsters—er, crickets—had been annihilated.

The body that had demolished the room wasn’t Fischers—it was the hound sent to slaughter him.

Its forelimbs were twisted and broken, its flesh seemed burned, transformed from pitch black muscle to cracked and pitted charcoal.

Black smoke oozed from the creature, and wisps of white clung to the darkness, seeming to wrap around and suffocate them.

A soft noise came from Sebastian as he staggered back, leaning against the wall. He slid to the ground, and the soft noise turned to a low-pitched keening.

“N-No...” Sebastian whimpered. “He... he couldn’t have...”

Unlike his master, the sight brought Gary nothing but elation.

The lives of countless crickets were nothing before the life of another man, and that Fischer had survived was nothing short of a blessing from above. Even if the man were to come and take their life as punishment, Gary’s conscience was clear, his soul clean.

The hound stirred, shakily lifting its head.

A tear in space, much weaker than the one before, appeared in the air. Instead of shattering open, its lines crawled into existence, more often than not healing before they could expand as the beast tried to lean into it.

The front door blasted off its hinges, thrown clear across the room and into the back wall.

Gary looked toward it, his mind still numbed from the night’s events.

“Boss?” He swallowed, unsure if he was hallucinating. “Is... is that an otter?”

A lightning-wreathed otter shot into the room, exposing sharp fangs and an even deadlier disposition. It stopped amidst the carnage and twisted toward the hound, a low growl coming from its throat, then it exploded toward the hound.

Gary could barely see the movement, but just as the otter was about to strike, the wounded hound slipped through its tear in space. Fast as the hound had appeared, it was gone, and the otter slammed into the wall. It clung there, defying gravity as its head shot toward them.

Gary saw murder in those eyes, and he took a deep breath, accepting his fate.

He waited a long moment, but the death-blow never came, and he opened his eyes again as footfalls entered the building.

The procession that entered the building shattered Gary’s numbness, and he blinked, now almost positive he was hallucinating.

A large crab wearing an eyepatch and streaming blue water; another crab, looking decidedly upset, its claws raised high; an unknown man, his legs wrapped in thick vines; Barry, his jaw set and eyes hard; and of most significance, a lobster of preposterous scale, its eyes intelligent, its antennae moving to taste the air.

On one of the lobster’s antennae, just above where the appendage met its head, there was a scar, bulbous and raised.

Gary’s jaw dropped open.

***

Barry stared at the men with disgust.

“You went too far, Sebastian.”

Sebastian, the leader of the local Cult of the Leviathan branch, had eyes for one being in the room—Private Pistachio. He stood and stumbled forward, catching himself on the stairwell’s banister.

“A... you...”

His face was streaked with tears as his mouth moved inaudibly, unable to form words.

He shuffled closer, one hand reaching out for Pistachio.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Are... are you ascended, Great Leviathan?”

Pistachio nodded a single time, acknowledging the question.

Sebastian’s lip quivered, and new tears fell.

“I’ve waited so long for your arrival...”

***

Sebastian shuffled forward as debris crunched under his feet.

Tears streamed down his chin, falling to mix with the dust covering the floor.

He took heaving breaths, not bothered by how he must have looked; he cared not for anything but the leviathan.

His foot caught on a shattered stone, and he stumbled, catching himself on the floor with both hands. Even in falling, his eyes never left the lobster’s magnificent form.

“Great leviathan…” His lip shook, and he took a deep breath, holding the sobs at bay. “I’ve waited so long to—oof!”

Something slammed into Sebastian from the back, throwing him to the ground and knocking the air from his lungs.

***

Barry stared his hatred at the man before him.

He wasn’t in the least bit swayed or moved by Sebastian’s emotional reaction; in his petty resentment, he’d released evil into the world, putting everyone’s lives at risk.

When Gary sprinted across the room and shoulder-charged Sebastian out of the way, Barry’s eyebrows shot up.

When the disciple kept going, making a beeline for Pistachio, Barry took a step to stop him, but Sergeant Snips held a claw up, halting his movement. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, then blew small, insistent bubbles.

Barry understood their meaning: watch.

Unlike Sebastian’s blubbering visage, Gary’s face held different emotions.

He projected relief, awe, and sheer, unadulterated joy toward Private Pistachio.

As Gary approached the lobster and reached an arm down, Barry winced; he half expected Pistachio to bat him aside. Instead, the colossal crustacean dipped his head, acknowledging the cultist.

“Pistachio…” Gary said, his voice full of adoration as he got to his knees and put a hand against the lobster’s head. “It’s really you…”

Pistachio’s antennae moved chaotically, tapping against Gary’s arms and face.

“I thought you were dead,” Gary whispered, his eyes closed, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “I’m so glad…”

***

Sebastian wheezed as he climbed back to his feet.

Having been forced to catch his breath, he’d had a moment to think about the night’s events.

A menagerie of awakened beasts had appeared, along with at least one human cultivator. The situation was dire, but with the appearance of an ascendant lobster, there was a path forward.

He had to rely on the deity—it was larger and of the supreme form, so if he could subordinate it, the creature would no doubt deal with the rest.

Gary, ever the fool, had ruined his inaugural meeting with the great leviathan; rage coursed through Sebastian’s veins, replacing every other emotion.

With measured steps, he strode toward the deity, brushing his robe free of dust and splinters. He had to regain control, so he held his head high, his shoulders back, and his chest out.

He was the leader of this cult, and with the leviathan’s appearance in his domain, the cult doctrine was clear: Sebastian was now the leader of the entire Cult of the Leviathan.

No, he thought. The leader of the Church of the Leviathan.

At his disciple’s words that identified the leviathan as Pistachio—the same lobster he’d spent decades molding—a touch of elation joined Sebastian’s fury; it would be even easier to subordinate the deity.

He was keenly aware of the others in the room, but ignored them entirely—his eyes were locked on Gary and the leviathan hidden behind him.

“Dispense with the childish name, disciple,” Sebastian projected with grandiose intonation. “He is no longer Pistachio—this is the great leviathan of legend, and I won’t stand for your insubordination any longer.”

All eyes were on him as he stopped in front of the lobster.

Good, he thought. Let them witness their downfall.

Rather than prostrate himself before the creature, he held out a hand for the leviathan to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, great leviathan. I am Sebastian, the leader of your church.”

Time crawled to a stop; the entire room froze as he waited for the creature’s action.

The leviathan slowly lifted his claw to meet Sebastian’s extended hand.

Elation roared through him, but he kept his lips pressed together, his face a mask of indifference.

Everything is going to plan,he thought. As expected.

The claw was open, so Sebastion grasped the top pincer.

“I look forward to us working togeth—”

Boom!

***

Barry cringed as Pistachio’s claw slammed shut.

A cannon blast exploded out—Sebastian’s body became the cannonball.

Faster than a mortal eye could see, his limp form slammed into the back door, shattered it into a million pieces, rocketed over the low wall atop the stone walkway, and soared out over the ocean.

Pistachio had swept Gary aside with his freeclaw, protecting him from the deadly impact. He scuttled toward the back door, sparing Gary a gentle pat on the head in passing.

***

Gary’s eyes were wide, and a soft, high-pitched sound rang in his ears.

He hadn’t seen what happened, but with Sebastian’s disappearance, and the door’s obliteration, he knew what must have occurred.

Such power…

Pistachio lumbered past him and gave him two taps on the head in what must have been a farewell.

“Pistachio!” he called, and the lobster paused, half-turning to look at him.

“Live a good life, okay?” Gary’s voice shook. “I’m sorry for everything…”

Pistachio’s eyes drifted to the eyepatch-wearing crab, and he blew a small burst of bubbles.

Gary smiled at Pistachio through falling tears as his oldest friend ambled out the back door, over the low wall, and disappeared into the pitch-black sea.

He turned to the crab.

“Please make it quick.”

***

Barry raised an eyebrow.

“Make what quick, Gary?”

The cultist swallowed and put on a brave face, but fear and sadness peeked through, tinging his features.

“I know what needs to happen. I’m sorry, Barry. I tried to stop Sebastian, but I couldn’t. Worse, I took part in summoning that… thing.”

Gary closed his eyes and dipped his head.

“I’m ready.”

Barry couldn’t help but smile at the assumptions.

“We already know you tried to stop him, Gary.”

Gary’s head shot up, his eyebrows furrowing.

“... you do?”

“We’ve been listening to your plans for weeks.” He pulled something from his back pocket and held it up. “It was you that threw this into the ocean, wasn’t it?”

Gary’s eyes fixed on the artifact and went wide. Barry nodded.

“Sergeant Snips found it beneath the waves and brought it to me weeks ago. Why did you discard it?”

“I… I thought it might make Sebastian give up his crusade against Fischer…”

“As we thought. You need not die tonight, Gary. How would you like to join us in—”

“Will I be able to see Pistachio?” Gary interrupted, blinking his tears away. “If I join you, I mean.”

“Er—I mean… yes?”

“Alright. I’ll join.”

“You… don’t want to know what you’re joining?”

“Nope. As long as Pistachio is there, I’m in.”

“Oh… okay.”

Sergeant Snips scuttled forward and held a claw out. Gary stared at it in confusion, then reached out hesitantly and shook it.

“It was Sergeant Snips, right…? It’s, um, nice to meet you?”

Snips bubbled her approval, then Corporal Claws dashed over and gave an insistent chirp, demanding an introduction.

“Gary, that is Corporal Claws—she controls lightning. You’ve met Sergeant Snips—she controls water.” Barry pointed at Rocky. “That’s Rocky—he makes things explode.”

Rocky lowered his claws, looking almost annoyed at not being about to blast something. He turned and left without so much as a goodbye.

Barry shook his head with a soft laugh as he watched the disgruntled crab go.

What has my life become…?

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