Chapter 7: The Cult of Carcinization

Chapter 7: The Cult of Carcinization

The next morning, I set off toward the village for two reasons.

First and foremost, I didn’t want anyone to discover the house, especially only a day after it constructed itself out of nothing. The longer I could stall, the more feasible it would be that I built it up over time.

Second, I wanted more information.

As much as I wanted to throw myself into fishing—and fixate on it entirely—there would be no point if a lack of preparation caused my untimely death by whatever this world did to witches, practitioners of the dark-arts, and other such evil-doers.

The first person I ran into was Barry, who was also up in the pre-dawn light. The farmer was all smiles, and it put my somewhat troubled mind at ease.

Beside Barry stood a young boy of perhaps seven years old. He stood tall for someone his age, seeming to radiate the surety that comes from a young man standing beside his father.

“Good morning, Fischer,” Barry said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Morning, mate.” I gestured at the young man. “This one yours?”

Barry smiled in delight, answering the question before he even spoke.

“Aye, this is my son, Paul. Say hello, lad.”

“H-Hello,” Paul said, the previous confidence falling apart at having to talk to a stranger.

“Nice to meet you, mate. I was wondering how your dad managed all these fields, but seeing those brawny arms of yours, now I know!”

Paul smiled and puffed out his chest, and Barry laughed.

“It’s your first morning here, isn’t it, Fischer?”Điscover new chapters at novelhall.com

“It is. Why’s that?”

“Well, it’s a tradition in our family to watch the sunrise from the beach. Would you care to join us?”

While that sounded amazing, I didn’t want to miss the lord coming to find me for fear the man would seek me out and discover the house.

“I’d love to, mate, but George might come looking for me about the deed to my land, and I don’t want to miss him.”

“You talk funny,” Paul said, looking at me with squinted eyes.

I laughed, unable to hold my mirth in.

Barry slapped his son lightly on the back of the head, giving him a glare.

“Now, that’s no way to talk to a neighbor, Paul. You say sorry to mister Fischer.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” I smiled down at Paul. “I do talk funny, but it’s normal where I come from, and just Fischer is fine. We’re neighbors, after all.”

Paul nodded, accepting the statement for fact, as only kids can.

“Well,” Barry said, “what if Paul waits here to keep an eye out for that wandering lord of ours?”

“Dad! I want to see the sunrise, too!”

“None of that, lad.” He shot a stern look at his son. “That can be your apology for your tongue running faster than your brain.” Barry turned to me. “Would that be alright?”

“I don’t want to impose...”

“Nonsense!” Barry waved the concern away. “Paul here has seen countless sunrises, and he’ll see countless yet. It’s your first morning in Tropica, and it feels right that you see it.”

Seeing Paul’s growing disappointment, I bent down, so we were eye level.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Paul?”

Presented with a challenge, he straightened himself as I continued.

“I don’t even want to think what would happen if he were to walk onto my land and somehow lose the paperwork.” I winced. “Maybe I should do it myself, or find an adult to keep an eye out for him...”

Paul’s eyes widened, then narrowed in resolve.

“I can do it!”

“You’re sure? I don’t mind having to get someone a little older...”

“He won’t get by me! I promise!”

“Alright.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “I trust you, mate. Make sure George doesn’t get past you and onto my land.”

Barry smiled at me as he led us down to the water.

“That was expertly done. My boy would sooner eat shellfish than admit he wasn’t capable of completing a task.”

I grinned at him.

“I have no doubt he’ll rise to the challenge—he looked like a hawk when we left him.”

Barry laughed.

Barry’s eyes moved over the calm sea.

“The gods of water set about the events that led to all the gods abandoning this world. As such, only a fool would rely upon the spoils of their domain.”

“That would certainly explain everyone’s reaction to me fishing...”

“Aye. Fishing is eating from the sea, not living from the land as is proper—it’s heresy.”

Never mind the pop-up house—am I going to get burnt at the stake if I go fishing?

“What would you villagers do to someone committing such heresy?”

“Do?” Barry cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“You know... like punishment-wise. Am I going to lose a finger or my head for going fishing?”

Barry’s eyes went wide, then he laughed.

It wasn’t a polite laugh—he roared his delight, so loud that even the crab men stopped their clacking momentarily, shooting us aggrieved glances.

“No—no, Fischer. Not that. There is no punishment, it’s just... people will treat you different, you understand?”

Oh, good.

I smiled my delight back at him, genuine relief flooding me at the news that my new-world plans weren’t halted.

“Thanks for the warning, mate. I’m not too worried about how I’m seen, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

Barry shook his head, but still smiled.

“You’re truly going to fish?”

“Yup!”

“Ah well, at least you’ve been warned what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What about the cult and church thing?” I asked. “Where I’m from, the societal view is flipped—churches are recognized places of worship, whereas cults are looked down upon.”

He shook his head in exasperation.

“I never want to go wherever you’re from, Fischer—they got it all backwards.”

I grinned.

“I wouldn’t worry about that—I don’t see you ever getting the opportunity. So, what’s the difference between a cult and a church here?”

“Well, churches are blasphemous for a simple reason—there are no gods left to worship. They all ascended, and won’t be returning. A cult is normal, because they’re worshiping the eventual rise of another human or creature to godhood.

“Every cult is hoping to one day become a church when their chosen creature becomes a spirit beast, or their human counterpart ascends—but until then, to call yourself a church would be a lie. Take the Cult of Carcinization, for example.”

He pointed at the five men, who were now neck-deep in the calm water, only their heads and imitations of pincers visible. One clacked at another, who shuffled to the side to avoid the violence.

“Their doctrine is that a crab will ascend and become a spirit beast. That we will all become crabs one day through carcinization means that to them, we are all holy beings just waiting to happen.”

He shrugged.

“As I said, completely harmless.”

At the mention of spirit beasts, all the novels on cultivation I’d read came rushing to mind.

So I’ve arrived in post-ascension Xianxia land? Neat.

“I get it,” I said. “So a church is inherently a lie, and therefore blasphemy, unless a spirit beast or ascended human emerges?”

“Just so.”

“Are there many cults?”

“Probably more than there are grains of sand beneath your feet. They’re not all as benevolent as the carcinization folk over there, so I’m glad Tropica only has two.”

“Two?” I raised an eyebrow. “What’s the other one?”

“The Cult of the Leviathan. They’re an odd bunch and a real chore to be around, but also relatively harmless. Unlike the Cult of the Carcinization, they deify lobsters. Their doctrine is that lobsters don’t die of old age—they only die when they get too old to molt. Their plan is to help a lobster molt until it gets so old that it naturally becomes a spirit beast.”

As he spoke, my smile grew wider-and-wider, and it was my turn to laugh uncontrollably.

Barry laughed along with me, thinking I was laughing at the absurdity of the plan.

Don’t get me wrong, it was a ridiculous plan, but I was mostly laughing that ‘the lorb’ had managed to become the basis for an actual cult in post-ascension Xianxia land.

It took me a good while to regain my composure.

I love this place.