Book 3: Chapter 32: Congregation

Book 3: Chapter 32: Congregation

The susurration of voices died, replaced by the sound of air rushing past my ears. Even after the blinding light of the exploding bubbles dissipated, an invisible current still moved around us, whipping at my clothes and hair.

I barely registered the sensations, instead focused on the System message that had rudely commandeered my field of view.

You have successfully taken part in a crafting ritual!

Quest updated: Group Project.

Objective: [Error. Insufficient Power.]

Reward: [Error. Insufficient Power.]

I cleared my vision, intending to roll my eyes at the less-than-useful message, but then I caught sight of what sat atop the tables.

Like a scene right out of a cooking anime, our feast seemed to shine. There were piles and piles of food, all cooked to perfection and radiating a golden light. The juvenile shore fish that had been cooking on the coals were sitting in their pans, presented so beautifully that they could give a gourmet chef an existential crisis. Between the pans, plates of roasted vegetables sat, the steam rising from them lit by the ever-present glow. As impressive as they were, neither the vegetables nor the juvenile fish were the centerpiece.

Placed intermittently along the tabletops, the slabs of mature blue fish shone brighter than all the rest. Each was a slightly different color, their unique combination of herbs and spices making them appear like entirely different dishes. I had assumed that they’d been destroyed by Peter’s breakthrough and the subsequent explosion.

But I was wrong.

They were skin-side up, the silvery surface turned into a golden-brown crust. I took a deep breath through my nose, all too happy to be assaulted by the combination of scents. When my eyes roamed over the closest one, I felt a familiar tug on my senses and I leaned into the feeling, allowing my vision to get drawn in.

Lucky Angler’s Feast of the Journeyman Chefs

Mythic

Created by kindred cooking journeymen, this feast is a representation of their bond and desires. Taking part in this feast will grant the consumer with the boon: Lucky Angler.

Lucky Angler effect: +20 luck for the next 24 hours.

I shook my head, my vision clearing as I smiled out at the world. Slowly, everyone else’s eyes refocused, their faces amazed, ecstatic, and everything in between.

“Well,” I said, glancing at Peter. “Looks like our little experiment was a success, mate.”

“Yeah...” he replied, staring down at one of the slabs of mature fish.

“All right, everyone,” I called, basking in their expressions as they looked my way. “Help yourselves!”

Conversations exploded into life as we started piling our plates with the different foods. There wasn’t enough room for everyone at once, so Maria and I quickly scooted out of the way. She leaned against my arm as we watched them all, their happiness unignorable.

When Gormona’s collared cultivators had first arrived on the sands of Tropica, they’d been terrified—and rightfully so. They had no idea who we were or what we were about, and even the most trusting of people would’ve had some reservations about being kidnapped by a cadre of powerful heretics. Though we had said we were freeing them, words alone did nothing to assuage their worries. Over the past weeks, however, we had shown them our intentions. Actions spoke louder than words, and we had proven ourselves time and time again.

The joy with which they plucked food from the feast was proof of that. Because of my enhanced awareness following my breakthrough, I could feel a hint of what they were experiencing. Given how many of them there were, it was like an immutable mass of emotion, their individual experiences combining into a wall of contentment that crashed over me.

Someone sniffed beside me, and I stole a glance at Peter just in time for him to wipe a tear away.

“You all good, mate?”

“Yeah,” he replied, sniffing again. “It’s just... I can sense what they’re feeling.”

“It’s a lot, huh?” I reached over, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Your food is the main cause of it, mate. Looks to me like your purpose is already being fulfilled.”

His eyes formed slits as he smiled out at them, gratitude radiating from his core. “It is, isn’t it?”

Peter whimpered in agreement, unable to speak.

***

As Rocky swam through the bay, his carapace hummed with power.

Though he’d put on a front of indifference, that fish was the best gods-damned thing he had ever tasted. He had felt the explosion of power from his new faction’s base and rushed over, intent on determining what had caused it. He’d discovered the entirety of Fischer’s followers there, all ready to partake in a chi-filled feast.

He’d not had much time to spare, so he’d quickly helped himself to the chi on offer. He took great delight in the reactions of the surrounding humans, their gasps and terror the correct reaction a mere human should have to his spectacular form. Before his spiky mistress could grab and fling him out to sea, he’d performed a tactical retreat.

After all, he had somewhere to be.

Despite the speed with which he flew through the bay’s waters, the glowing chi he’d gotten from those few mouthfuls of fish didn’t burn away. The essence seemed bottomless, his rear flippers using the never-ending fuel source to send him skidding over the ocean. Before he knew it, he’d reached the distant headland on the northern side of the bay.

When he leaped up onto the rocks there, his carapace glistening as he scuttled over the shore, he found his followers where he left them. Their clothing was finally starting to dry following their swim through the bay earlier, the process aided by the fire they sat around. As Rocky noticed the pan sitting in the coals, he froze, casting his gaze over the humans.

Perhaps they weren’t useless after all...

Sitting on a pan he’d requisitioned from Fischer’s kitchen, two blue fish sat cooking, their juices bubbling out where flesh touched the hot metal. Rock looked toward the stack of rods he’d borrowed, seeing they’d all been used. He pointed down at the cooking fish, blowing questioning bubbles.

“Er, I hope it’s okay, Sergeant Snips,” Joel said, bowing low. “We did our best to follow your instructions...”

Before leaving, he had ordered them to catch some food.

Though he had seriously considered stealing a fish from the feast back on Fischer’s property and bringing it back to his faction, Rocky had decided it wasn’t wise. If they partook of Fischer’s food and the chi held within, they may have ended up becoming loyal to the troublesome man. Rocky had doubted they’d catch a fish any time soon, so was reliant on their eventual starvation to motivate them sufficiently. Whether it was his spiky mistress’s influence or his ascended awareness, he wouldn’t let them starve, but he would happily bring them to the brink in order to further his goals.

But it didn’t appear they needed any extra motivation.

Despite having neither previous experience nor proper instruction, they’d worked it out. They had caught enough fish to sustain them until tomorrow at least, and as he looked between the almost-cooked fish and the arrayed humans, a wave of suspicion washed over Rocky. Mere humans shouldn’t be so capable. How had they done it...?

The more he considered it, the worse his paranoia became. What if they were secretly working for Fischer?

Rocky pointed at the fish, the rods, then them, blowing demanding bubbles.

“I’m sorry, great spirit beast,” Joel said. “I don’t understand the question...”

“I think he’s asking how we did it,” George, who Rocky had learned was the village lord, said. “How we caught the fish, I mean.”

Rocky bobbed his carapace in acknowledgement, infuriated that he had to resort to human methods of communication to be understood.

“Oh...” Joel said, glancing up then averting his eyes when he saw the fury on Rocky’s face. “We were only able to succeed because of your instruction, great spirit beast.”

Liar! Rocky hissed, spittle flying.

Joel’s eyes went wide. “I... I also had some previous experience fishing. I know it’s heretical, but it was the only way for me to gather our offerings for you, and I personally caught each of them.” He lowered himself further to the sand. “If I have offended you, I ask that you punish only me.”

The words swept in like a strong current, washing away Rocky’s suspicion and leaving only grandeur in its place. It was because of their rightful praise for him that they had succeeded. His existence was the sole reason they’d managed to catch fish so soon, because if not for him, the cult would never have practiced fishing and gained the requisite skills.

It was as though the very universe urged Rocky on, telling him that his plans would come to fruition. He puffed himself up, standing to his full height as an invisible weight fell away.

Scuttling forward, he took a pinch of the now-cooked fish, putting it into his mouth. As he chewed, he told himself it was just as good as the fish he’d stolen from Fischer. It was a lie, of course, but that didn’t diminish how much chi the seasonal fish held.

His eyes sparkled as he spun, taking in the still-bowing forms of his faction.

Not his faction, he mentally corrected. His church. He was creating a church.

He blew content bubbles, knowing it was only a matter of time until his congregation took steps on the path of ascension.