Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 66: The Heavens Descend

What Barry had first assumed was a giant fireball unraveled as it flowed down the slope, the thin ropes of burning flame that comprised it lashing out to destroy every bit of life they could touch. Though the surrounding trees were green and lush, that did nothing to stop them from combusting. Before the first fragment of shattered mountain hit the ground, most of the mountainside was ablaze. And all Barry could do was watch as the living conflagration descended.

The top of the raging orb was open now, revealing the figures within. They were more numerous than he’d expected, over a dozen people riding within the half sphere. Most of them were upright, but the rest were pinned to the back wall by the speed at which they traveled. Among those standing, one figure stood taller than the rest. The disgusting chi radiated from his core, winding out to fuel the myriad flames.

Augustus Reginald Gormona. The king. “Fischerrr!” he screamed at the sky, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. His arms were held to the side, and as he lowered his gaze, he clapped his hands together. Everyone atop the bubble skidding to a stop. But the chi continued on. It flowed forward across the packed earth, becoming a two-meter high wall of flame. More of the sickly essence came oozing from the king, pouring out to increase the deadly wall. It grew in width, encompassing the entire length of the defending forces. Half of them, mostly those of the reservists, were crumpled to the floor, unable to stand as the king’s corrupting chi sent waves of nausea crashing over them. They were defenseless as the flames raced forward like an orange and red tsunami, ready to extinguish their lives.

But the Church of Fischer was prepared.

A number of humans and creatures flew forward, appearing between the defenders and the encroaching flames. Chi flooded from them. Private Pistachio’s claws slammed together, delivering twin blasts that tore a hole through the eastern section. Sergeant Snips flew forward with blue light streaming from her carapace, and she released rapid-fire arcs of energy that exploded when they hit, blowing that bit of wall backwards. On the left side, Ellis threw himself into the path of the fire. It flowed around the shining scaled armor of his own creation, the wall there scattering into separate streams that Private Pelly and Warrant Officer Williams beat back with flaps of their mighty wings.

Two men stood in the center, standing against the storm. Roger drew back his sword, and when he lashed out, the air split. A sound like metal on metal cut through the roar of the flames, slicing it in half. The wall exploded. Trent was on his right, his hands aglow. The rest of the approaching fires had been neutralized by the others, yet he waited, gathering his power. Roger drew back his sword again, preparing to unleash another cut, but there was no need.

Trent’s fist punched out, twin infernos pouring from his core and out of his body. The columns slammed into his father’s attack.

Boooom!

The explosion made air shoot outward, striking Barry a physical blow that was strong enough to knock a non-cultivator from their feet. Rather than neutralize the wall as others’ attacks had, the violent reaction engulfed Trent, the blast large enough for Roger to have to leap back a few meters. Barry might have felt a moment of worry for Trent’s wellbeing, but he could see a shadow of his form through the fire. The prince was relaxed, and when the flames finally died, he stood tall. His outer robe had been consumed, leaving behind an instantly recognizable item of clothing that they’d stolen from the king.

Rare

Woven of web from a core weaver, this suit is almost completely impervious to damage from all chi. It does not provide any resistance.

Bonus Effect: +30 percent effectiveness to fire chi.

It fit snug against Trent’s body, revealing well-defined muscle that belied the portly state he’d possessed when first coming to Tropica. It wasn’t just his awakening that had caused the transformation, but also months of hard work and physical training. The field was completely clear now, and hatred covered Trent’s face as he stared his father down. The king, however, had eyes for someone else.

“You show yourself, Lizard Wizard!” Augustus Reginald Gormona spat, a manic hint in his tone. “Where is your master, foul sorcerer? Bring him to—”

A scream tore across the battlefield, shrill enough to cut off the king’s monologue. Barry immediately knew who she was based on the descriptions he’d heard.

Penelope Francine Gormona tried to stand but fell back to her knees, her lower lip quivering. “Trent? Is that you?”

Any of the attackers that weren’t already staring at Trent turned toward him, recognition flashing across their faces at the name, if not the face.

“Hello, mother,” he replied, his mask of hatred remaining.

A silence settled over everyone as Trent’s father, the king, gaped. A wide smile formed, followed swiftly by spontaneous laughter. It climbed to a malevolent cackle that made Barry’s skin prickle.

“Perfect!” the king declared, still laughing. “You have broken through the block and harnessed your chi! Come here, son. Fight by my side against your captors! I have much to tell you once we are finished here.”

Trent spat on the ground. “I’d sooner burn myself alive.”

“Trent...” his mother said, barely holding back a sob. “Are you well? Where have you—”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Silence!” the king roared, shooting her a venomous glare. She deflated, her eyes darting between him and her son. Augustus turned his back on her. “You tread dangerous ground, son. You may be my blood, but I shan’t stand for more disrespect.”

Trent snorted. “You lost any chance of me respecting you when you poisoned me.”

“Poisoned...?” The king’s brow furrowed. “I never did such a thing.”

Roger shot a glance Barry’s way, the question clear: do we let this continue? Barry held two fingers down, the signal to wait. Fischer would surely have felt the threat by now, and he would be on the way. The more time they wasted, the better.

Heat radiated from Trent, washing over the battlefield and causing more than a few defenders to take a step back. “Yes. You. Did.” His skin danced with light as if flames were roiling beneath. “You gave me the pills that turned me into a hideous moron!” Fire erupted from his back. “And don’t think I haven’t seen you back there, Solomon. Francis.” He spat the names as if they were a curse and glared at the men. “I know it was you that made them. I remember everything.”

From the back of the group, Solomon stammered. “P-Prince, I...”

Barry’s head rocked back when he sensed the man’s essence—he could feel a hint of Fischer there. Combined with his newborn core... was this who had ascended and created the poisonous chi earlier today? But that surprise was nothing compared to the shock Barry felt when he spotted the man behind Solomon. They hadn’t seen him in months, and now Barry knew why. Marcus, the merchant that always brought wares and a friendly smile to Tropica, was with the procession. He was curled into a ball, his face pale and body shaking.

Solomon swallowed and cleared his throat. “I was just doing my job as a member of the Cult of the Alchemist, Prince. It is what must be done to all male heirs of the Gormona bloodli—”

The king was on him in a flash, almost faster than Barry’s eyes could register. He clutched Solomon by the neck and lifted him from the ground. “You blabber crown secrets.” His entire body quaked with rage, his arms bulging. “Die.”

Though Barry hadn’t yet had a breakthrough, even he could feel the repulsive chi that poured out of the king’s core. It traveled up his body, and when it flared to life against the alchemist’s neck, the man’s life would be over. With the amount of chi he was gathering, everyone nearby—including the king’s wife and daughter—would be severely injured if not outright killed. They knew it, too. Their eyes were filled with panic.

Barry took a half step forward, but there was nothing he could do to save them. No one could get there in time. Steeling himself, he prepared to avert his gaze, not wanting to witness the carnage. But before the flames could erupt, a chaotic web of black lines split the air between Solomon and the king. The latter dashed backward, so when Borks flew from the portal, the king was off balance.

Borks let out a vicious growl and licked his teeth. He was in the form that Fischer had called a... was it a Chi-wow-wow? Still midair and not at all caring for Barry’s musings, Borks shifted into a breed that was built like an anvil, its face smooshed and skin covered in rolls. Tucking his legs, Borks hit the king with the force of a fur-covered cannonball.

Augustus Reginald Gormona was sent flying. He crashed into the group of corrupted cultivators, each of them leaping forward to catch him and arrest his momentum. The moment Borks touched the ground, he shifted again. In his true form now, that of a hellhound of nightmare, he used the first ability that Barry had ever seen him utilize. Black vines of shadow erupted from the earth, wrapping the arms, legs, and torsos of everyone who had the disgusting chi in their cores.

Borks shifted for the third time in so many seconds. Now covered in golden fur, he appeared before Marcus and licked him on the cheek, wagging his tail.

The merchant, who had been assailed by the king’s sickly chi since their arrival, blinked up at Borks from the ground. “Borks...?” he croaked, his eyes unbelieving. Borks nodded, grabbed him by the collar, and flicked him into the air. A portal opened, and Marcus sailed through it.

When the other side appeared beside Barry, he was ready. He caught Marcus and gestured for a defender to come over. “Take him to safety!” The man nodded, collected Marcus with care, and took off toward Tropica. In the short time that took, Borks had already sent the rest through.

First came the queen, then the princess, followed by the alchemists, Solomon and Francis. Now that they were close, Barry was even more sure. These people were no threat. Their cores were less powerful than his, and he was far from the strongest cultivator present. Peter, who had experienced a breakthrough, let his power wash out over everyone.

“The missing cook...?” the queen asked, blinking up at the former royal chef.

“Hello, your highness. Seems like you might have gotten yourself in over your head.” He patted her on the shoulder, making her cringe back. “It’s Peter, by the way. Don’t do anything silly, and you won’t be hurt.” Whether because of his words or his innate power, she shrank back. Princess Tryphena reached for her chi, which was, as Fischer would say, an objectively bad move. Peter flicked her on the chin, knocking her out cold. The queen gasped but dared not make a move.

Borks had leaped through after them, and as he dismissed the portal, he wobbled, his legs shaking. He was spent. He reverted to his hellhound form and collapsed to the sand, his tongue lolling and chest heaving.

“Good boy,” Barry said. Despite not stopping for a moment, Borks had accurately assessed the situation. Those he’d brought through weren’t any sort of threat. If anything, they were in danger by remaining next to the king. Barry didn’t feel any sort of allegiance to the people cowering on the ground before him, but from what he knew, they weren’t deserving of death. He patted Borks’s side. “You are such a good boy.” Borks wagged his tail, and Barry stood, surveying the scene.

Borks’s vines were still holding everyone down. They struggled against them, reefing their limbs in a futile attempt at escape. The hellhound had gained even more power since joining them here in Tropica, and despite his exhaustion, he kept them constricted. Even the king was down, apparently still stunned by the earlier attack. They were all defenseless, yet no one had moved against them.

But there was a good reason for that.

Barry cast his eyes skyward, a small smile gracing his lips. “Odd weather we’ve been having lately, wouldn’t you say, Peter?”

Peter nodded, his eyes reflecting blue light as he looked up. “I’d hate to be caught in that storm without an umbrella. Looks pretty, though.”

Following their gazes, Solomon’s jaw dropped open, and there it remained as he watched the heavens descend.

The first boulder, launched from a nearby mountaintop and wreathed in lightning, soared directly toward the still-dazed king. Behind it, dozens followed, looking like nothing so much as shooting stars.