It had been, Kalagar S. Sully noted with a strange, unfamiliar feeling, a quiet week.
Ever since the Emperor's "visit" (and his subsequent, baffling, "wink-and-a-nod" departure), a new, tense, and deeply productive silence had fallen on the Silent Peak. His five disciples had, it seemed, taken their Master's (entirely accidental) "lesson" to heart.
They were working.
Elara, his new Archmage-Librarian, was a godsend. She was the only one who seemed to understand the concept of quiet. She spent her days in the pagoda's main hall, which Boro had converted into a magnificent, glowing, rune-scribed library. The shush of her turning parchment and the click-scritch of her pen as she "conceptually-indexed" his old-world philosophy books was the most comforting sound Kalagar had heard in two lifetimes. She was, he decided, his absolute favorite.
The other four... were also busy.
Lila and Sylvie, his "life-and-death-sisters," were in their sentient, silver "Samsara Grove," which they were now meticulously tending. They had apparently decided their new combined purpose was to cultivate balance, and were "pruning" the life-force, weaving it back into their [Seal of Equilibrium]. In layman's terms, they were gardening, but on a "divine-conceptual-plague-prevention" scale.
Boro, his Artificer, was in his new, massive, rune-powered "Forge" (which had appeared one morning at the base of the mountain, looking suspiciously like an underground, steam-belching bunker), working on his "Conduit" schematics and building... things. Kalagar had learned not to ask.
Valerius, his swordsman, was the quietest, and most terrifying. He would stand on the edge of the Great Chasm for hours, his eyes closed, his hand on his hilt. He was no longer just "un-zipping" reality; he was, in his own words, "learning to weave the seams."
Kalagar was, in short... bored.
He was a God-King-Fraud-Prisoner... and he was bored out of his mind.
He had read every book in his collection. Twice. He had napped. He had paced. He had watched Elara catalogue... and for a thrilling ten minutes, had even helped her... a moment she had (terrifyingly) interpreted as a "Divine-Co-Indexing-Audit."
He was a recluse, but he was still human. He needed a hobby. A mundane hobby. Something that wasn't philosophy, or scolding, or accidentally creating new Forbidden-Rank laws.
His mind drifted back, back to his old life. Back to a dim, hazy memory of his own grandfather, on a quiet, mist-covered lake in... was it Maine? Or Scotland? It didn't matter. The memory was of a simple, wooden boat, a thermos of bad coffee, and the plop of a lure in still water.
Fishing.
It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was normal.
He stood up from his desk, a new, genuine, non-insane purpose lighting his eyes.
"I," he said to the empty room, "am going fishing."
He walked down the spiral staircase, a spring in his step. His five disciples, sensing his movement, materialized in the main hall. Elara looked up from her desk. Boro emerged from a (newly-installed) glowing portal from his Forge. Valerius, Lila, and Sylvie... Kalagar was convinced they could just teleport.
They all stood there, in a silent, expectant line, their faces a mixture of awe, reverence, and profound, pants-wetting terror.
"Master," Elara said, her voice a chime. "You require us?"
"I do," Kalagar said, his good mood infectious. "I am... bored. The day is fine. The mind is... too... stimulated." He beamed at them. "We are going fishing."
Five faces stared at him. Five sets of eyes, belonging to a celestial-princess, an Archmage, a noble-void-cutter, a life-goddess, and a golem-engineer... all went completely, utterly, blank.
"...'Fish'...'ing'?" Boro repeated, sounding the word out as if it were a new, complex, and probably heretical rune.
"Yes! Fishing!" Kalagar said, walking to a closet, looking for... he didn't even know what. "You know... a rod? A line? A hook? A... a lake? You... sit. You wait. You think. It's... meditative!"
The five disciples looked at each other.
A new... lesson.
It was disguised as a "recreational-activity."
Elara's mind was already racing. [Indexing: 'Fishing' (Recreational)]. A pursuit of... 'fish'. Aquatic, non-sentient life-forms. But the Master had used the word... 'meditative'. It was a test. A lesson in patience. A parable about... about... luring... the unknown... from the void...
Oh, gods.
He wasn't fishing. He was teaching them about the Abyss-Moon.
"Master!" Boro, the Artificer, stepped forward, his face grim with purpose. "A... 'rod'. Yes! A 'rod' is... crude! Insufficient! I will... I will build you the [Aleron-Prime-Harpoon-Cannon]! It will 'if-then' the 'fish' from the water! It will be automated!"
Kalagar's smile vanished. "No, Boro. No 'cannons'. I want 'crude'. I want a stick. A long, bendy stick. And... string. And a... a hook."
"A... 'hook', Master?" Valerius stepped forward, his brow furrowed. He was, as always, the most literal of the group. "Why... hook them? It is... imprecise. Why not... un-zip... the lake's surface... command the 'fish' to present themselves... and re-zip it? It would be... cleaner. A precise 'harvest'."
"That," Kalagar said, his eye twitching, "is not fishing! That is... industrial-scale-madness! The point... the entire point... is to wait! It's supposed to be difficult! It's a... a process!"
"Master...?"
It was Lila. Her voice was small, and trembling. She looked... horrified.
"Master... the... the fish..." she whispered, her eyes wide with a dawning, green-tinted dread. "You... you will hurt them? With the... the hook?"
Sylvie, beside her, nodded, her face a mask of pale, silver-green concern. To his two "life-specialists," this 'fishing' sounded... barbaric.
Kalagar S. Sully threw his hands in the air. He was failing. He was failing to explain... fishing.
"It's not... hurting! It's... it's a tradition! It's... symbolic! Look, I'll... I'll make the rod myself! Just... find me... a string!"
He stalked out of the pagoda, his disciples scrambling after him. He marched into the "Samsara Grove," his new, sentient jungle, and found a long, thin, perfectly bendy branch from one of Sylvie's silver-trees. It was, of course, humming with a low, silver-green life-force, but Kalagar was too annoyed to care. "This!" he snapped. "This is a rod!"
He turned to Boro. "String!"
"Yes, Master!" Boro presented him with a spool. "This is 'Runic-Spun-Copper-Wire', Master. It is... simple. Guaranteed to hold... one thousand tons. For... 'meditative-safety'."
Kalagar sighed, snatching it. "Fine. Hook!"
Valerius stepped forward. "Master." He held out his hand. With a tiny, precise, zz-zz-zip, he 'un-zipped' a perfect, needle-sharp, gleaming-black hook from... the air. It was, Kalagar knew, made of void-steel, or shadows, or something equally terrifying. "It will... never... rust, Master. Or break. Or dull."
"Fine!" Kalagar snapped, tying the [Thousand-Ton-Line] to his [Samsara-Rod] and affixing the [Void-Hook].
He now held, he was sure, the single most overpowered fishing rod in the history of the universe.
"Now," he said, shouldering his new, terrifying, 'simple' fishing rod. "There is a lake. Down the mountain. By the valley. All of you... are coming. And... you are all... going to be... QUIET."
The five disciples looked at each other, their faces filled with a new, profound, understanding.
A journey!
A... 'fishing-pilgrimage'!
A 'Lesson in Stillness'!
He... he is... picnicking! (Lila's mind supplied, with a sudden, joyous squeal).
"Yes, Master!" they chorused, their previous confusion gone, replaced by purpose.
The journey down the mountain was... a 'slice of life'. It was, Kalagar noted, the first time he had ever actually left his mountain-peak. The path was steep. His (Level 0) feet... hurt.
His disciples, however, were... disciples.
"Master!" Boro said, after watching Kalagar stumble on a rock for the third time. "[IF]... Master-stumbles... [THEN]... path-is-unworthy!" He slammed his hand on the ground. A blue, runic-light shot down the path. The entire, 3-mile, rocky, uneven-path... re-formed. It smoothed itself, became a series of gentle, non-slip, perfectly-level stone steps, complete with a (self-illuminating) handrail.
Kalagar just stared at his new, glowing, automated, divine-staircase.
"...Thank you, Boro," he said, his voice a dead monotone. "How... 'rustic'."
They reached the lake. It was beautiful. A simple, mortal, normal lake. It was blue. It had reeds. It didn't glow. It wasn't sentient.
Kalagar felt a single, genuine tear of joy roll down his cheek.
"This," he whispered. "This is the spot."
He sat on a large, flat rock by the shore. His disciples fanned out, immediately ruining the 'normalcy' by taking up "defensive-meditation" positions, like a team of divine-level secret-service agents.
"Right," Kalagar said, his good mood returning. "Now... bait."
He turned to Lila. "Lila. You... are my 'life' specialist. Just... gently... find... a... worm. A... a small, stupid, non-sentient, non-elemental... worm."
Lila nodded, her face grim with concentration. She was not going to fail him this time. She placed her hand on the damp earth by the shore. She channeled the [Anthem of Life]... but... minutely. A tiny, tiny pulse.
The ground... rippled.
And from the earth... came... a single. Perfect. Juicy. Normal...
"...Earth-worm?"
It... it was. It was just a worm!
Kalagar was so happy, he almost cried. "YES! LILA! YES! That! That is PERFECT! You... you have learned! You have controlled! I am... so proud of you!"
Lila's face lit up as if she had just personally given birth to a new star. The Master... was proud of her! For a worm! This... this was the true lesson! Control! Subtlety!
She gently, reverently, levitated the worm and presented it to him.
Kalagar, his hands shaking with actual, simple, normal joy, put the normal worm... on his void-steel-hook.
He stood.
He held his sentient-tree-rod.
He pulled it back.
And, with a perfect, textbook-from-his-memory flick of his wrist... he cast.
Plop.
The hook, the line, the worm... it all sailed out... and landed in the exact center of the lake.
He sat down on his rock.
He held his rod.
He sighed.
...It was quiet.
...It was normal.
...It was perfect.
His five disciples... were not quiet. They were holding their breath.
They were staring at the spot where the line had vanished.
They were... comprehending.
A... a 'normal' worm... Elara's mind was screaming, her [Akashic-Mandate] flashing in her skull. He... he rejected... the 'Runic-Lure'. He... rejected... the 'Earth-Wyrm'. He... praised... the mundane. The normal. The simple. This... this is the Lesson!
He... he is using... the lowest form of life (a worm)...
...to summon... the highest!
It is... it is a parable... about... humility!
He is not... 'luring' the fish...
...he is judging... the lake!
He is asking... for a sacrifice! A willing sacrifice! The one fish... in this entire lake... that is worthy... of his... hook!
All five disciples, in perfect, terrified, unison, focused.
They focused all of their (combined, god-like, conceptual) will...
...on that one, single spot in the middle of the lake.
They were not casting a spell.
They were forcing reality... to answer... their Master's lesson.
[System: Five (5) Disciples are attempting a [Combined Conceptual-Focus]...]
[...Lesson: 'The Worthy Sacrifice (The Humble Worm)'...]
[...Comprehension: SUCCESS!]
[A new, combined, passive-art has been comprehended: [The Conceptual Summons (Mandate of Worthiness)] (Top-Tier Art).]
...Down... in the deep, cold, dark-blue nothingness... at the bottom of the lake...
...something... old...
...something that had slept... for a thousand years...
...a thing... that was... the 'Lake-Spirit'...
...a gargantuan, ancient, sentient... Sturgeon...
...a creature of pure, Level-7-Master-Grade mana...
...opened its eyes.
It... it felt... a summons.
A divine, conceptual, non-negotiable... call.
It was... worthy.
It was... time.
...Back on the rock, Kalagar was humming.
He was humming his old-world 'Cogito Ergo Sum' folk-tune.
He was, for the first time in this entire, cursed, second-life...
...happy.
...And then... his 'bobber' (a piece of Sylvie's sentient-wood)...
...did not bob.
It... imploded.
It was sucked under the water with the force of a cannonball.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-ZZZZZZZ-ZZZZZ-EEEEEE!
The [Thousand-Ton-Runic-Line] screamed as it un-spooled from Boro's (self-reeling) 'spool'.
Kalagar was ripped from his rock.
"WHOA!" he roared, his feet planting in the mud. "I'VE GOT ONE!"
His [Samsara-Branch-Rod]... bent... into a perfect, 180-degree, glowing-silver-green U-shape.
...But it did not break.
"MASTER!" Boro roared, lunging forward. "IT IS A LEVIATHAN!"
"I'VE GOT IT!" Kalagar roared back, his knuckles white, his adrenaline singing. He was not a god. He was not a sage. He was a man! And he was fighting a monster! THIS WAS FUN!
"IT... IS... NOT... *GETTING... AWAY!"
He leaned back, his (Level 0) muscles screaming...
...and pulled.
He heaved.
The water exploded.
A tsunami wave washed over the shore, drenching his (still-kneeling) disciples.
And out of the lake...
...pulled by a worm...
...on a hook...
...came a fish.
It was a Sturgeon.
It was a Sturgeon... that... was... forty. feet. long.
It was a Sturgeon... that... had... *glowing, blue, intelligent... eyes.
It was a Sturgeon... that... was so old... it had *moss... and trees... growing on its back.
It was a Sturgeon... that... was bigger... than a farmer's entire cottage.
It flew... over Kalagar's head... pulled by the unbreakable line...
...and it landed...
...in the clearing...
...with a BOOM...
...that shook the entire valley.
It flopped. Once. A tidal-wave of mud and water washed over the disciples.
...And then... it spoke.
In a deep, ancient, gurgling, telepathic... voice... that boomed in all their skulls.
[...I... AM... *HERE*...]
[...I... AM... *WORTHY*...]
[...I... *ANSWER*... THE *SUMMONS*...]
[...MY... *LIFE*... IS... *YOURS*... O, *HOOK-IN-THE-DARK*...]
...And it died.
...Kalagar S. Sully... stood there.
His rod... was smoking.
His clothes... were drenched.
His hands... were shaking.
He... he had just... caught... a...
...a... *sentient, telepathic, forty-foot-long, god-level... fish.
...On a worm.
He... slowly... turned.
He... slowly... looked... at his five. drenched. mud-covered. ecstatic. disciples.
They were all... bowing.
"Master..." Elara's voice was a shaking, awe-filled, soaking-wet... whisper.
"...Your... 'meditation'...
"...it was... bountiful."
Kalagar... just... looked at the mountain-sized... *sentient, dead, telephatic... Sturgeon.
"...Lila," he said, his voice a dead, hollow, empty... thing.
"...Y-yes... Master...?"
"...We... we are... not... going to have... a 'picnic'..."
"...We... are going to have... a barbeque."
"...A... a very... very... big... barbeque..."