Chapter 117: The Fisherman


    The air over Tail Lake was still, a faint mist drifting lazily across the water as the first light of dawn illuminated the glassy surface. In the middle of the vast expanse, a lone figure sat on a small wooden boat next to an oversized bucket, swaying gently with the rhythm of the water. Ronald, dressed in worn fishing clothes and a straw hat, leaned forward holding his fishing rod, humming softly to himself. His voice was low, carrying over the tranquil waters, blending into the quiet serenity of the lake.


    For the past few days, Ronald had embraced the simplicity of life in this quiet lakeside town. Fishing had become more than just a pastime—it was his sanctuary.


    Each evening, he returned with a bounty of fresh fish, hailed by the townsfolk as a master fisherman. The town thrived on its aquatic resources, and Ronald’s bold expeditions into the farthest reaches of the lake had earned him admiration. Others dared not venture so far; the tales of Tail Lake’s dangers kept them close to the shore. Many had gone but never returned, as if the lake was a bottomless pit where souls went to disappear.


    He sat quietly by the water’s edge, his gaze fixed on the rippling surface but his mind far away. He could feel the pull of his first rune, an elusive power just beyond reach. His mana pool thrummed steadily, resonating in harmony with his being, indicating that the process of assimilation was nearly complete. The first rune of an Apostle would materialize naturally after some time, although the duration was always random. Many Apostles and Magians have tried to explain what caused the materialization of the first rune to be so sporadic, linking it to knowledge and experience. Although many have tried to explain it, the truth is still yet to be discovered.


    After the first rune is materialized, the road towards the remaining four runes relies on a dangerous path that many have faltered.


    He thought about the possibilities—his affinity for the mysterious waters and his life experiences would shape the rune''s nature. Would it be something destructive or protective? The unknown thrilled and unsettled him, knowing this would mark his true entry into the world of Apostles granting him the official title of a Rank One Apostle.


    In addition, life expectancy would increase by at least forty years per rune. It wasn''t rare to see an apostle who was over two hundred and twenty years old and still capable of amazing feats.


    His attention was brought back to the lake as if he felt something strange below the surface, the lake’s eerie legend echoed in Ronald’s mind. It was said that a colossal beast once buried itself deep in the lake, its tail protruding above the surface, giving the lake its name. Though the tale was dismissed as myth, there was an undeniable tension and magic in the air.


    His peaceful musings were abruptly interrupted when the boat trembled violently. Ronald’s eyes sharpened, his grip tightening on the rod as the surface of the lake rippled unnaturally, his mind moved quickly and efficiently as his body began to emit a ghastly green glow. Before he could react further, a massive crab-like claw shot from the depths, clamping around his waist with a crushing grip.


    The force yanked him overboard, plunging him into the cold, murky water, as he gripped the glasses on his face, not allowing it to fall off. If he was a mundane his body would''ve had some serious injuries as the grip was tight, but thanks to the fast reaction of Ronald and a higher sense of his surroundings due to his affinity, a layer of ghastly water surrounded his body in an instant, preparing for the ambush.


    Beneath the surface, Ronald remained eerily calm. He gazed at the monstrous creature dragging him downward: a grotesque yellow crab with hundreds of small legs, each covered in slimy, algae-coated armor. Five grotesque stalk-like eyes writhed atop its head, scanning the murky depths with unsettling precision. The creature’s movements were mechanical yet strangely intelligent.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    So this is what’s been lurking beneath, Ronald thought, his mind already assessing the situation, he had been making his way farther and farther into the lake until reaching a point of interest. Two spots previously seemed interesting but were false flags, however, it seemed like he had hit a jackpot, maybe a lead.


    He let the creature carry him deeper, the cold water pressing in on all sides. As the light from the surface faded, he noticed the lakebed below—scattered with jagged rocks and skeletal remains of creatures and people that had met a grim fate. The crab pulled him toward a gaping cave-like hole, guarded by an army of similar crabs, their legs skittering restlessly.


    Without hesitation, the crabs pounced, their claws snapping viciously. Ronald’s body twisted in a fluid, almost unnatural motion, dodging the attacks with a grace that defied the water’s resistance. His control over the surrounding water became evident. Each movement he made sent ripples that shifted the crabs’ trajectories, his body flowing through their onslaught like a phantom.


    A cold, ghastly aura enveloped him, and with a flick of his wrist, a spectral trident materialized in his hand. The weapon pulsed with eerie, spirit-like energy—its translucent form distinct from the natural water around it. The temperature in the immediate vicinity plummeted as Ronald''s power seeped into the lake. The faint whispers of those long gone could not be heard but felt, as the crabs skittered backward slightly.


    One crab lunged forward after its initial caution, its claws snapping mere inches from Ronald’s face. He countered swiftly, his trident piercing its armored shell. The creature let out a distorted screech as its legs flailed before falling limp. Crimson tendrils of blood drifted through the water, staining it with an ominous hue.


    More crabs surged forward, undeterred by their comrade’s demise. Ronald spun his trident with deadly precision, the ghastly energy trailing behind it like a spectral dance. Each strike found its mark—armor cracking, limbs severing. Despite their overwhelming numbers, Ronald maintained his composure, his eyes sharp and unyielding. The crabs remained relentless though as their numbers seemed to be increasing. For each crab that he killed, more would appear from the darkness of the depths.


    Ronald propelled himself into the air with a powerful leap, water swirling in his wake. Below him, the crabs reacted instantly, their razor-sharp claws snapping, driven by an insatiable hunger. With a wicked grin, Ronald raised his trident high, its dark aura pulsating ominously.


    With a flick of his wrist, he released the trident, letting it hover momentarily before bursting into dozens of wailing specters. The ghostly forms howled, diving toward the ascending crabs. Upon contact, each spirit possessed a crab, causing a violent explosion of greenish, ghastly energy, scattering chitinous remains across the lake bed.


    The water around him grew darker, and the eerie silence of the lake deepened. He began to descend towards the ground on top of the carnage around him, but his eyes were focused on the black hole at the bottom of the lake. Through his glasses, he could tell that this was something very dangerous. Something about this cave resonated with an ancient, malevolent energy. Ronald could feel it, a pulsing rhythm beneath the water, synchronized with the very heart of the lake. He had to find out more.


    A crab missing several eyes managed to scrape his arm, tearing through his sleeve. He barely flinched, his eyes locked on the ominous cave entrance. There was something inside—something more than these creatures. He pushed forward, cutting through the remaining crabs with methodical strikes, his trident carving a path of eerie light.


    As he neared the cave, the crabs faltered, hesitating for a moment as if afraid to follow, instead focusing on the remains of their comrades as they began to feast. Ronald hovered, breathing deeply. His senses sharpened, and he could feel the energy emanating from the entrance—pulsing, ancient, and wrong.


    “What are you hiding?” he murmured to himself, his voice muffled by the water.


    Summoning the last reserves of his ghastly energy, Ronald tightened his grip on the trident, and with a crouch, he pushed himself with immense force upwards, sending him back to the surface in no time. Getting back onto the boat, he decided to retreat for the day, planning to fully explore that strange cave at a later time.


    Before leaving, Ronald raised his hands, channeling the ghastly energy that shimmered like a cold mist over the water’s surface. The lake rippled and churned, responding to his command. Slowly, a massive sphere of water emerged, suspended in mid-air, swirling with captive fish of varying sizes. With a practiced motion, he guided the watery orb toward the boat, releasing its contents into a sturdy bucket with a loud splash. Satisfied, he glared at the restless waters before turning the boat around, ready to head back to shore.