The crimson-orange sky reflected off the lake's surface, which had suddenly turned eerily still. The chirping of crickets vanished instantly, as if nature itself were holding its breath. The village children had already scrambled back to their homes the moment the sun touched the horizon, but Harits remained composed. He sat casually on his folding chair, calibrating his fishing rod by the muddy edge of the lake.
"You know something?" Harits asked without looking back, his eyes fixed on the spool of his fishing line.
"What?" snorted the purple-skinned creature sitting cross-legged beside him.
"This is the fourth time I've gone fishing with you. For some reason, the fish that show up are always... bizarre."
"Like I told you, just think of it as my way of saying thanks for saving me," the ancient Djinn replied in a reluctant tone, though his face still twitched with annoyance, mostly because his body was currently bound tightly by Harits' fishing line.
Before Harits could respond, the lake's calmness shattered.
The water churned violently, creating a dark vortex that sucked the mud into the center of the lake. Slowly, a long shadow crept up from the depths. A pair of eyes, glowing a bright, predatory yellow, pierced through the murky water, staring hungrily at the shore. Its jaws unhinged, revealing rows of teeth as sharp as saw blades—large enough to swallow a small child whole.
The Mythical Stripped Snakehead had finally arrived to claim its dinner.
"Resize yourself to fit that big fish's mouth!" Harits commanded. His voice was far too nonchalant for someone facing a monster the size of a house.
The Djinn's purple eyes widened in shock. "Are you insane, Human?! I've offered to make you bait a dozen times! And yet, here you are, using me as the bait!"
"Stop complaining. The fish won't wait," Harits retorted as he rapidly cranked his fishing reel. The line wrapped around the Djinn's body suddenly snapped taut.
Bound by a curse that stripped away his free will to resist, the Djinn had no choice but to shrink himself down to the size of a calf. Giving him no time to complain, Harits planted his feet into a solid stance. Maximizing the flexibility of his fishing rod, he drew it back like a drawn bowstring, then whipped it forward with all his might.
"You damn humaaaan!" roared the Djinn. His body shot through the air, yanked by the end of Harits' fishing line, sailing smoothly like a cannonball straight into the gaping maw of the giant beast.
BAM!
The saw-toothed jaws snapped shut fiercely. Lake water splashed high into the air from the monster's lunge, thinking it had just swallowed a delicious afternoon snack.
However, the predator's satisfaction lasted only a second.
Inside the pitch-black maw, the Djinn growled in pain as his leg failed to dodge the fish's razor-sharp teeth. But that very wound was exactly what granted him the absolute right to retaliate.
Instantly, a blinding, deep purple light erupted from beneath the stripped snakehead's scales and jaws. The monster's yellow eyes widened in panic.
BOOOOM!
A massive shockwave swept across the lake's surface. The bronze-armored giant was blasted into the air before crashing heavily onto the shore, snapping tree branches and shaking the earth. Smoke billowed from its scorched mouth, its eyes rolled to the back of its head utterly defeated by a single counterattack.
In the middle of the mud where the monster lay, the giant mouth slowly crept open. The Djinn crawled out, rubbing his smoking head, grumbling incessantly in an ancient tongue no human could understand.
Meanwhile, Harits calmly rested his fishing rod on his shoulder and strolled over to the smoking carcass. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a dog-eared little notebook, and checked off a line of text with his pen.
"Alright," Harits muttered with satisfaction, completely ignoring the murderous glare from the Djinn beside him. "Child-eating Mythical Stripped Snakehead... Done."
"Are you happy? Are you satisfied?!" the Djinn growled, wincing at the pain in his leg, which was still oozing red blood.
"No need to ask, just look at this smile! Hahaha," Harits laughed freely, feeling absolutely zero guilt.
"Damn human... I will definitely pay you back when I get the chance!" he cursed.
"Don't take it to heart. Remember the deal you offered when I accidentally freed you from that ancient book's seal?" Harits bent down and deftly untangled the fishing line and hook binding the purple giant's body.
"Besides, Azazil," Harits continued, dropping the Djinn's real name casually. "That curse of yours prevents you from initiating an attack, right? Honestly, as an angler, I'm a bit disappointed I didn't get to feel the thrill of reeling in this mythical stripped snakehead. But, on the other hand..."
Harits turned toward the smoking carcass, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "...I'm really glad I got to see something crazy. That insane purple beam. What kind of magic was that?"
"It wasn't magic," Azazil scoffed coldly, wiping the remaining purplish blood off his leg. He looked down at Harits from the corner of his eye. "That is the Cosmic Chain. An absolute law implanted into my very existence by The Almighty. I take damage, the Law pays it back in full. That is all you need to understand. Now, put that rod away."
Harits nodded slowly, treating the cosmic explanation as if they were discussing the weather. He sat back down on his folding chair, crossed his legs, and started scribbling in his notebook. His hand fluidly sketched the bronze-armored giant snakehead right under the word 'Done'.
"An epic catch must be immortalized," Harits muttered with satisfaction, snapping the book shut. He stood up and patted his stomach, which had suddenly started rumbling. "Well then, Azazil, how about we roast its meat? I heard snakehead meat extract is great for healing that wound on your leg."
Azazil's purple eyes widened in disgust. "You want me to eat monster meat with healing properties you literally just made up? And how dare you compare a normal snakehead to a creature born of ancient magic?!"
"Meat is meat. Besides, a fish this big will definitely take a while to roast," Harits replied casually. He drew a hunting knife from the sheath at his waist and walked over to the smoking carcass.
CLANG! The tip of Harits' knife struck an incredibly hard scale, producing a loud ringing sound that echoed louder than hitting solid bone.
"That's tough." Harits looked back at Azazil. "...Since you're here. Come on, use that cosmic power or whatever to crack these hard scales open!"
"Hah?! Why should I? Don't play dumb, I know you can use magic to reinforce that knife of yours!" Azazil spat, annoyed.
"Boring," Harits muttered under his breath. He quickly chanted a short spell. Instantly, his knife glowed, coated in reinforcement magic. With extra force, he drove his weapon down again, trying to slice open the snakehead's belly.
CLANG! The reinforced knife managed to pierce the outer layer of the fish's stomach, but suddenly hit something inside that was far denser.
"This is the first time in my life I've found a fish with guts as hard as steel. What the hell does this thing eat?" Harits grumbled. He reached deeper into the slimy mass of flesh and pulled out something quite heavy.
It wasn't a chest of gold, but a jagged, dark stone fragment the size of an adult's palm. Strangely, the stone wasn't dissolved or eroded by the monster's stomach acid in the slightest. Carved onto its surface were strange runes emitting a faint golden glow as they hit the air.
Harits wiped the slime off the stone with the edge of his shirt. He squinted, trying to read it, but the letters looked completely foreign, jumbled together with complex geometric symbols.
"Too bad I'm not a historian," Harits sighed lightly. He held up the stone fragment, turning it toward Azazil. "Hey, Old Man. You definitely know what this says, right?"
At first, Azazil only offered a dismissive glance. To him, worldly items were nothing more than junk. But the moment his pupils caught the glowing shape of the runes on the tablet, the Djinn's expression shifted drastically. An unusual flash of intrigue sparked in his eyes.
Azazil's heavy footsteps shook the ground as he approached Harits. He snatched the stone without warning.
"Where... did this lowly swamp creature get an Orc Sheet?" Azazil muttered. His voice now dripped with genuine curiosity, his usual arrogant tone briefly forgotten. His purple eyes stared intensely, absorbing every curve of the ancient script.
"What sheet?" Harits asked, tilting his head.
"Know what has been decreed upon you, O Orc King. And know that every deed against your people and other races is ever witnessed by The All-Seeing." Azazil fell silent for a moment, staring at the tablet. "...That is what is written here."
"The All-Seeing? Is that a god entity?" Harits threw a wild guess. "Could it be one of the gods worshipped by the Orc race?"
"Watch your mouth!" Azazil snapped, his eyes glaring fiercely. "Don't you dare compare the ridiculous gods of this era with The All-Seeing!"
Harits immediately covered his mouth with both hands, putting on a mock expression of shock that wasn't convincing in the slightest.
Azazil exhaled roughly, massaging the bridge of his sharp nose. "I will teach you one important lesson, Human. Please remember it well. The entities called gods by the mortals of this current world are, in truth, merely Archons. There are many of them, and they are desperately thirsty for worship. However, in this universe, there is only one singular entity with absolute power. Let us just call Him... The Supreme One."
"Archons... Cosmic Chains... The Supreme One... The Almighty," Harits muttered, ticking off the epic titles one by one. A wide grin spread across his face. "Fascinating. Honestly, if some regular human or normal guy I know was spouting this nonsense, I'd call them crazy. But coming from a freaky purple creature? I actually kind of buy it."
Azazil cleared his throat and suddenly looking away. "And about that cosmic chain thing from earlier... just forget it. I lied. It's actually just one of my signature magic spells."
Harits simply replied with a knowing smirk. He didn't press the matter further and went back to slicing open the giant snakehead's belly. Deftly, he butchered and divided the monster's meat into two large portions: one to be brought back to the village as proof and merchandise, while the other was prepped to be roasted right then and there.
"Done!" Harits exclaimed, skewering a pillow-thick chunk of meat onto a sturdy branch. He shoved it toward the Djinn. "Now, be a pal and use that fake purple magic of yours to roast this. In my opinion, mythical monster meat grilled over purple fire is gonna taste absolutely epic!"
"You're going to poison yourself, you moron!" Azazil grumbled, glaring at the slimy meat with absolute disgust. However, his empty stomach suddenly let out a rather loud rumble.
Azazil clicked his tongue in annoyance, snatching the branch from Harits' hand. "Fine, whatever. Let me roast it properly. I'm hungry too."