The Curator
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Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 14:03:47 +0000 UTCThe fishmen had no idea what was coming from below. Even those still submerged in the ocean remained unaware of the approaching threat. Naturally, their senses didn’t extend far enough to detect it—and whatever was closing in seemed to know exactly how to stay hidden. A thousand years sealed away was more than enough time for evolution to reshape even the most familiar predators, and that alone piqued my curiosity. Whatever beast was coming, it wasn’t alone. Several massive shapes were drawing near, silent beneath the waves.
Let’s see how long it takes the fishmen to realize they're no longer alone.
In the meantime, I was having quite a bit of fun. The fishmen, not so much. Whimpers echoed across the frozen deck as many clutched broken limbs and groaned in pain. In hindsight, perhaps I had been a bit overzealous with their legs. That realization struck when I saw one fishman, arm shattered but still functioning, scramble to the railing in a desperate attempt to dive back into the sea. He managed three agonizing steps before slipping, landing hard on his already broken arm. A sickening crack rang out as the limb contorted further. Now seated on the icy floor, he cradled his mangled limb and tried to breathe through the pain.
Touched by the moment, I offered him a friendly push—telekinetically, of course—sending him sliding toward the mainmast. He twisted around to glare at me with fury burning in his bulbous eyes, but I simply smiled and waved as he slithered helplessly across the deck. A second later, his pained "Autsch!" echoed across the ship, filling me with delight. Life was about balance: a little war, a little chaos, and always time for fun. Especially when it involved tormenting a few ugly fishmen with more secrets than brains.
One particularly bold fishman tried to cast a fire spell to melt the ice beneath him. I couldn’t allow that. Without hesitation, I borrowed a poisoned spike from another nearby and drove it deep into the spellcaster’s hand—the very one pressed to the ice. The creature screamed as his hand was pinned to the deck, eyes wide in shock.
“Don’t even think about using the other hand,” I warned calmly. “Or I’ll be back.”
To drive the message home, I grabbed the back of his head and slammed it against the ice with a dull thud. Cracks splintered across the frozen surface. I chuckled, offering him a shrug. “But hey, if you want to break through the ice with your skull, be my guest.”
Several fishmen remained standing, though not for long. As I made my way toward them, I tossed a few with broken legs into the air with casual telekinesis. No real reason—just pure mischief. I was genuinely curious how they’d land. Skating across the icy deck with the grace of an Olympic figure skater and the hammer of a blacksmith, I relished the wide-eyed panic on their faces. Those oversized, glassy eyes reflected pure fear, and I drank it in like wine.
One charged at me with a saber, face twisted in rage. I parried his swing effortlessly with my hammer’s shaft, then launched him high into the air with a telekinetic blast. Ice spiked upward beneath him, a deadly landing pad prepared just for him. That should teach him a lesson about attacking humans.
Another fishman, near the railing, saw the trail of carnage I’d carved through his comrades and made a desperate leap toward the sea. Too slow. I touched his foot and inverted his gravity, suspending him midair, drifting upward with confused panic written across his face.
Swimming made you forget to look beneath you. Flying made you forget to look above. It was the same blind spot.
Now hovering over the water, the airborne fishman began flailing, shouting frantically at the others still beneath the surface.
“Hey! Behind you! S-H-A-R-K!” he screamed, pointing wildly at the waves below.
That caught my interest. I leaned over the railing—and what I saw made my grin widen. The fishmen were finished.
Massive sharks, some longer than twenty meters, slid silently through the water like torpedoes. Their dark blue hides rendered them nearly invisible from above. Not that it mattered—no one ever looked up. There weren’t just one or two either; I counted at least fifteen, and more were approaching if my senses were accurate.
Time to return these fishmen to the sea before their skin dried out. I thought with smug satisfaction and vanished from where I stood, reappearing behind a nearby cluster.
With a flick of my hand, I sent them hurtling across the deck like rag dolls, back toward their doom.
They tried desperately to grab hold of something—anything—but the only options were their flailing comrades or the slick sheet of ice coating the deck. Then the real chaos began. From the water below, the sharks made their move. Several fishmen leapt back onto the ship in panic, only to slip the moment their feet touched the frozen surface, skidding and crashing into railings, crates, and each other like scattered marbles.
This couldn’t go on. The longer I lingered here, the more time that woman had to ruin the soup. Just the thought of food distracted me from my current amusement. Torturing fishmen could wait. With a sigh, I placed both palms against the deck and pushed my will into the vessel. Gravity shifted. Slowly, the ship began to rise, lifting into the sky like a leviathan breaking free of the sea.
The fishmen had been agile enough to jump into the crow’s nest when the ship was still docked, but at thirty meters above the ocean? Not likely.
"Aaah! I’ll kill you!" one of the fishwomen shrieked. She was bald, wild-eyed, and brimming with rage as a fireball ignited in her hand. It was massive—volatile enough to blow apart the wooden deck. The planks weren’t even reinforced with runes. A detonation here could splinter the entire hull.
Before she could hurl it, I summoned a barrier directly in front of her—just half a meter away. The fireball struck it point-blank and exploded with a roar. Limbs flew in every direction. The blast tore her apart mid-cast, and I watched her arms and legs spiral through the sky before splashing into the bloodied water below.
Speaking of the ocean, it had turned a deep crimson. More sharks were arriving by the minute, drawn to the frenzy. These weren’t ordinary predators either. One, easily over thirty meters long, emerged from the depths. It was rare for such colossal creatures to hunt fishmen, but honestly, who didn’t hate fishmen?
I saw a few more of the scaly pests trying to leap aboard, but they were too late. Time to clear the deck.
I set my hammer down and used my now-free hand to fling the remaining fishmen like dolls. Two of them made a run for the underdeck entrance, but I couldn’t allow that. With a thought, the ice beneath their feet shifted and sloped like a water slide, guiding them toward the edge. They yelped as they slid, helpless, and then vanished over the side—plummeting into an ocean now tinged green with blood and viscera.
A pulse of power held the ship in place, hovering steadily above the carnage. I wasn’t done just yet. There were still two female leaders I wanted alive. I’d need someone to rate the food soon, and I couldn’t entrust that task to the sailors. That would be barbaric.
I was having the time of my life. I launched fishmen off the ship with gusts of wind, grabbed them by the neck or foot and tossed them like trash. One of them cursed me as he flew through the air. That one I pursued personally. I teleported just above the waves, froze a patch of ocean beneath where he’d fall, and smiled warmly.
“Goodbye,” I said, sincerely, before reappearing aboard the ship.
Nearby were the ropes I'd used on the elves earlier. I yanked them free and hurled the corpses at the remaining fishmen. The elves were heavy, and on the icy deck, the fishmen had no traction. Some tried to dodge, only to slip and fall just in time for an elf’s frozen body to slam into them with a sickening crack.
"You’ll pay for this, monster!" one fishman roared—so predictable. Fishmen never surrendered. They just shouted empty threats, as if their words carried more weight than their brittle bones.
I didn't let him finish his sentence. I punched him in the chest so hard the air rushed out of him like a deflating balloon. He flew backward over the railing, straight into the waiting jaws below.
Only a handful were still alive in the water. Perhaps some escaped. Sharks could be lazy if their prey wasn’t bleeding, but those I had thrown overboard with shattered limbs stood little chance. Still, a few remained on deck. Out of my endless generosity, I offered them a new role: food testers. They declined, of course—one even threatened to kill and eat my children.
Truly, not the brightest species.
I tore both his arms off. Might come in handy later as bait. No way was I letting that woman practice cooking with elf meat. Rafael also needed to learn how to survive at sea—this wouldn’t be our last voyage. Sure, I could dive into the ocean and electrocute fish with lightning, but where was the joy in that?
With the fishmen handled and the ship soaring fifty meters above the waves, I conjured a wave of fire to melt the ice. I secured the two remaining fishmen firmly—they weren’t going anywhere. And I understood them, in a way. If I were in their place, I might prefer death to eating that woman’s cooking, too.
Still, I would teach her. I had a wealth of culinary wisdom to share. In the early days of my service, I had cooked for entire companies. A good cook was beloved on the battlefield, often granted a favorable post, and fiercely protected by their comrades. A bad cook? Well, that was practically a death sentence.
From what I’d seen so far, her road would be long and difficult—but with two "volunteer" tasters, she might just survive it.
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Johannes Röhrl
Kinda
Jennifer Leigh
Did this world have Olympics?
