Chapter 173: The Odd Quest for a Fishing Rod

The Odd Quest for a Fishing Rod

Lott stood at the castle gates, his mind full of expectations. Today was supposed to mark the beginning of something grand, a magnificent epic perhaps. He could feel it. However, his grand thoughts were interrupted when he heard Lott speak softly.

"Get me a fishing rod."

The guard blinked, clearly confused. "A fishing rod?" he asked, disappointed. The guard quickly collected himself and continued, "Your Majesty, is this some kind of legendary fishing rod used by a hero in history?"

His mind raced, desperately trying to recall if any hero from Celtic or British legends had ever wielded a fishing rod. No figure came to mind. Perhaps it wasn't his fault—his knowledge might be insufficient. Lott, after all, was far more knowledgeable than he was. Surely, there was more to this request.

The guard's thoughts spun with possibilities until Lott's gentle shake of his head snapped him back to reality. "No," Lott replied, "I just need an ordinary fishing rod. Though, the stronger, the better."

The guard's hopeful enthusiasm quickly deflated. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, before turning away to search for the item. It seemed like such a mundane task for something that could have had more significance.

After scouring the castle, the guard returned with a few standard fishing rods, looking somewhat dejected. "These are the only fishing rods we have, Your Majesty. Most of our resources go into crafting strong weapons, not... fishing rods."

Lott sighed, seemingly disappointed as well. "It'll have to do," he muttered, reaching out for the fishing rod. Just as his hand was about to grasp it, a thought flickered in his mind. Wait. Why settle for this when he could just modify it?

"Give me this fishing rod," Lott said, a spark of inspiration lighting his eyes. "And also, fetch me a spear made of pure iron."

The guard hesitated for a moment, unsure of what his king was planning. Still, an order was an order. "Of course, Your Majesty," the guard replied, rushing off to retrieve the spear. When he returned, Lott wasted no time, securing the fishing line to the iron spear.

"Perfect," Lott murmured to himself, as he admired his creation—a fishing rod with the head of a spear attached. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sense if his system would acknowledge the new weapon. After a pause, a sensation washed over him. Success. It worked.

"Your Majesty?" the guard interrupted, noticing the change in Lott's demeanour.

Lott opened his eyes and grinned. "All is well. You may return to your duties," he said.

The guard nodded and began to leave, but before he could exit, Lott called out again, "Wait."

"Yes, Your Majesty?" the guard asked, turning back.

"Bring me a fishing net as well."

Confused but obedient, the guard fetched a sturdy fishing net. Lott took it, attaching it to the spear-fishing rod hybrid. "Excellent," he said, examining his now even more decorated contraption. "You're dismissed," he added, allowing the guard to finally leave.

As the guard walked away, his earlier excitement had been completely replaced by frustration. He had hoped that assisting Lott would lead to something grand, perhaps the start of a great journey. Instead, he felt like nothing more than Lott's errand boy. Why was his life so difficult?

But as he glanced back at Lott's newly modified fishing rod, the guard's mind began to wander once more. "Maybe this is a new weapon," he thought. "The spearhead could be used for attacking, and the fishing line to entangle enemies. Perhaps the fishing net is meant to obscure vision or trap foes. Could His Majesty be working on a revolutionary battle tactic?"

The guard's imagination ran wild. After all, Lott had mentioned going fishing, but he surely didn't mean it in a literal sense. Lott wasn't the type to waste time on frivolous pursuits. There had to be a deeper meaning. Maybe "fishing" was a metaphor for trapping enemies.

Unbeknownst to the guard, his last thought was closer to the truth than any of his wild speculations.

Meanwhile, Lott paid no attention to the guard's musings. With his makeshift weapon in hand, he contacted his system again. Once more, the system approved the fishing rod-spear hybrid. Lott's excitement grew.

There were two reasons for his excitement. First, if adding a fishing net to the rod was enough to pass, what else could he add in the future? Could he attach more powerful components to enhance his abilities even further? Maybe a gantry crane or some other bizarre additions. His mind raced with possibilities. This discovery could greatly accelerate his journey toward increasing his strength.

Second, this test proved that the system lacked any independent consciousness. It wouldn't try to trap or manipulate him; it was simply a tool—a powerful one, but still a tool that Lott could control. This realization brought him great satisfaction. If he could fully control it, there would be no surprises.

"Good," he said to himself, feeling increasingly confident in his plans. Everything was under control. Now it was time to find a suitable spot to put his plan into motion.

Though time was of the essence, Lott wasn't entirely sure when the fairies would arrive. But he wasn't about to waste this opportunity. He left the castle, his odd fishing spear in hand, and set off for the nearby river. It was as good a place as any to test his creation.

Walking through the quiet fields, Lott smiled to himself, pleased with his progress. Over time, his strength had grown, aided by the knowledge he had accumulated from both his system and the teachings of Scáthach. Now, he could face his challenges without fear of being spied upon.

Upon reaching the river, Lott looked at the flowing water with a satisfied grin. The river seemed to stretch longer and wider than before. This only confirmed what he had suspected: his power was still growing.

Raising his modified fishing rod, Lott smirked. "Let's see what I can catch this time," he said, before casting the strange weapon into the river of time, ready for whatever challenge awaited him next