The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

After saying that, Oscar stopped his wide strides, thought better of it, and chuckled at Susan, slightly embarrassed. He readjusted his stolen helmet, which was uncomfortable, and said awkwardly, "I'll need your help. I'm currently an escaped prisoner and no doubt, they'll make it harder for me when I return. I'll need to meet with the Marshal Exalts in charge. Is that something you can help me with?"

Susan broke out in soft laughter, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably. She waved her hand to create water, dampened a tower from her space pocket, and wiped the dirt and blood off her face. Her face brightened not just in cleanliness; Her complexion recovered, and her prior forlorn shadow lit up.

"I don't have that much sway. But as a healer, I'm under the direct command of Lord Atherton. I can try getting you inside to meet him." Susan stopped talking when people started to exit the shelters and spread out over the port. She waved Oscar over and flew low.

Most of Drakken Port remained untouched by the assault. The people entered their homes and filled the iron streets, smiling and praising the Empire and Pavilion for another victory. The smiles on their lips grew increasingly uncomfortable to gaze at, especially after what Susan had told him. Up in the skies and on the walls, the Exalts, the defenders, were the opposite of the jubilant citizens. Many clumped up, gazing outside the walls and sharing a smoking pipe. They seemed resigned to their fate, lacking the enthusiasm and light in their expressions. Others simply slumped on the edge of the walls, hugging their knees or lying down like puppets without strings.

Outside the walls, the barrier pulsed without pause. Smog from the battlefield and remnants of the enemy's accursed sieges churned on the edges of the barrier. Sunlight failed to pierce through the elements, and Drakken Port was shrouded in shadows, staying lit only by the burning braziers in the iron city.

Still, the ignorant children played around the braziers, laughing and chanting their tunes of joy during their skipping game. Seeing Oscar and Susan pass by, the youth all cheered and raised their fists high. Oscar waved toward them for a second before catching up to Susan.

The steel fortress in the center of Drakken Port was a behemoth. Oscar didn't get a good look at it earlier due to his quick imprisonment, but its thick, long walls seemed impenetrable. The braziers burning along its watchtowers, the overlooks, and the walls reflected flames from its steely surface, spreading light wherever it could in Drakken Port.

It stood as a true beacon of hope underneath the scorched skies and muddied battlefield.

"Here. The fortress is split into several departments. This leads to the healing ward. I can sneak you in as a wounded and sneak you to Lord Atherton's quarters." Susan said, descending to the metallic bridge to one of the many entrances to the fortress. She brandished her badge to the guards on the other side and went inside together with Oscar.

He was overwhelmed by the groans and shouts of pain, some begging for the pain to go away. The smell of blood and rot was choking, unpleasant even after his long stay in the Burning Valley, where fumes of sulfur permeated the air. Several healers carried away baskets of bloody towels and buckets of blood, switching out for fresh new ones on the sidelines.

The beds were filled. Walking down the aisle, Oscar watched in silence and heard their cries of suffering, unable to turn his eyes away and impossible to tune out their agony. He passed by a woman, scarred by several deep burns, that the healers tried their best to wrap up and heal with their Ein. A man screamed and raised his arms from the bed; they were falling apart from a corrosive darkness. Exalts with healing qualities and a propensity for healing spells were rare enough, but to heal wounds as grievous as these needed far more power than the average healer.

Oscar slowed his steps and felt saddened by their plight. They may never fully recover from these injuries, bearing the scars of their wounds like Avril or worse. Some may never return to their former glory, living as a half-dead shadow of their former powers.

"Can Lord Atherton heal these injuries?" Oscar asked, walking with Susan in solemn steps.

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Susan shook her head and said weakly, "Regrowing an ear or a finger is within reason, but the degree of these burns, the amount lost to the acids, and the missing whole limbs are beyond an average healer. They say you need a grade-five elixir or a King Exalt healer. But where can we get either?"

"I see." Oscar sighed.

"I wish I could do more for them…." Susan murmured, turning her eyes away from the wounded. Her sigh of relief after leaving the room was worrisome. Oscar wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words and resolved deeper than ever to do his best to turn this battle around.

'First, I'll need to meet with the Marshal Exalt.' He turned around a corner and arrived at a set of wide and tall iron doors. His body shivered, and Oscar lifted his hand, surprised at the quaking of his fingers. Was this the presence of a Marshal Exalt after a fierce battle? Then why didn't Helen and Hector have the same?

"He's always like this after a battle. Are you sure you want to meet him now?" Susan said tremblingly, her entire body quivering before the iron doors.

"If all you're doing is waiting outside from fear, then how you will ever reach the next peak." A mellow and welcoming voice said from behind the doors. The Marshal Exalt had already detected their coming.

Oscar gripped his hands, feeling the sweat accumulate inside his gloves. The presence was as cold and sharp as icicles, a dense hostility freezing the air. Yet, the voice was warm and open, with no rejection or anger. 'Is this man alright in the head?'

Having no other choice, Oscar opened the iron doors and stepped inside, seeing a figure with long white hair tied into a ponytail and a pair of yellow eyes while dressed in a fine white suit. The instant Oscar took a step, he realized he had already entered this man's clutches, the same powerful Ein as Helen's surrounding him, ready to snap his neck. Oscar bowed and kneeled before the Marshal Exalt along with Susan.

"Lord Atherton. Are you alright?" Susan said, her head still lowered in deference.

"Isn't this Susan?" Lord Atherton smiled kindly and adjusted his blue robes. "Why are you here and not in the healing ward with the others?" He ignored Susan's question.

"I wish to bring this person to you and ask he is welcomed into our ranks. He definitely has a way to help us." Susan replied.

"Oh?" Lord Atherton undid his ponytail and retied his hair. He gleamed at Oscar, still disguised, and said, "I recognize this fellow. I watched from atop and saw him lead our men to victory below. You should remove your helmet for a proper conversation. Susan may be a grade-five but has some status as a healer and is known to be quite honest. So I shall listen. First, reveal yourself."

Oscar removed the stolen helmet and showed his face. He raised his head to stare directly at Lord Atherton. Lord Atherton twitched an eyebrow but didn't act, and Oscar coughed to clear his throat before speaking. "My name isn't important right now. I have seen the current dilemma in Drakken Port and wish to give you my aid."

"Not willing to give your name?" Lord Atherton frowned, his warmth washed out by the encroaching anger.

"Would you believe me if I gave you my name? So far, only Susan believes me, while the rest don't." Oscar stopped speaking, watching Lord Atherton. The Marshal Exalt remained silent, watching him as well. After a minute, Oscar knew this conversation would not continue without saying his name.

"My name is Oscar Terr. And I have come back home." Oscar stood up.

"Oscar Terr?" Lord Atherton rose from his seat and released his power, forcing Oscar to buckle his knees. "You dare use a dead man's name for yourself, and not just any name, the name of the one who secured the Divine Essence for our Empire. That will warrant a swift execution."

"That's why I wanted to avoid saying it. It's so troublesome when everyone thinks you're dead. And you've gone through so many changes, all the facts no longer match." Oscar refused to back down and summoned his blue deer anima, prancing it around. "Black hair, black eyes, a deer anima. My Exolsia underwent great changes that would beggar belief. But I am here, and I can help."

"It's true, Lord Atherton. I know him from Ashen Grove. It is him! Please believe us!" Susan finally spoke, her breathing running weary and rushed. Lord Atherton's pressure was hurting her.

"Then where have you been? While the rest of our Empire fights, you come now to our aid?" Lord Atherton forced Oscar into his grip. Oscar couldn't resist as the terrifying Exalt forced an elixir down his throat. In an icy voice, he asked, "Who are you?"

"Oscar Terr. I'm not lying. Forcing a truth elixir is a good idea. But as a Marshal Exalt, you should have better senses than that. By the way, is it wise to waste an elixir on me?" Oscar sighed while in Lord Atherton's grip. He explained the basic rundown of his long journey up to his imprisonment here, omitting the parts about Reis, Avril, the Ancients, and Gol-4. He couldn't tell a lie, but he could withhold the details.

Lord Atherton listened, his expression flickering in doubt. He released his grip and dropped Oscar to the floor, ignoring the choked breaths. "It's still doubtful you are Oscar Terr. We can't confirm without a proper tool and the Pavilion records. But I can't ignore what you did down there. Our losses were far less than before. Let's shift topics and shelve your identity for later. How can you help us?"

Oscar smiled while rubbing his sore throat. "Ever thought of using those ships? I can improve them."

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