The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Without resistance, Emily landed on the floor, the ground breaking under her fall, her gaze fixated on the ruined ceiling, lights barely flickering above the wreckage. Pain rampaged through her body, inducing faint involuntary groans from her burning lungs. She gradually rose up from her bed of rubble and supported her bruised and ragged body, covered in scrapes and cuts, with her staff. Her anima separated from the staff and collapsed, and Emily clutched her chest, vomiting blood from the rebound.

"How surprising. Normally, someone of your level dies easily, but you fight as if you know my power. You have real experience. Not bad." Across from Emily, the twin-tailed girl licked her bloodied hands, an intoxicated flush deepening over her cheeks, half of which had veins writhing along the skin. "Your blood tastes good mixed with mine."

"If you think you've won, you're sorely mistaken. Little brat. Your Reis is far too immature." Her resolve still unwavering, Emily taunted, brandishing a fierce smile, well aware of her opponent's intent to buy time to lessen the strain as seen from the blood-red eye and twisted veins and muscles. She brandished her staff armament, pointing it straight toward the girl. "That Reis Core is at its limits, isn't it?"

"Same goes for you. Your anima is done for." The Reis girl acknowledged her Reis Core's dire circumstances, deep lines of pain appearing along her brow. However, a cheerful smile formed, and she laughed. "But I still have enough Ein to settle this."

Emily reassessed her status and frowned. Her core rejected any attempts to recover any Ein through Ein Awaken, a drawback of her anima's destruction. She waited for the girl to make her move, drawing in a deep breath, enough to hold her together for one final counter. Whether she died here and now depended on it.

However, to Emily's shock, the girl held a finger to her ear and began to shout, "What do you mean, go back?! Retreat?! Are you insane?! I'm in the middle of–Spare her?!" The girl argued back and forth with whoever was speaking to her. The veins along her brow increased as the red flush deepened and darkened, a snarl forming on her face. She stomped her foot and turned around, but not before giving Emily one final, piercing gaze from her blood-drenched eye. "You lucked out today. There's no more need for me to be in this prison. Goodbye."

"Wait!" Emily stared unblinkingly at the retreating figure and dragged her feet to follow. She stumbled and fell a mere inch forward, and this time, she could not get back up, her face planted in the dirt. Gripping her staff tightly, Emily pounded her fist weakly on the floor, shouting hoarsely, "Come back!" Her gaze remained fixed on the girl, unwilling to let her go. Her body, however, rested limply, exhausted and ragged.

A few moments later, several steps neared her, followed by exclaims and shouts. "There she is! Secure her and get her into Gunghir." They supported her weary body up and carried her out of there. Tears flowed down Emily's cheeks from her bloodshot eyes from the sharp pain of defeat stabbing into her heart.

…….

"GUOOOH!" The Sweeper roared, bringing both its fists onto the ground, an eruption of Eirin devastating the area. Contrary to its large frame, it leaped up and caught up to Frederick in the air using its nonsensically quick and agile movements. Two large hands full of callouses reached over to grab him.

"You can think as well?" Frederick muttered to himself, shock and annoyance laden in his voice. He couldn't believe it. The Sweeper somehow improved and learned during their fight. At first, it fought like a crazed beast, feral and simple blows from its absurdly large body. Now, it moved to better positioning, baited him, and trapped him, taking advantage of its range. The Sweeper…wasn't as simple as he heard.

Frederick encased himself in green winds, and a swirling vortex of gales surged from his twin blades. Inside the winds, a multitude of feathers spun about, poking their ends. Frederick landed his blades on the Sweeper's hands and spun around. The Sweeper tumbled to the wall, deflected by Frederick's winds, and formed a deep crater into the steel. He fared no better since he failed to deflect all of the Sweeper's power, his body smashing into the ceiling before he fell helplessly to the floor.

His hawk anima separated from his twin blades and cracked apart, and Frederick choked on his blood from the rebound, his core pounding as if it might burst from his chest. He struggled and managed to lift his back off the floor, dragging himself to lean on the wall. A loud stomp forced him to gaze away from the floor and to the Sweeper, barely injured by his attack.

Seeing the unharmed monster, he could only speak, "Damn…" Then he smiled. "At least I held on until Gunghir arrived. Take my life, but you'll be dead shortly after. Too bad I can't live long enough to see that."

The Sweeper growled, its hand extending out toward Frederick, and he closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He prayed Emily and Os escaped safe and sound and that this act had redeemed him somewhat.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"To be deterred by a recently advanced Greater Knight Exalt is a poor showing. Did we waste all that blood and flesh on you?" A voice cut in, sounding polite and smooth, a welcoming tone.

"Who?" Frederick opened his eyes. Before him, the Sweeper stopped its hand, completely still from head to toe, like a statue. Confused, Frederick turned his head and stared at the newcomer at the end of the Sweeper's side of the corridor. A man walked slowly down the ruined hall, his glasses reflecting the dim, waning light from the ceiling. He wore a black shirt under his long white coat that stretched down to his feet, a pair of sandals, and long black pants. Underneath his glasses, his white eyes gazed at Frederick, not a hint of malice or hostility spilling out of them.

However, Frederick shuddered, sensing the man's power was far beyond his own, a Marshal Exalt. This stranger held the power to destroy him in a single thought. The man rushed his hand across his brown hair and snapped his fingers, the Sweeper grunting in response and moving several paces away from Frederick.

"You control that thing?" Frederick coughed, forcing himself to stand up, clinging to the wall for support.

"Fascinating creature, isn't it?" The man flicked his glasses, curling his lips slightly into a charming smile, and started to ramble on. "We loaned it to the three empires to act as a guard and to gather useful data. It looks like it still needs improvement, judging from this battle. Maybe it needs to fight more to gain experience. I'll have to ask the empires if they'll allow it to fight on the frontlines."

Frederick had no idea what the man spoke about, but he knew right then and there that the enemy before him was more frightening than even the three empires bearing down on his home. The way the man spoke calmly about this monster and sought to improve it unnerved Frederick. If this creature were allowed to keep growing as fast as it did during this short fight, then the Pavilion would be in danger.

"Ah, don't force yourself. There's no point in this battle anymore, and I'm supposed to spare you all for some reason. What a strange order, but I have to follow." The man reassured Frederick, emphasizing the order to spare him. The man's words had a strange magnetic effect, and Frederick lost all strength in his legs, slumping to his knees, disgusted by the relief welling inside him. Something was odd about this person.

"Then, farewell. Enjoy this life." The man smiled and ordered the Sweeper to follow him.

After they went out of sight, Frederick fell on his back, gasping for air since he held it in for so long. Slowly, his mind retreated away, and darkness claimed him. But before he lost consciousness, he heard someone running closer, a worried shout numbing his ears.

…….

"Is everyone inside?!" Aunt Ward yelled.

Resting on Erden in midair, Oscar darted his gaze at all the openings and asked Erden to rotate around every so often to look at different angles. He cursed out silently, his furrowing brow deepening, worried that his friends were still not inside Gunghir. His master came across and patted Oscar's head.

"Stupid disciple. You can't do anything in that state. Just rest and wait." Draven scolded, suddenly clenching on Oscar's head.

"Alright! Alright! I'm over forty years old. You don't need to treat me like this." Oscar ranted, scowling at his master, which only spurred Draven to tighten the vice grip on his head.

"I'm around…a hundred? It's been so long, I don't remember." Draven murmured softly, but his hand still squeezed on Oscar, his actions not in sync with his tone. He ignored Oscar's grunts of pain and turned over to point in a certain direction. "Look."

"I can't look because you're still holding my head," Oscar complained. Once his master let go, Oscar watched as Erden rotated, and immediately, a surge of relief made his face droop down, and his body relaxed, slumping on Erden. He laughed his heart out because Fred and Emily made it inside. However, his expression soured at the sight of the two's conditions, and he asked, "Are they alright?"

"They're exhausted, depleted completely, but they're alive." Draven carried the two over and placed them on Erden's back.

Turning to see his two friends resting next to him, Oscar whispered, "Thank you."

"The time is up! The teleportation will activate!" A warning cried out, and Gunghir began to glow, a stream of Ein surging everywhere inside. Bathed in this Ein, Oscar exhaled in relief and felt the familiar sensation of his stomach cramping. The space distorted, and his vision stretched.

He and everyone else in Gunghir vanished and teleported away to great distances. The battle of Rurin Goals ended in a complete victory for Oscar and his friends, freeing his master and as many other prisoners as possible. All while staying alive. He rested and slept away as he raced through the spatial domain, riding the light of teleportation toward his destination.

…….

Deep inside the caverns under the Rurin Goals, the white-eyed man walked along with the Sweeper, smiling and whistling. He stopped and said in a mocking tone, "Come out, Grenda. Stop sulking behind the rocks."

"It's all your fault, Faust!" Grenda poked her head out, pouting. "I was about to kill that woman, but no! You had to interfere. She knows about us!"

"I'm aware. However, if you have any issues, take it up with the higher-ups. I'm sure they'll give you the time of their precious day to listen to your complaints." Faust said sarcastically.

"How are you not mad? You had everything you could want in here." Grenda kicked a large boulder aimed at Faust, who smiled and didn't react. The Sweeper punched away her attack and growled.

"True, I will miss having a good supply of blood and flesh from that precious specimen." Faust shrugged and cleaned his glasses. "But we can acquire him at any time. For now, we have to retreat back and wait patiently for our time." He lost his smile, a stoic face staring at Grenda. He spoke in the most serious voice, "All for the New Dawn."

Grenda stiffened and nodded. "All for the New Dawn."

The three continued on into the caverns, a long trek to their next destination.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!