The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

The sand landed on his face, pinching wherever it met his exposed skin, the scent of old blood and salt contained within each grain. Oscar shook his artificial arm, beating it against the air, satisfied at the sight of zero sand dropping from within, meaning nothing, not even the tiniest grains of sand, entered his artificial arm. A fine piece of craftsmanship, Oscar lamented in silence. If only Gol-4 was alive to witness the wonders he recreated for the old one's sake.

Readying himself again, Oscar clenched and thrust out a fist, parting the sands and showering in the dry squall of earth. His artificial arm was functioning perfectly to the finest control. The Reis and Eirin conducted well through the Reis-forged material, and the timing from his mind to the arm's movements was the same as if it were a real arm. To test it further, he charged a fist full of Eirin and competed in a test of strength with Erden, the teal arm bashing against the teal hooves, a loud crashing wake resulting from their collision, blasting the sands onto the arena walls.

"Not bad. It's well made, as expected from the nagging head." Erden shook his body, spraying the sand stuck on his fur. "The downside is the usage of Ein to keep it working. At a certain point, the arm will not obey your will. Your Adamasreis also doesn't spread into it."

"It's made of your antlers and Diabond Ore. It's enough for it to match up." Oscar's eyes glinted with great interest. "Maybe I can modify the arm for other purposes."

The arena entrance opened, and a prison guard rushed inside and bowed, subservient to his master and, therefore, to him. With his master away on the frontlines, he held control over the Abyss Prison as the temporary Warden. The prison guard rose and relayed a message, "The Pavilion Master requests your presence in Triton Hold."

"Is that all?" Oscar relaxed, his artificial arm limping down the side. According to a book he read, the limping might have consequences on his shoulder, a worrisome problem. Frowning, he took out some cloth and bound the arm as if it were broken, letting it rest along his chest, strapped to the shoulder to hang in a better position. The prison guard had not replied yet, so he asked again, "Is that everything to the message?"

"Yes. I'm afraid no further details have been provided." The prison guard said shortly, well-trained to be direct and proper in his master's elegant ways.

"Very well. Erden, let's go." Oscar, in his blue soldier uniform, draped his black cloak of his Black Aegis Order over his back, slightly covering his seemingly broken arm. He mounted Erden and soared into the sky, bursting from the lake's water in a forceful push that sent high tides to the shores. The Divine Essence flower cast its shadow over him, a sickly sweet scent wafting over from the blooming rainbow petals, motes of pollen floating about in a gathering of small lights.

The air, the Ein, and the land itself were different from when he first stepped foot here a year ago. The Divine Essence was taller than before. Undoubtedly, it was maturing at an alarming rate, bringing more divine changes to its surroundings. Oscar snapped out of the pleasurable trance brought on by the scent and overflowing Ein. Erden rushed ahead to Triton Hold.

Riding past the saluting guards, Oscar trotted into the Pavilion Master's quarters and leaped off, noticing Gavir resting on the couch nearby. The future head of the Drakiri waved his hand in greetings with a bright smile, dressed in casualwear of a blue tunic, brown belt, and white pants. Why was Gavir here? Oscar felt the meeting might be about more trouble since it involved him and the Drakiri. Holding back his sigh, he bowed and greeted the two, "Oscar Terr has answered your summons, Grandmaster. Greetings to fellow Commander Gavir."

Remulus smiled warmly and gestured for Oscar to sit down, speaking once Oscar rested comfortably on the chair, his voice old and soothing as ever, "Welcome, my grand-disciple. You and Gavir have carried out great feats during the defense of Delvar Fort. I am pleased to have the younger generation be so capable."

"I barely had a role. I failed miserably." Gavir scoffed, insulting himself. "Phillip fought against three adversaries while Oscar fought against even more outrageous odds. All I did was get dragged around, playing chicken with that bastard. Fighting directly, I may fight against two of them, but scurrying around like a rat is infuriating."

"Most of the strategy was your doing. Even if there were variations, your plan panned out well." Oscar tried to reassure Gavir, who was grumbling about his own weakness. "You have the insight and the eye for strategy that none of us did, except for Alec, perhaps."

"What's the use if I can't deliver on my own? The battle still cost you your arm. If I had dealt with that coward sooner and on my own, I could have helped you." Gavir pointed at Oscar's arm and then raised an eyebrow, clearly confused as he rose and squinted his eyes. "Wasn't your arm cut off? Did you recover it?"

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"No, I made one. I'll tell you later." Oscar changed topics and turned to the Pavilion Master. "Why are we here?"

"I wanted Phillip to be here as well, but Maggie wanted him to stay and oversee the rebuilding of Arkenen with Abraham. What a shame." Remulus cleared his throat and continued, "First, your rewards for this success will be sent later, a massive amount of elixirs and precious materials. Second, I must update you two on the current state of the war."

The table was cleared of all documents and scrolls from a wave of Remulus's hand, and he placed a large map over it, a detailed map of the continent, strange, considering the previous times were maps of only the currently defended territory. Oscar waited for the Pavilion Master to explain. Ein swirled around the aged hands and swept across the map, creating lines along the map and dotting areas with four colors: blue, red, green, and black.

In a tired tone, as if about to fall asleep, the Pavilion Master groaned and said, "Thanks to our resounding victory against the Emerald Hydra Empire, our borders are still unchanged. The difference now is the enemy retreating further into their occupied territories." The green dots along the southwestern border of Arkenen City retreated several lines away.

"Can we rush in and destroy them? Open up the southwest for us to pincer the rest of the southern borders or creep up to the western border." Oscar asked.

"No. Vexing as it is, we are still stuck. We move in, and the enemy can easily flank us and start a counter-offensive off our losses." Gavir tapped the green dots and red dots. "It's a perfect killing zone for them to bait us into."

"That matters not. The Emerald Hydra Empire will take years to recover from the damage. We can relax parts of the southwestern borders to help out in the other regions. Our attention must turn to the rest of the southern borders, where the main offense of the Scarlet Griffon Empire and the Undying Flame Sect are concentrated." Remulus knocked away the green dots and flared up the red ones.

"And the Emerald Hydra Empire cannot move their reserves. Some coalition. They're hopelessly wary of each other." Oscar understood some principles of alliances and occupancy. The invading forces needed reserves in their conquered territories to prevent rebellions and insurgency. Also, they needed an army to prevent the other empires from claiming what they rightfully conquered. Oscar hated the seesaw game between these empires, preferring the ways of the Burning Valley where everything was risked in one, no looking back.

"It's not each other they're mostly wary of. It's the outside forces." Remulus snapped his fingers, the army dots outlining the continent. "The Primaere of the Bloodlands, by the law of the Primal Council, decreed this war valid in this continent but did not forbid others from joining. The other three empires have to keep parts of their forces on their borders in case of any outside factions taking the chance to invade."

"Will be much easier if they join in now. It seems no one wants to involve themselves in this war." Oscar said, grumbling in curses.

"Their presence alone is enough to help us. It is our luck to have a Grade Nine be born in our Empire." Remulus chuckled lowly, clearly depressed, dark lines crossing his wrinkly brow as his eyes dropped. "Having to rely on the younger generation leaves this old one sad on the sidelines."

"Why does Gilbert's existence warrant such behavior?" Oscar was curious.

"Say they do aid the other empires and destroy us. But what if Gilbert wins and gains the favor of the Primaere? By decree, he cannot declare vengeance against the three empires that will be protected by the law of the Primal Council that extends to however long the empires exist as long as the Primare of the Bloodlands exists to uphold it. Rules are rules." Remulus rubbed his sweaty, hairless head. "Still, he has the freedom to pursue any who assisted them. And even worse, if Gilbert manages to become a Primaere himself, he may inherit the position of the Primaere of the Bloodlands. Again, the rules grant immunity to the three empires should they win but not the others. The what-ifs are so vast and some far into the future, but for a Grade Nine, they might as well be the reality before your eyes. That is the power of such talent and potential."

"So they'll either charge in if the empires show an opening and a clear way for them to cinch a victory, thereby gaining Gilbert's favor, or just stay back and do nothing." Oscar gripped his hands, frustrated the Grade Nine still seemed so far away.

"And rightly so. Grade Nines are just that big of a trump card." Gavir shook his head. Their gazes met for a second, and they exchanged wordless agreement about the matter, sharing in their frustration.

"Enough about Gilbert. His battle, his war, is elsewhere. Everyone else has their roles to play." Remulus stamped the map, circling his finger along the southern border to the east. "Draven will be recalled from the rest of the south and sent to the eastern borders. Oscar, Gavir, the two of you will lead your forces south to hold back the red tide. I have already sent for a competent commander to take charge of you both."

"Who?" Oscar and Gavir asked in unison.

"Come in!" Remulus smirked.

The door was kicked off, a long leg with steel-plated heels extending out. Stomping her way inside, Celestina smiled cheerfully, her emerald eyes shining brightly along the glinting sunlight from the window. The silver hair flowed down her shoulders, light cascading down each strand, giving her a divine appearance. In her battle dress, she crossed her arms and clicked her steel heels together.

"Princess!" Gavir quickly bowed deeply.

"Hey, Celestina. It's been a while." Oscar waved with his left hand.

"Six months is nothing compared to twenty years. In any case, we'll be heading south soon, so…." She stopped her words and stared unblinkingly at the wrapped right arm. Her worry was obvious in the trembling of her voice as she shouted, "What happened to your arm?!"

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